Star Wars, Spoiler Warnings, and the Social Contract of Nerds

Spoiler Warning: This post contains spoilers for the film Star Wars: The Force Awakens (but only spoilers about spoilers)


          On Absolute Disruption: Theory After Postmodernism, a critical theory blog I follow closely, Jason Ānanda Josephson has a brilliant post "The Force of Secrecy: Spoilers, Neo-Liberalism, and “The Force Awakens”". I recommend you go read it for yourself on his blog by following the link embedded above. Drawing upon sociologist Georg Simmel's writing on secrecy, Jason critique's The Force Awakens' marketing strategy as a cynical distraction from the film's lack of substance. Keeping true to the form of this critique, I will avoid discussion of particular spoilers for the film, except for the spoiler that the original Star Wars franchise is a spoiler for this film.

          In his essay "The Sociology of Secrecy and Secret Societies" Simmel argues that secret societies construct their social cohesion around a mutually shared secret. The possession of secret information provides prestige for the society's members and the society itself while the sharing of the secret creates a bond between initiated members. Simmel's most interesting and controversial comment on the sociology of secrecy is that the content of the secret is itself largely irrelevant to its importance for the society; even trivial information, once made secret between members, elevates it above other mundane information into something approaching the sacred.  

          Because the existence of the society is dependent upon the secret being maintained, the insecurity produces an anxious excitement between members of the group who must constantly scrutinize one another's communications with outsiders to ensure that the distinction of membership is maintained. This dynamic causes secret societies to frequently threatens punishment against those who disclose private information improperly to the uninitiated. The Church of Scientology is perhaps the best modern example of this social dynamic with the church threatening members who contradict or expose the organizations teachings to non-members. But one could also argue, as Jason does, that nerd pop-culture possesses a similar dynamic to the secret society cult in the form of spoilers. 

          Nerd consumers of books, games, television shows and films circulating in pop-culture frequently focus upon the need to issue spoiler warning disclaimers for any discussion of the material in question, lest essential and exciting information be exposed to the public without properly experiencing it for one's self. Spoil the ending to a popular book and you with be shamed, publicly mourn the death of a beloved film character and you will be shouted down. Consider the case of Montana teenager Arthur Charles Roy, who allegedly threatened to shoot his Facebook friend for spoiling The Force Awakens, and the parallels between cultic violence for secrecy and pop-culture anger for spoilers becomes apparent. In either case, verbal or physical violence is invoked to protect secret information and  secure the identity of fan(atical) membership. 

          But there is an important distinction between these two dynamics that Jason's commentary overlooks as he proceeds in his critique of the film's contradictory spoiler-free market campaign. Whereas cultic secret societies invoke threats to protect their members within the community, nerds make threats to protect their eligibility to enter the fan community. If the dynamic was the same, the person who leaves the theater after seeing The Force Awakens and gives away the ending would be assaulted by the people walking out with him because he has exposed their shared secret experience of seeing the film for the first time together. But this is not how these situations play out; instead said person would be assaulted by the people waiting in line to see  the movie, which is completely contrary to the relationship between outsiders and insiders of occult communities. 

          The exposure of a secret society's occult knowledge threatens the society itself because the unregulated release of its private information disintegrates the distinction between those inside of it and outside of it. Members artificially flood into the community without commitment to its identity and the community implodes upon itself. Fandom operates differently in that its membership is dependent upon enthusiasm for the personal (secret) experience with pop-culture commodities. Possessing knowledge of the commodity prior to one's encounter with it diminishes one's enthusiasm for it and thus compromises one's fanatical identification with it. Thus spoilers prevent new fans from entering into the fan community and threatens its capacity to sustain itself. Secret societies fail when too many people are able to identify with its distinguishing feature while fan communities collapse when there are no longer enough fans enthusiastic about the pop-culture product. 

          Returning the discussion to The Force Awakens itself, as Jason phrases it: "The perverse thing about the marketing is that the only spoiler is that there are no spoilers." Despite all the concern for spoilers of the film's plot being made public prior to its commercial release, the only serious spoiler for the film, at least in my experience, was exposure to the original Star Wars trilogy itself. If you have already seen those films then you have already seen The Force Awakens. In some sense the film is impossible to spoil since it is devoid of content sufficiently distinct from the original trilogy for its exposure to undermine its enjoyment. But in another sense it is impossible not to spoil the film because of the cultural impact of the original films. Even those audience members who did not actually watch the original trilogy will likely be familiar enough with the narrative of that trilogy for some of The Force Awakens plot to be spoiled for them before it actually unfolds on the screen for them. The tragedy and the irony of this film is that those most familiar with the film franchise will be the one's most devastated by its nostalgic-spoiler dynamic. The one spoiler for the film isn't even a dramatic secret for the audience but is revealed in side commentary from characters and culminates in a nostalgic and predictable parody of the previous films' most iconic moments.

          Before walking into the film I had re-watched the original trilogy in order to reinvigorate my memory and fondness for the beginning of the franchise. But as I walked out of The Force Awakens I felt as though I should have never seen these films to begin with. Not only is The Force Awakens a remix of the original film trilogy, particularly A New Hope,  but it is admittedly a better film in many ways than these films. and because of the way it copies so much from them, this feels like a betrayal of my fandom. It isn't enough that this film be better films than they are, that is what any sequel should aspire to, but it is also better version of them. It retroactively made me regret my devotion to these films by repeating them and doing it better than they did. Which is ironic and a little bit insulting considering that so much of the marketing for this film depended upon imagery appropriated from the original trilogy. The film re-imagined a better past for the series while ignoring consideration of the franchise's future, opting instead to leave that for future films to possibly provide, and derive profit from.       

          The Force Awakens is such a perfect recycling of narrative elements from the previous trilogy that its plot is telegraphed to the audience far before it actually occurs. One may not be able to predict exactly how events will unfold or characters will react, but when they do none of it will be particularly revelatory or riveting for the franchise. Even those moments that we should consider spoilers, are not really that; the characters may have changed from previous films but the same narrative arcs remain to be repeated. The secret of this movie is that it has no secret because we've all seen this movie before. To his credit Abrams has updated the casting and dialogue for contemporary appeal but that only makes it more obvious to the audience how much this movie stands upon and outside of the original trilogy of films; so much of the humor, drama and plotting can only be explained by references to prior films or prior-release Disney-marketed products that the movie would make as just as much sense if the new cast of characters were people from our own world transported in Narnia-esque fashion into the world of the Star Wars series. To say this makes no sense at all is an accurate assessment of this film's intelligibility.   

