Saturday, 30 May 2026

A Year Of Solid Bangers (Hugo Cinema 1992)

This blog post is the thirty-fifth in a series examining past winners of the Best Dramatic Presentation Hugo Award. An introductory blog post is here.

It was the 50th World Science Fiction Convention, and to celebrate this milestone, the Hugo rocket was electroplated gold for the first and only time. In Hall A of the Orange County Convention Centre, air conditioning struggled to keep up with the muggy humidity outside.
A member of the production team
for Terminator 2 was on hand
in Orlando to accept the award.
Despite our best efforts, we have
not been able to identify him.
(Image via Fanac.org)


Overall, the 1992 Worldcon was an enormous success. The Hugo Awards, however, were a somewhat chaotic affair. The ceremony was marked by a slide presentation that omitted some (but not all) of the best artist finalists, some finalists who were remembered had their names mispronounced, and an entire category was almost forgotten altogether. Oh, and the fanzine Hugo was initially presented to the wrong finalist following a mix-up.

To quote Evelyn Leeper’s contemporaneous account, “What a fuck-up!”

None of the Hugo Award shenanigans, however, overshadow the fact that the Best Dramatic Presentation category had provided WSFS members with a list of solid bangers to choose from. It’s rare that we say this but the short list that year did a very good job of representing the breadth and scope of North American SFF cinema.

There isn’t even a real weak link on the shortlist.

The movie that came last in the final WSFS vote was the supernatural dark comedy The Addams Family, a visually lush adaptation of the 1960s television series of the same name … that was itself adapted from the one-panel comics of Charles Addams. The plot is slight, being primarily an excuse to string a series of quick jokes together. But thanks to the incredible charisma of Raul Julia, the sly charm of Angelica Houston, and an outstanding performance from a young Christina Ricci, it’s 99 minutes of breezy fun. Although Variety and The Hollywood Reporter were less than charitable in their assessment of the movie, Sight and Sound’s review suggested “The film works as a celebration of unconventional togetherness thanks mainly to a collection of casting coups.” While none of us would have voted for it to win the Hugo, we all felt it was worthy of being on the ballot.

Based on a comic book series by Dave Stevens and directed by Joe Johnson (who would later direct Captain America), The Rocketeer was a box-office disappointment in 1991 but developed a cult following in the years that followed. The film centres around aviation stunt man Cliff Secord (Billy Campbell), who discovers a prototype jetpack and then has to use it to fight off Nazis that have infiltrated Hollywood in the 1930s. It’s a stylish piece of work made with evident love for the source material. The old-school filmmaking and general-audiences sensibilities of the production only help accentuate the era-appropriateness of this love-letter to classic Hollywood movies — there’s even a reference to Rondo Hatton in the movie! Most of our viewing group enjoyed the movie and were happy to see it on the ballot. Although Timothy Dalton is endlessly entertaining as a villainous actor in league with the Nazis, much of the rest of the cast is fairly tepid, particularly leading man Billy Campbell. In a mixed review in the Los Angeles Times, Kenneth Turan mocked Campbell as the bland leading the bland, but allowed that ”this film is so dogged, so insistent, so relentlessly earnest in its one-dimensionality that no option but partial surrender to such charms as it has seems possible.”
Every Hugo-finalist movie had a
contemporaneous video game adaptation.
There was Belle’s Quest on the Sega Genesis,
The Rocketeer on the NES, The Addams Family
on the Game Boy, Star Trek 25th Anniversary
on the PC, and a half dozen Terminator 2
games on various consoles.


For at least two members of our cinema club, Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country remains the high-water mark for the entire cinematic franchise. It was the last movie featuring the entire original Star Trek cast, and they went out on a high note. Written and directed by Nicholas Meyer (who’d previously directed one of the other great Star Trek movies The Wrath of Khan) Undiscovered Country engaged with real-world politics and commented on the collapse of the Soviet Union by way of analogous events that transpired in the Klingon Empire. All seven original series cast members — William Shatner, Leonard Nimoy, Deforest Kelly, Walter Konig, George Takei, Nichelle Nichols, and James Doohan — are given solid character moments. Moreover, it’s one of the few Star Trek movies that doesn’t just posit that a utopian future is possible, but highlights the emotional labour involved in the soul searching and growth that humanity needs to work through in order to get there. Some of our crew wished it could have won a Hugo Award, but knew that in the context of what else was on the ballot in 1992, it just couldn’t.

Even the seemingly odd one out earned its place on the short list. The Disney renaissance was picking up speed in 1991, with their iconic production of Beauty and the Beast becoming the first animated movie to gross more than $100 million at the box office. Praised for its blend of traditional animation and computer graphics, it was also the first full-length animated contender for the Academy Award for Best Picture, and still holds the record for the most Oscar nominations for an animated movie. On top of all of this, the characters are engaging, the songs remain memorable, and the female protagonist has a little bit more agency than most other princess movies of this era. This film may be part of the princess-heteronormativity bootcamp, but it’s fairly innocuous in comparison with other films of this period.

It would be difficult to question the wisdom of Hugo voters in recognizing James Cameron’s Terminator 2. The movie sits comfortably high up on lists of the greatest science fiction movies of all time, given its cineplex-dominating, half-billion gross at the box office, given its multiple Academy Award wins, and given its groundbreaking digital effects. Moreover, on rewatching it, it’s surprising how modern the movie feels, even after more than three decades. More surprising in retrospect is that despite content that seems tame by the standards of 2026, organizations such as National Coalition Against Television Violence held pickets outside cinemas because they considered Terminator 2 too violent.
The design work and animation put
into the Beast character is impressive.
(Image via IMDB.com)


The plot is straightforward: there’s an evil robot (Robert Patrick) who’s trying to kill John Connor (Edward Furlong) and a good robot (Arnold Schwarzenegger) who’s trying to save him. Through 120 minutes, they fight and have chase scenes. But despite the simplicity of the plot, the writers don’t get lazy — none of the characters behave like idiots for the sake of increasing the tension. It’s taught, but internally consistent.

