Perhaps Not How You Were Imagining It
Let us take a trip back in time, which is quite appropriate since I am now watching Season One of "Doctor Who" and "World War Three" which goes back to 2005, and Your Humble Scribe wants to go back even further, to the Thirties in fact. Why so? Well, because this is where you start to get depictions of futuristic firearms that were typically called 'blasters'. Usually atomic blasters, utilising the forces of nuclear fission to realllllly ensure people on the receiving end had the bad hair day to end bad hair days. No, we will not be covering the magic smoke flutes that you were thinking of. Art!
You'd be mad, too, if a puny Hom. Sap. was trying to destroy you with an atomic blaster rifle. Or - is the robot already demented, and he's trying to stop it? Come to think of it, how can a robot go insane? Art!
Thank you Ed Emshwiller. This infernal engine looks as if it's been used to render that nice Von Braun-style spaceship unable to achieve orbit. Perhaps someone forgot to pay for their landing and docking fees?
ANYWAY the thing about blasting a victim into a cloud of vapour was that, thanks to predecessors like the Hayes Code, not to mention squeamish editors, there was no gore or mutilation left behind. You could, if you so wished, entirely depopulate Planet Earth by nuclear and then thermonuclear annihilation, without having to spill a drop of blood. Art!
Conrad feels that's about the limit of what you can carry as a weapon, and it would be more utilitarian if it was mounted on wheels, or a Steadicam harness.
When it comes to film and television, having a person subsumed into glowing plasma is very welcome if you're not looking for an "R" certificate or to terrify small children. Art!
Commander Adams causes the tiger to literally burn bright. At dusk. Art!
Before During After
Robbie vapourises a tree.
Moving forward a decade, into the Sixties, a certain cult television series utilised the 'violet vape', where a person would be disintegrated utterly, not even a smell left behind. The television executives were happy with this, because once again there was no visible gore or ghastly wounds or sanguinary corpses. Art!
The perils of being a red-shirt on "Star Trek". Whatever hit him wasn't instantaneous, he had time to grimace at the pain of imminent disintegration. Yes yes yes, this is a Hom. Sap. being hit by a Gorn weapon. Quibbling hair-splitters. Art!
When you accidentally click past the 'Stun' setting
All this is by way of preface to what I really wanted to yark on about, which was the special effects as used on "The Invaders" where the evil alien simulacra expire in a glowing ball, leaving only traces of ash. Or, conversely, when they use their minimally-styled handguns on hapless Hom. Sap. Conrad came across a fascinating little Youtube clip from a retired film editor about how this was done. Roy Thinnes, who played protagonist David Vincent, said that the crew wasted two weeks before caving and getting outside help from the Anderson brothers.
Let's see what was involved. Art!
Yes yes yes, they use 'immolation'. I am using 'vaping' because once again, whose blog is it? Art!
The commentator points out that the effects team were very careful not not leave tell-tale marks in the sand. It's all quite seamless and very impressive for television production values of 57 years ago.
Roy claimed that nobody knew how it was done. David Ice, the Youtube channel owner, described how it was done: Art!
The Anderson brothers would charge up to $200 per immolation/vape shot. The sequence that picture above is taken from had at least $800-worth of these effects shots.
As I said: vaping. Just not how you expected. If you wanted magic smoke flutes you need to consult Philip K. Dick, that's the sort of thing that's right up his street.
More Of The Haul
I deliberately held off on this one yesteryon so I'd have it in reserve, and now here it is. Art!
The book on Moscow is from 2006 so it'll be interesting to see what's changed in Modern-day Mordor over the past 18 years and certainly the past twenty-eight months of the Special Idiotic Operation. The Co-Op's now amended labelling to describe their breaded garlic chicken breasts as "Chicken Kyivs", in other words the Ukrainian spelling of the dish rather than the Ruffian one. There was a post on Twitter about one of the big 5 retailers not changing their labelling, which is going to generate angry letters from shoppers with a conscience and morals. Meanwhile I shall be enjoying the Kyivs.
Donkey See, Donkey Do
Yes, I have adapted the old saw about our simian cousins. This item concerns a South Canadian species not known for being friendly or accepting: the elk. Despite being mocked by the Pythons, elk can be unpredictably aggressive and dangerous; the males in mating season and the females when they have young. Kind of a one-on, one-off arrangement. Art!
Yes, that's a donkey. Yes, it's part of a herd of elk. Yes, it's doing quite well and is happy to be part of the herd. The donkey used to be a family pet, until it went missing whilst hiking back in 2019 and had been unaccounted for until a hiker took this film. The original family owners have accepted that 'Diesel' has moved on and they have a new pet donkey anyway.
"City In The Sky"
There's about to be another meeting of minds alongside the Eyre Highway on the coast of south Australia.
‘Nothing to see there now,’ he called,
shading his eyes with a bronzed hand.
Because he rode atop the fourteen-foot
high pantechnicon, Alex saw the rise where the flash had come from, and a
figure that crouched there. Definitely not Lithoi. Definitely human. Then he recalled “Old Ben”. Probably
human.
‘There’s a person hiding up there,’ he
warned Terry.
‘Right!
I’m off to see who they are and why they’re spying on us. You, you and you – come with me,’ he ordered
three reluctant horsemen trotting alongside the wagons.
Aex saw them trot away, envious at the
easy grace with which all four managed their steeds; his sole effort at
horse-riding led to a prompt fall and a sprained wrist. Away the four horsemen went, throwing up
spurts of dust in the dry scrubland.
Then they were riding up the rise, to be greeted at the top by two
people, not one. One person danced up
and down. A single rider – Terry, at a
guess – dismounted and performed what seemed to be a hug with the dancer.
‘Well, someone’s
found a friend,’ muttered the young man, sarcastically. That same lone horseman swung back up into
his saddle, then vanished down the far side of the rise and was gone for
several minutes. When he reappeared he
hallooed the three stationary riders and all four headed back to the convoy.
You can tell who the dancer is. Ace was never very good at concealing her feelings.
Swanning About
Instead of robotic probes intended to travel at significant fractions of c, let us now view a vehicle intended to travel over the c. Sorry - 'sea'. Art!
This, ladies and gentlemen and those unsure, is a 'Swan', which is to say a DUKW amphibious truck equipped with an extendable ladder capable of scaling heights of 100 feet. Art!
One feels this would have made the South Canadian Ranger's assault at Point du Hoe a lot easier on D-Day. Not very sporting, mind. Those machine guns put out 800 rounds per minute each, even if he has to fire the middle one with his teeth. Clip courtesy of Twitter user RG Poulussen.
I Keep Telling People This
Those pesky South Canadians would be far happier if they just gave up being a Republic and re-joined the Commonwealth. They could learn to spell "Colour" and "Labour" correctly, and drink tea in a civilised manner absent milk and sugar. Perhaps with a slice or two of lemon. Occasionally a dab of honey ONLY A DAB one does not want to spoil or overpower the liquor.
Where was I? O yes. "The Daily Beast" is at it AGAIN, slobbering over the British monarchy. Art!
Look, I live here and even I don't care.
Finally -
Time for bed. Yes, I am writing this in the small hours of Sunday morning and if anyone needs their beauty sleep, 'tis I.
No comments:
Post a Comment