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This blog post is supplemental to a series of blog posts examining past winners of the Best Dramatic Presentation Hugo Award. An introductory blog post is here.

Of the ten top-grossing film franchises of all time, nine of them have had at least one movie earn a Hugo nomination for Best Dramatic Presentation.

The remaining franchise is clearly science fiction, having featured at various times a spaceship that eats other space ships, a device that can alter the user’s DNA, an invisible car, and a city at the bottom of the ocean.

The Spy Who Loved Me features sets that are
totally science fiction.
(Image via IMDB)

We are, of course, talking about Bond … James Bond.

It’s an aging and sometimes cringe-worthy cinematic espionage adventure institution that has spawned 27 “official” films as well as three James Bond movies made by other studios who claimed the right to do so based on nebulous questions about who authored one of the original novels.

Not a single James Bond movie has even appeared on the long-list of works that barely missed the cut for the Hugos.

The character James Bond is as old as the Hugo Awards themselves. He first appeared in the novel Casino Royale, published in mid-April, 1953 — just weeks before the Philcon committee announced they would hold an awards ceremony honouring works of science fiction.

There was a mostly-forgotten James Bond TV movie in 1954, but the first big-screen depiction was eight years later when Sean Connery starred in Dr. No. That was 1962, a year in which the Hugo Award for Best Dramatic Presentation was awarded to … nothing at all. Dr. No was the seventh-highest-grossing movie of the year and was instantly part of the cultural zeitgeist — it’s difficult to suggest that Hugo Award voters were unaware of the first James Bond movie, with its radioactive pool, space race sabotage, and cyborg villain with robot hands. An enormously popular science fiction movie, ignored by Hugo voters.

James Bond made his public debut in the same
month that the first Hugo Awards were announced.
(Image via Sotherby's)

One of the most popular Bond movies ever was released two years later. Goldfinger — which famously includes the first on-screen depiction of a deadly laser weapon — was the third-highest grossing movie of the year, and was a cultural landmark. The franchise had begun to introduce the high-technology gadgets that would quickly become synonymous with James Bond, and would cement its place in the science fiction canon. Given that there were only two Hugo finalists for Best Dramatic Presentation in 1965 — and that one of them was the execrably racist Seven Faces of Dr. Lao — it seems odd that Goldfinger didn’t make the cut.

Bond was a massive part of the cultural zeitgeist in the 1960s and 1970s, inspiring numerous parodies and imitators (ironically including Hugo finalist The Prisoner). Neither the success of James Bond — nor its sciencefictionality — seem to have escaped contemporaneous fandom; almost every edition of Yandro released in the 1960s has some reference to Ian Flemming’s spy; Australian Science Fiction Review has positive discussion of the space scenes in You Only Live Twice.

Over the next few decades, the exploits of James Bond became increasingly connected to SFF, as the super-spy would don jet packs, deploy laser wristwatches, and drive cars that transform into submarines. By 1979 — in the wake of the enormous success of Star Wars — the franchise would fully embrace its genre identity by sending James Bond into outer space in Moonraker.

A full quarter of all James Bond movies (seven of the 27 movies) involve nuclear terrorism. Two of the movies involve fictional space vehicles (the Vostok 16 in You Only Live Twice, the Drax Industry Shuttle in Moonraker). There have been genetically-engineered bioweapons (No Time To Die), and underwater bases (The Spy Who Loved Me). This is not to mention the plethora of fantastical gadgets proffered by Bond ally Major Boothroyd — AKA “Q.” A close reading of James Bond offers insights into the evolving relationship between power and technology, between authority and gender, between the human side of intelligence and that wielded by machines.

Bond production designer Ken Adams brought
The Drax Space Station to life in Moonraker.
(Image via Reddit) 

So why is it then that James Bond has never been on a Hugo Award ballot? We have some theories.

James Bond may have all the trappings of science fiction, but it has always been marketed to mainstream and non-nerd audiences. Long before science fiction gained acceptance with the masses, Bond movies were taking genre ideas and marketing them to the very people who were scorning science fiction. In the early days of the Hugo Award for Best Dramatic Presentation, Worldcon members seemed to be drawn to movies that wore their science fiction roots on their sleeve. To be fair, one can understand why George McFly wouldn’t want to give an award to something marketed to Biff Tannen.

