Don't Panic Page 19

As well as Kevin’s own archive footage and clips from Hitchhiker’s segments on shows like Pebble Mill at One and Tomorrow’s World, there were new interviews with Douglas Adams, Sandra Dickinson, David Dixon, Martin Benson, Mark Wing-Davey, David Learner, Alan J. W. Bell, Rod Lord, composer Paddy Kingsland, designer Andrew Howe-Davies, effects supervisor Jim Francis and—to Arthur’s surprise—Simon Jones.

  The section about the creation of the animated graphics is truly inspired. Arthur pulls a cartoon Babel fish from his ear** who shows him a scratchy ‘educational’ film about how the graphics were brought to life. The Babel fish’s voice and the 1940s-style narration on the ‘film’ were both provided by Michael Cule, who also reprised his role as the Vogon Guard. Dressed in the original costume (borrowed from the fan who bought it at a BBC auction) but with new head, hands and boots, Cule stamped into the room and grabbed Arthur/Simon, before morphing into David Dixon as Ford (in slightly the wrong jacket).

  As Ford leads Arthur out of the house and past Marvin the Paranoid Android, he explains that the whole thing is a virtual environment, calling up control panels which switch off Marvin, the road and indeed everything.

  The very first batch of videos of The Making of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy had a major fault with the soundtrack, with the result that Peter Jones’s narration is missing in several places. Swiftly recalled, a few were sold and, depending on your point of view, are either (a) important collector’s items or (b) defective.

  The initial edit of The Making of ran to ninety minutes, but the US distributor requested a last-minute cut to sixty minutes. However, in 2001 Kevin Davies was able to compile another thirty minutes of material as a sort of Making of (Part II) which was included, along with the original documentary and complete versions of the Tomorrow’s World and Pebble Mill segments, on the 2002 DVD release of the series.

  The Making of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy was first released in March 1993, to tie in with the fifteenth anniversary of the original radio series. Five years later, Radio 4 broadcast a one-hour documentary about the radio series. Mooted at one point to have the oft-suggested but never used title The Hitchhiker’s Guide to The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, it was broadcast as The Guide to Twenty Years’ Hitchhiking and subsequently released on cassette as Douglas Adams’ Guide to The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

  Narrated, like the Making of video, by Peter Jones, the programme was written by Debbie Barham whose script paraphrased many memorable passages from Hitchhiker’s—a technique that had also been used by Kevin Davies and Andrew Pixley in a quite startlingly detailed article about the TV series which they wrote for Time Screen magazine. Douglas Adams, Simon Brett, Geoffrey Perkins, Simon Jones, Geoffrey McGivern, Stephen Moore, Paddy Kingsland and others were interviewed, and the cassette release included a second tape with the entire fifty-minute Adams interview on it.

  Although Douglas Adams was interviewed many, many times, one of the most notable occasions was when he was the subject of The South Bank Show in January 1992. Like the Making of video two years later, this interwove real and fictional worlds, with Simon Jones and David Dixon reprising their roles from the TV series. The script, by Douglas himself, also featured narration by Peter Jones, Marvin (voiced by Stephen Moore)*, and three characters from Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency: the eponymous detective (played by humorist Michael Bywater, on whom the character was based), Richard MacDuff and the Electric Monk. And an eagle.

  The various fictional characters sat upstairs in Douglas’s Islington flat, cynically discussing what they thought he would be saying to Melvyn Bragg in the room below. The programme also featured Douglas’s friend Professor Richard Dawkins and his editor Sue Freestone.

  Possibly the most memorable event of the whole programme occurred off-camera when Douglas found himself in his own kitchen, desperately trying to remember what he had come in for. Actors, crew and assorted hangers-on who had gathered in the kitchen to keep out of the way wracked their brains over Douglas’s statement that he was looking for something which was, “like a pub, only smaller”. It eventually turned out to be a fridge.

