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24 October 2012

Death Ovum Meets Space Sperm: From Alien Woman


And while I am having a mano-a-mano with Martin Landau and Space: 1999 this week, here is another relevant excerpt from the book Alien Woman: The Making of Lt. Ellen Ripley by Ximena Gallardo C. and myself (Continuum 2004, pp. 7-9). The PDF is not the "final final" copy as printed, so there are few typos that were corrected in the print edition. We hope to replace this copy with the print-edition as published soon. These are not the exact same photos used in the book, but they are similar.

The book was the basis for the ideas in this blog and a lot of what I post here originated with conversations between Ximena and I. Clearly this part of the introduction fits the theme of the blog when we read "sex" as also meaning "gender".

The open-access PDF of the book is HERE. All notes and references are on the PDF. We just got the copyright back for the book, so it is free! Amazon still has some new/used hard-copies HERE through their external sellers. We'll probably use something like Lulu.com later on for those folks who still want a print copy.

A New Breed

"I expect Woman will be the last thing civilized by Man." —George Meredith

Since the exploration of space is pitted as a sexual enterprise (Man defining himself against the mysterious Feminine), it is not unusual for science fiction films to depict close encounters of any kind in sexual terms. The canonical 2001: A Space Odyssey (dir. Stanley Kubrick, 1968), for example, uses blatant reproductive metaphors to illustrate the evolution of humanity (represented by male scientists and astronauts) as it goes into the womb of space.

Early on in 2001, the viewer witnesses an extended docking sequence between a tiny phallic space shuttle and a gigantic, wheel-shaped space station: the entire sequence is staged as a cosmic dance to the tune of a waltz. This scene prefigures 2001’s climax, in which the pod that contains astronaut David Bowman flies into a psychedelic, vaginal space vortex that transports him to a stark white chamber where he dies and is reborn as a new organism, the Star Child. Death ovum meets space sperm: the sexploration of space.

Lest we think Kubrick’s film an isolated case, a decade later the space opera Star Wars (1977) staged the Rebel attack on the Empire’s Death Star as so many sperm assaulting an egg. In this case, the feminine form is depicted as lethal, for the Death Star, a spherical, dark gray battle station the size of a small moon, is capable of destroying entire planets with one fatal blow of its main laser. Flying a sleek X-wing starfighter, the Rebel hero Luke Skywalker must hit a small port on the Death Star’s surface with his proton torpedos to begin a chain reaction in the station’s central reactor—a fatal implantation that does not fertilize, but rather destroys the monstrous space egg.

Little wonder, then, that the image of the egg represents the extraterrestrial menace in Alien’s poster and trailers. Such a common image would seem silly if not for the fear of monstrous birth it evokes: the shell of the egg is cracked in a grotesque parody of the vaginal cleft or a cruel acidic grin. The Alien egg advertises, first and foremost, the evil ur-womb: it gives birth and men die. The creature that will spring from this egg is a nightmare vision of sex (eros) and death (thanatos). It subdues and opens the male body to make it pregnant and then explodes it in birth. In its adult form, the Alien strikes its victims with a rigid, phallic tongue that breaks through skin and bone. More than a phallus, however, its retractable tongue has its own set of snapping, metallic teeth that connects it to the castrating vagina dentata. The vagina dentata, a symbolic expression of the male fear that a woman’s genitals may eat or castrate her partner during intercourse is tied to the image of the phallic woman (i.e. a woman with a knife) and the monstrous generative mother, whose vagina threatens to devour and reincorporate her offspring.

Unlike most nightmarish creatures, then, the Alien is not only a killing machine, but also a relentless reproductive machine, seeking hosts to bring forth more of its species. It is the Alien reproductive drive and its consequences that both the characters in the series and the audience fear most—the impending moment when the dark creature will emerge from within. Inevitably, then, an Alien narrative engages a wide range of female body narratives such as rape, pregnancy, birth, and mothering, bringing the Otherness of the otherwise repressed and denied female body to the fore. That in the Alien series many of these traditionally female narratives can be acted out on the male body broadens the discursive space to address issues of sex, gender, and the body. As males are penetrated, impregnated, and give birth, the distinction between the male body and the female body, upon which our entire culture is based, begins to blur. This is the site of the Alien horror: faced with the Alien, we are all feminized.

22 October 2012

Shoot the Moon! Space: 1999 (1975-1977)

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Space1999_Year1_Title.jpg
The massive space-fart that blew the moon on an intergalactic mission.

Space: 1999 ran from 1975-1977. This show is some serious hippy weirdness. The moon has become a nuclear trash dump, which makes the leading man, John Koenig  (Martin Landau) essentially a garbage man in charge of the moon.

The show Quark (which ran for a rousing 8 episodes in 1977) will riff on this when the lead character Adam Quark (Richard Benjamin) is literally a garbageman in space. I'll be getting to Quark at a later date . . . hopefully much much later.