Although the digital effects for the liquid metal Terminator were the headline grabbers, a lot of low-tech old-school effects are used on the movie so seamlessly that they almost go without notice. Although he’s now mostly known as a director, James Cameron launched his career on the special effects side of the low-budget Roger Corman movie factory so he knew how to make a dollar stretch.

There are also a few works off the Hugo list that were distributed internationally and among independent cinema that merit discussion, such as Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s post-apocalyptic dark comedy Delicatessen, and the odd webstreamed movie Discovery of Television Among the Bees. But even these would have been unlikely to have made our shortlist in 1992.

James Cameron is one of the most Hugo-award-shortlisted directors, and Terminator 2 is arguably his masterpiece. In 1992, the Hugo Awards could not have done better on either the shortlist or the winner.

Tuesday, 19 May 2026

The Bleak Prospect of Survival of the Richest

It’s unsurprising that Children of Time remains Adrian Tchaikovsky's best-known science fiction novel. It has sweeping ideas, a unique perspective on the future, and a well of empathy. It’s a Clarke Award-winning space opera about a dying earth, hyperevolved jumping spiders, and cross-species communication. It’s an impressive feat of worldbuilding -- and of exploring alternate cognitions.

Children of Strife, the fourth
of Adrian Tchaikovsky's
Children of Time books.
(Image via goodreads)
The novel has two strong follow ups: Children of Ruin in 2019 and Children of Memory in 2022. Subsequently, the series was honoured at the 81st World Science Fiction Convention with a Hugo Award for Best Series. Unfortunately, due to the numerous much-publicized issues with that year’s Hugo Awards, many in the SFF community — including Tchaikovsky himself — consider any award from that year to be tarnished.

The Hugo Award for Best Series cannot be awarded twice to the same series. Having won in 2023, Children of Time is not eligible in 2027, which is a shame because the recently-published Children of Strife makes the best case yet for why these novels deserve recognition as a series that is greater than the sum of its parts.,

Set over the course of millennia, the first book follows terraforming scientist Avrana Kern, the civilization of spiders that evolves on the world she’s working to create, and a band of refugee humans fleeing a collapsing Earth millennia after Kern’s project started.

Each of the sequels centres on a crew of Humans and Spiders visiting long-lost terraforming projects. With Children of Ruin, we were introduced to sentient octopuses, and Children of Memory brought us the delightful Gethy and Gothly, a pair of Ravens who share one cooperative consciousness.

What connects the books in this series isn’t tied to a shared set of characters — or some grand galactic plot arc — but rather an intellectual playfulness and positivity in imagining how a variety of sophonts might understand the world around them.

This latest book, however, mirrors the original Children of Time more closely than the other two; and in doing so offers a dark reflection on the ideas that Tchaikovsky was exploring. Children of Strife depicts a terraforming project led not by the government-funded Avrana Kern, but by her rival Gerey Hartmand — an Elon Musk-type figure who self-finances his own, self-selected experiments.

While Kern’s World evolves species who learn to cooperate, the arch-capitalist Hartmand and his four allies are focused on a reductive survival-of-the-fittest approach to their project, with a hierarchical governance model. To describe the world that Hartmand creates as “flawed” might be an understatement. When Earth collapses some millennia later, one of the ships of refugees is sent to Hartmand’s World.

Hartmand’s cadre of flunkies: Sui Dorcheson, Ken Pill, Redina Kott, and Milner, all seem to embody different aspects of real-world tech-bro disconnection from reality. The god-complex of Hartmand, the pharmaceutical haze of Pill, the nihilism of Kott. Over the course of the book, they each represent different ways in which reductive understandings of evolution can lead to terrible outcomes.
The pugilistic nature of the Mantis Shrimp
(aka Stomatopod) makes for an interesting
protagonist in Children of Strife.
(Image by Roy Caldwell via UC Berkley)


These corporatist terraformers embody a grim reflection of the idealistic experiment begun by Avrana Kern in Children of Time. Kern’s project sought to guide evolution toward intelligence, motivated by a flawed but sincere vision of uplifting life. The terraformers in Children of Strife, by contrast, pursue profit and control, reshaping worlds with little regard for ecological balance or emergent societies. Where Kern hoped to steward a new civilization, the corporatists reduce planets to personal playgrounds. There’s some unsubtle subtext about how our modern plutocrat class dreams of being worshiped as gods while people are sacrificed for their entertainment.

As with every previous book in the series, Tchaikovsky explores the ethology and cognition of a real-world species. For Children of Strife, this is Kato, an obstreperous space captain descended from stomatopods (sometimes referred to as “mantis shrimp”). As always, this is an interesting aspect of the book, although Kato is more difficult and more inhuman in perspective than many of the previous protagonists in the series.

Children of Time remains a modern classic of space opera; a best-selling book replete with engaging ideas that continue to resonate with audiences a decade after its publication. Children of Strife elevates the series by having something new to say about the failures of reductionist adaptationism as a view of evolution — and how that is reflected in failures of societies governed by capitalist competition and hierarchy.

It is now easier to see these books as a series, rather than one great book with enjoyable-enough sequels. If it were eligible for the Hugo for Best Series in 2027, we would vote for it. Children of Time books will forever live in a liminal space of having sort-of won the Hugo for Best Series, but never bear the words “Hugo-winning series” on their covers.

Children of Strife is the best — and most ambitious — sequel yet to Children of Time, in part because Tchaikovsky has the courage to subvert the optimism and hope underpinning the first novel.