The Three-Body Problem Graphic Novel, vol. 1

When the opening installment of Cixin Liu bestselling Remembrance of Earth’s Past series was first published in the United States, it was considered more definitive than the original Chinese edition, because the author was able to move scenes of the Cultural Revolution earlier in the novel, instead of “burying” them in the middle. (Believe me, I was there). However, the first volume of the graphic novel adaptation seemingly reverts to the old Chinese outline. Readers must continue waiting for both the horrors of the Gang of Four and the aliens themselves after reading the first volume of Liu’s The Three-Body Problem, adapted as a graphic novel by Jin Cai, Twilight Lu, and Silver—and illustrated by XuDong Cai, which is now on-sale for holiday shoppers.

Viewers of the hit Netflix series understand why the shocking horrors of the Cultural Revolution are so necessary to Liu’s story. They persuasively explain how a human being could decide humanity no longer deserves to exist. Cai, Lu, and Silver are not even close to getting there yet. However, there is a possibility physics no longer exists. At least that was the partial lament expressed in one physicist’s suicide note.

Evidently, a suicidal epidemic has suddenly cut down dozens of the world’s top theoretical physicists. It has gotten so bad, even the CCP state security apparatus has noticed. It turns out the victims were overwhelmingly (but not quite exclusively) members of a mysterious scholarly society known as The Frontiers of Science. Therefore, the multinational working group wants Prof. Wang Maio to go undercover.

He is also a physicist, but he works on practical applications, so he should be immune to whatever is affecting more abstract-minded scientists like his old friend, Dr. Yang Dong. However, working with his handler, hardboiled police detective Shi Qiang, will be a challenge, especially when he recognizes a cryptic message apparently meant for his eyes only.

If readers only judge from Cai, Lu, and Silver’s first volume, they will little know the enormous scope of Liu’s novel, which only gets wider with successive volumes. The significance of the “Three-Body” “game is hardly even hinted at. Of course, the novel’s grand historical sweep cannot be established without the episodes set during Cultural Revolution. In fact, there is not even a sense of cosmic stakes yet.

The Wandering Earth II

In the hit 2019 film and Liu Cixin’s original source novella, the Earth made like the Moon did in Space: 1999, spinning out of its orbit and into space. However, in the case of the Wandering Earth, this was done deliberately, to save humanity from its dying sun. It took a lot of work to make it happen. In the first movie, Earth escapes the sun, but the prequel shows how we handled the Moon first. Prepare for a whole lot of talk about the Roche Limit in Frant Gwo’s The Wandering Earth II, which just opened today in theaters worldwide.

Chinese astronaut Liu Peiqiang will save (or has saved) the Earthly civilization in The Wandering Earth I. It turns out, he will now do it again, or rather has done it before. The film starts with a well-orchestrated terrorist attack against the space-elevator servicing what was then called “The Moving Mountain Project.” It is a brilliantly realized, extended action sequence, but it is also impossible to miss the Anglo-American appearance of most of the terrorists.

Indeed, it is blatantly obvious much of WEII is intended as an allegory celebrating China’s hardcore “Covid-Zero” approach to crisis management and excoriating the Western preoccupation with individuality. Of course, it never shows Chinese scientists destroying evidence of the looming solar crisis, as was the case with the initial Covid outbreak in Wuhan.

Be that as it actually was, there are pieces of two really good movies in WEII. The aforementioned space-elevator scene is a whizzbang set piece. The film also evolves into an intriguing speculative sf drama exploring the nature of artificial intelligence and sentient consciousness. Andy Lau plays Tu Hengyu, a computer scientist still mourning the death of his young daughter, whose consciousness he has digitally copied, in contradiction of current laws.

Hengyu’s efforts are risky, because he is trying to accomplish what the “Digital Life” movement, the major opponents of “Moving Mountain” project advocate. To do so, he needs the processing power of the HAL9000-like 550W super-computer running the project. This story arc takes several provocative twists and turns. Lau is also terrific as Tu, bringing a desperately needed human dimension (somewhat ironically) to a film that often desperately needs it. (However, it is sad to see the Chinese flag on Mr. Hong Kong’s shoulder, rather than HK’s five petals.)

The problem is these two parts are held together by long stretches of exposition and CCP-China propaganda, often relayed through UN-style speeches and news reports. This style of filmmaking is both boring and insultingly didactic. Frankly, the character of Zhou Jiechi, the wise Chinese ambassador to the UEG (the UN successor organization) is an insult to all the victims of Covid and the ongoing genocide in Xinjiang.