          Simmel's commentary on secrecy not only provides insight into fan fears over spoilers for The Force Awakens and other beloved forms of pop-culture entertainment but also exposes the strategy of the film's marketing. The film's marketing campaign invested so much focus on avoiding and preventing spoilers for the plot in order to create the illusion that there was a plot worth spoiling to begin with. By presenting the narrative of the film as a secret that needed to be protected, fans were sold that this film would not only have an original and exciting premise behind it. But it also suggested that the excitement itself of encountering the film for the first time was something sacred to studio and audience alike. But in the immortal words of Admiral Ackbar, its a trap! The only secret to the film was an empty one that the film was empty of originality and therefore had no secrets beyond this fact.  This is a cynically exploitative strategy but it seems to have succeeded for the film even if fans such as myself leave the theater ultimately disappointed (though admittedly entertained). 

          By avoiding an original narrative and in attempting to be impossibly apolitical, The Force Awakens exposes itself to being identified as nothing more than the latest capitalizing exercise in cynical cinematic amusement. Its open-ended and empty narrative only serves as an opportunity for further films and merchandise to retroactively  fill in these plot holes for profit. Disney will repeat this process until fans lose their enthusiasm for having their enthusiasm from the previous film sold back to them in the most current form. If fan communities fall because spoilers compromise their enthusiasm for a product, then there is no wonder that Disney fought so hard to protect this film's image from further scrutiny before it could begin making money. Its success depends upon exploiting such fan anxieties but such success is also threatened by this very dynamic it exploits; by inflating the potential of the film Disney has risked diminishing returns for the future of the franchise from its fan-base.

          This puts Star Wars fans such as myself in a compromised position in regards to this film. By critiquing the film we expose its only original (albeit cynical) spoiler and harm the franchise's fan-base but by being silent we perpetuate the secret that this film has no secrets worth sharing to begin with. It may seem like either option threatens the future integrity of the franchise and its fan-base and therefore no matter what the future of Star Wars appears hopeless. I have decided to refrain from discussing my criticisms with this film openly and have therefore provided a spoiler warning above despite the fact that the contents of this essay indicate that such a warning is not as applicable to this film as it would be elsewhere in the nerd community. And despite my criticisms, I would still recommend this film if only because for all its flaws it is still fun and because every Star Wars fan deserves to decide for themselves, rather than have it spoiled for them, whether this is the sort of Star Wars film they want to see again and again (as The Force Awakens appears to indicate that we have reached the end of history within the Star Wars universe). 

          But like the Force itself, perhaps with the Dark side comes the Light. Perhaps the future of the series is doomed to decline and extinction or an indulgent eternal recurrence of the same. But hopefully this is only inevitable insofar as it is reliant upon commercial profit empires like Disney. There is hope for it in tiny acts of rebellion from diverse and devoted fans voicing their dissent against such mass-market production. In the closing words of Jason's original critique, "we could say its deepest secret is the secret that binds all capitalism together, that money is a fiction whose meaning vanishes the moment you stop believing in it." The secret is out, Disney is the Empire and it has struck back at the Star Wars community. Only time will tell if they manage to form a successful Rebellion (or is it the Resistance?) against its capitalist hegemony over their favorite fictional universe. 

Frank Herbert's Dune: Speculative Fiction Orientalism and Obscurity

          Frank Herbert’s epic science-fantasy series, Dune, was my first exploration of the science fiction genre and my first experience with Orientalist literature; albeit, I was unaware of the latter at the time of my reading. Being only an adolescent I was not yet aware of the work of Edward Said and would not come to read his works until late into my undergraduate education at university. Orientalist interpretations of Eastern culture and religion presuppose a binary between West and East that estranges the latter from the former. The values of the East are considered oppositional to those of the West and are conceived as a static totality. Such simplification enables Eastern culture to be more easily appropriated, commodified and exploited by Western influences. Whether the culture of East is considered superior or inferior to the West, it must inevitably be mastered by the West; either explicitly through the imposition of Western political power or implicitly through the rationalization of Eastern culture according to the dominant ideologies of Orientalist interpreters.

          The speculative future imagined in Dune contains several standard orientalist caricatures but none more so than in the white savior, Paul Mau’dib, the young noble who integrates himself with the primitive natives in order to liberate them against the threat of empire in Laurence-of-Arabia-fashion.  But if Dune can then be said to be Orientalist, it is, like much of speculative fiction, obscurely so. While it is an apparent work of science fiction, Dune posits an alien desert world, Arrakis, so estranged from the experience of the contemporary reader that it is difficult to conceive of it as a future reality as opposed to an alternative reality altogether. This estrangement is only intensified as the years since the novel’s original publication grow, and the pseudo-science of the world becomes less and less credible and coherent in comparison to contemporary scientific knowledge. Contrary to the expectations of science fiction literature however, it is not primarily the pseudo-scientific speculations that connect the fictional world of the Dune series to our own, but rather it is the language of the series that unites the two. The language of the series, or more precisely one of the languages within the series, is also the most apparent site of the series’ obscure Orientalism.

         

          Specifically it is Arabic-derived language of the Fremen desert nomads of Arrakis which provides the connection, albeit in clandestine fashion. At the time of my initial reading of Dune I did not recognize the Fremen language as based in Arabic, having no familiarity with the language or the concepts it expresses, and considered it another exercise in speculative neologisms. Speculative fiction, fantasy or science fiction, utilizes neologisms to construct an imagined alternative world or project ourselves into the language of an imagined future. As most writers of the genre write for English audiences, this linguistic contrast between the familiar and the alien is often done by contrasting English with an exotic-sounding language, whether historical or fantastical. After returning to the text with some familiarity of Arabic, minor as mine is, it was apparent to me that the words spoken by the Fremen (Muad’Dib, Usul, Shari-a, Lian al-Haib, ayat, Kitab al-Ibar, Shaitan, taqwa, dijihad, Sayaddin, jinn, etc ) are derivative of a familiar terrestrial origin in Arabic. What once appeared to be an alien language is now apparent as linguistic appropriation. The exoticism of fictional Fremen culture is a function of the reader’s own unfamiliarity with the Arabic language and Islamic culture and cosmology. Dune does not merely parallel the Orientalist binary between the familiarity of empire and the exoticism of primitive natives but projects it into the future.

