Steampunk Film

A Critical Introduction

Robbie McAllister

• Publisher: Bloomsbury Academic
• Year: 2019
• ISBN:
  9781501331220
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Mezzi di comunicazione e arti performative
• Subtopic: Storia e critica del cinema

Steampunk Film: A Critical Introduction is a concise and accessible overview of steampunk's indelible impact within film, and acts as a case study for examining the ways with which genres hybridize and coalesce into new forms. Since the beginning of the 21st century, a series of high-profile and big-budget films have adopted steampunk identities to re-imagine periods of industrial development into fantastical histories where future meets past. By calling this growing mass-cultural fetishism for anachronistic machines into question, this book examines how a retro-futuristic romanticism for technology powered by cogs, pistons and steam-engines has taken center stage in blockbuster cinema. As the first monograph to consider cinema's unique relationship with steampunk, it places this burgeoning genre in the context of ongoing debates within film theory: each of which reflecting the movement's remarkable interest in reengineering historical technologies. Rather than acting as a niche subculture, Robbie McAllister argues that steampunk's proliferation in mainstream filmmaking reflects a desire to reassess contemporary relationships with technology and navigate the intense changes that the medium itself is experiencing in the 21st century.

1

Steampunk Goes to the Movies: The Birth of a Genre

To understand how the term ‘steampunk’ allows us to define and collate a series of films that all reinvent a past age of industry, I will begin by considering how the movement first emerged and has come to distinguish itself from comparative cultural phenomena. Through its rapid development and growing prominence within multiple media, I will trace steampunk’s rise from a niche curiosity to pop-cultural juggernaut and use its evolving identity as an exemplar of the contradictions that occur when we attempt to define an ever-diversifying movement into quantifiable terms. Whether used to signify an aesthetic, genre, subculture and even a political ideology, I will turn to the numerous academics, critics, creatives, fans and corporations who have actively labelled and commodified steampunk from a myriad of perspectives. I will then introduce the main subject of this book: a wave of over thirty big-budget theatrical releases that converged with steampunk’s mass-cultural expansion at the end of the twentieth century. Alongside these productions, I will note many of the academic and popular discourses that have surrounded steampunk’s cinematic dissemination: topics of debate that will underscore the chapters that follow. Most significantly, I will question how the movement’s burgeoning identity within film might best be defined and considered alongside pre-existing traditions within genre theory. By the end of this chapter, I will have confronted the problematic question of steampunk cinema’s generic identity and presented the argument that the medium possesses a fundamental connection to the widespread practice of reimagining Victorian industry.

Identification and definition

When traced back to the work of authors K. W. Jeter, Tim Powers and James Blaylock, steampunk’s etymological origins might seem to be deceptively contemporary and straightforward. However, the term’s cultural proliferation can be drawn alongside the traditions of various forms of genre fiction over a number of decades: particularly through the very same Victorian science fictions and dime novel ‘Edisonades’ that the movement so often uses as its inspirations. Jeter’s own Morlock Night (1979), for example, acts as a direct sequel to H. G. Wells’s The Time Machine (1895), reinventing nineteenth-century science fiction from the perspective of the twentieth. When Powers discussed his fellow writers’ shared interest in shaping steampunk’s conventions, he claimed that their novels owed a debt to the influence of ‘the cornerstone of Victorian London research work’, Henry Mayhew’s London Labour and the London Poor (first published collectively in 1851) (as quoted in VanderMeer and Chambers 2011: 48). Throughout the movement’s development, steampunk’s identity has depended on the recognition of a far-reaching heritage that makes any notion of an instantaneous origin highly problematic. As games designer and author, Frank Chadwick wrote in the blurb of his retro-futuristic role-playing game, Space 1889 (1988), the steampunk universe contains ‘everything Jules Verne could have written. Everything H.G. Wells should have written. Everything A. Conan Doyle thought of but never published because it was too fantastic’ (Chadwick 1988).

