Revenge of the Fallen

On one hand, the title is a reference to my triumphant return from being in Internet limbo. On the other, it's a reference to my ridiculously late review of the second Transformers movie, which I saw the weekend it opened (or perhaps the week after). It's been a busy month or three. Spoilers ahead.

So since it has been so long since I saw the film, and since I'm still pretty busy, I'm just going to lay this out in bullet points.

• Starting with the good: the effects, as usual, were very good. I think I would have liked to see a little more use of the alternate modes for most of the robots, but in general the effects were great.
  
• One thing I really liked about this is the way it corrected one of the first film's major mistakes: failing to characterize the Decepticons. I thought Starscream and Megatron got some great character moments this time around, and the Fallen was pretty well fleshed-out as well.
  
• Optimus Prime was fantastic. Every moment that he was around was classic. He had great dialogue, his characterization was spot-on, and he got to have some epic fights. Optimus was the highlight of the film. I think the best bit, besides his death-battle, was when he told the government agent flat-out that he and the Autobots would leave if they were presenting a danger to Earth.
  
• Which brings me to another positive: the homages. Now, honestly, I haven't watched any G1 Transformers cartoons in quite some time, but I thought there were some plot points that really mirrored some of those early G1 stories. Obviously Prime's death and the Matrix stuff were reminiscent of the original Movie, and Soundwave sounded a great deal like his classic self. But besides that, I thought Optimus's promise to leave if asked was fairly reminiscent of "Megatron's Master Plan," where the Autobots leave Earth after being (falsely) convicted for terrorist acts. Moreover, "Decepticons find a powerful ancient weapon in a pyramid" was also the plot of the G1 episode "Fire on the Mountain." Even Jetfire's sacrifice hearkens back to the various versions of Jetfire (Armada in particular) which could become armor for Optimus Prime. I'm going to assume that this is all intentional, and I approve.
  
• And, well, I don't approve of too much more than that. My first complaint, I think, is the amount of military porn. It seemed like there were way too many shots of nameless military personnel ordering things over radios, apparent stock footage of jets flying places, and army guys fighting with some robots wandering around in the background. I actually liked the army guys in the first movie; they were characterized in fairly broad swaths, but they got some good moments and some great dialogue. This time around, I wasn't even sure that Tyrese was back, since he had something like two lines (and neither was "left cheek!"). Major Lennox got in some good scenes, but everyone else was green-shirt filler. Which wouldn't have been such a problem if they weren't apparently the primary focus of the film.
  
  More succinctly, as I said to someone in the week after seeing it, I thought that "Revenge of the Fallen" was a pretty good G.I. Joe movie. Sadly, I think it'll turn out to have been a better G.I. Joe movie than "Rise of Cobra."
  
• The plot felt really, really disjointed; a lot of this was due to setting issues. The movie jumped around from place to place--Japan, Washington, Egypt, the Moon, and so forth--far too much for any kind of coherent continuity. I swear, the traipsing about in Egypt was done solely for the "Hey, remember that other movie Shia LeBouf was in, wink wink?" factor.
  
• That excess of settings might not have been quite so bad if not for the terrible excess of characters as well. Sure, we got lots of new Transformers, but I'd be hard-pressed to name most of them--the filmmakers apparently were too. I think maybe a third of the new Transformers got names, and far fewer got characterization to any degree. Lack of distinguishing characteristics was a problem with the Decepticons in the last film; in this one, it plagued the Autobots at least as much. Very few characters got an opportunity to shine at all. And the ones that did, aside from the ones I mentioned before...well, we'll get to that later.
  
• I felt more than a little cheated by Alice, the creepy stalker girl who turned out to be a creepy stalker Decepticon. So far in the series, we've seen that Transformers can take the forms of just about any electronic device, but until that point, it was only electronic devices. Now, I've heard there's some backstory which says she scanned an Alice in Wonderland animatronic robot, but that's lame. Find me an Alice in Wonderland robot that looks like that, and I'll find you a really creepy Imagineer. If the movie were going to introduce Pretenders or Beast Warriors, as this kind of sets the precedent for, it should have been alluded to before we met Alice.
  