          However there is not enough explicit context to determine whether the apparent Orientalism of the text is best interpreted as a representation of contemporary Islamic culture, a speculative projection of Islamic history, or the mere appropriation of a historical culture to provide the element of alien exoticism common to the speculative fiction genre. Speculative fiction requires both a familiar and an exotic language; the former to ground the reader to a relatable reality and the latter to push them beyond its horizon into unfamiliar and fascinating territory. When the pseudo-Arabic of Dune functions as a covert pedagogy in Arab and Islamic culture or whether it is the exploitation and manipulation of that very heritage in the service of speculative of entertainment remains a debatable question. The obscurity of Dune’s Orientalism, the indeterminacy of its intentionality, makes it a problematic work of speculative fiction. But to conclude that this uncertainty is nothing more than a deficiency of the series is to misunderstand the intellectual appeal and potential of speculative fiction.

          Such indeterminacy of intention complicates our world by either imagining alternative histories of this world as in science fiction or an alternative world altogether as is the case of fantasy fiction. Such exercises of the imagination speculate beyond the horizon of our immediate experience and expose us to that which is other. This is often criticized as escapist and in at least one sense I consider this a legitimate critique; by constructing an artificial world rationalized in pseudo-scientific or magical logic, such writing often rationalizes prejudicial stereotypes while simultaneously excusing them as mere speculative play. This writing provides the comforting possibility of escaping into a world where one’s thinking is not challenged by any external referent and casual prejudices and bigotry can be ignored if not celebrated as avatars of artistic freedom. The Fremen are not an Orientalist caricature of a “space Bedouin” because they are not real Bedouin but are Fremen, a futuristic and fictional culture. Speculative fiction abounds with the abominations of racist and Orientalist imaginings but to write explicitly against such naked prejudice misses the potential of speculative writing.

          Our world is not transparent and insofar as speculative fiction aspires towards the construction of realistic artificial worlds it ought to emulate an aura of uncertainty surrounding its world-building. Since such worlds are written and read into being through words, and the more ambiguous the language, the more open to interpretation the world they describe is. The use of neologisms in speculative fiction both liberates the world from prejudicial narratives while exposing our inevitably prejudicial interpretations we project upon the world to understand it. By using unfamiliar words to describe the world, the reader is forced to understand the meaning it communicates independent of automatic and unconscious associations more familiar words would have inherited. But at the same time, this unhistorical use of language opens the words up to wider, and therefore more personally prejudicial, interpretations analogous to a Rorschact ink-blot test.

         

          The significance of and relationship between the Fremen Arabic of the future and Arab-Islamic culture in the present is not obvious and is relative to one’s own prejudices and ignorance. A reader unfamiliar with such a cultural heritage will approach Dune as a mere space opera, but a reader aware of or identifying with such a culture will have a more consequential reading of the text.  Dune is very much written within the gaze of Oriental imperialism and the colonial white savior, but whether it is read that way depends very much upon one’s own cultural education and sensitivity. The series is certainly not an ideal way to educate one’s self on such a cultural history; for it isn’t concerned with familiarizing the reader with Arabic or Islam as historically understood but in utilizing them as pseudo-neologisms to construct an alien world.

          The extent of this estrangement depends upon one’s own limited exposure to and appreciation of other cultures and cosmologies. To the Arabic speaker or Muslim reader, this world will appear far more familiar, though not necessarily more welcome, given its Orientalist tropes. Dune is an imperfect exercise in speculative neologism and a perfect example of how speculative fiction appropriates the language and concepts of “exotic” cultures and translates them into “alien” ones. Exotic words may liberate our imaginations but only if those words are not appropriated from the heritage of people suffering under the prejudices of Orientalism and projects of colonialism. I look forward to a future where speculative fiction not only writes against the prejudices of empire, but is written by those outside its gaze. Thankfully that future appears both inevitable and immanent.

Note: all artwork is the copyright of artist Gorrem (Devon Cady-Lee)

Deviant, But Not Dead: In Between World-Building and Writing

I am aware that I have been neglectful of making essay posts to this blog in the past few months and promise to get back into it shortly but it has not been for lack of legitimate distractions. Not only have I been working on graduate school applications but I have begun work on a speculative fantasy world-building project posted to my Deviant Art profile. Right now it is only a few illustrations and light expository essays on some of them but I eventually plan to organize the project around several distinct worlds each with their own uniquely strange histories, geographies, ecosystems, cultures and most importantly for fantasy, magic systems. I am thinking of something in between Brandon Sanderson’s Cosmere, the universe of Star Wars, and the respective multiverses of Magic the Gathering and Michael Moorcock with other influences ranging from The Witcher and The Elder Scrolls to The Malazan Book of the Fallen and the worlds of Warhammer. It is an ambitious project and I don’t plan on bringing it to fruition any time soon but I hope to provide something unique to the world-building community; each of my unique worlds will subvert and deconstruct the restrictive tropes of science and fantasy fiction which have placed them in an unrealistic and unproductive oppositional binary (with science fiction often seen as superior in hierarchy).  I suppose that makes the intention of my world-building project resemble the ambiguities of the science fantasy sub-genre or New Weird literary movement in speculative fiction. Think of China Mieville’s Bas-Lag series expanded to an entire multiverse for any idea of what I hope to accomplish. All of which to say I eventually want this world-building to be foundational and complementary to story narratives set across those worlds and not mere self-indulgent creativity. But first I must improve my capacity as a book writer before I can hope to move in that direction. And of course I do hope to return to writing essays here soon and have several works nearing completion at this time.  

For those that have read my post on science fiction writer Peter Watt’s recognition of my fan art for his Scramblers, you will already be familiar with my profile and art work. Below you will find several artworks related to my world-building aspirations and links to them on my profile. Hope you enjoy and feel free to explore the rest of my artwork; I plan on incorporating some of it into this world-building project. 

Glyvilgvishi

Glyvilgvishi are sorcery gone viral and left unchecked can proliferate into a supernatural pestilence. Their name means "glyph diseased" and as it suggests they are little more than a collection of sorcerous glyphs and enchanted objects resembling a living being. When sorcery is invoked it stains the world through which magic leaks from the planes of magic. If these glyphs are left unchecked they will rot and fester, mutating and spreading. Glyvilgvishi are as varied in form and power as the sorcerous languages that they are comprised of; when in the presence of foreign glyphs, they drawn them into their own forms and thereby further grow in power. Glyvilgvishi are only a threat to the extent that their glyphs are dangerous but there are a nuisance to the organized practice of sorcery as they feed upon and appropriate its magic into themselves. This is particularly problematic when dealing with them, since any sorcery invoked against them is liable to only exacervate it.

