The Intergalactic Nemesis: A Discourse on Destiny

By Stefan Gill

"Do you believe in destiny, Miss Sloan?"

Even if I didn't believe in destiny, my path to the opening night of The Intergalactic Nemesis - Book 2: Robot Planet Rising seemed written in somebody's stars. As many a fan of this fast-growing phenomenon knows, Jason Neulander and his gang took an ever-so-Austin concept -- a graphic novel performed live! -- and found their way on a national tour and showcasing their talents with comedy legend Conan O'Brien.

I found myself working on said comedy legend's show last fall, and when Mr. Neulander left a handful of tickets for the June premiere of Book 2: Robot Planet Rising, I took a chance on a show I barely understood. Which is easy when it's free, and easier when it's Austin.

So many a month later, I found my way to the Long Center, a pretty snappy joint. (I think my language for this piece is very old-time-radio influenced right now. Thanks, Intergalactic Nemesis!) My seat awaited me, right in the middle, which was a perfect way to experience a show so unique, it's like four shows in one.

Right out of the gate, it was clear that this was an experience based on so many levels of retro that if it wasn't crafted and acted to smooth perfection, it could burst out of a million different seams.

Every inch of the Book 2: Robot Planet Rising production tasted of a time that few in the audience really truly experienced: a time of sitting by the fireplace and the 800-pound radiobox, expecting to be transported to strange new worlds with nothing but the sound of fuzzy voices spewing dialogue like it's going out of business, and the mere suggestion of a distant planet or strange creatures was enough to spark the imagination of millions. Did this time ever exist? I couldn't say for sure, but in the world of The Intergalactic Nemesis, it is the supreme joy of a long-lost entertainment resurrected for a new generation that propels every layer of its old-timey fabric.

Lucky for me and everyone in the audience, the performers -- including Shannon McCormick, stepping in for a night in place of Chris Gibson, as well as Danu Uribe and Jason Phelps -- were all on their "A" game. Each actor had multiple roles of varying degrees of age and sanity, shifting from hero to villain back to hero; the sound-effects stage looked (and usually sounded) like a loony bin's loony bin; and Graham Reynolds played so many dramatic cues that his piano needed to catch its breath. And yet the production didn't come off as overbearing or incoherent, which can attributed to the simplicity and general light comedic flare of the writing (and probably the intermission).

Book 2: Robot Planet Rising doesn't try to tell the history of consciousness like the most ambitious of comic books, but instead relies (probably for the best) on the atmosphere of the performance. The best part is you could get a worthwhile show even if you just focused on one of the four revolving sections; I found my eyes dancing all over the stage and screen.

I haven't even mentioned the wonderful artwork by David Hutchison and color by Lee Duhig, which comes to life if you're with 2,000 patrons and real-life performers or reading the actual graphic novel by yourself (perhaps by a fire?).

So back to destiny, a subtle theme in the story: Each character has a purpose in the fight to save the galaxy, and only through trials and tribulations do they discover their destinies. I think the same logic could be said for the production itself: Is it mere coincidence that the arts of acting, drawing, sound effects, and music -- not to mention writing, directing, producing, and what not -- all meshed into a coherent performance? Perhaps I'm trying to tell the history of consciousness through something that is just meant to be a damn good time. And maybe that is the ultimate testament to the smooth creamy goodness of The Intergalactic Nemesis and Book 2: Robot Planet Rising.

Stefan Gill is an intern at the Austin Film Society.