The superspy is a rich, good-looking dude who always got the girl. He represented the prom king, the star quarterback, the boss at work. He was never the underdog, he was never the outcast, he was never picked last in gym class. Nerd culture in the 1960s did not want to celebrate that.

Another possible factor is that there seems to be an inverse correlation between the quality of a James Bond movie and how science fictional it is. Moonraker, Die Another Day, and View To A Kill are among the most science fiction-forward James Bond movies, but they’re also generally considered some of the worst. Arguably the best James Bond movie — From Russia With Love — is virtually bereft of any genre elements.

The final reason that James Bond might have been ignored by Worldcon voters in recent years is that modern perceptions of the franchise are shaped by the overt sexism and racism of several early Bond movies. Some of the early Bond films are appalling. It’s for the best that You Only Live Twice — with its Sinophobia — got snubbed, and that the homophobia of Diamonds Are Forever was not rewarded. Although for the most part these movies are no more sexist or racist than some contemporary movies that did get Hugo nominations, they are more well-remembered for that racism and sexism, and consequently these skeezy and unacceptable aspects of the franchise have become a defining feature of James Bond in the public imagination. To many Hugo voters, we suspect that nominating the 2012 James Bond movie Skyfall — no matter how good a movie it might be — would seem like an implicit endorsement of the racism and sexism of the character’s 1960s origins.

Today, Bond has become a shadow of its former glory, a franchise that exists out of momentum and brand synergy rather than being a relevant part of the cultural zeitgeist. James Bond has transformed from a science fiction character into a lifestyle brand. For the past two decades, movies in the franchise are rarely about who Bond is, and more about what brand of vodka he drinks and what model of car you should drive if you want to be suave like him.

Given the weight of the character’s sordid history — and given the way the franchise has been veering away from overtly futuristic adventures — it seems unlikely that any James Bond work will be shortlisted for a Hugo Award. Whether or not any of the previous movies of the franchise deserved consideration is another matter.

All My Apes … Gone!

This blog post is supplemental to a series of blog posts examining past winners of the Best Dramatic Presentation Hugo Award. An introductory blog post is here.

For a $2.3-billion grossing science fiction franchise that has spawned nine movies, a popular toy line, a saturday morning cartoon, a prime-time drama, and some of the most enduring Simpsons gags, Planet of the Apes has had shockingly little recognition at the biggest awards in the genre.

Though later movies would ape its style, the
original movie's cinematography stood out.
(Image via American Cinematographer)

To date, no entry in the entire franchise has been shortlisted for a single Hugo Award or Nebula Award. This seems odd since these awards have rarely shown reluctance to reward high-grossing dramatic presentations, and some of the Apes movies are genuinely quite excellent.

Pierre Boule’s novel, originally published in French in 1963 and translated into English by Xan Fielding later that same year, probably remains the high point of the Apes franchise. Enriched by a terrific narrative framing, it’s an almost poetic allegory about the horrors of how humans treat animals. Given that the author was already an Academy Award winner (for Bridge Over The River Kwai), and the fact that it received positive reviews in the press, it seems odd in retrospect that the book was overlooked by Hugo voters in 1964. We can only speculate that within fandom circles, it carried the stench of “mundane literature.”

The first movie — which was one of the top-grossing movies of 1968 — likewise seems a surprising omission from the Hugo Awards shortlist. It was nominated for two Academy Awards, on top of a special Oscar for makeup (which was not yet a category). It was a cultural phenomenon, moments of which continue to resonate in pop culture. Looking at it in retrospect, some of the pandering and broad comedy (“Don’t Trust Anyone Over 30,” for example), comes across as condescending for today’s audience. But the 1969 Hugo shortlist has one or two weaker entries (I.E. Yellow Submarine), so it’s worth asking why the movie was ignored.

