Exposition - A Take on Alternatives

There was a time when the feature film conveyed a sense of permanence, as if the story you were watching had been set in stone. Indeed, of the mere hundred years or so during which the medium has existed, this has been the case for all but the last third of that period. As a child of the eighties, I have only a very small recollection of this time, and yet it is an era which remains powerfully vivid in my mind. Oftentimes the only inkling you had of an upcoming film would be the preview shown before another feature. Occasionally there would be a poster or cardboard diorama set up in the cinema three or four months in advance. On rare occasions there might be a brief article in one of the larger newspapers suggesting that filming had commenced on a sequel to one of the successful films from two or three years ago. Whatever the case, when you did eventually settle down in that mildew-scented cinema and waited for the red curtains to draw aside in their jerky fashion, it never once entered my mind that I would be seeing anything but a perfect vision. Hollywood was just like Willy Wonka's chocolate factory. The inner workings of the industry remained largely unknown and mysterious, clouding popular perception to a point where it seemed inconceivable that a film could have ended up in any state other than the way we saw it on the screen. Without any knowledge of the politics, disputes, and outright failures going on behind the scenes, films always seemed to emerge with an unearthly, somewhat eerie sense of immaculate completion.

"We are the music-makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams"

Looking back over the past twenty years, it is startling how much the situation has changed within such a short period. And the most appreciable influence behind this shift is, of course, the advent of the internet. While there has always been a subculture, made up of enthusiasts, which have made it their business to appraise themselves of all the news and inner-workings of the film industry that their circumstances would allow, the mass transferral of information afforded by the internet has seen an unprecedented increase in the amount of available material and the number of people with access to it. Time was when it actually meant something to say that you had an interest in film, the hallmarks of which were a basement or attic crammed to the brim with film cases and projection equipment. Cut to the present day, where saying that you like film is akin to expressing your interest in food or simple respiration. What was once the sole province of a dedicated subculture has become a staple of culture at large, to the point where virtually everyone these days would classify themselves as some species of film enthusiast. In fact, one might say that very little is left of the original audience, that great horde which used to include the cinema as part of their weekly or monthly entertainment, to be consumed, enjoyed, and then largely forgotten. When a film screens these days it is not met by the humble consumer, but ruthlessly dissected by a throng of self-proclaimed, self-righteous critics and technical experts – yours truly included.

No longer perceived as a kind of immaculate vision, the general attitude toward film has shifted toward a 'work-in-progress' mentality: the seamless white sheet now exposed as the patch-work conglomeration it really was all along. Indeed, with the proliferation of insider-information now blazoned on the web, the attitude toward modern films is very often determined before production even begins – the seams picked apart before the industry even has a chance to lay out the template. Increasingly, the result of this pressure seems to be a frantic attempt on the part of film-makers and studios to placate vocal consumers rather than maintain their original vision. More often than not, however, the result is a bastardised hybrid of creative concept and reactionary marketing that fails to satisfy either party. But even if we rightly identify the internet as playing a significant role in this shift, is it really the only, or indeed the original cause? By the same token, can we really blame the millions of film enthusiasts – whose curiosity perhaps outstrips their tact and diligence – for the increasing number of creatively compromised films, or does the fault really lie on the industry side?

To an extent, I think that film-makers have actually brought this situation upon themselves. On the studio side, nothing but greed can account for the recent trend toward approving sequels before an original instalment has even been tested in the market. The considerable upsurge in remakes has also led to a climate wherein films are leant to direct comparisons, and the inevitable conclusion that one or the other must necessarily be bad if the other is deemed to be good. Over-saturation is perhaps the best way to describe the current phenomenon, and its origins can be traced all the way back to the era of my idealised childhood. You see, with the advent of (relatively) affordable home-viewer technology, such as Laserdisc and VHS tapes, the general populace began to see tangible proof of an element of film-making which had always existed but, until then, generally remained within the realm of urban legend: the extended cut. The famously absent spider pit sequence in the original King Kong is one of the best known examples, but it wasn't until the early eighties that extended cuts began to be widely disseminated, triggering a fundamental shift in the attitude toward film. The infamous Caligula – released in 1979 – is a tempting candidate upon whom to pin the role of popularising alternative versions. The controversy surrounding its content certainly propelled it to a level of intense public scrutiny, but the details of its troubled production disqualifies it to some extent on a technicality. After all, it wasn't that director Tinto Brass was issuing multiple versions of his own volition, more that his Caligula was competing with a version augmented by Giancarlo Lui and Bob Guccione, as if they were entirely separate films.
 