  Postscript: Readers seeking further detailed information on The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy are directed to the excellent BBC site at www.bbc.co.uk/cult/hitchhikers and to MJ Simpson’s book The Pocket Essential Hitchhiker’s Guide (wherein the co-author of this work, being definitively inaccurate, describes Don’t Panic as “out of print”).

  * Kevin Davies had worked on some commercials with special effects producer Sean Broughton, whose girlfriend was John Lloyd’s former PA. Unusually, no secretaries were involved.

  ** Like most British animators, Kevin had worked on Who Framed Roger Rabbit, animating part of the scene where Roger hides in a sink.

  * Dressed in a long, brown overcoat, Marvin complained that even his own body had eventually left him. This was supposedly because everything except his head had been junked by the BBC. Quite how he was able to appear whole in the Making of video two years later remains a mystery.

  28

  THE MOVIES THAT DON’T MOVE

  As well as the TV series and the various theatrical incarnations of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, there have been two other attempts to present the story visually. One was done with very little involvement by Douglas Adams, received hardly any publicity, met a decidedly mixed response from the fans, and was reasonably successful. The other was carefully overseen by Douglas (who even made a cameo appearance), was heavily promoted, received laudatory reviews by both fans and critics, and was a huge financial bomb.

  First there were the comics. The idea of presenting Hitchhiker’s in comic-strip form had long been a staple of fans’ discussion, given the enormity of the ideas in the story, the vast scope of many scenes, and the fact that neither the BBC nor Hollywood showed any sign of doing the story justice any time soon.

  In 1992, out of the blue, it was announced that a three-issue adaptation of the first novel would be published the following year by DC Comics, home of Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman et al. A page of artwork by Hawaiian-based artist Steve Leialoha appeared in the trade press, showing the central characters, and it was announced that the adaptation would be written by John Carnell, best known up to that point for a comic called The Sleaze Brothers.

  The comics appeared in late 1993, lavishly presented in full-colour, glossy, perfect-bound format. This made them look very nice but gave them a hefty price tag of £4.50 when imported into Britain, which was rather a shock for Hitchhiker’s fans more used to buying The Beano or 2000 AD. And having shelled out £13.50 for the set, they were disappointed to find that all they had was an edited version of the novel. With pictures.

  Essentially, there were two problems with the comics. One was that, although the project was supposedly ‘overseen’ by Douglas Adams, he had neither the time nor the inclination to be actively involved (nor, it must be said, any discernible interest in comic books as a medium). Writer John Carnell, an experienced comics scripter and admirer of Douglas’s work, was looking forward to helping his hero to create yet another version of Hitchhiker’s. He was therefore rather disappointed to find that his job was simply to adapt the book.

  The other problem, which stemmed from the first, was that no attempt was made to remould the story to fit the medium. On radio, on record, on TV, in print and on stage, Hitchhiker’s has always shown no respect for itself, changing—and often contradicting its previous versions—to make full use of the possibilities of whatever medium it found itself in. But without Douglas’s involvement, this simply wasn’t possible in the comics.

  Leialoha’s artwork met with general disdain. Clean, crisp and colourful though it was, to a generation of science fiction fans raised on the gritty imagery of 2000 AD the pages of the Hitchhiker’s comic were simply too… well, clean, crisp and colourful. Zaphod was a bleached blond beach bum; the Vogons looked like large, humanoid toads; Ford was overly oddball rather than just slightly dis
concerting; the Babel fish didn’t look like anything you would want near your head, let alone in your ear; Arthur was clearly far, far too young; and Marvin seemed to be an extraordinarily expressionless robo-waiter. The only aspects where the comic design scored over that of the TV series were Trillian—a brunette in flowing, Arabic-style dresses—and Zaphod’s second head, which at least looked alive.

  But in fact the comics could have been a lot worse. Published as they were by an American company, there was a serious attempt (not by Carnell) to Americanise and update the dialogue. However, Douglas’s minimal involvement did mean that everything had to be okayed by him and though a few Americanisms slipped through, important points—like references to Rickmansworth or digital watches—were restored on Adams’s say-so.

