The Peripheral, Season 1 - half-bad television
The Peripheral is a TV series based on a book by William Gibson. Now, I read the book a while back, and I can’t be bothered to re‐read. Any mention of the book, that is what I recall. I’m not going to stand by it.
The series is a hefty effort by Amazon TV. It’s set in two places. One is a dead‐end part of Southern America, in the near‐future, maybe twenty years from now. People have electric bicycles, there’s a biggish store in town that trades in 3D printing and people use drones often. The set designers have had a good time and the electric bikes and so forth are fun. The second place is London in a further future, which is mainly London as‐is with brown fog and big statues. I guess the statues come from the graphics crew. Myself, I never understood why the future has big statues. People don’t make statues nowadays. Perhaps they’re meant as a reference to ancient civilisations, and so power structures? But overall, I and other reviews will tell you, this series looks worth the money.
Plenty of people have said Gibson‐work is unfilmable. I’m not going to get into that. The book of The Peripheral has a straightforward plot with renderable characters and scenes. It would need some cut‐and‐splice for a TV series because it has episodes with unusual plot development. Also, the cliffhangers are a little odd, which would require bravery to replay as‐is. So let’s look at how this thing is assembled.
Myself, I don’t think ‘gaff’ gathers have critical weight. Some gaffs are part of the media, such as needing to insert exposition in writing, or provide film with physical illustration. Nonetheless, breaking my usual rules, here are some questions about the script of The Peripheral. How come,
the hackers of the future can not beat the hackers of the past?
when a car crashes, the bad guys don’t kill the injured occupant (given what they say later, they think he’s a liability)?
something that generates a ‘sonic shock’ has no recoil (physics, guys, physics)?
an ex‐army guy, experienced under fire and driving away from a scene, drives into a wall?
a bomb causes amputations but no other evidence of injury?
a woman is able to sneak her ex‐lover into a building for a tourist visit… a building protected by national‐level security?
a guy commits a murder, then the next day comes into work wearing the same boots?
the sheriff, who doesn’t trust his deputy, sends the deputy to do work for him?
There’s plenty more. Perhaps the scriptwriters used the word ‘sim’ to establish consistency, but I’m sure when the guys try the ‘sim’ in episode 7, they are playing a ‘first‐person shooter’? As for this,
…historically, the supposed impregnability of any particular [encryption] code has proven disappointingly short‐lived.
Hasn’t anyone cross‐checked here? You know, I don’t care about hokey premises, but you got to show some consistency in script or you fail drama. Point is, if your world is not vivid to you, it will not be for me‐the‐viewer. I say this is slack script.
Well, what about character? Gibson’s characters are cartoons. When I say cartoon, I weigh cartoon—assassin women (straight out of Manga), drug‐addicts, good people with funny clothes and haircuts, ex‐soldier veterans and so forth. But Gibson shows what you can do with this, because most of his characters have unexpected drama. Take from the book the character Connor—disabled in war (the ‘how’ not mentioned, added to the series in flashback). Far from being noble or suffering, Connor is angry, resentful, unstable and one small step from blowing everyone about him, including himself, to kingdom‐come… on the slightest excuse.
But the characters in the TV series have been sorted. They’re either good or bad (all additions to the book). The good guys are given flashbacks (all additions to the book), Not only is this a filmic‐storykiller, but the only purpose is to lay renforcement on thick—how the good guys gain quirks because they suffered trials. And in Gibson books people who do bad things can be greedy, self‐satisfied, mislead or perhaps unbalanced. But in the series this scope is lost—bad people are evil… which is not the same thing. By the end of the first series only the character of Connor, the multiple amputee, has not been sorted and simplified. Likely because he hasn’t said much. Film‐makers probably got plans for him.
And is there one single character that does not have a family connection that explains their behaviour (not in book)? Which is used for justification for near‐any kind of sickness or mayhem? End of this first series, two of the bad characters get family connections too. Where family doesn’t work, the characters have been dating. By the end of the first series we’ve got a relationship brewing between the central character and far‐future side (not in book). By the end of the series I expect a big reveal that all the bad guys and gals are clones, then Jennifer Aniston to turn in as guest star. I’ll drop in that one episode of Ally McBeal can do better than this.
When we get to the drama, science fiction is gone,
Well, science fiction can be tricky. But then, if you jettison plot, what can you expect? In the book, the 3D‐printing is important. It’s the way these two realities physically interact. Yet where is it in the series? In the series items appear as if by magic. So, far from science fiction, the scriptwriters have trashed the best science‐fiction idea. An idea that’s a natural for moving pictures (I’ll let you all work out the significance of that link). Still, there’s other stuff you can plaster in. For example,
I’m pregnant.
Or how about laying the sympathy on thick with a heartfelt story about… worms. That’s inventive, right?
This dial‐to‐eleven scriptwriting continues into setup and payoff. In the book, people from the future mention an event called the Jackpot. This is later explained, as I recall from the book, as a time when earthly life outstrips the earth’s resources. Which causes many deaths and a restructure of society. The film‐makers do not trust their audience so get their explanation in early. And take their opportunity. “Hey”, they say, “What was that? A combination of environmental collapse and societal restructuring? Well, that’s a bit lame by William, right? Great writer though he is, and respect him though we do?”
So the Jackpot now involves a pandemic. Topical reference. Problem here is we‐the‐viewers know what a pandemic is like—governments forced back on themselves, supplies become vital, people get isolated, people die. Not enough for these film‐makers, so here the virus causes people to haemorrhage, then somehow bleed to death externally (I think that’s what they are getting at). But the Jackpot scenario still has issues—due to collective responsibility, no blame to lay and no people to target. So the series version of the Jackpot culminates—much better!—in a terrorist attack causing a nuclear explosion… listen, pal, don’t ask me how that would happen, maybe military spending was not what it should have been? Just accept there was a big evil bang ok? When you grow up some maybe you could read The Plague, by Albert Camus.