• The scenes with Alice are a good opportunity to bring up one of my biggest problems with the movie. Now, the last film had some strong language, lots of violence, and some T&A, but I wouldn't feel too terrible about watching it with my kid brother. When my parents were going to take him to see this one, though, I strongly advised against it. The amount of lewd humor, T&A, and strong language made me uncomfortable. Okay, the wrecking balls on Devastator were pretty funny, bur I could have done without Jetfire's parachute incontinence. And I certainly could have done without Wheelie humping Megan Fox's leg. Honestly.
  
• What's with the obnoxious sidekicks? Wheelie was pretty close to unnecessary, Sam's roommate was useless and whiny (Sam was mostly just whiny this time around), the Decepticon doctor's strange accent made him incomprehensible (and he wasn't the only 'bot with intelligibility issues), and so forth. But it seems like I'm forgetting something relevant here.
  
• Oh, yes, the twins. So, the filmmakers picked two Autobots to dominate the screen time in this installment, and then made the bold moronic choice to turn them into robotic minstrels. Now, I'll give Bay & Co. the benefit of the doubt and assume that Mudflap and Skids weren't intentionally really horrible racist stereotypes; I imagine that it was more the Jar-Jar effect, where obliviousness and ignorance conspire to create offensiveness. The "we can't read that" bit didn't help, even if it was pretty clearly implied that none of the modern Transformers could read the ancient language. It was just one more thing to toss onto the unfortunate heap.
  
  Anyway, not only were they stupid and offensive, but they were incredibly obnoxious as well. Now, I've been a fan of Transformers for a good long time, through the original Wheelie, through Nightscream, through RiD Ultra Magnus, through oodles of annoying characters, and I have never, ever been more disappointed to see a Transformer not die than when Mudflap shot his way out of Devastator's head. Honestly, it'd be as if Jar-Jar were the one to cut Darth Maul in half. Why on Earth would you give the Scrappy a Crowning Moment of Awesome?
  
• Hey, how about that climactic battle? You know, the one that was over in thirty seconds? Where the world-destroying superweapon was taken out by a single shot and Optimus tore the Fallen's spark out with almost no effort? Yeah, I could have done without three or four minutes of twin banter and airplanes flying places, if it meant we would have gotten less of an anticlimax.
  
• Overall, I was disappointed. I thought the first film was great; about the only misstep there was that the Decepticons got too little characterization. This time around, it felt more like they were trying to do too much of too many things, and consequently there was very little substance. I just hope the third one doesn't confuse "more" with "better."

SilverHawks Sunday IX: Journey to Limbo

The second part of the SilverHawks opener begins with a brief recap of the previous episode's events--namely Mon*Star's escape and Stargazer's call for backup. After the theme song and title card, we open with the Miraj--and the SilverHawks inside--just about to arrive at Hawk Haven. Quicksilver mentions that it's going to be their home "for the next few centuries," which means that these cybernetics impart some pretty serious life extension.

It brings up some interesting questions about the reasons for the SilverHawks' cybernetics. We know from the first episode that unaugmented humans can't survive the journey to the Limbo galaxy, but we're never told why. Is it because of the various hazards of space travel--stellar radiation, micrometeoroids, cosmic rays, hostile aliens, extreme temperatures, vacuum conditions, prolonged exposure to microgravity, etc.? Or might it be because of the time necessary? We don't get any indication of how long it takes to get from the Milky Way to Limbo. Even with translight travel, it might have been months or years since Stargazer sent his request. Now, I seem to recall that later episodes have travels between the planets that don't take that long, so it's certainly possible that the backup is swift, but it's an interesting thing to think about--especially when the pilot of the show's spiritual predecessor centered around the long timespans involved in interplanetary travel.