It wasn't until the mid eighties, when cable TV stations began to show an extended version of Michael Cimino's Heaven's Gate, that the public was really exposed to the idea that a director could favour a version of the film which was substantially different from the cinema release. It was this particular example which also brought the term Director's Cut out of its original context as part of the film-making process and introduced it to the consumer vocabulary. Even so, for the most part the eighties continued under the auspice that what you saw on the screen was what you were ideally meant to get, at least until two of the biggest names in modern film-making unwittingly pioneered what has since grown into a staple of the industry. As fate would have it, 1992 saw two of the most influential science-fiction films reissued to audiences, with Ridley Scott releasing a Director's Cut of Blade Runner, and James Cameron offering a Special Edition of Aliens. The ramifications for the home-viewer were nothing short of revolutionary. Suddenly it wasn't simply a matter of whether you liked the movie or not, but which version you regarded as being superior. Films could now be comparable to themselves, creating a schism which – regardless of where you fell on the issue – denied any concept of an immaculate, definitive version. With the cinema complex still top-dog in the market, however, the issue was still largely relegated to the home-viewing enthusiast.

While these examples certainly acted as harbingers on the horizon of future possibility, they were destined to remain something of an oddity through to the late nineties. As pillars of the industry, Scott and Cameron had opened minds to the possibility that great films could exist in an alternate form which was even arguably superior. However, each had come about through a set of particular circumstances, with neither director exhibiting any desire to make it a staple in their creative repertoire. It took another pillar of the science-fiction catalogue to really set-off the boom industry in alternate versions, a dubious honour that fell to George Lucas and his 1997 theatrical release of the Star Wars trilogy in a revised Special Edition. This time there was no escaping the schism, and to complicate the issue further, this divide would have generational implications. Where Scott and Cameron had been content to allow their alternate version to stand on their own merits, Lucas took the contentious step of weighing in heavily, even overbearingly, on the issue. His intent with these re-releases was to establish a definitive version, taking advantage of technology which was not available to him at the time.
 

For those that had embraced the original Star Wars trilogy it was simply too bad – it was being put out to pasture, with the openly professed intent that they might be forgotten as a new generation grew up in the shadow of these revised iterations. The older generation had, unfortunately, fallen for an incomplete, blemished version, but now it was time to upgrade to something certifiably superior. Needless to say, many resented the implicit suggestion that they had been duped into embracing a flawed vision, and doubly so now that the unconditional love they had shown for this cash cow had put enough money in the farmer's coffer that he was at liberty to take it out the back and shoot it. A precedent had been set and a means of increasing revenue simultaneously proven, and it was not long before others took the idea and ran with it, including the unimaginatively titled release of The Exorcist: The Version You've Never Seen. With the subsequent advent the DVD format and its ability to convey data in a non-linear fashion, the market in alternate versions expanded rapidly from this point on, delivering a bastard child in the form of endless reissues and repackages.

As always, however, it only takes a few glorious triumphs for us to forgive a trying campaign of misadventure, and in the realm of alternate versions there have certainly been a few films that seem to justify the phenomenon. The 2003 release of an Alien 3 in Assembly Cut form, for instance, offers an approximation of the film we may have seen had a young David Fincher not been encumbered with a terminally ill production from the outset. As a mark of dedication to the original source material, Peter Jackson put considerable effort into an Extended Edition of each instalment in The Lord of the Rings trilogy, providing an affirmative example of how to successfully negotiate the rift between the casual and dedicated audience. Deserving the most praise of all, however, is Ridley Scott, who has recently returned to place his indelible mark on the phenomenon which he ostensibly created with a truly transformative Director's Cut of the otherwise deeply flawed Kingdom of Heaven. Since then he has delved into the depths of his back-catalogue to reissue Blade Runner in a deluxe set, delivering not only a revised Final Cut, but a staggering four other versions in a definitive sign of support for the dedicated enthusiast. As such, while we may lament the advent of alternative cuts for unleashing a marketing farce in recent years, it is certain that we would never have experienced some truly spectacular film evolutions had the phenomenon never taken root.