As Camus has said, an ape begins by demanding
justice, and ends by wanting to wear a crown.
(Image via USA Today)

Sequels of diminishing quality (with the possible exception of Beneath the Planet of the Apes) are also easy to dismiss as Hugo contenders, as are both of the execrable television shows. But their existence and popularity in their day points to the enduring appeal of the original works in the series. It also points to how malleable and powerful a metaphor the Apes franchise is built around: a world dominated by Apes can be used as a tool to criticize animal testing, to examine the fatalism of Cold War military policy, to interrogate class struggles, and to comment on youth culture.

Although Tim Burton’s remake was a compellingly weird flop, recent movies directed by Rupert Wyatt and Matt Reeves (of The Batman fame) have been among the most thoughtful and nuanced action blockbusters of the past decade, and featured what may be Hugo-favourite Andy Serkis’ finest performances of all time. Despite their critical and commercial success, however, not one of them has earned a coveted spot on the Hugo or Bradbury Award ballots.

It’s interesting to speculate about why this might be. Does the failure of some early works in the franchise cast a long enough shadow to dismiss consideration for subsequent releases? Do Hugo voters get into the habit of sticking with one franchise over another when preparing their nominating ballots? Despite the franchise’s success and turn towards serious dramatic fare, do the jokes about the campiness of the original frame even the later works as unserious? Whatever the reason, it seems notable.

Few media franchises have, over the course of almost six decades, seen as much variability in quality as Planet of the Apes (sometimes varying wildly within the same film). Despite its success in the broader culture, this franchise seems to be unloved within fandom. Perhaps it’s worth reevaluating our relationship with it.

Not On The Shortlist 2021

Every year there are more worthy works than could fit on any Hugo Awards ballot. There will therefore

(Image via Goodreads)

always be works that are not included, no matter how great they may be. As our book club has done in previous years, some of us have selected the books, movies, and comic books they wish could have made this year's ballot.  

(KB) Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia 

Set in the 1950s Mexican countryside, college-age Noémi navigates a tense and horrific situation that holds her cousin captive.  

Evoking the same style of romantic gothic and speculative fiction horror in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, Moreno-Garcia’s carefully crafted novel ratchets the tension and addresses settler-colonialism, environmental racism, and sexism. Using a unique mechanic to bring the eco-gothic setting into the fantasy and science fiction genre, the novel was full of surprises beyond just the plot. 

As a horror aficionado (and obviously a SFF fan), this book is an outstandingly creative entry for the speculative fiction subgenres. Moreno-Garcia, whose previous book Gods of Jade and Shadow earned her Nebula and Locus nominations, is an author to keep a closer eye on, and it’s a shame that Mexican Gothic didn’t make it onto Hugo readers’ radars.

(AW) Bridge 108 by Anne Charnock — Best Novel

Not sure how this thoughtful, socially speculative and dystopian novel didn’t make it on the ballot. Anne Charnock gives us interesting and relatable characters that must move forward, both literally and figuratively, to survive in a world struggling with deep social and economic divisions.

Caleb and other point of view characters provide distinct interpretations of the same reality, revealing layers of social conditioning to the reader. But you don't need to care about social relations and labour issues to enjoy this book (even if you should). Despite backstories of despair, each character’s choices reveal an inherent and universal drive to survive without doing harm.

This is near-future climate change fiction at its best — gently disclosing the impact of current conditions and choices through sympathetic experiences and hope.

(MB) Repo Virtual by Corey J. White — Best Novel

Repo Virtual is a really great response to anyone that suggests cyberpunk is a finished genre. It takes aim at the giant internet companies dominating the world today and at the precarious labour that allows the world to function.

It’s a great little heist story that has hackers, a predatory pseudo-intellectual cult leader, a massive multiplayer online game all set in a frighteningly realistic near-future smart city.

The story is a smart critique of the world and the trajectory we’re on and White absolutely deserves an

award.

(OR) Jack Kirby: The Epic Life Of The King Of Comics by Tom Scioli — Best Related Work

One of the most visually distinctive artists of the golden age of comics, Jack Kirby helped create a plethora of characters who have gone on to be household names: Iron Man, Captain America, Black Panther, Nick Fury, and The Fantastic Four just to name a few. Elements of his art style echo throughout the Marvel Cinematic Universe. His contributions were often however overshadowed in the popular imagination by his more charismatic colleague Stan Lee. So a volume like “The Epic Life of The King of Comics” provides a welcome insight into who Kirby was, what influenced his genuinely progressive vision for comic books, and what his legacy might be. 