The max‐volume approach rolls on into scenario. I estimate that 2/3 of the drama, all that is not explanation or flashback‐spading‐on‐justification, is people threatening each other. Now, that is worrying for the human race, no? Not only is this wearing, but it mashes the source material flat. Gibson has resolved scenes in all kinds of wonderful artways. Yes, some gonzo face‐offs—mechanoid violence, elite unit attacks, assassination attempts—mostly drawn from cartoon references. But also politics, safe harbours, common purpose, market‐store trading, email, etc. All gone in the series—drama is a one‐note rattle that ends with people kicking or shooting each other. Well, there are two scenes that are video games but watching a video game, without being involved in the stakes, is boring.
At least they cast beautiful actors, who give it their best shot. In groovy accents that are there I guess to convince me of authenticity—Cockney, Stage enunciation, the Irish, Southern American… and so forth. And the writers throw in a lesbian affair, so now I know they are hip.
The Peripheral was a new approach for Gibson, a new book series. He said he nabbed the base idea from another guy who said many of the issues with time travel could be resolved by accepting the idea of alternate timelines. For me this changes nothing—time‐travel is a fantasy idea and ballywhere. For me, time travel is, like the similar ‘matter transporter’ (which works across space), best used as unstated premise, to kick off a story by quick transplant. Time travel works also for comedy, though I can’t remember any I like. So, although nobody has mentioned it, for me the source book has limited science‐fiction appeal. The plus is what Gibson did with the scenario.
But, sliding sideways, what is this modern obsession with bleached film treatment? Bleaching is the reduction of colour so it is no more than an signal. Well, in modern film, there is a reason. I’ll not wade through all of this. I’ll say that modern film‐making, with it’s near‐human resolution of detail and flat LED lighting makes images of fine detail that look often hideous. One solution would be to filter out what is needed. Bleaching and blurred film treatments can do that. Not the only option, but an option. However, look at William Gibson’s written work—the invented words, the jumble of modern life, the widgets of technology, the moody take on lifestyles. What’s bleached or blurred about that? It’s pixel‐sharp. And bleaching is not science fiction either. Surely chemical dyes and plastics have shown us that the future will look gaudy? So what does it say?
I’ll propose a thought. Soldiers go everywhere in the world. When they arrive they do the same thing—follow objectives and orders. Wherever they are, they hope for the same things—rations and pay. So they go everywhere, but go nowhere. Iceland is the same as Japan is the same as Argentina. To use the common metaphor, the places they visit have no colour. If you look back on the history of bleach‐treatments, the technique is usually associated with, you know, ‘serious’ drama. Not ‘serious’ in terms of handkerchief dropping, but guns and missiles. Follow back through… later Terminator movies, James Cameron output, Olympus has Fallen, SAS‐type movies etc.
Not only is this script translation militaristic, it’s not rational militarism. By the time the series reaches episode 2, it ups it’s quota of torture violence to one act per episode (episode 2 has two acts, I guess to stock the bank). Torture‐violence proves that bad guys are bad. Pulp fiction has carried this since way back—Damon Knight once called it Spillanism. Except, The Peripheral isn’t funded as pulp fiction, is it? Knight also suggested that sadistic violence is a feature of the world, so perhaps sometimes could be represented, but then needs justification or meaning. In The Peripheral there is no meaning. Torture arrives out of thin air. So the people who make this series are obsessed with suspicion, hostility and sadism. Let’s hope they are not suspicious sadists themselves. Let’s hope it’s some kind of societal angst.
Gibson’s books, considering the inserts of deadly elite forces, assassins and robot wars, are civilian. Go check, and you’ll find most military action or violence happens off‐stage—retold in stories, noted in passing, maybe occupies a few sentences. There can be a robot showdown happening—Gibson is next door, listening to what the civilians hear, watching how they react. Without digging in, it’s easy to read Gibson’s lifestyle as what people in the nineteen‐eighties used to call ‘Alt’. His characters are often the more doomed side of Hippie—the outcasts, the loners, the manipulated. His positivistic outlook and tidy ends are in the face of trials. They’re more Philip K. Dick with range then a military promotional video. And I don’t know Gibson’s musical interests, or if he has any, but the soundtrack should have been ‘Alt’ too, not a relentless, and wearing, procession of what sounds like snippets from the ominous bits of Bourne Identity.
Reviewers have said this series is potentially confusing, with it’s invented language and complex setup. This is an old down on science fiction. It’s annoying, because if you credit viewers with some nous, and create some immersion, there’s no problem. And anyhow, in film you can fix this with a handful of visual images. So I can’t take that as any kind of adverse criticism. Except to suggest that for those reviewers, the film‐makers of The Peripheral may have failed on that count? Personally, I think for explanation the script is tidy and well‐paced.
But, between a silly source premise and mismatched production, this is a long way from hard‐core science fiction. If you want that, try The Code. Damon Knight complained about what he called ‘half‐bad’ writers. He said mis‐steps, such as jambed scenarios and wayward plots, can seem worse from a writer who can be good. The Peripheral series is off because it’s pulp fiction premises and thoughts are sold in a million‐wad of production. It’s also off because an ‘Alt’ vision is overlaid with militaristic propaganda. So The Peripheral is two different things caked together. The series is not bad at either, so is half‐bad twice over—I make it a half‐bad, half‐bad production. It is itself a mutant.
I doubt if the series follows, I will. If there’s anything I would want to know it’s how this poker‐face production is going to handle the character Wilf Netherton jacking into an iPad on Lego wheels. I’ll guess that Short Circuit, “Five is alive!” it will not be.