Ridley Scott finishes what he started with Blade Runner

Mechanoid Daze - A Guide to Artificial Entities

Reflect on the current vogue in zombie material and you find ample demonstration of the extent to which film and television favour a certain number of recurrent elements or motifs. Vampires are another prominent example, which makes two before we even leave the shambling hordes of the un-dead. Broaden those horizons to the world of the living and one cannot but acknowledge the important contributions made by the ever-dependable mob organisation, international terrorist cell, or simple garden-variety psychopath. Entire genres have been built up around archetypes such as these, while for others it must be said that only specific genres afford the conditions necessary for them to function successfully. Zombies, for instance, are unlikely to ever transcend their origins as fodder in B-grade horror fare. Indeed, it is significant that those films which have managed to lead the zombie astray successfully – such as Shaun of the Dead – have been able to do so only through spoofing their typical treatment, rather than truly departing from it. In other words, it's unusual that we find a movie or television show which makes use of zombies as a bit-part. There are no sitcoms – that I'm familiar with, at least – which feature a bunch of hip twenty-somethings and their quirky zombie neighbour. When something features zombies, it's generally going to be en masse, and very much the central concern.

Such is not the case with all of film and television's favourite recurrent staples. Aliens, for instance, have managed to ingratiate themselves into virtually every genre, and with great success. Otherworldly life-forms can be found in anything from horror and action/thriller, sitcoms and drama, all the way through to comedy and children's programs. Those not convinced need only look to the box-office records for the month of June 1982, which saw the feel-good alien capers of Steven Spielberg's E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial rubbing intergalactic  shoulders with the tentacled horror of John Carpenter's The Thing. Very few staples of the industry show such versatility. As fate would have it, that same month in 1982 saw one of the few exceptions represented in the form of Blade Runner, a pivotal moment in the cinematic exploration of robots. Like aliens, robots have transcended their original role as a staple of the science-fiction genre to become a popular element in film and television at large. There is no doubt, in either case, that the key to this success lies in their versatility. Just as aliens can look and behave in almost any way conceivable, there is virtually no limit to the possible forms or functions that might dictate the role played by some mechanical creation, not merely in a practical sense, but in terms of tone and narrative role as well. Compare Fritz Lang's Metropolis with the likes of The Jetsons, or again with Transformers and already you see the wide range of potential uses.

Where these two phenomena differ, however, is in the proliferation of sub-types and techno-jargon. For unlike an alien organism, which is a fairly simple and all-encompassing concept, the technical nature of robotics has come to be reflected in a highly nuanced field of nomenclature. How does an android differ to a cyborg? Does a powered exoskeleton qualify as a robot? Where do the boundaries occur between something engineered mechanically and an organic equivalent? This article hopes to shed some light on these issues, offering a compromise between pragmatic definitions and practical ones.

. : Mechanoid : .

[from “mechanical” – bearing the qualities of a machine, and “-id” – of or pertaining to] 

An umbrella term, under which any of the following may be categorised in some capacity. The only qualifying element is that a mechanoid must resemble a machine in either function or design. This permits the inclusion of borderline examples such as puppets, clockwork pieces, and others which bear a semblance of mechanical automation without functioning as an autonomous unit, or that do so with the aid of mystical, spiritual, or other non-scientific forces. Beyond these examples, the vague definition of something being machine-like without, in fact, being a machine renders the term too broad for the interests of discerning one type from another. A classification of last resort.