  Despite general indifference, the comics were apparently successful. A three-part adaptation of The Restaurant at the End of the Universe was published the next year, followed by Life, the Universe and Everything twelve months later. The first three comics were collected into a graphic novel, and a set of a hundred trading cards was also made available.

  While the comics went largely unnoticed by many people, few can have failed to spot the frankly enormous, silver-jacketed book that appeared in September 1994, entitled The Illustrated Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

  The idea was first raised in 1993—a new edition of the first Hitchhiker’s novel, illustrated through the wonders of computer technology. Not drawings or paintings, but photographs of people and models, manipulated by computer in such a way as to create images previously unimagined. It would be lavish, it would be groundbreaking, it would be (in the words of the publisher) “The Movie That Doesn’t Move”.

  The first thing required was a creative consultant, and Douglas turned to Kevin Davies*, who had done such a sterling job on The Making of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Kevin gathered around him a skilful and enthusiastic team of designers, model-makers and artists, and started thinking which bits of the story could be most imaginatively depicted.

  But first the book had to be sold. Such an expensive project required overseas investment—just like movies that do move—so a test photograph was created and shown at the Frankfurt Book Fair. This depicted Arthur and Ford cowering before a bulldozer as a Vogon Constructor Ship flew overhead. It was similar to the picture used on pages 18 and 19 of the finished book, but with David Dixon as Ford and Alastair Lock as Arthur (Simon Jones being unavailable). The publishers in Frankfurt ooh-ed and ah-ed over the image, and deals were signed.

  Uniquely among novels, The Illustrated Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy has a cast of actors. Tom Finnis and Jonathan Lermit were cast as Ford and Arthur, it having been decided to remove any connection with the TV series. Janos Kuruz (who was starring at the time in the West End production of The Phantom of the Opera) played Slartibartfast, with Francis Johnson as the first black Zaphod (an idea long mooted by Douglas) and Tali—the only model among a cast of actors—as Trillian. Michael Cule, a veteran of the TV series, the Making of video and the Rainbow stage production, played Mr Prosser. Shooty and Bang Bang, the Galactic Cops, were played by Douglas Adams and his agent Ed Victor, while Kevin Davies made an unbilled cameo as the bulldozer driver.

  He was roughly humanoid in appearance except for the extra head and third arm. His fair tousled hair stood out in random directions, his blue eyes glinted with something completely unidentifiable, and his chins were almost always unshaven.

  — Description of Zaphod Beeblebrox from The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

  Subjective impressions may vary according to local reality miscalibrations and the perceptual systems of the observer. For instance, any entity suffering from HSSE, or Mad Human Disease, will probably perceive the President’s hair as being short and dark, and should consult a qualified Peripsychosemiolothanatician immediately.

  — Footnote added to The Illustrated Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

  Principal models were designed by Martin Bower (of Space: 1999 fame) and Jonathan Saville, and the actual photographs were taken by the legendary Michael Joseph, before being mucked about with on the computer by Colin Hards. Two external locations were used—Southend Pier and Stringfellows nightclub.

  There is much to enjoy in the book, among both the images and the layout of the text itself, and a great number of details which can be easily missed and only found on subsequent visits. Really tonto fans of science fiction television may enjoy spotting a number of props borrowed from other shows.

  The downside of the book, of course, was that it cost £25*. It could, in fact, have cost even more if the rumours that it would include a talking computer chip had proved founded. This was about twice as much as an average hardback novel and had the additional disadvantage that everyone who bought it already owned at least one copy of the novel. Added to which, the book was frankly huge—too big to read comfortably or indeed to fit on the average bookshelf.

  Sadly—and despite universal acclaim—the book was heavily remaindered, quashing any hopes of a paperback edition or The Illustrated Restaurant at the End of the Universe. Furthermore, the wow-factor of the images rapidly faded as such computer manipulation became commonplace. What Colin Hards slaved over in 1994 can now be done at home in an afternoon by most of the people reading this book. On the other hand, the overall design of the spaceships, props, costumes, aliens and settings remains a thing of beauty, certainly far more imaginative and memorable than the comics. Marvin in particular—built as a half-size model—is certainly the best design ever created for the Paranoid Android.