Within the chapters that follow, I will note many texts that predate the movement’s seemingly late twentieth-century point of origin; yet steampunk’s identity is nevertheless best approached as a particularly contemporary and backwards-looking phenomenon. Just as the movement’s pseudo-histories make no attempt to completely recreate nineteenth-century industry (instead, they are defined by their difference and subversion), it should first be understood that ‘steampunk’ is not a term that traditionally includes Victorian science fiction itself. Instead of being used to collate the many futures imagined from the perspective of ninteenth century writers and artists, ‘steampunk’ signals a response to the past through the lens of contemporary perspectives. Jeter, Powers and Blaylock's resourceful use of Mayhew’s in-depth chronicling of the lives of nineteenth-century-London’s ‘metropolitan poor’ ([1851] 2008: xvii) parallels the characteristics that would become foundational to steampunk’s fledgling identity as a literary sub-genre: a dichotomy wherein anachronistic fantasies court plausibility through the imitation of historical detail. By blending the social and technological structures of the past with fictional impossibilities, steampunk would soon come to be recognized as a method of re-engineering a period of industrial history into new and unusual forms.

Although I will go on to challenge the received notion of steampunk’s roots wholly being laid in the final decades of the twentieth century, the movement’s remarkable proliferation within this period is unquestionable. Whilst there are many literary works that highlight steampunk’s brand of neo-Victorian science fiction preceding this era (e.g. Michael Moorcock’s Warlord of the Air [1971], Keith Laumer’s Wars of the Imperium [1962] and Ronald W. Clarke’s Queen Victoria’s Bomb [1967]), it is not until the 1990s that both popular and academic accounts begin to recognize steampunk’s consolidation into an accountable literary sub-genre. For ‘steampunk’ to propagate throughout popular culture, it first had to be concretized into a form that was both recognizable and coherent: a process that Jeter helped enable with his definition in 1987. Described as ‘putting steampunk on the map’ (Strongman 2011: 37) are a wave of science fiction novels that were released in the decade that followed. William Gibson and Bruce Sterling’s The Difference Engine (1990) became a prototypical steampunk text by depicting an imagined era of social and technological revolution set in the nineteenth century, whilst Paul Di Fillipo’s Steampunk Trilogy (1995) acted as one the first of many subsequent publications to market itself by directly utilizing the sub-genre’s name. Accounts by academics such as Brigid Cherry and Maria Mellins (2012), Kimberley Burk (2010) and Cynthia Miller (2013) (amongst others to be considered within this text) collectively note steampunk’s growing popularity within the mid-1990s, often defining its emergence as a literary phenomenon of the late twentieth century.

However, whilst cultural consensus seems to credit steampunk’s proliferation to this rapidly growing number of short stories and novels, the movement’s global significance would reach new heights when applied to an almost endless variety of alternative media: particularly, in the case of this study, with respect to cinema. One of the first theorists to critically engage with steampunk, Rebecca Onion noted that the cusp of the new millennium saw steampunk transition from a niche literary movement into an entire subculture represented within multiple media (2008: 141) . A number of projects have attempted to chronicle the movement’s rapidly extending genealogy over this period: Cherry and Mellins, for example, reference one particularly useful source when they write that ‘the possible mechanism by which steampunk has moved from fiction, art and music to style innovation and a full-blown subculture can be seen in the mapping of the genre undertaken on the Steampunkopedia website, a comprehensive list of steampunk fiction and media’ (2012: 9).