. : Exempla

Pinocchio – Pinocchio

Daleks – Doctor Who

Talos – Argonautica

. : Mech / Mecha : .
[an abbreviated form of “mechanoid”] 

While there is no reason to differentiate the term from 'mechanoid' on an etymological basis, this abbreviated form has come to denote a specific class of robotic entity which falls outside the definition of a robot proper. In brief, the defining characteristic of a mech is the presence of a pilot or operator, without whom the unit loses much, if not all, of its functionality. As a staple of the Japanese anime culture, mecha are usually portrayed as an extension of modern military vehicles, such as tanks and aircraft, or construction equipment, such as loaders and excavators. Due to the necessity of physically enclosing the pilot, mecha have a reputation for being extremely large, and often resemble a greatly exaggerated anthropomorphic form. Neither of these characteristics have a defining role, however, as the operator is not necessarily human, nor is it requisite that the mech must resemble the operator's actual physiology.

. : Exempla
Tripods – War of the Worlds
Rosenburg – Men in Black

Gladiators – Robot Jox

. : Exosuit : .
[from “exo-” – outer or external, and “suit” – something worn, conforming to the wearer]

 While it is a point of some contention, the exosuit is perhaps best understood as a sub-class of mech, all of whose defining characteristics it shares, in addition to some more stringent ones. As with mecha, an exosuit is primarily defined by the need for an independent operator. What distinguishes one from the other is the nature of the interface between operator and unit. A mech may be controlled in a variety of ways, ranging from the traditional mode of piloting, through to virtual or direct neural connection, or even remote control. An exosuit, on the other hand, is controlled via a system of direct physical interaction, as the unit both mimics and enhances the operator's natural motion. For this reason exosuits are necessarily closer in shape, scale, and proportion to their operators, giving the sense that they are 'worn' rather than piloted. As with mecha, the application of this technology tends to be directed toward military use, as powered armour, or manual labour and construction.

. : Exempla
APUs – The Matrix: Revolutions
Marauder – Starship Troopers
Powerloader – Aliens

. : Robot : .

[from the Czech “robota” – compulsory labour, or “robotnik” – indentured labourer]

 

More restricted in the scope of application than 'mechanoid', the term 'robot' is nevertheless the most widely disseminated of any on this list, and thus the most difficult to accurately define. Indeed, the all-encompassing nature of the term has contributed much to the dilemma, largely by popularising a tradition of misapplication. Foremost among these is the practise of labelling things 'robots' when they are in fact merely robotic, meaning robot-like. The key to resolving this hinges on the issue of autonomy, of which there are two crucial factors. First of all, in order to qualify as 'a robot', the unit in question must be able to perform its designated function in isolation. This is not to say that it must be either physically disconnected and/or mobile, simply that it comprises a single complete unit, capable of fulfilling its intended function without external assistance. The welding arm on a production line is thus robotic, rather than a robot, because it is merely part of a much larger functioning machine. On the other hand, an automatic gun-turret mounted on a ship may be considered a robot if it is able to fulfil the demands of target acquisition, calibration, firing and reloading entirely on its own, for in so doing in completes an entire function. This brings us to the second factor, which is autonomy not in a mere physical sense, but in terms of self-maintenance. To put it simply, a robot must be able to perform to its maximum capacity without constant external direction. This may range from the most basic on-board programming all the way through to possessing a fully artificial intelligence: from simple self-propulsion through to sentience and actual self-determination. For this reason a mech is deemed to be robotic rather than a true robot. Beyond these characteristics there is no effective limit on how a robot may be manifested, either in size, shape, materials, or configuration.

. : Exempla
The Iron Giant – The Iron Giant
Johnny Five – Short Circuit
R2-D2 – Star Wars

. : Android : .
[from the Ancient Greek “andros” – man, and “-id” – of or pertaining to]

A sub-class of robot, defined by their emulation of the human form. While the Ancient Greek word from which it derives is masculine, the term 'android' is used to encompass humankind as a whole, irrespective of gender. The roles and functions of androids are many and varied, although the added trouble of making the unit resemble the human form is generally attributed to the necessity of being emotionally engaging to the humans around them. As such, they tend not to be designed for manual labour or other functions where brute force may be better served by another, abstract form. It is also important to remember that the imprecise nature of the term – designating something man-like – is open to some degree of interpretation. Any semblance of the human form is quite often little more than a matter of the proportion and arrangement of limbs and sensory inputs, while other features, such as materials, external finish, and facial details are either stylised or ignored completely. There is also a grey area concerning the point at which an anthropomorphically proportioned robot is no longer considered an android simply on the matter of scale.