It's also worth considering that the SilverHawks are apparently expecting a multi-century tour of duty. We might not be too far out from space missions that require multiple years away from Earth, but hundreds of years is a somewhat more significant commitment. It must be prohibitively expensive to conduct this augmentation procedure and to send people to Limbo; otherwise, why only send a team of five to act as space police for a whole galaxy, and why require them to stay for such a long time?

The SilverHawks (except Bluegrass) leave the Miraj to "stretch their wings" and land in Hawk Haven's hangar on their own, followed by Bluegrass in the ship. Stargazer's voice over the intercom leads them up the turbolift, past the metallic main room, full of computers and equipment, down to Stargazer's office. The long metal hallway terminates in a plain wooden door with a smoked glass window, with Stargazer's name and title stenciled on in the style of a 1930s Private Eye office. That motif continues when we see his office, which has wood paneling and furniture, slightly stained walls and a tattered map of something behind an old wooden desk. The best detail is the normal office window, looking out onto the blackness of outer space, adorned by a crooked set of venetian blinds. The juxtaposition isn't subtle--nor is Stargazer's mix of suspenders and bionics--but it's a really clever touch. While I don't think it'll last, the show is set up to be a police procedural in space, and while "space police" isn't exactly an original idea, I've never really seen one done like a "Law and Order." If they revived SilverHawks as a movie or live-action series, I'd be interested in seeing this as the basic concept. And in casting Dann Florek or J.K. Simmons as Cmdr. Stargazer.

The introductions are (necessarily and thankfully) brief, and show off some of Stargazer's charm. He mentions that he's never been to the Planet of the Mimes, Copper Kidd's homeworld, and he says that Bluegrass seems a little young to be a colonel. Bluegrass replies that he's just naturally talented (with an "aww, shucks" to boot), but I think this is a nice way to tie in his relationship with Copper Kidd. If Bluegrass was particularly young as he made his way through the ranks, he probably got some flak and skepticism because of it. This puts him in a good position to recognize those same talents in Copper Kidd, since the Kidd's youth might make other people overlook his abilities. By taking Kidd under his wing and tutoring him, Bluegrass is providing the Kidd with a support structure that he might have lacked as he went through the process.

Stargazer begins the debriefing, using a viewscreen that's hidden behind a recessed bookcase, another nice touch (and reminiscent of "Get Smart," as I recall). He shows them Brin*Star, a planet (strangely enough) with a star-shaped hole in the crust, beneath which is the Mob's headquarters, which is nearly indestructible. This segues into a scene with Mon*Star and his snake-like henchman Yes-Man. With a name like "Yes-Man," I guess your career path is pretty much laid out for you from the start. Yes-Man informs Mon*Star that the SilverHawks have arrived (news travels fast in Limbo), and Mon*Star decides to give them a proper welcome. He heads to the transformation chamber, and it occurs to me that it's the first time we actually see it in the series. Yes-Man works the controls, which activate jets on the other side of Brin*Star, rotating the entire planet so that the star-shaped hole above Mob headquarters is aimed at the Moon*Star. Mon*Star's weird throne has some wicked claws that close in over his head as he begins the incantation, with some machinery focusing the Moon*Star's energy on him, and he begins the transformation sequence.

This suggests some interesting things about Mon*Star's power source. We saw in "The Origin Story" that he could transform without all this apparatus, but in that case, why build the machines? I suspect it has to do with the fact that the Moon*Star in the first episode was undergoing an energetic burst. That explains some of why Mon*Star was so desperate; if the burst is a rare or periodic thing, then it's not like any old glimpse at the star would give him the necessary power. Since he's going to need to transform more frequently than the Moon*Star bursts occur, he's built an apparatus to focus the energy, amplifying it to have the same effect as an intense burst. I'll be interested to see if the series is consistent on this implication; the ability to reuse this stock footage episode after episode suggests to me that they probably will, even if it's only by accident.