Ikasalik Necromancer

A Ikasalik necromancer dressed in the molded bones and boiled flesh-leathers common to its aristocratic class and ornamented with and coral collar and ceremonial coral cane. Crystals hang from its cloth and collar and contain servitor spirits bound by necromantic runes.

Yarabagi

Yarabagi or "old men of the swamp" are bipedal terrors that stalk the foggy banks of forest swamps. Their name is derived from their bearded appearance (common to both males and females) and bent posture. Village folklore describes the creatures as the demonic spirits of elderly relatives cast out by their unloving children into the swamp to die; yarabagi are believed to have crawled out of the swamps (swamps are believed to be gates to the underworld) to seek revenge against future generations by preying upon children. Indeed, yarabagi seem to prefer small children as prey, exhibiting an unusual power to lure children into the swampland with hypnotic hooting. Once the children are isolated and lost inside the fog, the yarabagi will sprint out howling and drown the child in the mud or dash them upon rocks before bending over to feast upon the corpse.

Piribagi

Piribagi or "children of the swamp" are not merely immature yarabagi but are a closely related creature. Smaller and more agile than their relatives, piribagi stalk their prey in packs through the foggy shores of their swampland territory. Equally adapt in the water as on land, piribagi have webbed feet allowing them to pursue their prey into the muddied waters. They are easily recognized by their disturbing vocalizations which resemble the laughter and cries of small children. Village adults, hearing these cries and believing them to be children lost in the fog, rush blindly into the swamps to search only to find themselves surrounded by a ravenous pack of piribagi. Like their yarabagi relatives, the piribagi terrors have inspired their own folklore and are considered to be the demonic spirits of children claimed by starvation of by the predation of the yarabagi. Believed to be doomed to wander the swamps and prey upon their own families, they are even more pitiful to the villagers than the yarabagi. Some mad priests even go so far as to venture out into the swamps to capture piribagi, and "return" them to their "family" (how the priests determine which family the creature belongs to is the subject of much theological debate among the elder priests). If a piribagi is domesticated in such a way young enough, it will bond closely with its adoptive family; this is seen as proof that it is indeed the spirit of their dead child and that the child has forgiven them. Such piribagi are considered complete members of the community. The death of such a piribagi is subject to an elaborate funeral celebration symbolizing that the child's spirit has finally been able to move on into the afterlife.

Wariyaba

Wariyabi "wolf worms" are sinister snake-like predators that slither through the swamp waters and forest underbrush in search of small prey. Compensating for poor eye sight, the wariyabi have excellent sense of smell and hearing by which to track their prey and avoid detection by larger predators. Their oily coats not only assist them in moving through their environment but also make it difficult for predators to grip them while their stringy, grey-green fur along their back also aids in camouflaging them amongst fur-plants. Although not adept in the water, their muscular tails assist them in swimming for brief periods where necessary or in propelling themselves into the air with a muscular spasm of their coiled body. Despite being solitary predators, wariyabi are not beyond coordinated attacks on larger prey. Wariyabi have not successfully been domesticated by villagers but they do not particularly avoid settlements either, prefering to hide and hunt in homes where possible. Villagers believe it bad fortune to let a wariyabi slip out of one's hands amd they are therefore reluctant to confront such creatures directly. It is believed that the wariyabi is a vengeful creature and will return to gnaw at the feet of those that wronged it when it is more accurate to say that it will gnaw on anything in front of it when it is angry or hungry, incidentally being quite often in its short life.

Wirishawa

The wirishawa "walking water" are considered to be malevolent water demons or water spirits depending upon who one asks. To be found in a variety of forms, all wirishawa share a gelatious core of dark-purple pulp from which fibrous tendrils extend throughout its body of water. The form of a wirishawa appears to be dictated by the extent to which the central mass has grown and the life it encounters; wirishawa are accomplished mimics and will parody life-forms from trees to animals to people after prolonged exposure to them. This appears to indicate some sort of supranatural intelligence inhabiting its body, but whether wirishawa can be said to be individual beings or a collective one is indeterminate. Indeed, wirishawa appear to bud off of one another or mere with one another without apparent reason, further mystifying observers. Whether more human-like forms indicate a greater degree of intelligence or simply an arbitrary form is also open to debate. 

Tendrils will periodically expose themselves from their watery body and when these tendrils encounter a new body of water anywhere from the size of a puddle to that of a river or lake, the wirishawa will ejaculate a portion of its internal mass. From this secondary mass a new wirishawa will emerge and as it grows it will possess more control over the surrounding water. It is this probably this invasive feature, the ability of the wirishawa to incorporate water into its body and use water as a body, that has peoples divided over its moral significance. Southern states in the river-lands consider wirishawa to be demons who have infested their water supplies and afflicted them with droughts and disease. By contrast, the nomadic tribes of the northern frost-wastes consider the wirishawa to be spirits of the seas who are simply tempermental and indifferent to the needs of men. Some go so far as to consider the wirishawa a judgement of the wirishabtu, the water god, upon the soft people of the south. Abusing water by funneling it into dams, irrigation, and bath-houses and polluting it with the waste of industry, the wirishawa have come to reclaim the water and return it to the sea, to the wirishabtu.

Disturbingly, there appears to be some merit to this belief as wirishawa of the south appear to migrate north and out to the sea, merging with its waters, draining the rivers and ponds of the south and pushing the southerners north into hostile territory. No one is sure where the wirishawa originated from but they appear to be returning to the sea. Some say this is to eventually convert the sea into a vast, worldly wirishawa (if such a terrifying act is even possible is uncertain). Others whisper that the sea is already such a being, that the wirishabtu is real, and that its gelatinous core covers the bottom of the sea. Perhaps this would explain rumors told from shipwrecked sailors who ventured too far north, of tendrils rising out of the water, of tendrils made of water itself, crashing down and sinking their vessel. Darker still are rumors of northern shamans who appear to be able to direct the current of the water itself, turning rivers into serpentine monsters and drowning men with surging waves. Whether this is true and how it is possible is the subject of much speculation, but it is believed that it is the rite of such shamans to ritually drown themselves in the body of a dormant wirishawa in the hope of receiving its powers. But is it the newly risen shaman who can control the waters, or is it the wirishawa and its wirishabtu who truly control the shaman?  