. : Exempla
C-3PO – Star Wars
Astro – Astro Boy
Data – Star Trek

. : Synthetic : .
[from the Ancient Greek “sunthetos” – combined, or “sunthetikos” – one who combines]

A sub-class of android, defined by their emulation of not only the human form, but also the organic and mechanical operations of human biology. Essentially, synthetics represent analogues of the human body constructed of non-biological materials. While this necessarily results in them bearing a far closer resemblance to human beings than some of the general android class, it is important to bear in mind that synthetics are not typically designed to masquerade as humans, although they can sometimes be put to this use. Instead, their resemblance to biological organisms seems to be based on the design philosophy that the human body is itself one of the most functional of all machines, and is therefore a proven template from which to copy. For this reason, synthetics possess the artificial equivalent of internal organs, circulatory and metabolic systems, and tissues of a similar texture to those of humans as necessary parts of their inherent operation. Other rudimentary details, such as the colour of circulatory fluid, generally exhibit no attempt to pass the units off as human.

. : Exempla
Proto – Ghost in the Shell: SAC
SID 6.7 – Virtuosity
Ash – Alien

. : Replicant : .

[from "replica" – a copy or reproduction, "-ant"– in the capacity of]

A sub-class of android, defined by their emulation not only of the human form, but of molecular human biology, rendering them effectively indistinguishable from natural human beings. While the term 'replicant' itself is rarely used outside of its original context in the film Blade Runner, there are sufficient examples shown in other material to warrant their place as a parallel class to that of synthetics. Rather than being an artificial analogue of human biology, replicants are consciously intended to mimic human beings all the way down to a microscopic level. What physical engineering their creation entails is performed on a genetic level, with the subsequent manufacturing process being virtually identical to organic growth. As such, replicants occupy a grey area that verges onto other technology, most notably cloning. The crucial distinction between the two typically hinges on a combination of psychological inadequacy – with replicants lacking some basic elements of the human empathic response – and an inability to procreate. Like some clones, however, replicants often show greatly enhanced physical abilities, and are often unaware of their own artificial status.

. : Exempla
The Thirteen – Battlestar Galactica
Roy Batty – Blade Runner
Bioroids – Appleseed

. : Gynoid : .
[from the Ancient Greek “gyne” – woman, and “-id” – of or pertaining to]
 

  Strictly speaking, nothing more than the female equivalent of an android. As the term 'android' has moved away from its gender-specific notion, however, and shifted toward a definition of 'man' as in 'mankind', the term 'gynoid' has accrued its own alternative meaning, namely as a byword for an android whose primary function is to operate as a sexual surrogate. Given the disproportionate representation of female robots intended for this function, as opposed to male ones, it is easy to understand how this etymological shift could have occurred. While this casts a dubious light over the attitudes toward gender which allowed such a shift to occur, the designation is nevertheless useful in itself, so long as we match the inclusive nature of the word android and include male sexual surrogates within the sub-class of gynoids too. It is significant, however, that I cannot think of a single example of a male android whose sole or primary function was to be a sexual surrogate, let alone for use by a female.

. : Exempla
Prototypes – Ghost in the Shell: Innocence
Buffybot – Buffy: The Vampire Slayer
Zhora – Blade Runner

. : Cyborg : .
[contraction of “cybernetic” – possessing systematic control, and “organism” – a life-form]

Generally accepted as something which displays aspects of both organic and artificial systems. The vague nature of this definition, however, lends itself to three distinct interpretations, each of which can be placed within the categories of mechanoid, robot, and android respectively:

. : Type I - An organism bearing some degree of artificial augmentation. This is the most common definition, and is generally based on the projection of prosthetic technology to a point where it is equal or superior to natural human abilities. The proportion of cybernetic to organic material can range from something as simple as a replacement arm all the way through to an entire body housing an organic brain. Indeed, the only qualification is that the defining characteristic of the individual must be maintained, the core of which is the elusive component commonly known as the psyche.