It's worth mentioning here that the transformation is quicker and not quite as impressive as the one in the first episode (probably because this two-parter was designed to be shown as one long episode on video and such, and that would have been particularly repetitive), and that he transforms Sky Runner from space squid to armored squid-based vehicle after the transformation as well. Mon*Star orders Yes-Man to "call all the boys together" and load up the weapons into the "space-limos" for the assault on Hawk Haven. I sometimes forget that this show is designed as a battle between police and Mafia analogues; maybe instead of a police procedural, it's actually "The Untouchables" in space. Sean Connery as Stargazer?

Tally Hawk, Stargazer's pet cyborg hawk (who I always thought was a bald eagle of some sort, but now I see the coloring's wrong for that), returns to Hawk Haven from space, and Stargazer introduces him. Like the SilverHawks, Tally Hawk is partly metal and partly real. Bluegrass asks if he does anything more than look mean, and Tally Hawk turns to the viewscreen, using his eyes to project footage of Mon*Star leaving to attack. Stargazer explains Tally Hawk's role: "He's a spy satellite, scout, interceptor," then gives Quicksilver the bracelet that has his control panel. Naturally, the red alert starts going off, as the Mob approaches and begins their assault.

Quicksilver sends Tally Hawk out first to counter the assault, and the bird does really well. It's clear that he's not just a remote-controlled airplane or anything; while the control panel has a button to "call him back," he's pretty autonomous (and effective) in combat. Could the SilverHawks program have evolved out of We3? Incidentally, the battle music in this scene is really cool.

With the full might of the Mob bearing down on them, it becomes clear that falconry alone isn't going to save the day. Quicksilver asks Bluegrass if he's ready. The Colonel replies, "Ready as a rooster in a henhouse!"

Now, I like Bluegrass, and I really would prefer not to make any off-color inbred hick jokes about him, but with a comment like that, I have to wonder...what exactly is he planning to do to the Mob?

Stargazer, clearly talking about Bluegrass's guitar, asks, "Wanna leave that toy behind, Colonel Bluegrass?" Bluegrass responds, "you ever see a toy like this?" Why, yes I have. Two, in fact. He then demonstrates his guitar's ability to shoot...something or other. It's clearly a musical staff, but it behaves like a cross between a normal beam weapon and a Green Lantern ring. This sets up a nice bit of dialogue, though:

Steelheart: What was that, sheriff?

Bluegrass: E-flat, lady. E-flat major.

Steelwill: She's a sergeant, Colonel.

Rimshot!

Now, I haven't pulled out my chromatic tuner, but I'm pretty sure that Bluegrass played more than just an E-flat...assuming he played that somewhere in the screeching hair metal riff that he played. You know, I'm not sure which is worse: that Bluegrass took the opportunity to fire his weapon in the main computer room, or that it didn't do any damage. You're right, Bluegrass, it's not a toy. It's a laser rock show.

The Mob is really starting to do some damage to Hawk Haven, and the Hawks join the fray in the Miraj. The Mob initially thinks they're retreating, but then the individual Hawks release from the Miraj and show off their maneuvers. They fire on Sky Runner, then scatter when Mon*Star fires back. Tally Hawk fires some eye beams at Mon*Star and actually knocks him out of his seat. Kind of bad for the main villain to be beaten by the team mascot in the first fight.

Tally Hawk was apparently just getting Mon*Star out of the way so he could go after Sky Runner. They fire at one another, then collide in a pretty big explosion that leaves them both smoldering and...uh, falling. Okay, they're pretty close to Hawk Haven, maybe they're caught in its gravitational pull. Still, I'm pretty sure smoke doesn't behave that way in space.

This little mini-fight is interesting, suggesting that Mon*Star and Stargazer's pets have the same kind of rivalry that their masters have, but I can't help but feel a little bad for Sky Runner here. In the first episode, he fought Mon*Star, resisting servitude, which paints him as a victim of sorts. Now, these aren't human animals like, say, Battle Cat, but at least Tally Hawk develops a pretty distinct personality over the course of the series. This is a nice character moment between two beings for whom characterization would be moderately unexpected.