The dedication with which steampunk followers have charted the movement’s cultural diffusion is also reflected in a growing number of publications that commodify steampunk’s history and development for consumers to examine. In 2011, two of the first non-fiction publications to delve into steampunk’s identity were released: Jeff VanderMeer and Susan Chambers’s The Steampunk Bible and Jay Strongman’s The Art of Steampunk. Texts such as these would soon be met by a litany of similar publications designed to appeal to both steampunk’s cult readership and a growing number of consumers with an interest in the movement. One of the most notable examples of the movement’s cultural expansion can similarly be found in the 2015 documentary film Vintage Tomorrows, which examines the movement’s growth from the perspective of the many personalities who have fostered its development. Alongside the academic attention that would come to be placed upon steampunk’s rise in prominence, these accounts helped to unify the movement’s diversifying representations into a single, understandable and manageable entity: the transformation of a series of ‘darkly atmospheric novels of a time that never was’ (Taddeo and Miller 2013: xv) into a trans-media phenomenon.

Kimberley Burk provides an extensive identification of the types of influences that steampunk has found representation within since the dawn of the new millennium, noting forms ranging from ‘technology modification, clothing, lifestyle, fan-cons, e-zines, craft, sculpture, music, film, video games, role playing games, cosplay, literature, graphic design, interior design, home decor, philosophy/ethos and the variety of re-creationist communities, other allied interest groups, etc.’ (2010: 10). The formation of a unique and instantly recognizable aesthetic would arguably overtake the movement’s literary characteristics as the dominant method through which steampunk took root in our cultural consciousness. Alongside the many literary works that helped to foster steampunk’s identity, the emergence of a visual style that could be enacted within fashion, illustrations, comic books, graphic novels and video games would breathe new life into a movement quickly coming to mass-cultural awareness. Figure 1.1, for example, depicts a screenshot from Machinarium, a point-and-click adventure game released in 2009 that uses its hand-drawn backgrounds to depict a fantastical steampunk world constructed from the refuge of industrial histories.

Figure 1.1 Machinarium (2009), [Video game] Designer Jakub Dvorský. Czech Republic: Amanita Design.

It is worth noting that steampunk’s distinct aesthetic possesses a heritage as lengthy and expansive as its narrative and literary conventions. The period technologies envisioned within steampunk’s visual media draw from the vast wealth of fantastical illustrations and covers that adorned the movement’s science-fictional antecedents in the nineteenth century. Describing a ‘visual vocabulary that is chronologically marked’ (2016: 253), Rebecca Mitchell draws attention to graphic similarities between the steampunk comic book series Sebastian O (1993) and the work of Victorian artist Aubrey Beardsley, whilst the cover for VanderMeer and Chambers’s The Steampunk Bible directly imitates the fondly remembered aesthetic of Jules Verne stories published by Pierre-Jules Hetzel.

Comic books have played a particularly notable role in establishing steampunk’s visual identity. Brian Talbot’s writing and artistry captured much of the movement’s zeitgeist in his ‘Luther Arkwright’ adventures (1978–1999), whilst texts such as The Amazing Screw-On Head (2002) and Girl Genius (2001–present) are just two examples of many that would similarly cement steampunk as a major presence in the medium. As well as more generally constructing the visual markers that steampunk would become recognized for – from dreadnaught airships to clockwork ray guns – other popular comic book series such as The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (1999) and Hellboy: Seed of Destruction (1994) would provide direct sources for Hollywood to adapt in the years that would follow. As Joseph Good argues, the proliferation of such comic book art reflected ‘the salient characteristics of the steampunk movement, not only by offering detailed visual imaginings of the hybrid world of steampunk Victoriana but also by refracting Victorian decadence through the lens of contemporary popular culture’ (2010: 208). Alongside televisual predecessors such as The Wild Wild West (1965–1969) and The Adventures of Brisco County Jr (1993–1994), steampunk’s filmic aesthetic would develop and extend upon visual traditions that were defined not only by the flamboyance of their historical anachronisms but also by their pertinence as a source of retrospective nostalgia.