. : Exempla
Alex Murphy – RoboCop.

. : Type II - A robotic species that bears all the hallmarks of organic life. This variation is perhaps the least common, and derives from a liberal interpretation of the term 'organism'. This requires that the unit in question not only present mechanical analogues for the organic processes of consuming matter or energy in order to maintain their autonomy, but also be able to perpetuate their own kind through some form of inherent procreation. This does not include the ability to simply produce a copy by making use of a typical production line. As such, this variety of cyborg occupies a grey area between robots and an alien species which just happens to be composed of what we recognise as machinery.

. : Exempla
Autobots/Decepticons – Transformers

. : Type III - An android whose physical construction incorporates some percentage of organic componentry. This is not an entirely satisfactory definition in most cases, but is worth addressing for the number of sources where it is openly avouched. The most prominent example is encountered in The Terminator, where Kyle Reese refers to the T-800 unit as a cyborg, based on the fact that its metallic endoskeleton is housed within organic tissues in order to aid infiltration. The problem with this interpretation is that, while the flesh is undeniably alive in a molecular sense, the same cannot be said for the unit as a whole. Unlike Type I cyborgs there is no continuity from an original organic state, and unlike Type II it fits none of the necessary criteria to be considered a living organism. The issue is effectively sealed later in the film when we see the T-800 able to function perfectly well, albeit without the ability to infiltrate, once all the organic material has been burnt off. As such, it is actually nothing more than a robot encased in a living sheath, the properties of which are advantageous to, but not essential to its functionality.

. : Exempla
T-800 – The Terminator

______________________

So there you have it, a hierarchical guide to the complex and fascinating world of artificial entities. And while I have touched on a number of particularly illustrative examples, there are many more popular and imaginative examples out there. So what are some of your favourites, and how would you categorise them according to this hierarchy? Have your say in the comment section below.

Exposition - Dystopia Myopia

I have an aversion to buzzwords. This aversion stems from the fact that they take perfectly good, functional terms and debase them to a point where they no longer have any specific meaning. Once they enter popular lexicon it's virtually impossible to check their progress; isolated cases of misapplication rapidly instigate a domino effect, and before you know it the word has lost much of its original value. An earlier article on the recent proliferation of the term 'reboot' covered some of this ground – although that case is unusual in that there seems to have been no consensus on what the word meant in the first place – but I feel an unconquerable urge to return to the subject in relation to misuse of a far more enduring term, which is the word 'dystopia' and its various conjugations. This is an evocative word, and one that people are understandably fond of using, but increasingly I seem to come across instances of application which dilute or misrepresent its rather unique meaning. More than anything else, this article is intended to be a personal rationalisation, explaining what the term dystopia designates to me as an individual, with the hope that it might inspire others to do the same.

Without resorting to an encyclopaedic citation, there is some background information which is essential to this discussion. Briefly, the necessary points to bear in mind are a) that the word 'dystopia' was coined as an antonym of 'utopia', b) that the word 'utopia' was itself not coined until the fifteenth century, in a philosophical work of the same name by Sir Thomas More, and c) that by the time 'dystopia' was coined, the generally accepted meaning of 'utopia' had divurged from its own original meaning. The last of these points is critical only insofar as it negates the viability of looking directly to More in order to define the meaning of 'dystopia'. Otherwise, it is sufficient to acknowledge the fact that there are two definitions of 'utopia', the first relating primarily to its original use, and the second, more commonly accepted and widely applied meaning. Of these two only the latter concerns us here. So what does 'utopia' mean?

Generally, when we use the word 'utopia' it carries connotations of perfection, total fulfilment, or an ideal state. The last is particularly important in regard to its alternative possible meaning: not as a static mode of being, but as 'the State' of proverbial socio-political significance. The word 'utopia' is not synonymous with others like 'paradise', which tend to suggest a simpler way of life, devoid of negative aspects because they forgo complexity. Paradise is certainly what any true utopia would deliver, but the means of reaching that goal relies on perfecting each individual facet in a finely-tuned machine, rather than dismantling it in order to get back to basics. In other words, a utopian world is one in which society works flawlessly for the satisfaction and betterment of its people, at once delivering and being an ideal state. Utopia is thus a means of attaining paradise, but not all paradises are utopian. The paradise of the Bible, for instance, is not utopian simply because it requires more than two individuals to constitute a society. So what does 'dystopia' mean?