The space dogfight continues, bringing us to the series' first battle of the bands. Bluegrass already introduced Chekov's guitar (part of his weaponized sound system, "Hot Licks"), and now we meet his rival. Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce Melodia:


Two-tone green hair, music note-shaped sunglasses, pink thigh-high boots, fingerless gloves, and a laser keytar. I love the '80s.

They fire music at each other ("You wanna jam, lady? Let's jam!"), with some spectacular results:

But eventually the feedback causes an explosion that sends Melodia's space-limo spiraling. The SilverHawks clearly have the upper hand, as both limos are crashing onto Hawk Haven's rocky exterior. Buzz-Saw tears a pretty big gash in the bottom of the Hot Seat, and Bluegrass retaliates by shooting the robot with his guitar. The beam pierces right through Buzz-Saw, and blows him up. I take back what I said about the laser rock show--it just killed one of the main villains! Sure, he's a robot, and will likely be the villains' equivalent of Red Tornado, but that still seems unexpected and bold.

The battle continues, each of the SilverHawks taking on one of the Mob (more or less). Copper Kidd shows off his electric frisbees (a topic for a future post), and Mon*Star chases Quicksilver in circles. Eventually, Quicksilver lets a smokescreen out from his boot jets, and Mon*Star flies into it. The SilverHawks all fire into the cloud, and eventually Mon*Star calls for a retreat.

Stargazer strolls out and says "Nice try, SilverHawks." This comes as a bit of a shock initially--"villains retreating" is kind of the gold standard for victory in '80s cartoons--and Bluegrass says as much, but Quicksilver says that Stargazer's right: Mon*Star and the Mob are still free. The SilverHawks, remember, aren't your average '80s cartoon superheroes, fighting the villains until they give up and run back to their base. They're the police, and they just let the criminals escape. What would have been a victory for G.I. Joe or He-Man constitutes getting their shiny metal asses handed to them in light of their job, which is to capture the Mob. This presents an interesting situation; in these cartoons (as in most things), status quo is god. But in order to maintain the status quo, where our heroes are continuously chasing after the Mob, the heroes must consistently fail in their duties. This either sets the Mob up as the most competent villains in the '80s cartoon pantheon, or the SilverHawks as the most inept heroes, and I'm inclined to go with the former. The SilverHawks, by the nature of their positions, have the bar for victory set significantly higher than your average cartoon hero, and that presents a very interesting situation.

The episode ends, as most (if not all) of the subsequent ones will, with Copper Kidd and Bluegrass's training session. The Kidd is in a simulator shaped like the Hot Seat, practicing his flying. He narrowly avoids hitting a perfectly spherical crater-ridden object (I guess this is a holographic simulator), and Bluegrass asks him to name it. Turns out it's an asteroid, and while I wouldn't be entirely surprised by that, most asteroids in popular depictions are more elliptical. According to this article, older asteroids tend to be more spherical, so it's possible that this asteroid is just particularly ancient. Bluegrass then asks the Kidd to identify what asteroids are mostly made of, between stone, dust, metal, and ice--and he helpfully notes that there's more than one correct answer. Copper Kidd correctly picks stone and metal. So far, so good; I hope the subsequent ventures into science fact are as uncontroversial and straightforward as this one.

SilverHawks Sunday VI: Another hit

As I mentioned last week, I was kind of surprised by the depth given to Mon*Star's character in the series' first episode. It was odd enough that they'd spend the entire first act introducing us to the villain; the way he was introduced, though, was even stranger.

Let me remind you a bit about the state of cartoon supervillains in the '80s: they weren't deep. The vast majority of them were evil for no apparent reason. When Skeletor explained his motivation for doing bad things (in "The Christmas Special," where his holiday-induced character derailment actually represented some decent character development), he said "I like feeling evil." Megatron's motivation was apparently the acquisition of power and energy, no matter what the cost. At least Galvatron was crazy. Cobra Commander was a straightforward megalomaniac. Even Mumm-Ra only wanted the power of the Eye of Thundera...it took most of the series before his character developed beyond that. Their characters are almost universally defined in the broadest of strokes: insulting the protagonist, devising elaborately doomed schemes, retreating effectively, vowing revenge. Lather, rinse, repeat, until cancellation.

