he "mission statement" at Rocketship Video, penned by the pseudonymous "Mr. Wonderful," is a nostalgia-drenched paean to a vanished era and its products, namely the pre-Star Wars science-fiction output of Hollywood's sleazy dream factories—all those gloriously gimcracky, sense-of-wonder-expanding movies whose only home after brief runs at B-movie houses was the boob tube in the wee hours of the night or on Saturday mornings. Plainly damaged in a good way by repeated childhood exposures to these films, Mr. Wonderful has now made it his quest to get videotaped copies of them into the hands of as many fellow fanatics as possible.
Dissemination of these pop culture icons is the sole noble purpose of his site. Here you may first rummage through informed reviews of such features as The Brain from Planet Arous or Mars Needs Women. Then you may proceed to the in-site store and order discounted copies of these tapes for your own enjoyment. But don't rush out of Rocketship Video without examining other departments. You'll be able to read onscreen in clear reproductions entire issues of old comics from the "space craze" era of the early 1950s. Print them off and you have a cheap reproduction of a rare collectible!
According to Mr. Wonderful's timeline of Rocketship Cinema, history ended in 1977 with the advent of George Lucas. But that sure leaves a large Golden Age to explore, rich with lunar cat women, queens of blood and interstellar teenagers.
— Paul Di Filippo
Site of the Week—October 29, 2001
othing rouses the blood like an acid-dipped, utopian manifesto. Literary movements thrive on witty, partisan, clear-headed, blue-sky pronouncements by artistic and social visionaries. Without a flag to rally 'round, creators all too often drift apart into loneliness and frustration. United under a single banner, they often revolutionize the world. The literature of the fantastic—science fiction, fantasy, horror and slipstream—has seen its own share of such movements, from Damon Knight's Futurians in the 1940s on down to the cyberpunks of the 1980s. But since this latter tide ebbed, no new currents have really arisen to wash away the stale cliches of the marketplace. At least until now.
Fantastic Metropolis, the brainchild of editor, agitator, propagandist and primo ranter Gabe Chouinard, blares out a classic—and classy—call to arms. Chouinard is intent on purging the genres mentioned above of their worst dross, the crappiest products, while substituting—and fostering—the high-quality literature now buried beneath lesser junk. To that end, Chouinard's site features incendiary essays (in this issue Bruce Sterling on Viridan design, Michael Moorcock on the glory of hallucinogens and Warren Ellis on reforming comics, among others); short fiction pieces exemplifying no particular platform other than the artist's unique conception of beauty; reviews of worthwhile books; and interviews with various admirable creators. Additionally, over 250 links take you to likely co-conspirators, and a Forum on Delphi allows feedback and discussion.
If you demand more from your literature than the equivalent of a snooze in a warm tub, you'll want to position yourself on the barricades at Fantastic Metropolis.
— Paul Di Filippo
Site of the Week—October 22, 2001
ove of American culture—often its most wonderfully "lowbrow" elements, such as drag racing and pop music—knows no national boundaries. Thus it's only mildly surprising to discover that a site devoted to the glories of pulp magazines—those fragile, garish publications that flourished mainly in the United States during the first half of the 20th century—should originate from a Portuguese fan named Nuno Miranda. His labor of love, The Pulp Zone, reflects his expertise as writer and graphic artist, as well as his immense affection for this extinct medium so suited to bravura, melodramatic storytelling.
The main page of this site offers an efficient and informative welcome. Then comes an embarrassment of riches. Visiting the "Gallery," we find numerous magazines arrayed by clickable title. Choosing Bill Barnes, Air Adventurer, for instance, brings us to glorious cover scans and a fascinating history of this little-known zine, once so popular that it had Latin American editions! Then the "Heroes" wing of this museum acquaints us with such individuals as Doc Savage, the Spider and Captain Future. A look at actual text from the pulps—such as Hugo Gernsback's editorials—is obtained at "Stories." Samples from the vibrant pulp letter columns and information on individual artists and writers each have their own offshoots from the main page. Plenteous links are found under the "Reading" and "Browsing" header. And, lastly, the "Bookshop" offers recommended volumes purchasable through links to the big online bookstores.
If, like me, you are nostalgic for the literature of an era you've never personally experienced, this site is a fine time-travel machine!
— Paul Di Filippo
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