Beyond the movement’s literary and visual properties, a number of aural characteristics would also become associated with steampunk’s atavism over the following years. Fusing together the litany of historical associations drawn through musical genres ranging from punk, industrial, rock, ragtime, cabaret and music-hall, steampunk’s ‘sound’ has been constructed by a number of self-defined steampunk musicians since the advent of the twenty-first century. Musical duo Vernian Process used Victorian science fiction as an inspiration during their formation in 2003, Seattle-based band Abney Park rebranded themselves within the genre in 2005 (‘reinventing themselves as roving time travelers and airship pirates’ [Lakin Smith 2009]) and The Men That Will Not Be Blamed for Nothing took their name from chalk graffiti found during the 1888 Whitechapel murders when marrying grindcore with steampunk’s sense of historical irreverence.

This musical identity has developed alongside perhaps the most extraordinary of all of steampunk’s forms of cultural production: a growing number of fairs, festivals, concerts and conventions that showcase the extent of the movement’s popularity on the worldwide stage. Within the year of wri ting, steampunk will find representation at a variety of events spread across a number of countries: from Tucson USA’s ‘Wild Wild West Steampunk Convention’, Sheffield Australia’s ‘Steamfest’, Paranapiacaba Brazil’s ‘SteamCon’, Pétange Luxembourg’s ‘Anno 1900 – Steampunk Convention’, Buxtehude Germany’s ‘Aether Circus’ and New Malden UK’s ‘Surrey Steampunk Convivial’. (The Airship Ambassador website offers a catalogue of over seventy gatherings during 2018 alone.) The widespread growth of the steampunk subculture has walked hand in hand with the movement’s development as a fashion and style that its adherents and followers are able to participate within. Emerging from the interests of ‘gamers, goths, cybergoths, industrial music fans and punks [who] began to gather together to share their love of the genre’ (Harrington 2011: 6), steampunk has found itself enacted through a vast array of different commercial practices. Typing ‘steampunk’ into online search-engines now brings up a seemingly endless list of stores ranging from specialist ‘emporiums’ catering to the steampunk subculture to a litany of larger companies that appeal to a wider market.

Whilst goggles, corsets, bustles and frock coats have become staples of steampunk fashion, it is the movement’s mechanical fixation that separates it from its punk and goth predecessors. Similarly, the subculture’s technological focus has led to its strong identification alongside a great number of craft and engineering movements. At the forefront of these projects are recognizable steampunk ‘personalities’: designers, tinkerers and modders who turn neo-Victorian technologies into mechanical actuality. Reimagining contemporary devices through a historical lens, the popularity of steampunk’s ‘maker culture’ has had a profound impact on the movement’s cinematic identity. The medium’s retro-futuristic production design has been greatly influenced by the many steampunk machines manufactured by some of the most notable individuals within the movement’s engineering community. Richard Nagy (who worked under the pseudonym Datamancer) provided props for the heavily steampunk influenced television series Warehouse 13 (2009–2013), whilst Jake von Slatt has similarly found recognition for the many inventive and retro-futuristic constructions showcased on his Steampunk Workshop website. Figure 1.2 shows an image of a ‘Steampunk Victorian Pump Organ Master Command Computer Workstation’ produced by Bruce Rosenbaum, who (alongside his wife) owns a design company, ModVic, that makes countless imaginative neo-Victorian objects for commercial and private use.

Figure 1.2 Photo of ‘Steampunk Victorian Pump Organ Master Command Computer Workstation’ courtesy of Bruce Rosenbaum.

Throughout the counter-culture’s lifespan, steampunk has become associative with a call...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half-Title
• Dedication
• Title
• Contents
• List of Figures
• Acknowledgements
• Introduction
• 1 Steampunk Goes to the Movies: The Birth of a Genre
• 2 Re-engineered and Repurposed: Steampunk as Adaptation
• 3 Dreams of Steam: Nostalgia for an Age of Imagined Industry
• 4 Historical Identities: Representation in the Steampunk Empire
• 5 Clockwork Modernities: Tinkering with Time in a Steampunk Age
• 6 Gearing Down: Making the Past Present in Steampunk Cinema
• Works Cited
• Bibliography
• Index
• Copyright