First of all, it's worth noting the unusual spelling. The much more common dis- prefix would result in a negating reversal of the term 'utopia', but instead we have the rarer dys-, which carries a much stronger connotation of actual negative traits, rather than simple mirror opposition. 'Dysfunction', for instance, denotes the aberrant operation of a system or machine, not the cessation of function itself. Indeed, regardless of the actual etymology of the term, it would not be improper to treat 'dystopia' as a contraction of 'dysfunctional-utopia', which suggests a much clearer definition without altering the proper meaning. If we define a utopia as a social system which promotes the value and well-being of its citizens, then a dystopia is surely a similar system whose function produces the equivalent negative affect, i.e. the exploitation and devaluation of individual rights for the benefit of the state. Just as there must be a society in order for their to be a utopia, the same is also true of a dystopia. At their heart, each is quintessentially defined through the relationship between individuals and a state or social system of which they are a part, the latter existing for the benefit of the former in a utopia, and the former used to serve the latter in a dystopia. So what are some examples?

A bleak horizon, but is it dystopian?

One of the more frequent misapplications in recent weeks has been in relation to the Terminator franchise. If we use the definition outlined above, however, this error is clear for two reasons, being a) that the pivotal event of Judgement Day obliterated much of human society, and b) that the small numbers who did survive have actually formed a social order in which the value of human life is paramount. While these survivors certainly endure a harsh existence, as part of a martial society necessitated by the threat of annihilation, theirs is nevertheless a system that not only work but also affirms the value of each human being against that of their enemies, the machines. This is representative of by far the most common misapplication of the term dystopia, whereby it is perceived as being synonymous with any post-apocalyptic world. The world of Judge Dredd, by contrast, is a proper example of both, where catastrophic events have resulted in the creation of huge, overpopulated enclaves. The ensuing upsurge in conflict and crime sees the introduction of a harsh system of justice arbitrated without the right of appeal, with the end result being a pronounced decline both in the quality of human life and its perceived value.

A dreadful vision of the future

It's also important to bear in mind that fictional worlds need not be either dystopian or utopian in their entirety, and yet still feature one, the other, or both. The Star Trek series is perhaps the most ready example, for although it depicts a universe in a state of ongoing inter-species conflict, human society on its own has made great advances toward a state of utopia by abolishing money, achieving real equality in terms of race and gender, and embracing a system of utility whereby an individual's role is dictated by their aptitude and abilities. The original Stargate film depicts the reverse, where a team of realistic modern extraction makes contact with a human society utterly bent to the will of a despotic alien overlord whose effort to maintain their oppression includes banning all literacy. The truth is, the amount of dystopian or utopian societies that can exist in any work of fiction is limited only by the number of distinct states or equivalent social orders which feature in it overall.

An exaggeration of the present day

Of course, there is nothing which dictates that a society need be either wholly utopian or dystopian. It is more accurate and far more practical to imagine a delineated scale extending between these two poles, with each example falling more or less to one side or the other. This brings me to what will not doubt prove to be a controversial case, which is the film Blade Runner. In terms of presenting a speculative vision of the near future, this film is almost without equal. Unfortunately I cannot be as resolute about the common perception that this vision is dystopian. What we see of the year 2019 is certainly far from utopian, but so fleeting and restricted is this exposure that we should be hesitant before leaping to the opposite conclusion. It is a world in which morally bankrupt corporations are shown to unleash horrors upon the general populace and their own creations alike, of over-crowded streets bathed in the garish light and incessant noise of mass-advertisement, filled with poverty and greed, injustice and suffering. But is this substantially different from the world we live in today? In fact, one could argue that the core of Blade Runner's success in presenting a captivating, believable future derives from the fact that it merely reflects current society, with all its positive and negative attributes, and magnifies them. The corporations may be bigger, the builders taller, the streets more crowded, but in terms of the underlying dynamics it all feels so intuitively familiar.