Wirishawinti

Wirishawinti is difficultly translated as "water walking man" in the same sense that one could say that a man is walking a dog. Such abominations are the product of wirishawa infestation in the southern river-lands. Contaminating water sources results in commonplace outbreaks of the supranatural plague but is most commonly found in isolated communities desperate for water to sustain themselves and ignorant of signs of infection until it is too late. Although capable of infesting plants and animals, the wirishawinti plague only inflicts its horrific transmutations upon people. Superstitious individuals will invoke the supranatural intent of demons or gods to explain such particularity, claiming the plague to be divine justice for the abusing of sacred waters for secular purposes such as bathing, plumbing and industry.

"Infection" is only possible if an individual ingests wirishawa-infested water, the the wirishawa taking root within them and spreading its tendrils through-out their body. Initial symptoms include the loss of hair, nails and teeth, the gradual loss of pigmentation in the skin to the point of transparency, and profuse sweating. Individuals will also become extremely attracted to water on an instinctual level, going so far as to apparently risk their lives with drowning. In reality however, the infected individual is beyond the threat of a drowning death thanks to the parasitic wirishawa within them and seeks out water to accelerate their mutation. Like the wirishawa within them, wirishawinti are capable of incorporating water mass within themselves and manipulating water around them; as more water is drawn into themselves, their flesh bloats and sags and their bones (if they can even be said to have any) bend at uncomfortable angles. As their flesh becomes transparent, the spots and vein-like tendrils of the wirishawa parasite within them become visible, often breaking their gelatinous skin to seek out new sources of liquid sustenance. Whether or not the original person can be truly exist over the course of this disturbing process is uncertain, but the fact that wirishawinti can be communicated with (albeit at a simplistic level) appears to indicate that some level of their cognition disturbingly remains intact. Far more disturbing is the fact that northern tribesmen willingly invoke such transformations amongst themselves in times of great conflict by ritually drowning themselves and are considered holy vessels of divine spirits of watery wrath by their communities.   

Orcs: Fantasy Race and Pseudo-Racial Slur

Trigger Warning: This contains frequent discussion of racist slurs used against African Americans (out of respect I refuse to spell the words out)

                
          After reading her Dreamblood Duology, I have finally begun to read NK Jemisin’s Inheritance Trilogy and plan to read her newest book, The Fifth Season shortly. NK Jemisin, a black female author, is a much-needed voice in a genre dominated by white male authors such as George GG Martin or JR Tolkein writing Eurocentric fantasy worlds. In contrast, she gives priority to people of color and other minorities overlooked or oppressed within the genre and embeds them in cultures outside the trope of pseudo-medieval European worlds. Whereas I find such fictional writing of hers entertaining, I find her critical writing enlightening.  One of my favorite articles she wrote is “The Unbearable Baggage of Orcing” wherein she deconstructs what these generic fantasy foes represent in the real world and why they are morally problematic for the fantasy genre. 
          

          Tolkein is (in)famously responsible for providing the foundation of the traditional fantasy setting populated by fantasy races adapted from European mythology and folklore such as dragons, elves and dwarves. Orcs have a more complex geneology behind them, being a sort of demonic elf, but have become as recognizable as the other aforementioned races to anyone familiar with the fantasy genre. In Jemisin's analysis, orcs are “creatures that look like people, but aren’t really. Kinda-sorta-people, who aren’t worthy of even the most basic moral considerations, like the right to exist. Only way to deal with them is to control them utterly a la slavery, or wipe them all out.” The only way to confront orcs is to have them “mowed down, usually on sight and sans negotiation, by Our Heroes. Orcs are human beings who can be slaughtered without conscience or apology.” They are inherently evil and therefore necessarily unworthy of our attention, but our intent to destroy them. And yet it’s the orcs themselves who are considered evil? Funny that.

         

          If this sounds to you like the way in which people of color have been routinely represented as sub-human by white supremacists and imperialists throughout history, then you are not alone. It is the same conclusion that Jemisin reaches at the end of the article and is the reason that she is uninterested in the inclusion of orcs in her writing. If you fail to see this connection then you probably white, and are blinded by the distance your whiteness privileges you with. I have written about the conservative and racist tendencies in the fantasy genre before, devoting specific attention to Tolkein and orcs. Rather than repeat that essay, I want to offer an analogy that I think is helpful to conceptualizing how creatures such as orcs can nevertheless be offensive despite their being imaginary.
         

          Think of the term “orc” as a racist slur like the N-word is in the United States. Russian writer Yisroel Markov did exactly that in his fantasy parody of Tolkein, The Last Ring-Bearer. Taking place in Middle Earth after the events of The Lord of the Rings books, Markov puts us in the perspective of Mordor and the “dark forces” of Sauron. The book is written as a revisionist history of the events portrayed in Tolkein’s original works, rewriting much of what we consider to be canon in the history of Middle-Earth if not the fantasy genre in general. One of my favorite revisions is his depiction of orcs: rather than referring to corrupted sub-human monsters, Markov reinvents the term as a racist slur used against the Orocuen, a race of foreign men. In this way, Markov makes explicit within his writing the way in which “orc” is read as a dehumanization of foreign and “primitive” peoples of color. His orcs are just men who have been labeled as monsters by the imperialists intent upon the collapse of Mordor's scientific and independent culture.

          Now substitute “orc” for the N-word and think through the implications this has. Orcs are dirty, impoverished, violent primitives.  They are dark skinned and ape-like, less intelligent than humans but possessed of animalistic strength. They are short-lived but breed in great numbers and probably inhabit inhospitable regions such as deserts or jungles. This description of orc is congruent with the racist caricature of African Americans that the N-word may convey when used as a term of derision. Look at the way in which African Americans have been depicting in racist art; the imagery of grotesque black-skinned ape-men are common-place and hardly a far-cry from the appearance of Tolkein-esque orcs. Also keep in mind that the humans doing the orc-slaying are probably all white pseudo-Europeans with noble souls blessed by destiny of the gods to justify such slaughter. That sounds hauntingly familiar as well. 
          

          Orcs are a convenient way to represent peoples of color as sub-human without appearing guilty of doing so. Because one cannot be guilty of dehumanization if the person in question is not even human at all, can they? This reminds me of a racist comment I once overheard on my university campus in response to accusations of anti-Semitism: “its not racist if Jews are not human to begin with.” A disgusting rationalization, but a convenient one nevertheless; racism appears to provide its own rationalized excuse and fantastical racism has the added benefit of well, fantastical. The caricature of a n***er is offensive because it deals with actual African Americans, while the description of an orc is apparently inoffensive because orcs are not real at all. But this misses the point. People do believe in real “orcs”, they just refer to them using the N-word instead.

