The documentary has a scheme of organization that is subtle but effective.

We begin by learning about modern SF conventions and contemporary fans. Then we learn about the history of fandom, extending back to the earliest letter columns of pulp magazines and the first Worldcon in 1939. We next get some sociological insights into the tribal nature of fandom, as well as its relatively recent extension across multiple generations. Having established who the audience for SF is, the film next considers the nature of the genre, the characters of the men and women who write it and finally its affinity for the future as a tool for considering the effects of technological change.

The influence of SF on society in general—in particular, the professional scientist—is summarized. The role of women in SF is highlighted. SF's optimism versus its counterbalancing pessimism is examined. Its dalliance with UFOs and other fringe-type New Age icons is alluded to. Finally, after the genre's past accomplishments are pretty well summarized, an attempt is made to use the techniques of the literature and the accumulated experience of the con-goers to forecast the actual future that lies ahead of us. Life extension, the information explosion, nanotech and privacy issues are given a thorough going-over. Finally, the film closes with a paean to the whole subculture.

Very little of this content is disseminated by the narrator. The vast bulk of it emerges gracefully through the words of the interviewees.

Extra features include an art gallery and a fandom dictionary.

Brothers and sisters of the imagi-nation

It's hard for me to view this film as if I knew nothing about its subject matter. Seeing people up on the screen who are intimate friends and colleagues simply highlights the fact that this is my life they're talking about. I'm like Harvey Pekar trying to objectively gauge American Splendor. But still, it's the critic's duty to try to be objective, so here goes.

This film is utterly respectful of fandom and the literature of SF without being overly adulatory. At the same time, it has some fun playing off the weirder and more outrageous aspects of our subculture, such as costumed hallway aliens. It's also unrepentantly revelatory of—how shall we say this?—the fannish physique. But so much is only to be expected. Eyekicks have to come from somewhere in a film, and the convention setting is limited. You can't just have all talking heads. But even given this intermittent "freak show" aspect—and I use the term "freak" proudly, as do the interviewees—the power of SF and the devotion it inspires comes boldly through.

I would not use this film as a textbook, however, for the history of either fandom or SF. While it provides the most general and sketchiest outline of both, it is full of holes. No mention of First Fandom? No citation by name of New Wave or cyberpunk as important movements? Only a scant handful of novels named? Not one artist attribution for any of the many paintings shown? This is no way to impart more than the merest flavor of the field.

But still, that's what the film does, in an OK manner. It opens up for the general viewer a window of understanding into a subculture. (The futurism at the end of the film is pretty standard, nothing we haven't seen before in, say, the pages of Discover magazine.) It accomplishes this through some good editing (I liked the segue between Natasha Eloi and a Jim Burns cover that contained a woman who resembled her) and some deft poking and prodding of the participants, most of whom—Silverberg, Brin, Bova, Asaro and Doctorow are the best respondents—deliver pithy, exciting remarks.

If this film draws even one extra person to a Worldcon, it will have done its job.