Told as a linear chronological narrative, The Epic Life Of the King Of Comics follows Kirby’s service in World War 2, his confrontations and altercations with home-grown American racists, his ascent to the top of his profession, and his fight to claim ownership of his work. It is a story worth reading and understanding for fans of comics, fans of creator’s rights, and fans of the genre in general.  

Rather than telling this story through a conventional biography, Tom Scioli offers us a beautifully drawn comic book in which the art carefully offers connotations of Kirby’s style. This artwork is notable for how Scioli helps us see Kirby the way that Kirby saw the world, though he avoids slavishly aping the master’s style. 

This is truly one of the great works of comic book history. 

(Image via Goodreads) 

(CF) The Unspoken Name by AK Larkwood

This fantasy novel follows the life of Csorwe from dedicated death god mouthpiece and sacrifice to assassin and spy and beyond.

Inspired by Le Guin’s Tombs of Atuan, AK Larkwood’s debut novel The Unspoken Name follows a young orcish death cultist for whom a vast new world becomes possible when she is saved from being a ritual sacrifice. Set on a quest for an artifact of incalculable power, she learns the world is more nuanced and complicated than she had been raised to believe.

Despite this being a debut novel, which earned Larkwood a spot on the ballot for the Astounding Award, this book has better balance of complex worldbuilding with character development than works by far more established authors. While some might complain that the plot isn’t particularly tight, that gives the characters more space to breathe and to grow.

One of the many facets of the book that made it stand out is how Larkwood engages with and subverts the prejudices baked into standard fantasy tropes. Orcs may have a different culture that doesn’t align with that of the dominant (white) majority, but in this narrative it is made clear that they are just as human.

Another facet that adds brilliance to this little gem are the positive queer representation. Both Csorwe and her friend were queer but it was just part of their characters and not used as tokenism for the plot. And in the wider world, there was no institutionalized homophobia.

It is great to see AK Larkwood on the ballot for the Astounding Award, but all the same I would have liked to have seen The Unspoken Name shortlisted for best novel.

Not On The Shortlist 2020

Every year there are more worthy works than could fit on any Hugo Awards ballot. There will therefore always be works that are not included, no matter how great they may be. As our book club has done in previous years, some of us have selected the works they wish could have made this year's ballot. Each of these items represents the views of one member of the book club about the one item they most wanted to see on the ballot.

Were Hugo voters put off
by Ian McEwan's dismissive
comments about SF?
(Image via Amazon)

(AW) Machines Like Me - Novel

Ian McEwan's Machines Like Me provides an alternate history set in a more technologically advanced 1980s. It opens with an emotionally lost protagonist purchasing an android, a product developed by a successful, septuagenarian Alan Turing. Predictable but compelling and engaging moral dilemmas ensue and, as with many crossover works, the author packs a bit too much into the story: love triangle, violent crime against women, primal maternal attachment, etc.. However, the strength of the writing -- including pacing and profluence, plot arc, character development -- make this a satisfying read.

Some mainstream authors are shy to admit they write science fiction, even though they do. And it seems that Worldcon members are shy to acknowledge good crossover fiction, even though it can sometimes be worthy of recognition. Was Machines Like Me ignored because the author made willfully ignorant and self-congratulatory statements about the genre? Were Worldcon members refusing someone known for bullish snobbery? We all know that McEwan is far from the first person to write about moral dilemmas with AI but he did write something that will bring the idea of liminal SF to a new audience. And that can help strengthen the impact of speculative thinking and writing.

(CF) Ninth House - Young Adult Novel

Leigh Bardugo has crafted a satisfying dark fantasy mystery plumbs fantastical conspiracy theories about magical secret societies for a fun ride of a story. The world of spoiled rich kids secretly using magic to gather power, make money, and/or get laid fits so perfectly with the Ivy League setting it is no wonder that it is a trope. However, Bardugo managed to make it feel fresh, and it is not a bit surprising that Amazon picked up the rights to make it a TV show.