  Of passing interest is the fact that a suggestion for a photograph involving dolphins was dropped when it was discovered that there were no dolphins in captivity in the UK. Which is a Good Thing.

  * Kevin Davies’s final credit was ‘Concept Art Director’.

  * The American edition, which was otherwise identical, cost $42.

  29

  THE DOT.COM THAT CANNOT POSSIBLY GO WRONG

  I think online publishing is the most exciting new area to be working in. It’s rather like being in the film industry in about 1905, when the whole industry is actually being invented around you, and every idea you have is a new one.

  — Douglas Adams, MSN webchat, July 1995.

  Douglas Adams’s love of computers—his passion for information technology of all sorts—is well documented. It therefore seemed natural that, at some point, he should set up his own multimedia company.

  Except that The Digital Village (TDV) was not Douglas’s company, and as he was at pains to point out, it was actually a “multiple media” company (he never explained precisely what the difference was).

  Douglas was ‘Chief Fantasist’ of TDV, which meant that he was the public face, a newsworthy name, and charged with thinking up great ideas. His partners, while they may not have had the public presence of Douglas, had plenty of business experience and knew that if anyone could make a company work in the world of dot.coms, it was Douglas Adams. The CEO was Robbie Stamp, whom Douglas had met when searching for a producer for a proposed TV series.

  TDV was founded in 1994 as an idea and officially launched in 1996, amid much ballyhoo. It lasted nearly five years.

  The first product from TDV was Starship Titanic, a book-and-game franchise which took its name and basic idea from a throwaway reference in Life, the Universe and Everything about a fabulous starship which, immediately after launch, underwent Spontaneous Massive Existence Failure. Enamoured with the visual delights of the game Myst, Douglas sought to combine the marvel of late 1990s graphics with the mental stimulation of the early 1980s Infocom games.

  The result was a massive starliner—many stories high and serviced from fore to aft by, of all things, a canal (replete with robotic gondoliers). The Oscar-winning team of Isabel Molina and Oscar Chichoni created the look of the game, while Douglas was one of several writers who created the storyline and nearly six hours of pre-recorded speech. When the player ‘conversed�
� with the game’s characters, a program called TrueTalk was able to select the most appropriate speech and combine it in such a way as to give the appearance of genuine conversation.

  “The problem with text-to-speech at the moment is not that it doesn’t work. It actually does work, but it becomes very, very tiresome on the ear after a while, simply because it’s not natural speech rhythms and all the characters tend to end up sounding like either Stephen Hawking or a semi-concussed Scandinavian.”

  — Douglas Adams, June 1997.

  To support the game, there was the novel. This was going to be not just a novel based on a game, but fifty per cent of a novel-game combination, so that each supported the other*.

  “When I was thinking about the novel, I first decided ‘We’ll get somebody else to do it,’” explained Douglas. “Then about halfway through the process I panicked and thought, ‘No, no—this is what I know, this is what I do, so I should write the novel.’ But then because it had to be out at the same time as the game, the question was: ‘Am I going to now dive out of work on the game, leave that to everybody else and do the novel?’ But that would have been changing horses in mid-stream and probably not to the benefit of either. So I was then coming up against the problem of the number of hours in a day and the number of days in a week, and the unfortunate necessity of getting regular amounts of sleep.”

  After all this shilly-shallying, and despite the game having been delayed from its original launch date, a novel was suddenly needed very quickly.

  Step forward Terry Jones, who was already involved in the enterprise, providing the voice of a parrot. Though he had written screenplays, children’s books and even serious academic books such as his famous analysis of the Canterbury Tales, Chaucer’s Knight, Jones had never written a full-length novel. But he busied himself on a tale of the great Blerontinian starship, empty except for a variety of eccentric robots, a talking bomb and a manic parrot. In the novel, three humans board the ship—for no very good reason—and have to upgrade themselves in an attempt to find and defuse the bomb*.