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NEWS AND VIEWS - APRIL 2020
WRITING NEWS So my latest novel, The Demon in the Metal, has been out for two months now. How's it been doing? Not so great. It's been over three weeks since I've sold a copy, and I've seen no evidence at all that anyone, anywhere, has actually read it. No Amazon reviews, no Goodreads ratings, no comments from friends or family or any other readers. Are the characters memorable? Are the protagonists relatable? Did the story work, or not work? Is the setting interesting? Is it worth writing the sequel? I have no idea. So all that's kind of disappointing. Trying not to let it get to me, though. I'm still writing every day; right now I'm working on the seventh (!) Signalverse novel, Sneak, which should be done in a couple of weeks. * * * * * * * * WHAT I'M PLAYING I finished Grandia a few days ago. I'd always been intrigued by Grandia. It originally came out for the Saturn in 1997, in Japan; I remember GameFan and a few other magazines at the time bragging it up as better than, or at least as good as, Final Fantasy VII. It was also made by Game Arts (same folks who made the Lunar series), and their games are usually right up my alley: fun, optimistic RPG's with lively characters. And the battle system was supposed to be awesome. Unfortunately the game (a rejiggered version for the PlayStation) didn't come to the U.S. until 2000, and the localization, especially the English dub, was said to be pretty bad, so I stayed away from it. Well, now that I've played the remastered Switch version (with Japanese voices) to the end, what did I think of it? 
I thought it was pretty good. Not great, but good. I was disappointed by the music, which wasn't all that memorable; I didn't like the constantly-reused monster designs; I didn't like having to spam the same attacks over and over in order to raise the characters' skill levels; and I was not impressed by the overall story, which was typical JRPG nonsense. But the setting was different, the characters were fun and funny, and I liked the silly, lighthearted tone. I wish the translation had been better (too bad Working Designs wasn't able to get the rights to this one, back in the day), and I wish the game had been just a little bit more challenging -- I think the final boss got three attacks in before I finished him off with a dozen super-powered special moves -- but I'm glad I finally got around to playing it, anyway. Next up: Zero no Kiseki (Trails From Zero). Finally. Been looking forward to this one for years. * * * * * * * * REVIEW: TOBOR THE GREAT Here's a short review I wrote a few years ago, of Tobor the Great, a fun Republic flick from 1954. Probably the best thing about the old Republic serials of the 30's, 40's, and 50's -- apart from their sheer goofy bombastic fun -- was their generally positive view of scientific progress. While other studios were putting out grim, pessimistic, science-run-amok films full of giant bugs and condescending aliens warning us about the dangers of nuclear power, Republic was releasing fun, gosh-wow flicks featuring scientists and adventurers and superheroes using science and technology to explore space and save the universe and stuff. The old serials had their share of mad scientists and radioactive monsters, to be sure, but they were just as likely to feature friendly, benevolent scientists as mad ones, and usually it was some science-powered hero who ended up punching out the radioactive monster. (This was probably because Republic's serials were aimed mainly at kids. Kids, understandably, are going to be much more keen on the exciting stuff -- the jetpacks, the laser guns, the robots -- than on the boring high-brow moralizing found in films like The Day the Earth Stood Still). Tobor the Great, a full-length Republic feature from 1954, is a good example of this sort of optimistic mindset. Tobor, the giant, clunky robot of the film's title, turns out to be the good guy in this film, and his grandfatherly inventor is a gadget-loving professor who has a house full of amazing (for the 50's, anyway) contraptions. At no point in the film is there any sort of worried grousing about the potential dangers of the professor's new technologies -- in fact, the only real worry anyone seems to have about all the advanced science on display is that the Soviets might steal it. Dirty Reds! The film begins at some government laboratory somewhere, where a bunch of researchers are subjecting a man to a battery of tests, to determine whether human beings are capable of withstanding the rigors of space travel (the film having been released in 1954, no one was quite sure yet how dangerous space travel might be). Dr. Harrison, apparently some kind of eminent scientist, barges in and accuses them all of callously risking the man's life; later, he visits his boss and gives him a similar talking-to before finally quitting in disgust. He soon meets up with Professor Nordstrom, an affable old guy who shares his views and who invites him to come to his house and to help him work on a project that, if successful, will eliminate the need for the sort of risky human trials Harrison is so dead-set against. The project turns out to be Tobor, a huge, awkward, silvery robot powered by ESP (??) which Nordstrom believes will make a swell test pilot. (Tobor is apparently completely sentient and capable of feeling "every human emotion", so why is it okay to use him as a spaceflight guinea pig? I don't get it.) Anyway, Harrison and Nordstrom spend a good chunk of the movie working on Tobor and demonstrating how great he is to the press. Meanwhile, we're introduced to Gadge (short for Gadget), Nordstrom's annoying scamp of a grandson, who gets to bond with Tobor and to play with all of Nordstrom's wacky household inventions. The film's climax comes when Gadge and Nordstrom are both kidnapped by a Soviet spy ring and saved by the lumbering Tobor (hilariously, the Reds attempt to grapple with Tobor, who is about eight feet tall and covered in metal plating; no wonder these guys lost the Cold War). There are some boring stretches, but on the whole, it's a pretty entertaining little B-movie. The short running time gives it a feeling similar to Republic's serials, and I'm sure the kids who originally saw it in the theaters got a kick out of Tobor. There's also a sort of wish-fulfillment thing going on here with the character of Gadge: what kid wouldn't want to live in house full of crazy high-tech inventions and have adventures with their own pet robot? The story is only so-so, and the script isn't all that great -- everyone in the film, even the kid, speaks impeccably in complete sentences, which makes the dialogue sound very stiff and stilted -- but for a slightly silly 50's kiddie flick it's all totally adequate. Recommended.
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