Why Bad Science is Good on Fringe

http://io9.com/5255140/why-bad-science-is-good-on-fringe

Though the science on Fringe <http://io9.com/tag/fringe/>  is
head-slappingly fake, somehow the series makes real science exciting. The
show is like a pulpy 1920s serial, and its fantastic plotlines are far more
appealing than hard scifi "realism."

I love this scene from the season finale on Tuesday, where Special Agent
Dunham tells her underling to get her information on "any incidents related
to science, biology, or unexplained phenomena." And then she discovers that
all the science things make a neat star pattern - and that is the solution
to the mystery! It's completely ridiculous, but strangely satisfying.

When I was among a group of reporters who talked to JJ Abrams about Fringe
<http://io9.com/tag/fringe/>  last year at Comic-Con, one of the things he
emphasized about his new show was that it was supposed to be in the mold of
1970s scifi. He and show creators Roberto Orci and Alex Kurtzman grew up
with psychedelic scifi movies like Altered States, and wanted to recreate
that sense of trippy fun.

With all of mad scientist Walter's references to LSD and various other
drugs, I think they've got the 70s vibe nailed. But what's really made this
show gel reminds me more of old pulps like Amazing Stories
<http://io9.com/tag/amazing-stories/>  and Weird Tales
<http://io9.com/tag/weird-tales/> , where writers like H.P. Lovecraft
launched their careers. As Jeff Prucher reminded me with his science fiction
dictionary Brave
<http://io9.com/5244895/brave-new-words-reveals-the-true-origin-of-parallel-
universes>  New Words, so-called hard science fiction, obsessed with
"realism," didn't exist until the 1950s.

Before that, authors just let their imaginations run wild. Astrogaters
piloted ships to the stars, fighting with heat rays and eating food pills,
completely unperturbed by things like how they would get to another galaxy
moving at less than the speed of light. Nobody tried to come up with
bullshit explanations about gravity wells and chemistry and how biology
really works. As a result, we got some incredibly imaginative stories about
the unknown.

Fringe is also explosively, weirdly creative, and I think that's because its
creators really don't care about what's scientifically possible. We get
multiple versions of Earth at war with one another. An underground cabal of
renegade scientists is secretly experimenting on the masses, causing us to
explode or making the skin on our faces grow so fast it plugs up our mouths,
noses and eyes. Kids are being dosed with a drug called cortexiphan that
allows them to see other dimensions. There are pale, alien-like creatures
walking among us, machines that let people swap memories, and teleportation
is easy (though it does have some nasty side-effects).

There are no dreary explanations like we get on Eleventh Hour or House about
how there is really, truly an Actual Scientific Reason why a woman's skin
suddenly peels off or a guy is dying of the bends even though he's never
gone diving. I don't mean to disparage hard science fiction, because done
well it's one of the most glorious things in the world. But done badly it
becomes a mess of awful, badly-written data dumps that wind up having about
as much scientific validity as a spy ray.

On Fringe, Walter's science experiments sound like the magic they are. "So
you see, we can transfer his thoughts to your mind," he'll say. Or "So
you've heard of pyrokinesis." Then Peter, his son, will explain that he can
retrieve sound waves from melted glass, recreating the noises that occurred
near the glass when it was melted. That way, they can find out how a person
next to a melting window was kidnapped.

Goofy! Absurd! And yet, exciting. Somehow Walter and Peter's mad science
manages to capture a truth about real science that "hard SF" rarely does:
The sheer, awesome plunging-into-the-unknown of it.

 

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