ome people tell me that when it comes to slights against science fiction, I bruise too easily, and to this I reply: There are those who get it, and those who don't. And when those who don't get it are those very same people whom experience should have taught better, I can't help but wince.
I look at it this way. Without science fiction, and the audiences which science-fiction films have been sucking into theaters, Hollywood would have sunk long ago. The multiplexes would have been demolished and paved over into parking lots. Subtract the grosses from SF films, and most of the major studios would have to shift the color of their ink from black to red. And yet I think that Hollywood, as happily and willingly as it pockets the cash, is at the same time a little ashamed of this fact. And often, a little ungrateful.
What has me thinking these thoughts is a recent article published in the weekly edition of Variety. Carl DiOrio, in an article titled "'Clones' Kicking at Spidey's Legs," published in the June 3-9 issue, had this to say about the box-office race between Spider-Man and Star Wars: Episode II—Attack of the Clones:
Soon we'll know who's more powerful—sci-fi nuts or comicbook crazies.
Nuts? Crazies? Is that all we are? Some would say, "Oh, Scott, calm down, it's just a joke." But these "jokes" arrive with such consistency on the radio and television, in books and magazines, that I've come to believe that it's more than just that. People are so afraid of being lumped in as one of them, of being seen as one of those nerds with the propeller beanies, or one of the lightsaber-wielding geeks waiting in line for Star Wars (not that there's anything wrong with that), that they want to carefully draw a line between those who only occasionally dabble in science fiction and those who love science fiction.
Love shouldn't be a sin
Well, I do love science fiction, and I am weary of being damned with faint praise. Of being complimented on the one hand for how successful we are, while on the other hand being laughed at in an effort to diminish that success. I have seen this symptom, this unease with science fiction, played out in the media for as long as I have been a fan of science fiction.
I have seen news crews at SF conventions overlook guests of honor to rush straight over to group of teens dressed like anime or Star Trek characters—not to sincerely inquire as to the reasons the fans are drawn to do that, but to be able to take an attitude with their audiences of "Gee, aren't the people who care about this stuff wacky, folks?" I see it every time a film reviewer who obviously knows nothing about SF is in visible pain when forced to talk about those kooky SF movies and the fans who are desperate to see them.
I'm not trying to deny that fanatical love can be a part of science fiction, and a valid part at that. But at the same time, it no more represents all of science fiction than the fanatic who wants to climb into Tom Clancy novels or episodes of ER. And somehow, members of the mass media manage to praise those fictional worlds without mocking their fans every time.
I have come to expect that sort of behavior from local newspapers and newscasters, but I guess I've come to expect more from the Hollywood bible, which should look at its page each issue detailing the box-office grosses and then show a little more respect.
It isn't enough that we're making Hollywood rich? What more do you want from us?
Scott Edelman started his trek to the editor-in-chief position at Science
Fiction Weekly back in 1974, when he began working as an assistant editor at
Marvel Comics. Between these two positions, this four-time Hugo Award nominee in
the category of Best Editor was the founding editor of the
award-winning magazine Science Fiction Age, in addition to editing
Sci-Fi Universe, Sci-Fi Flix and Satellite Orbit. Currently, he also edits SCI
FI, the official magazine of the SCI FI Channel. A collection of his short fiction, These Words Are Haunted, is available from Wildside Press.
