Riddick. In my opinion, a spectacular anti-hero, perhaps one of the best. He literally is the antithesis of social norms: a sociopath, a murderer, and a convict who’s been through the worst prisons in the universe he inhabits. In coping with the extremes of his life he has amassed a number of abilities not attributed to the normal person: incredible skills with a knife, amongst other weapons, the ability to pilot small spacecraft, eyes that collect light to the point where he can practically see into the infrared. He has remarkable willpower, perception, and intelligence. Unfortunately, the series of which he is a part has frankly ruined the character. How?
First things first, Pitch Black is a damn solid movie. It has a premise grounded in science, suspense, monsters, and, like all good fiction, is character-driven despite these other perks. Riddick himself, portrayed by Vin Diesel, puts the movie over the top.
And then came the abortion known as Chronicles of Riddick. Somehow the producers of this movie have found a way to transmute vomit directly into digital images. Neat trick, that.
Whoever they got to write this steaming pile of crap doesn’t seem to have had much originality. Or talent, for that matter. Aside from reusing lines from the original movie (“You’re not afraid of the dark, are you?”) as opposed to, say, creating new lines along the same theme, it also seemed appropriate to name things as if the in-universe explorers had received some brain damage before they set out to find new worlds. Helion Prime is a grand example: Helios was the personification of the Sun in Greek mythology. Helion could be taken to mean “of the Sun.” Better yet, there are apparently four or five other worlds within the habitable zone of this unnamed star, which is one hell of a tight fit.
But back to the movie’s naming conventions. Riddick comes from a planet called Furya (winning), populated by a people known as the Furyans (still winning), though he doesn’t know it. This explains nicely as to why he’s so pissed off, in addition to having been found in a trash can with his umbilical cord wrapped around his neck.
Now, in the first movie, Riddick seems to have come by this information second-hand, which gels, because who has memories of their first few moments of life? His natural assumption was that his mother had tried to kill him and chucked him out. Turns out it was an officer of the Necromongers (if you’re paying attention, you’ll notice that we’re still winning) who has since risen to become their Lord Marshal.
This fellow, who’s a bit of a prick, as you may assume, became Lord Marshal after returning from some place called the Underverse (continuing to win). His people refer to this as “another verse.” Not another ‘brane, as would be scientifically accurate, but another verse. Like they’ve sung the chorus, and now it’s time to delve into the next part of the song. You can’t expect them to be too bright, though. They live in a society that appears so inherently unstable that it should swallow itself within a generation or two, though it instead seems to conquer entire planets in mere hours. Maybe they’re so ferocious when they get outside because they’re so excited to get away from the gloomy architecture. There’s Gothic, and then there’s depressing. And then there’s whatever the fuck it is these people are subjecting themselves to.
Speaking of which, the fragility of the science presented in this supposed piece of science fiction is laughable. Well, actually, it’s not science; no one here could be accused of having picked up a book on any science, anywhere. Unless you count porn as biology. Probably the most grating, from my point of view, is the assertion that the night side of Crematoria (sigh, winning) was three hundred degrees below zero, which is colder than cold can get. Ever. At -273C all activity, down to the atomic scale, stops. It’s called absolute zero for a reason, people.
Curious is the seemingly advanced animals found in-universe, and the apparent lack of intelligent life. This one’s really more a matter of the author’s preference, mind you, and I’m still wondering if the Elementals (winning…) are aliens or some kind of strangely modified humans. Though how you would modify a human to allow it to essentially dematerialize is beyond me; for that matter, how (and why) would a species have evolved this way on their own, supposing they’re aliens?
In short, Chronicles of Riddick exemplifies the subgenre of science fiction I like the least, that being space opera. That being said, Chronicles is some pretty horrible space opera, and writing such must take a lot of work. So, A for effort on this one. Bonus marks, even.