The main characters are compelling and complex and they keep the story moving at a good pace. There were some obvious class issues raised but I think there could have been a more nuanced book with less (™) spoiled two-dimensional rich kids. While more work could have been done on these supporting characters, I consider this small flaw to be one of the only remnants of an otherwise lovely transition from YA to adult novel.

(OR) Beasts Of Burden: The Presence Of Others - Graphic Story 

Evan Dorkin and Jill
Thompson's Beasts Of
Burden is beautiful
in every way.
(Image via Darkhorse.com)

Sporadically published by Dark Horse Comics since 2003, Evan Dorkin’s story of a magic-wielding group of dogs has been one of my personal favourites for more than a decade.

Illustrated in gloriously rich watercolours, first by Jill Thompson and later by Benjamin Dewey, Beasts of Burden is one of the most beautiful comic books on the market. The rotating cast of characters in the series — including Jack the beagle, Rex the doberman, and Pugsley the pug — investigate and confront mystical threats to the citizens (both human and canine) of the town of Burden Hill.

While many ‘talking animal’ comic books might end up saccharine or twee, Beasts of Burden develops its characters and aims to tell a compelling story first and foremost.

The 2019 entry into this saga, “The Presence Of Others” is a particularly sterling example of the series. Serving as a perfect on-ramp to the story, the latest series offers more of the perspective of the humans living in Burden Hill. It is unfortunate that this year will apparently be the last one that original artist and co-creator Jill Thompson will work on for a while — her ability to depict canine expressions with nuance imbued the characters with life and pathos.

Given the beauty of this series, the kindness of the writing, and the quality of characterization, I’ve been long surprised that it seems to have escaped the notice of Hugo voters. If you are interested in the Best Graphic Story category, I strongly urge you to take a look.

(CF) The Priory of the Orange Tree - Novel

This epic fantasy by Samantha Shannon is deserving of best in class for world building. Delving into the malleable nature of legends, history, and politics it pulls you into a character driven drama that is a surprising breath of fresh air through the normally stuffy epic fantasy genre.

One aspect that feels fresh is that most of the main characters are females and they are not (™) strong females but rather full and imperfect people. This adds welcome complexity to the story. Because it is character driven (and quite long), some readers may find it hard to carry on but by the middle of the story I think even die hard action fans will be captured by Ead and Tané’s struggles against monsters and monstrous humans.

(KB) Prospect (2018) - Dramatic Presentation

Focusing on character development and a unique setting over expensive special effects, Prospect

Because the WSFS
extended eligibility for
Prospect, it could have been
nominated this year ... but
it wasn't.
(Image via IMDB)

thrives as a what could have been a stand-out nominee for Best Dramatic Presentation, Long Form. Leading the small cast are The Mandalorian’s eponymous hero Pedro Pascal and impressively-skilled newcomer Sophie Thatcher play prospectors. Instead of panning for gold in the Klondike, they are on a forest moon aiming to collect gems. The two spend the film both at odds with one another, and allied with each other. The tension between the two characters in this foreign-to-them environment evokes classic Robert Service poetry with a sci-fi twist. The setting is a character with agency - as deadly as overpowered, Infinity-gauntleted supervillain.

As someone who craves creative stories with a fresher take on the SFF genre, it’s consistently disappointing to see smaller-budgeted flicks overlooked for superhero blockbusters that don’t bring anything new to the screen. While Prospect may not have made it to your ballot, I encourage you to check it out on Netflix, and consider expanding your long-form frontiers in the future.

(MB) The Future of Another Timeline - Novel 

Annalee Newitz’s second novel is well deserving of a place on the Hugo shortlist. It is a well-crafted, time traveling adventure story. It tackles real current world issues of misogyny with unabashed feminism. At the same time, it contains a very personal story of the protagonist editing her own past. The characters have depth and feeling because of these personal stories.

The time travel follows a distinct set of rules and Newitz is able to abide by the rules and not reach for deus ex machina to solve their problems. The story is engaging and contains huge amounts of well researched history.

While at times, the story can feel like a bit of polemic, it never comes across as preachy. This is a strong story with an equally strong message about collective action and feminist values.