Now, back to the Moon which is about to go on a little trip. The short version is that a nuclear waste storage facility on the dark side of the moon goes critical, explodes, and acts like an engine shooting the moon out of orbit taking the research station Moonbase Alpha with it.

So, the moon is now a giant starship travelling at incalculable speeds, but apparently faster than the speed of light . . . or not, depending on the screenwriters. Space: 1999 had the whole 2001: A Space Odyssey futuristic look going on with the overall look as well as the first season's references to some sort of "mystical force" that might be a guiding alien intelligence. There is a definite possible tie to the use of "The Force" in Star Wars (1977) there.

The moon, of course, is a feminine symbol as it is associated with the sea (tides) and the menstrual cycle. There are innumerable moon goddesses.  Here it becomes a giant space-womb for the inhabitants of Moonbase Alpha. So, as I am watching this show I will be looking for actual production elements that emphasize the feminine with the hypothesis that Space: 1999, as in 2001, space is the ultimate feminine, the great and horrifying vaginal unknown. I wonder if there are other shows (or etc.) that used the "fling a rock into space" motif? Maria Dora Russell's book The Sparrow does: they use a hollowed-out meteorite as a starship.

Please feel free to leave comments!

15 October 2012

Coming Soon: Cosplay!

Yeah. After watching cosplay videos all day long, I think I am going to need some expert help on this one.

13 October 2012

Perfectly Freudian: SpaceX

Perfectly freudian: I think I want a job where I help write/produce videos like this one. I teach classes about sex and gender in popular culture all the time and talk with my students about the role of psychology in popular culture. And I do not mean the "incidental" or "personal" role of psychology, but the actual use of psychological principles to manipulate (for good or ill) audiences' moods, behaviors, and choices. That said, this SpaceX video is BADASS! It is phallic and sexy, there is grabbing and docking, and the music is semi-hard-rock epic. Apologies to my students, but if someone offered me the job of making something like this, I might have to take a sabbatical to do so.



Oh, wait. I am on sabbatical. So, Space X, if you are listening, you know where to find me.

In the meantime, back to the book writing.

BTW: Ximena pointed out how they foreground the women employees in the "booyay" shots. Hmmm.

08 October 2012

The Intergalactic Cockfight: Laura Esquivel's The Law of Love


Laura Esquivel is best known as the author of Como Agua Para Chocolate (Like Water for Chocolate, published 1989) which was made into an award-winning movie by the same name (1992). I have taught the book and the film in my Love and Death class (ENG102) and the students generally love it. However, my favorite novel by Esquivel is her second: La Ley del Amor (The Law of Love, 1994) which is a whacky futuristic, sci-fi (yes, I have to use both of those for this novel), mythological, multi-genre, multi-media work with graphic novel segments set to music with the included CD. I shit you not.

The Law of Love is some serious crazy (used here as a noun) featuring reincarnation, body swapping, flashbacks to Mexico's ancient past, and a space voyage on a Mexican starship named The Intergalactic Cockfight. Yes. You heard correctly: The Intergalactic Cockfight. That is just so brilliant I am going to reread the novel and write something about it. I'll probably author the Wikipedia entry on it as well since there is not one yet. Stay posted!

05 October 2012

Battlestar Galactica (1978-1979): Cockroach? (Updated)

Is Battlestar Galactica a cockroach? Think about it. It sort of looks like a cockroach. The sucker is almost impossible to destroy. Folks are always chasing it around and trying to kill it. It is always looking for food. It hides in the dark and is wicked fast when surprised. It survived a nuclear holocaust. Hmmm. I'll think I will take this moment to slap in some poetry.









Kneeling at the pipes: a poem by Marge Piercy

Princely cockroach, inheritor,
I used to stain the kitchen wall with your brothers,
flood you right down the basin.
I squashed you underfoot, making faces.
I repent.
I am relieved to hear somebody
will survive our noises.
Thoughtlessly I judged you dirty
while dropping poisons and freeways and bombs
on the melted landscape.
I want to bribe you
to memorize certain poems.
My generation too craves posterity.
Accept this dish of well aged meat.
In the warrens of our rotting citites
where those small eggs
round as earth wait,
spread the Word.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Basilisk.JPG

Postscript: One reader suggested it may be based on the mythical six-legged basilisk. I believe I remember this creature from either the original Dungeons and Dragons (1974) or from Advanced Dungeons and Dragons (1977-1979). I will need to hit the books on that one! The timing for there to be a direct influence is just about right.



Post-postscript: Wikipedia has an entry on the D&D Basilisk HERE. Though it has eight legs, it was introduced very early in the game's history and could have served as the basis for the shape of Galactica. But the damned thing still looks like an Egyptian sarcophagus to me--especially considering the themes of the show, but the D&D link will be an interesting one to follow up on. I wonder if I can find any hard evidence that the designers of Galactica knew anything about D&D at the time?