Posted on by qscrisp

A Huge Ever Growing Pulsating Brain That Rules From The Centre Of The Ultraworld

Blake's 7 was undoubtedly the best television series ever. Pop music was made so that men can wear make-up badly, etc., and television was made for low budget, pessimistic sci-fi. No other reason:

6 Replies to “A Huge Ever Growing Pulsating Brain That Rules From The Centre Of The Ultraworld”

  1. I think The Twilight Zone is my favourite TV series; brilliant filming, imaginative stories, actors with screen presence — it wouldn’t be allowed on television nowadays. Perhaps there will be some great advancement in quantum physics in the near future and somebody will make a reality programme where Cheryl Cole boils eternally in some sort of non-Eucleidian Hell-dimension while being stabbed with cattle prods. I suppose I’m being hopelessly optimistic at this point.

  2. Cheryl Cole is the obvious choice for the first denizen of such a non-Euclidean Hell-dimension, yes. I’ll have to have another look at The Twilight Zone some time. I think I’ve only ever seen one or two episodes.

  3. There are a few light hearted storylines, but most of it has this fantastically oppressive, depressing atmosphere. There’s an episode that ends with a man chasing his doppelganger down the street while it cackles malevolently. There’s another where a man discovers a pocketwatch that can freeze time, accidentally breaks it, and gets stuck in the stopped universe forever. Or one like Kazuo Umezu’s Drifting Classroom, where a boy with psychic powers teleports his village to another plane of existence and murders people in horrible ways. The women are really glamorous, too. Why did women stop being so glamorous after the 1960s, I wonder?

  4. Originally posted by lesoldatperdu:The women are really glamorous, too. Why did women stop being so glamorous after the 1960s, I wonder?I was wondering this, recently, too, at least regarding Hollywood and American television. In other words, American actresses used to be glamorous, but no longer are. It occurred to me that the absolute epitome of the modern American actress, of which there are a number of variations, is Teri Hatcher as Susan in Desperate Housewives: beige, suburban, casual, softly and cloyingly self-deprecating, witty in a subliminal, whiny, clone-like way, forever seeming to dream of a handsome prince and forever seeming to say, “but why would you be interested in little me?”, never departing from this soft, middling groove. A life with Susan would be like sensing you had been sedated and wondering if you might be dying, but never being able to concentrate enough to do anything about it, while some muzak version of The Carpenters plays in the background and you drift into unpleasant oblivion upon whispering winds of blandness.

Leave a Reply