And to be honest, I don't recall Mon*Star ever rising above the bar set by those contemporaries. It's certainly possible, but I think his prime motivations were still the acquisition of money and power, and revenge on Stargazer. But for that first act, there sure seemed to be some fantastic potential. Mon*Star doesn't begin the series with some grand show of power. The Mutants nearly committed genocide in the first episode of ThunderCats, and even though He-Man never had an origin episode, the first aired ("Diamond Ray of Disappearance") still features Skeletor defeating the Sorceress and nearly banishing our hero to another dimension. Mon*Star starts the series in a jail cell. He comes across as nothing less than desperate, bribing, threatening, and even begging the guards to allow him to see the Moon*Star burst.

That isn't the behavior of a terrifying supervillain, that's the behavior of a junkie.

Imprisoned in Penal Planet 10, it's been a long time since Mon*Star had his last fix. When the guards seal his window, he pounds at it relentlessly, shouting "No! This may be my last chance!" When he finally cracks the barrier, letting a sliver of light fall onto his eye, he quivers for a moment, then says "Yes! Yes! Give me your power, your energy!" Since he first appeared on screen, he's been throwing himself at the bars against his window, clawing at the guards through the bars in the door, and moving continually, frantically. When that light hits him, for the first time since he showed on screen, he calms down. In fact, the camera (such as it is) goes to a slow motion effect as the countdown nears its end and the starburst nears its apex.

Mon*Star speaks the power chant and transforms--and let's consider that chant for a moment. On first glance, it's pretty much exactly what Mumm-Ra's incantation is in ThunderCats--imploring some external entity for its power, which transforms the summoner into a more powerful form (incidentally, now that I think of it, this was an interesting reversal of the He-Man/She-Ra model, where the hero is the one with the transformation sequence--in both SilverHawks and ThunderCats, only the villains seem to have Prince Adam-esque alternate forms). Mumm-Ra's is slightly different; he wants to transform from "this decayed form" into "Mumm-Ra the Everliving." It was years before I realized that the "Everliving" part was actually significant. Sure, he's still Mumm-Ra when he's in the red robe and bandages, but he's not Mumm-Ra the Everliving any more than all the Voltron lions together-but-unconnected are Voltron, or something.

There's no such honorific with Mon*Star. When he summons the power of the Moon*Star, he asks it to give him "the might, the muscle, the menace, of Mon*Star." I'm sure I'm reading a bit too far into this at this point, but the implication is one of incompleteness. The Moon*Star's power doesn't change him from Mon*Star into Mon*Star the Omnipotent or Mon*Star the Destroyer, it just changes him into Mon*Star. It's the children's sci-fi equivalent of the people who take drugs to feel "normal" or "more like themselves," to fill some personal void.

When Mon*Star transforms, he nonchalantly, casually, almost mechanically, tears the wall off his cell. The guards open the doors to stop him, and he merely turns around calmly, implacably, while the robotic one shoots at him. The blast is apparently absorbed and redirected, though Mon*Star stays motionless and aloof, hitting and destroying the robotic guard. He then leaves his cell through the hole where the window was, proclaiming his freedom to a distant Stargazer.

And then we see him effortlessly re-tame his giant space squid.

I remember mentioning that '80s cartoon supervillains, when introduced, tended to get some major demonstration of their power, to show that they actually pose a threat to heroes (so perhaps we can suspend our disbelief for the next 129 consecutive defeats). Watching Mon*Star go from neurotic and desperate to destructively and mercilessly cold over the course of a single act is particularly effective at doing just that. We didn't even need to see him interact with the protagonists at all, Mon*Star acts as his own point of comparison. If the Moon*Star is powerful enough that it can turn a sniveling convict into Darth Vader, then our protagonists are in for an uphill battle.