          

          Orcs and the black-faces of minstrel-shows are both offensive fantasies that pervert the beauty and diversity of black bodies and cultures. The only apparent difference between the two mockeries if that the the minstrel-show is intended to be a reflection of reality in a way that the former is not. But representation is more critical than intention; one can be offensive without intending to be racist or believing that a monstrous example of racism is true. One doesn’t have to internalize a racist joke into a sincere belief to find it amusing, but one’s amusement is likely to be interpreted as nevertheless offensive to those it portrays. I don’t believe that simply because one enjoys reading a book about orc-slaying one is unconsciously fantasizing about the genocide of Africans just as I don’t think one is a necessarily a white supremacist simply because one possesses privileges associated with being white. The problem is when such privileges and their associations to power structures remain unacknowledged and unchallenged; by failing to critique the symbols of systematic oppression we only reinforce its status-quo they are invested in.
          

          By focusing our attention upon the intentions of white writers we ignore the way in which their works are received by black audiences as offensive. And by responding to such black critics with accusations of reverse racism or over-sensitivity is absurd in the case of the former and ironically indifferent in the case of the latter. Such responses would perhaps be legitimate if black people and other peoples of color were not so routinely forced to live their lives as if they were orcs, as something sub-human, something other to be feared and suppressed like wild animals. For people born of white privilege, orcs are a mere fantasy while for people of color it may be a lived reality of oppression and institutional violence. The way in which fantasy narratives not only reflect but justify such violence is likely to only appeal to those ignorant of their privilege or invested in it. 

One could, and many authors do, write worlds with metaphysics that justify wanton slaughter because the victims' being is inherently evil and antithetical to the order of existence. But that sort of narrative is exactly the same which racists construct in their own conscience to rationalize their bigotry. If the fantasy genre is to mature beyond criticisms of irresponsible escapism, let alone sexism or racism, it must transcend moral alignment based upon mere racial or cultural affiliation alone. Our world is not benefited by such dishonest moral simplicity and it is a waste to indulge in such delusional literature. I don’t have any interest in such childishly violent fantasies or their parallels in reality; that is why I chose to read writers like NK Jemisin over Tolkein and why you should too. What we need is literature that looks beyond the moral stupidity of the orc trope. I at least want orcs that own up to the racist reflection which they are, orcs which are themselves victims of bigotry, rather than the rationalization of it. I await the day when "orc" is considered a dirty word in the history of the fantasy genre, and the product of a less tolerant, less diverse age of literature.   

Aliens, Art and Fan Appreciation

          Yesterday morning I awoke to two things. The first such thing being my newly adopted Chihuahua wiggling across my bed for her much needed morning affection. The second was a comment on a work I posted on my Deviant Art profile, “Alienietzsche,” from another profile by the name of “Squidnapper.” As I read the comment I realized that it was from none other than the author whose work inspired the drawing to begin with. Peter Watts, author of Blindsight, my favorite science fiction book and one of the best books in the genre, had not only discovered my amateur work online but actually appreciated it enough to request that it be added to his website. I was shocked and elated. I am a huge nerd but I keep it to myself mostly. I have never attended Blizz-Con, Comic-Con or E3, although I plan on going to at least one of them one of these days. I don’t attend book signings or readings or comment on author answer-and-question threads on Reddit. I'm too lazy, too shy and too unfocused. The extent of my introverted fandom is my few attempts at fan art on my Deviant Art page. I’ve never sought the attention of someone whose work I appreciate, however immensely. So to discover that one such someone had stumbled across my humble tribute and had given me small praise was nothing short of awesome. Today my drawing appeared in his post “A Young Squid’s Illustrated Primer” under “part the Second: Scramblers.” He had the following to say: "Last week’s ego-surf turned up this great little illustration from Deviant Artist “Alienietzsche“— whose vision of Blindsight‘s scramblers is perhaps the closest I’ve seen to the images that were floating around in my own head while I was writing about those crawly little guys. This is going straight into the Gallery, with thanks and with ol ‘Nietzsche’s blessing." 

          

          Peter Watts is a “hard” science fiction writer which is the primary reason that I really enjoy his work, especially Blindsight and its pseudo-sequel Echopraxia. The names of these two books are derived from scientific phenomenon, as is much of the Watts’ writing. Whereas other speculative fiction authors might provide an appendix for the sake of fleshing out their world-building, Watts provides an appendix to justify his speculation with actual scientific research and publications. Bonus points for promoting scientific literacy. Unlike many works of popular science fiction, Watts takes his science seriously (he is a marine biologist after all). He doesn’t treat it as a surface level aesthetic, merely importing the imagery of the genre, but puts in the effort to argue for its scientific legitimacy. Thanks to his prose, pained with cynical intellect, this degree of scientific accommodation never devolves into being a mere info-dump to the reader. And even though Watts tethers his writing to scientific research and review, it doesn’t appear to constrain the reach of his imagination. Forget del Toro’s The Strain or Cronin’s The Passage (but not really, they deserve to be read, especially the latter), Watts has created the most scientifically plausible and terrifying vampires in the genre. His short-story, "The Things" is a brilliant and disturbing re-imagining of John Carpenter's classic horror film The Thing from the perspective of the alien itself. I strongly recommend you check out his work and welcome you to check out my Deviant Art profile. I realize I haven't even discussed the titular aliens who inspired this series of events to begin with but I fear that any elaboration regarding them would compromise their alien uniqueness to the genre and the imagination. 

Jurassic World and the Extinction of Capitalism

Jurassic World is exactly what one would expect of the fourth installment in a film series revolving around the resurrection of dinosaurs: it is as loud, thrilling, stupid and awkward as the dinosaurs themselves are.  And the plot of the film is as entertaining as it is predictable. Set 20 years after the events of the original Jurassic Park, the dinosaur theme-park industry has finally become viable and successful. Ironically, it is so popular that the familiar dinosaurs no longer inspire inherent awe and fear. The dinosaur theme-park industry feels threatened by such fading wonder and paranoid with the possible loss of revenue. To support itself the theme-park turns to outside investors to fund its newest attractions: hybridized dinosaurs.  The first such commercialized hybrid, and the primary threat throughout the film, is the Indominus Rex: a hybrid of T-Rex and Velociraptor DNA created by Dr Henry Wu (BD Wong). Suffice to say that such a creature does not prove a commercial success, at least not for the entertainment industry.  The military industrial complex, on the other hand, is interested in its potential as a military asset. And Indominus isn’t the only dinosaur they are interested in weaponizing; Velociraptors are also in demand as counter-terrorism assault units. Velociraptor-handler Owen (Chris Pratt) and operational manager Claire (Bryce Dallas Howard) unite together against both the escaped dinosaurs and the military industry out to exploit them as weapons.     

