Alita: Battle Angel – Film Review

This is one brilliant film. Set five hundred years in the future, in a post apocalyptic world. Well not post nuclear, but post interplanetary war. 

All the remains of humanity crammed into the partial ruins of a skyscraper’d city below a tether’d, cut off and unreachable sky city up above.

There are borrowed elements. Rollerball is a big feature. The Island, where the lucky winner has the chance to break out of the dystopian stew and go to an imagined paradise.

There is a shadowy evil overlord controlling all the minions on the Earth city like a whack job puppet master, eerily played by Edward Norton.

In to this cyberpunk world of mechanised cyborgs,  Rollerball heroes, and hunter killer bounty hunters comes the beautiful Alita.

Her father, one third Dr Jekyll, one third Baron Frankenstein, one third Mother Teresa, builds her from scrap parts discarded by Sky city as a replacement daughter.

Alita, the girl cyborg is amazing. Intelligent, independent, capable, she is on the most important journey of all. The journey to discover herself.

The visual architecture of the dystopian world, the fight scenes, special effects, the great cast of characters go to make this an incredible film. Amazing Sci Fi action for a new generation, and concealed within it a powerful feeling, an understanding that will inspire that generation.

It’s brilliant and I loved it. 

Copyright © Jhedron Luckspar 2019

The Bubble

The bubble slowly rose to the surface carrying all the hopes and aspirations of a planet. It was the first.

The Boy carried his wooden sword proudly. He had walked many miles away from the area of the devastation. The cities lay in ruins. All vestiges of technology were gone. Hulking wrecks that were once mighty, now collosus collections of smashed steel and concrete. Roaming gangs like packs of rats swarmed the land devouring stragglers and lone travellers and yet still the Boy walked proud.

Corpses, mostly human, scattered the land, filling the air with that sweet smell of putrefaction and occasionally the Boy gagged with the stench of it, but still he carried on.

They stood blocking the road. Five men, faces burnt by radiation. Clothes blackened by filth and flame. What weapons they carried were simple but effective. The boy saw a hammer, some form of club or bat, chains, a rake, even the broken remains of a metal chair.

The threat was more a growl than language but the Boy understood. His sword was smooth, curved and carved from white oak from another land. It shone in the evening light from it’s lovingly polished wood.

It’s first kiss was against the temple of the leader. There was a loud crack as the bone shattered but the Boy was in flight now. Spinning away from the falling body he brought the blade down in a cut on a shoulder, the wooden sword breaking rather than cutting the collar bone. A deflection inwards caught the line of the jaw and another dropped.

A roar behind him, caused him to pivot on the loose ground. A large wrench smashing down at his head. Moving subtly the Boy drifted like a wisp of smoke as the metal club crushed the empty air. Two small cuts of his blade almost like magic broke the descending arm at wrist and elbow and the wrench crashed down harmlessly hitting the ground almost simultaneously as the edge of the Boy’s sword ‘cut’ through the throat, crushing the thorax with it’s polished wooden edge.

A detached part of the Boy’s consciousness remembered his Master and the moment he had presenting him with this beautiful blade that had become a part of him. A symbiotic partner that together weaved a life of love, motion and magic.

“Remember my Son, it is a sword. Whether finest folded steel or gift of the forest the man and the blade become one.

The Boy continued on his journey. Behind him the scavengers remained, broken and quiet, and somewhere the bubble arrived at a surface, where it crossed into the emptiness and so, again, it began.

 

Copyright Jhedron Luckspar © 2017

Original artwork by Faramond Frie

The Adventures Of Miss Ann Thrope

The sound of the explosion was deafening. A head that reminded her of red jelly appeared for a brief second, then vanished into scarlet mist. Miss Ann Thrope gently squeezed her trigger and another Mercenary evaporated. She never really understood the technical function of the futuristic weapons her friend from the future provided, just that they worked.

Whipping around with a lightning speed that belied her appearance, she casually erased three more. That’s how she saw this space pistol, or ray gun as she told it to her grandchildren at their bedtime stories, like an erasure, rubbing out a smudge on her beautiful pencil drawings.

Racing ahead at breakneck speed she dived low under the incoming fire, and into a roll as her Eraser led before her, sending a volley of precision shots into the concealed hard-bitten Mercenaries trying to pin her down with their targeted bursts.

Silently Miss Thrope edged her way down the dimly lit metallic corridor. In this future age, in a distant galaxy, security was controlled by the Station, which was almost sentient. In this distant future every surface, space, temperature gradient, any physical parameter was controlled and monitored by the Station.

The only possible way to be covert was with the use of very special counter technology; physical hacking. She walked down the corridor with complete confidence of, in essence, being an invisible, undetectable, physical virus.

That was her first mistake.

The creature that sank its huge claws into her shoulder pulled her backwards. Also sentient, it paused just a little too long before sinking its scything jaws into its victim.

Having dropped her blaster, Miss Thrope was surviving purely on instinct. The long-bladed stiletto from her wrist sheath appeared in her hand, and she thrust it behind her, through the soft flesh below the monster’s jaw, aiming for its tongue. With a roar of pain, the great leviathan reared back, opening up her shoulder wound, and nearly tearing her other arm out of its socket.

The smell of rotting flesh from the creature’s open maw nearly overpowered her. Its teeth were as long as her arm, and its slitted yellow eyes radiated venom. Ignoring the terrible pain in both shoulders she took an incendiary grenade from her harness, then activated it with her neural net. Her friend’s grenades were very sophisticated. She picked `bang,’ on a scale from one to ten, of two. With the beast’s next roar, she casually threw it down its throat.

Should have picked one, she thought as she limped down the metal passageway, completely deafened, and covered in ribbons of stinking flesh.

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Copyright Jhedron Luckspar © 2016 2018
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To enjoy THE ADVENTURES OF MISS ANN THROPE you can buy it via my book page
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