If there's one thing that all '80s supervillains had in common, it was a desire for power. Mon*Star is the only one I remember who made that desire into a literal addiction. Mon*Star is a power junkie, empty and impotent without the influence of the Moon*Star's energy, but brutally effective with it. If the show followed through with this (and I don't remember it doing so), it would have been downright brilliant. Regardless, this was a magnificent introduction to the character, and in a single act, it provided us with more characterization than most of his contemporaries received over entire seasons.

SilverHawks Sunday III: Sing-Along

Content-lite this week, because I think the theme song sings for itself.



I always thought SilverHawks had one of the best theme songs of '80s cartoons, right up there with M.A.S.K., Inspector Gadget, and Transformers post-season 2. I mean, how many minute-long usually exposition-driven cartoon themes had guitar solos?

SilverHawks Sunday I

It's been awhile since this blog had any kind of regular recurring feature (mainly because Freakazoid! videos are pretty scarce on YouTube and I don't have the capacity to make my own right now). Since I'm finally getting back into comics and into a posting groove, and since I've been somewhat inspired by Kalinara's examination of Adventures of the Galaxy Rangers, I've decided to revisit a different classic series from my childhood: Silverhawks. There aren't, so far as my searches have turned up, many fansites about the Silverhawks--nostalgia-wise, it seems to rank about the same as Bravestarr, another series I dearly loved. Most of the '80s fan energy seems to have been spent on Transformers, G.I. Joe, ThunderCats, and He-Man.

Silverhawks was essentially a more purely sci-fi version of ThunderCats, which usually leaned more toward sword-and-sorcery fantasy*. It featured the same voice cast, the same animation style, and even characters built on the same basic personality types, most obviously Mumm-Ra and Mon*Star, who both transformed from weak old forms into more powerful ones through an influx of external energy and recitation of similar incantations, like so:


Based on some of the stuff I've written, you'd probably think I'd hate Silverhawks. If you have any knowledge of astronomy whatsoever, the show puts a real strain on your suspension of disbelief, and I suspect that if I hadn't been inoculated with it at a young age, today it would set my rational mind screaming and clawing at the inside of my skull, desperate to get out. At the end of each episode, where G.I. Joe and He-Man would have a moral segment, Silverhawks would have a brief quiz about some facts about space or astronomy; this commitment to science education never quite translated to the actual show, where characters would routinely converse unaided, wander around unprotected, and fall in the vacuum of space.

Despite its scientific shortcomings, I have very fond memories of the show, and I plan to spend a little time each week exploring various aspects of the series, my experiences with it, and so forth, until I run out of ideas or interest.

---

*Incidentally, what is it about the '80s that lent itself so well to meshing sci-fi and fantasy? I suspect it has to do with the desire to repeat the success of the Star Wars films (which had some fantasy elements, mostly due to cribbing heavily from fairy tales and epics), and some of the fantasy/sword-and-sorcery aspects certainly came out of Conan, but I'm curious what particular confluence of factors made barbarians with laser guns in one hand and broadswords in the other as successful a concept as giant robots that turn into cars, and why that zeitgeist seems to have passed us by almost entirely.

ThunderCaturday

Edit: Okay, I swear I did that before I saw Dorian's post.

Partly Real

You know, every other damn '80s cartoon has a huge cult following. ThunderCats is out on (horrendously overpriced) DVD sets, the He-Man (and friends) boxes have set a new standard for cartoon releases on DVD, Transformers keeps on truckin' with a new movie and oodles of new toys (though I wish someone would get around to re-releasing the box sets, I only managed to get the first two), even Captain N: The Game Master managed to get the neo-laserdisk treatment.

So where the heck are the SilverHawks?
Yeah, it was "ThunderCats in space," with even the same voice cast. Yeah, the physics were all sorts of nutty. But it was a fun show with a killer theme song, and every episode would take time out at the end--not for a cheesy moral--but to teach science. And I can't argue with that.

Incidentally, I can think of only one cartoon of that era with a better theme song...
Ah YouTube. Thank you for providing me easy content.

Mumm-Ra, all alone in the moonlight

When I was a kid, I thought that this:

...was based on this:

Finding out otherwise is the main reason why I'll never see the former.