•
Rating: Tangle of memories.
I'll start by revealing some cards. Isaac Asimov. For various reasons, he and his sideburns were the epitome of science fiction when I was in high school. His name, and the titles of his books, were used by those who loved to give themselves an intellectual air. He enjoyed sufficient notoriety and fame as a high-level author, so he was a consumable type of science fiction to stitch on a bit of sophistication thrown together in any fashion, and use it to participate in the harsh game of chasing reputation. Those who rattled off the various Foundations always seemed a bit fake. Then there were those who actually consumed their eyeballs on those books, driven by a sincere love of reading, but they did not go out selling it like fish at the market.
A bit of dime-store psychology for a hypothetical modern-day kid wondering why there was an interest in science fiction back then. But first, a bit of stating the obvious. The early years of high school are a no-man's land; the fantastic worlds of the past still exert their allure just as the possibilities of the future do. For those of my generation, that past was science fiction. The snotty 80s kids took their fancy flights with that stuff.
Some reasons, in no particular order: the very long wave of the impact of moon landings on the collective imagination, the Star Trek and Buck Rogers series that arrived late in Italy, that magnificent fox Erin Gray, the first Star Wars trilogy, that magnificent fox Carrie Fisher, the development policies of toy industries, The Black Hole, the visitors, the Lego Space series, Blade Runner, Vangelis, Galactica, Japanese anime, the various cosmic shoot 'em ups, the Micronauts … and so much other stuff.
In my case, Asimov remained on the sidelines. For me, science fiction has always been and will always be primarily Leiji Matsumoto. I don't give a damn if my tastes might be considered childish. His stories have always had a powerful evocative effect on me, more than any other fantastic tale I've come across or watched so far, I couldn't say why. Perhaps it's the particular melancholy that snakes through all his stories and characterizes all his characters; perhaps it's his female characters, ethereal women, slender, fragile, always balancing between being divine creatures and being real; or maybe it's his legendary spacecraft, the Arcadia, the Argo (Yamato), the Galaxy Express 999, all seeming to have a soul of their own. Who knows.
If I were forced to choose just one of his tales to take to the deserted island in the sea of memory, with death in my heart I'd forgo the captain and take them, the star warriors. Among the three historic series, my favorite is the second. It is because it is more of a fairy tale than the others. The star warriors are alone: Captain Avatar is no longer there to guide them; they set out on their mission with even Earth, their home, against them; their spaceship is considered a relic compared to the latest models. Yet they manage to see further than anyone and almost single-handedly defeat an apparently unbeatable enemy, the Comet Empire. This time they manage it at the cost of heavy losses: the space marine Knox, Conroy, Orion (I use the names of the series in Italian, I’m more attached to them). The final blow to the enemy is dealt by one of Matsumoto's slender female creatures, so fragile and powerful at the same time. Adding to the evocative nature is a fabulous soundtrack (2199 version, I couldn't find the original as a separate track). It's clear that this isn't a review; I've allowed myself a little trip back in time, and writing it has turned out better.
Loading comments slowly