Jurassic World is a combination of sequel and reboot, in the same way that the iconic Indominus Rex is as much a new dinosaur as it is a hybrid of previous genetic strains. It repeats the same dinosaur-disaster-scenario of the original films but provides it with the rationale of contemporary political concerns over corporate manipulation and military exploitation. Both the film and the park itself appropriate elements of their former incarnations in order to derive greater profit from such rejuvenated nostalgia. Yet the film and the theme-park within the film build upon the success of what preceded it as much as they build over it, deliberately obscuring its origins out of anxiety over its absence of authenticity. The new Jurassic World theme-park is literally built upon the ruins of the old Jurassic Park and hidden behind walls from the public.  Lowery (Jake Johnson), one of the park control room operators, comes into work wearing a Jurassic Park t-shirt that he bought online out of nostalgia for the original park. He is then reprimanded by Claire for doing so with her claiming it was done in poor taste. Such is the internal conflict of the film: the oscillation and contradiction between respecting the authenticity of original creations and the commodification and manipulation of creations for profit. Jurassic World appears to endorse the former as a priority but this ideal is continually undermined throughout the film. Lowery came to the park out of the same nostalgia that attracts movie audiences to Jurassic World who are fond of the original Jurassic Park; but for both Lowery and the film audience, the encounter proves unfulfilling. 

Although both Jurassic World the film and Jurassic World the theme-park may be unfulfilling, at least the former is not unenlightening, devoid of critical insight. Viewed from the proper perspective and the disappointment of the film is its most critical asset. In order to appreciate the film, one must recognize the parallel between the film and the theme park that the film depicts. The most explicit signifier of the parallel between the film two is the title of the film itself; Jurassic World being both the title of the film and the name of the park within the film. Jurassic World merely appears to be another movie about dinosaurs, but it is actually a movie about movies about dinosaurs.  It is a criticism, albeit a conflicted one, about resurrecting beloved franchises, be they dinosaurs or films about dinosaurs, for profit. Jurassic World is fundamentally a film about corporate exploitation, not merely of nature, but of the film industry as well. The film is thoroughly self-conscious of itself not only as a film, but as a franchise film.  It frequently makes references which collapse the distinction between the escapist spectacles of the theme-park with that of the film industry itself. Underlying both is the same operating principle of deriving profit from consumers by capitalizing on nostalgia for past excitement made more spectacular. Whether contained within the screen of a theatre or the enclosure of a theme-park the spectacle is the same.

If viewed with a critical gaze, it becomes apparent that the film is an indictment of the block-buster film industry within the crisis of contemporary capitalism. Films are produced primarily to provide corporate revenue, and are hastily assembled from disparate appropriated elements of previously successful films in the hope that the familiar imagery of previous films will predict profit for the rest of the franchise. The film is as much homage to the originality of previous films as it is a criticism of attempts to exploit that originality through sequels. The reboot, unlike the sequel, clears away past plot-lines while appropriating the icons that made the previous films successful.  The audience is able to indulge in the product, insofar as they are capable of collective amnesia regarding past plot-lines they may have been invested in. Loyalty is to the brand alone, since it being divorced from any narrative context outside of its current presentation. For fans of both the film and the park, all that matters are the iconic dinosaur-commodities, with it apparently being best to forget the disastrous events preceding them. Yet it is this intentional ignorance of remembering the past as past that proves disastrous for both the film and park. Indominus was genetically engineered as a commodity to sustain the capitalist industry of the park. In similar fashion, the Jurassic franchise has intensified itself with each film in order to maintain relevance and commercial success. Not only do we want to live in a perpetual present, able to relive the past again and again, but we want it to be more spectacular with each incarnation, and this desire proves to be more disastrous as well.   

Lowery laments that people never learn, commenting on recurrence of dinosaur-related crises caused by capitalism. His statement not only addresses the corporate sponsors of the park, but those of the film itself. The partnership between the new theme-park and corporate sponsors undermines the integrity of the park’s original vision of being able to encounter dinosaurs with wonder, rather than greed.  If new dinosaurs are being sponsored by corporations, they might as well be named after them as well. Why not Pepsi-saurus or Doritos-don? After all, it’s already “Indominus Rex presented by Verizon”. Ironically, this criticism of corporate excess is contradicted throughout the movie as the audience endures product-placement for Mercedes-Benz, Starbucks, Pandora, Brookstone, Margaritaville, Beats by Dre headphones, and Coca-Cola. Yet such intrusions are doubly ironic for they remain consistent with Lowery’s complaint within the film, even if they prevent that message from resonating with the audience. Since the film takes place within a theme-park resorting to corporate sponsorship, it is only nature for such brands to be on constant display for the audience. The product placement of the film is a self-referential meta-joke whereby the movie is critical of itself. What appears to be merely an in-film advertisement that undermines the film, may actually be an arresting example of its message to the audience. 

Capitalism provides the realism for the film, situating us within a world we recognize as mediated through brand labels. And thereby does capitalism reinforce itself as the only economic reality we can relate to. The corporate sponsorship of the theme-park is as consistent as it is in conflict with the anti-corporate message of the film, but underlying both is the assumption that capitalism is the only economic reality conceivable to us, and criticism of it can only occur from within the horizon of capitalism itself. Jurassic World is awkwardly aware of itself, much in the way that the contemporary consumer is critical of capitalism but cannot conceive of the world as otherwise. Unable to conceive of a space outside of capitalism by which to criticize it and offer an alternative to it, the critic is only able to present criticism immanent to the commodity itself.  Unable to offer an alternative to capitalism, but unwilling to support it, the critic can only present their critique as a further commodity of the entertainment market. As Russell Brand notes, the film “plays on the anxieties that it’s creating and then sells those anxieties back to you in the form of a movie.” One cannot help but read the conflicted self-awareness of the film as reflecting the inner turmoil of the film-makers themselves.

