H.G.Wells' Things To Come

H. G. Wells' Things To Come (William Cameron Menzies, 1936)

They (Stanley Kubrick and Arthur C. Clarke) also screened many films, including Destination Moon, The Day the Earth Stood Still, and Forbidden Planet. Kubrick soon discovered that Clarke was far too forgiving of material he found embarrassingly shallow and badly made. When the author insisted he screen the 1936 British science fiction classic Things to Come, written by H.G. Wells and based on a number of his stories, Kubrick "exclaimed in anguish, 'What are you trying to do to me? I'll never see anything you recommend again!'" Clarke remembered in 1972.

Space Odyssey, Michael Benson © 2018

I cannot imagine Stanley Kubrick "exclaiming in anguish" so much as mocking testily. But, if the director did indeed say that, he did have a point. Wells' later science fiction work in light of "The War That Ends All Wars" casts its eye less on the fantastical and more on the sociological, with the world's fate hanging on the desires of the gifted and the merely covetous. It may sound fine in the abstract, but Wells seems to forget that History is the slaughterhouse registry of the Powerful against the power-less.

It is 1940, and a Christmas party is being thrown by scientist John Cabal (Raymond Massey). But the festivities are overshadowed by the fear of an imminent war being radioed on the news. Cabal's fellow guest Harding (Maurice Braddell) is also glum, but Pippa Passworthy (Edward Chapman) is not so pessimistic, and looks on the bright side—even if it happens, it will spur technological progress, which is a good thing, right? Cabal sticks to the basics: "If we don't end war, war will end us." And, as if to mock everyone's sentiments, the attacks begin that night.

It turns out that everybody is right. The war does advance technology, at least in the sort of armored vehicles and flying battalions that reign terror. As for the people, they are literally bombed into the stone age, fleeing to underground bunkers and sewers for protection from the devastation, and, in their struggle to survive, allow themselves to be ruled by autocratic strong men—their proverbial man on a white horse—who fill the vacuum and their pockets as those craving power always do. In this case, it's "The Boss" Rudolph (Ralph Richardson), who has taken over the management of "Everytown" since the end of the war in 1966. But, the conditions have led to a pandemic of a final biological tactic, "the wandering sickness," and "The Boss" ignores the efforts of Dr. Harding (Maurice Braddell) with his own solution—shoot the sick down in the street, and expands his plans by ordering his mechanic, Richard Gordon (Derrick De Marney) to try to fix the remaining planes to bomb the outliers beyond his control in "The Floss Valley" and take over their deposits of oil and shale to turn into oil for the planes.

But, in 1970, an answer arrives from the skies. John Cabal arrives on a newly designed airplane and informs Harding and Gordon that he has come from Basra, Iran, where survivors of the war have established a new government, World Communications, where mechanics and engineers have formed The Brotherhood of Efficiency to bring new technology to the survivors to rebuild civilization and join the new government in banning war and advancing mankind. Sounds good, except to the guy in charge. Following the maxim that "Equality is seen by the privileged as oppression," Rudolph captures Cabal and forces him to work with Gordon on the old planes, but his plans are thwarted when the "Wings Over the World" contingent of World Communications is alerted to, and they fly over, releasing their "peace gas," which sounds like a bad euphemism, but merely gives the citizens a good night's sleep.

All except for Rudolph, who has a bad reaction to the "peace gas"—a fatal conflict of interest, maybe—and dies. It's a little convenient, but metaphorically apt, it seems. It allows Cabal to announce that old autocracies are as dead as Rudolph, allowing a new world to start, allowing "a new life for mankind." No one mentions that it also means no technological solution can be perfect.

 

And...scene.

There follows another montage of the building of that "new life" as the world's population moves underground and start building new bright and shiny civilization-cities, where people are able to progress and live in peace. So much so, that Cabal's grandson Oswald (Massey again) looks to conquering new worlds and expanding our horizons off the Earth with a planned moon-shot. But...there's always gotta be a critic. "Sure, you can Build Back Better," but how are ya gonna pay for it? In this case, it's the sculptor Theotocopulus (Cedric Hardwicke), who's pissed because he's lost an art grant of something because of all the money spent on Cabal's space-cannon, or something. 

Actually, no. His argument is less practical. He believes that humanity is tired of progress. "All sorts of people" are saying it, I guess. Enough so that he forms a mob to try and storm the space-cannon to try and stop it from launching (wouldn't you volunteer to stop a rocket launch...like one of those Saturn 5's that turn the surrounding acreage crispy?). But, Cabal, having seen the rise of petty autocrats before, decides he's going to ignore the mob (in all his Randian objectivism) and is able to send the manned probe into space, despite the Luddite uprising, and looks to the audience and intones "All the Universe, or nothing? Which will it be? Which will it be?"

Me? I'd look for a third option.

I gently mock, but Wells' story is all vague philosophizing without any practical demonstrations or innovations. Things look nice, and all, in that futuristic Fritz Lang Metropolis kind of way.* But, is everybody benefiting from the new technology? Is everybody housed and fed? Is everybody working...or do they need to work? And if they're working, are they working for bad bosses? And this "Brotherhood of Efficiency"...if they're using "metrics", you can count me out. There's no details here, just a sleek gloss-over. And the black and white of it isn't just in the photography, but in the binariness of choices. Is it always just a choice between progress and...(oh, what's the opposite of "pro?" Oh, yes) "congress?" And Wells' thinking seems to be that all the world needs to get along in technological advancement (if, of course, everyone advances equally regardless of class or income—if, indeed, there are such concepts in his utopia). One would argue that television, the computer, and the internet all have negative consequences, despite the best of intentions. Maybe even enough to tilt things out of balance. There's a limitation to what you can convey with a monolithic society...as opposed to extra-terrestrial monoliths

Kubrick did take something from Things to Come, though, and that is in the use of long stretches of montage, not to convey the passage of time (he did that in a single famous edit), but, rather, as a visual instruction manual on how things have changed and have become in the film (despite the technological advancements and accomplishments) every-day and banal. As a result, there are less moments of upturned faces and speechifying in grandiloquent tones. That seems less human to me and more autocratic, which, if I'm reading the film correctly, is just the sort of Coming Things Wells cautions against.

* One should put out that Things to Come is probably most influenced by Metropolis, which was made just nine years earlier, right down to the binary philosophical arguments, although Lang (and his scenarist Thea von Harbour) did come up with that third option. Mind? Heart? How about working in conjunction?