1. Mitchell Schwarzer, Zoomscape: Architecture in Motion and Media, Princeton Architectural Press, New Jersey, 2004

2. Pew Internet and American Life Project, posted surveys on www.pewinternet.org

Appearances matter, but...

Matt Hanson, Building Sci-Fi Moviescapes: The Science Behind the Fiction, RotoVision, Hove, 2005: 176 pages, ISBN: 288046787X, £27.50

Matt Hanson, The End of Celluloid: Film Futures in the Digital Age, RotoVision, Hove, 2004: 176 pages, ISBN: 2880467837, £24.99

Appearances matter. On the surface, these two recent volumes from Matt Hanson seem like high-tech coffee table books. Their size and glossy production values embody a sense of opulence to be found somewhere between Seattle loft-living and the set design for the Matrix saga. Beyond these first impressions, a double take is in order, as if detecting a glitch in the fictional Matrix itself.

For beneath the handsome exterior - the combined efforts of publishers RotoVision and an author committed to thinking about the way we read nowadays - is an argument with intellectual fibre pitched at a readership supposedly relying on so-called visually literacy. Hanson is persuasive because he is specific.

Building Sci-Fi Moviescapes is arranged chronologically, skipping through the "pre-digital era" before moving from Blade Runner to the present day. The use of Ridley Scott's "sleeper" hit as a starting point is predictable, but what is striking is how many subsequent works of science fiction have sought to differentiate themselves from the future-noir masterpiece. For the makers of Dark City, I, Robot and Immortel, the point is to develop plausible, self-contained cityscapes, limited only by the imagination. The same principles also govern many a recent top-end anime production or South Korean animated feature. Part of the charm of Blade Runner is that it created a cyberpunk future based on modest yet significant extrapolations of present-day trends into the future.

It appears that familiarity bred contempt, as yesterday's future shock became a contemporary cliché. The new fictitious urbanisms are grounded in a magpie sensibility, drawing upon industrial and graphic design and such cityscapes as Dubai and Singapore. They meld mythology and the illustrations that accompany arcane tracts of social forecasting in equal measure.

Hanson also appears reluctant to travel the postmodern path of claiming that imaginary representations of the screen shape urban realities today - in the style of, say, Mitchell Schwarzer, author of Zoomscape: Architecture in Motion and Media. (1) Instead he demonstrates how technological developments in filmmaking and SFX, such as compositing and rendering, pave the way for more complex movies, better able to come to grips with what the future might look like. Real architects are constrained by gravity, building materials and often planning regulations; not so Hollywood art departments and others of that ilk, whose role is to conjure up spectacular cinematic locations. It is to Hanson's credit that, through a series of pithy interviews, he conveys a real sense of how this process works. Needless to say, sci-fi cities are way beyond being tinfoil-covered sound stages backed by snatches of Theremin music. Instead these celluloid locations combine innovation and aspiration, often with a touch of raging misanthropy.

Oops! Did I say celluloid locations? The prolific Hanson's other recent book tears apart such a quaint way of looking at the "film" industry, not just in sci-fi, but across genres and even across media. The End of Celluloid is certainly an eschatological title, invoking the dozens of apocalyptic works of paperback futurology now mouldering unsold in charity shops. End certainly doesn't look like one of these books, and its carefully thought through argument expresses a real ambition to come to grips with how cinema and indeed visual communication is changing on the back of new technologies. Intrinsically dated notions of how cinema works are called into question through a series of carefully constructed case studies, again reinforced by the now standard thoughtful interviewing and well-selected images.

Whereas Hanson's later book is arranged chronologically, its predecessor is more thematic. Thus we are treated to analyses of the impact and influence of the following: digital video, computer games, 'synthespians', animation and more, each treated as a series of challenges to the film industry and to conventional notions of cinema audience. New technologies are key to this change. In a world where 90% of US teenagers claim to mainly communicate online (2), more traditional parts of the communications industry must be feeling the pressure.

According to The End of Celluloid, '... as the death knell tolls for a Hollywood system peddling an endless stream of indistinguishable narrative entertainment, audiences scatter to find inspiration in other amusements.' This is broadly convincing, based on Hanson's thoughtful consideration of a number of movies, from The Matrix Reloaded to Matthew Barney's Cremaster Cycle. A trip to a multiplex will often show audiences finding other amusements too, chatting and texting throughout the main feature. Away from the big screen, audiences are shown to have a more active role in their amusements, from re-purposing video games to fiddling about with DVDs so as to rearrange the way the materials are delivered. (Although not mentioned in the book, The League of Gentlemen Series 3 DVD includes just such a special feature, with the invitation '… and see what load of rubbish you've just made'.)

At a commercial level, the notion of the 'end of celluloid' is becoming harder to contest, as industry ambitions incline towards scrapping the expensive distribution of prints in favour of centralised systems of digital projection. All of this gets to the heart of the issues Hanson raises: new technology is not simply changing filmmaking; it also gives audiences access to making entertainments of their own. Yet there are also a couple of important riders that seem absent from this major argument.

Firstly, Hollywood production has some scope to adapt to this changing landscape. Dire predictions of the end of celluloid were first aired with the explosion of television sales in the 1950s; the film industry found a way to cope, predicated in part upon trade with the major broadcasters. Hanson's final chapter, entitled "Return of the Epic: Cinema's Last Stand", indicates that some of the techniques he cites as subverting film are open to co-option by its more traditional practitioners. Indeed, the use of digital cinematography to make 28 Days Later more horrific and more intimate did not preclude it becoming a mainstream box office hit.

Secondly, many of the alternative practices Hanson cites, such as sending a Canadian tourist on a wander around the Grand Theft Auto video game, in "My Trip to Liberty City", seem more like aimless noodling about than a deconstruction of cinema.

The technological possibilities enumerated throughout this book are exciting, and sometimes demand that we rethink the way we use mass media, but it's clear that a revolution in content is needed to catch up with the formal innovation celebrated here. Maybe Hanson is the man to do it: not just a critic and author, he's also the filmmaker, with festivals, DVDs and more on www.onedotzero.com.

Practising what he preaches means Hanson's determined vision may yet produce real alternatives to Hollywood cinema.

Graham Barnfield 18.11.2007

All images courtesy of RotoVision on www.rotovision.com

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