One of the issues that particularly struck me in the Hollywood actors’ strike was their objection to background actors having their images taken for use in future movies, but only paid for a day’s work. Something very much like this was predicted a few years ago in the science fiction film, The Congress. This was an adaptation of the novel The Futurological Congress by the late Polish SF author, Stanislaw Lem. The two are, however very different. Lem’s novel is laugh out loud funny. It’s about an academic, a futurologist, who goes to a conference in an unnamed Latin American country just as a revolution breaks out. The authorities respond by releasing hallucinogenic and mood-altering drugs in gas bombs, with the effect that the secretaries for the Society of Liberated Literature – a pornographer’s organisation meeting at the same time – immediate repent of their lewd dress and behaviour and become nuns. When the hero and his fellows seek refuge down in the cellars and sewers, they find that the rats are as stoned as the humans and are standing on their hind legs waltzing. The hero then passes out, only to awaken in the future, in a stable, technologically advanced and supposedly perfect society.
But this is yet another hallucination, a product of the drugs the government is pumping into its citizens. In reality society is decaying and human civilisation only has a few decades left due to the advancing glaciers in a new ice age. Taken off the drugs, the hero sees things as they really are. The people on the roads aren’t really driving advanced cars – they’re just running around as if they were, with their hands on their imaginary steering wheels. The lift shafts in their buildings are all empty, and so when they use them, they’re actually climbing up the lift shaft itself and the lift cable, all the while believing that they’re travelling in comfort in a lift. And the luxury restaurants in which the hero has gone to have a meal is really a grotty dive serving gruel. Fortunately, this reality is also another hallucination, and the hero wakes up back in the normal, everyday, real world.
As you may have gathered, it has some similarity to the SF of Philip K. Dick, whose stories are frequently about the difficulties of telling reality from hallucination. Lem was a typical Communist era intellectual in many ways, even though he hated Communism. The cultural watch dogs of the Soviet Union despised western popular culture and, following Maxim Gorky in the 1920s, urged a return to the classics. This did not prevent the emergence of some superb SF in the Soviet Union and Communist bloc after the publication of the novel The Andromeda Nebula in the 1950s as shown by the highly acclaimed novels of the Strugatsky brothers, particularly Stalker. But Lem looked down on SF as a genre, sneering at its themes and repertoire of robots, mutants and space travel as worn out. But he admired Dick as someone who had succeeded in ‘the transformation of trash’.
The film The Congress, which came out a few years ago, stars Robin Wright, a real Hollywood starlet playing a version of herself, who signs a contract with the studio to have her image digitally recorded. This image will then be used in a series of movies supposedly starring her, but in which she will not actually perform. It will all be done by her computer-generated image. In the meantime she is to go on on holiday and do whatever she likes. But she must never appear in another film.
The film shows her computer avatar thus appearing in a series of films, including one which seems to be a reference to Doctor Strangelove. She’s on a bombing mission, but one of the bombs has got stuck in the bomb bay doors, and so she goes down to add her weight to it, falling with it just as Slim Pickens does in Kubrick’s masterpiece. After these films have come out, she then goes to a congress in which the subject is the development of a new drug, that allows people to enter a consensual shared hallucination in which they can be anything they want. Something goes wrong, however, the heroine is hit by the drug or some other gas, and awakes in a superficially perfect future.
But like Lem’s story, this is another hallucination. Humanity has become addicted to this false reality to the extent that in reality everything is decaying. Wishing to find her estranged son, Wright takes the antidote to the drug and wakes up in a queue for a soup kitchen in what looks like a bombed-out building surrounded by armed soldiers. Unable to cope with this nightmarish reality, she takes the drug once again to go back into the comforting illusory world where she hopes to find her son.
It’s an intelligent film, mixing live action with animation and discussing important themes like the dangerous power of technology and technological illusions – the illusory world created by the drug seems to be a comment on the power of the internet and the dangers of the emergence of artificial realities like Cyberspace and Virtual Reality. But while Lem’s book is hilarious, the film’s utterly miserable and left me feeling depressed for a week.
Fortunately the illusory world of The Congress hasn’t occurred yet, and hopefully never will. But it did predict the idea of actors being scanned for their images, and these images appearing in films while they do not. And while the heroine of the Congress is paid for the films she doesn’t appear in, the background actors today aren’t. Not everyone in Hollywood is as rich as global stars like Schwarzenegger, Stallone and so on, and we’re used to horrendous stories of exploitation as revealed by the Me Too movement. This digitisation of actors’ images is not only another step in the exploitation of the struggling people at the very bottom, it’s also another step towards a computer generated dystopia in which actors are redundant.
CGI special effects are fun and have made movies more spectacular, but I want real people in them, not just their likenesses cynically created by the global entertainment-media complex.