I'm having another meandering splurge....
Nick:
"I keep thinking about Sci-Fi movies where the good guys have fucked-up, nuts and bolts tech, which requires clobbering and lots of shouting. Why is that? What does it tell us about them?"
Deva:
"That they have a very laudable distrust of efficiency."
I wouldn't infer, from the examples that I can remember (and there may well be many that I can't remember which will prove me wrong), that the good guys actually choose to have inefficient machinery, or consider it to be the right and proper alternative to stuff that works. They certainly don't seem to be particularly chuffed when it goes wrong (see Han Solo and Leia in Empire Strikes Back - Millenium Falcon escape near beginning). Often the suggested reason the tech fails is because it is old and has long been in the goodies' service, so you can reasonably assume that they once knew it when it was new and efficient. The fact that they use it is meant to throw them in a good light, sure, but it seems more likely to me to be because:
a) it reinforces the good guys' underdog status
and/or
b) they are prepared to put up with inefficiency - which doesn't necessarily imply that they dislike or mistrust efficiency - possibly because they have a long-standing relationship with the thing in question. We are meant to appreciate their loyalty to a trusty (rusty) friend who just happens to be mechanical (see again Han Solo and the Millenium Falcon).
Which brings me back to anphropomorphism, which Sci-Fi (especially film) loves to use as a way to make perfectly efficient machines lovable and interesting. And I suggest that that is not because efficient, un-humanised machines are inherently bad or threatening, but simply because they are dull (except, occassionally, as a spectacle). A classic example of that is Silent Running, where one of the cute robots (non-humanoid, but very toddler-like in size and gait) gets blown into space and its remaining leg is given a formal burial among the plants that it tended to, and we all cry copious tears. The robots in question are completely unthreatening, but they also happen to be perfectly reliable and hard working. They do start off with the some basic toddler-ish characteristics (all physical, to do with the way they move), which are only by-products of their design. It is their owner's treatment of them that humanises them further - reprograming them, teaching them cards, etc. The point is, they don't lose any of their efficiency, or become any less reliable at doing the jobs they are assigned to. There is nothing to suggest, btw, that their owner could not just as easily teach them to burn peoples faces off.
[ed. - this sort of ties in with grant's observation about adaptability, maybe?] |