Earlier in the film, the military security expect Vic Hoskins (Vincent D’Onofrio) attempts unsuccessfully to convince Owen Grady that the Velociraptors would be better served as military assets rather than entertainment animals.  Owen rebukes Vic, insisting that the Velociraptors are not mere commodities but are living things that have to be respected, not mastered. But once Indominus Rex escapes and is rampaging through the park, Owen and his raptors are forced to submit themselves to military oversight. Vic convinces Owen that the raptors will be made into military assets with or without his participation, and it would be better for Owen if he was there to lead them than stand idly by. In similar fashion, with or without director Trevorrow, the studio was going to make Jurassic World so as to produce profit for its shareholders. But rather than produce another failed franchise film, Trevorrow directed a film critical of the franchise industry despite being a franchise film itself. This reflects the contemporary conception of capitalism as a dominating totality that can only be criticized from within. Specifically such comodification is understood as inevitability; the best one can do in such circumstances is to produce ironic self-critical commodities since commodification as a whole is unavoidable and inevitable.  

The problem with such parodies of commodification, especially in film, is that they appear as authentic forms of dissent while obscuring the fact that they are actually mass commodities guilty of the most gratuitous forms of corporate branding. Despite the inescapable fact that Jurassic World is a franchise film sponsored by corporate interests, it can be credited with making this comedically explicit and condemning it. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the character of Lowery situated in the control room. Not only does the control room parallel a movie theatre with its massive screen, but Lowery even wears a fan-boy t-shirt and sips on a large soft-drink making him easily identifiable with an audience member of the film. Lowery’s frustration mirrors our own; he is attracted to the nostalgia of Jurassic Park just as we were with Jurassic Park, yet we are each cynical about the commercialization of its current form and feel powerless to see it collapse before us on screen. And just as Lowery is working for a company whose practices he detests, so too do we find ourselves responsible for the production of terrible franchise films because studios know they can exploit us into seeing them again and again by resurrecting the past for profit. The extent to which the audience is ruthlessly criticized in the movie will likely escape their awareness. The film asks us to reflect back upon ourselves and question the degeneration of the film industry and our responsibility for it. The joke is on us as members of the audience as the film accuses us of being at fault for movies like itself. Jurassic World was made to remind audiences that it should not have been made, that the original Jurassic Park should be preserved and not exploited and refashioned into some new hybrid form through excessive corporate investment.  

In Russell Brand’s review of the film he states that what fascinates him is that “Starbucks will pay big money to have a fake franchise outlet in a fake theme park, even though the theme park is a microcosm of man’s destructiveness, particularly as a result of capitalism.” This truly is fascinating.  Not only is a real corporation interested in product placement in an unrealistic film, but it maintains this interest despite the fact that the film is an obvious critique of the absurdity of such an investment. Corporations have become so consumed by profit, that they seek out product placement even in spaces which explicitly condemn them, and we have become so cynical regarding such corporate interests that we are willing to welcome in their dominating presence, if we are even conscious of it. If the theme park of Jurassic World is to be identified with the film of Jurassic World then the attendees of the former represent the audience of the latter. If Indominus Rex is the monstrous product of focus-groups as much as the film itself is, then we as members of the audience are implicated in both the disaster of the park and film. Not only do we want to indulge in the fantasy of seeing a dinosaur, on some level we want that fantasy to escape and run rampant, destroying the exploitative system that spawned it. Our fantasies cannot be contained in isolation, but will eventually escape and wreak havoc.

Jurassic World represents the rampant chaos of capitalism in all its self-destructive glory in the vehicle of Indominus Rex: created to ensure the prosperity of the park it proves to be the catalyst for its collapse. Just as the dinosaurs, created to entertain humanity, prove to be their destruction, so too does the threat of rampant appropriation and commodification of life threaten the future of civilization. The film tells the cautionary tale of exploitative and destructive capitalism, only for us to them fall prey to it and be consumed by it in turn. The drive for profit and power over the market result in the collapse of the industry.  This mode of dominating nature and distilling commodities from it can only lead to inevitable disaster. In the original film, death and destruction appeared as obstacles to the awe and wonder of encountering an actual dinosaur.  In Jurassic World however, such destruction is itself the source of wonder, with dinosaurs being created and exploited precisely because of their propensity for violence and terror. This reveals not only the destructive consequences of capitalism, but its inherent self-destructiveness, of which we as consumers are implicated. The excesses of capitalism inevitably cause it to explode in crises and disasters which threaten the system as a whole while simultaneously producing the rationale to reinvest in the system to contain those crises; the release of Indominus Rex provides the rationale to turn the raptors into counter-terrorism units and the crisis serves as their field test. This sort of insanity is intelligible only if capitalism is conceived as a totalizing system with no alternative to it.  The best we can do is to produce our own monsters to contain other monsters.

Despite the Frankenstein-nature of Indominus Rex, Dr Wu is quick to point out that all the dinosaurs of the franchise are not true dinosaurs; they are all hybrids of recovered dinosaur DNA and DNA derived from other animals such as reptiles and amphibians. Not only does this provide an explanation of how the dinosaurs were able to be resurrected through incomplete DNA samples, but it also gives the film an excuse for maintaining its aesthetic against the imperative of scientific accuracy.  Jurassic World (and Jurassic World) willfully ignores scientific discoveries in order to cater to consumer interests; the dinosaurs are genetically modified to prevent them from exhibiting characteristics that conflict with the scientific expectations of dinosaur physiology. But most critically his statement exposes the impossibility of any natural purity; it is artificial commodification all the way down the lineage. The original film did not make this explicit, pretending that the dinosaurs were accurate representations of nature, while Jurassic World is more honest about its manipulation of nature in the service of profit. As such, it risks its honesty as being labeled hypocrisy.

As a critique of capitalism, the film is interesting in its own right.  But as a failed critique, the film is fascinating.  It is not only a representation of the struggle against commodification, but is itself a site of that very struggle. Jurassic World presents a critique of capitalizing and commodified nostalgia, only to perpetuate that process and thereby force its critic upon itself. Critics who expect the film to be taken seriously will be sorely disappointed but such critics fail to recognize as a joke, deriving insight from this insincerity.  Wherein less observant critics will see the film as a failure, a more nuanced appreciation of the film will reveal that the film is reflective of a greater failure of the film industry as a whole, if not global capital itself and our inability to imagine the world any other way. Apparently it is easier to imagine the resurrection of dinosaurs, thanks to capitalism, rather than the extinction itself.