Tag Archives: Fujimi

Admiring K’s Spinner (Blade Runner 2049)

October 6, 2017 marked the North American release of Blade Runner 2049, the long anticipated sequel to the dystopian sci-fi noir classic from 1982. The original Blade Runner was a triumph of production design, blessed with wonderful hardware like Deckard’s gun, the Voigt-Kampff machine, and of course, the spinner.

Conceptual artist Syd Mead designed the original police spinner, which became a visual icon of the 1982 film. This elegant craft was equally at home on city streets and in the air. With no wings or visible means of propulsion, it could nevertheless take off and land vertically and fly like a conventional aircraft, its police flashers casting red and blue beams through the rain drenched night.

Like its predecessor, the spinner used by Ryan Gosling’s character, K, in Blade Runner 2049 is an integral part of the film. One of the most popular publicity stills from the movie features a shot of K exiting the spinner as the driver’s side door scissors shut. What’s striking about K’s spinner is its bold, angular design, which is completely different from the original police spinner.

Let’s talk a bit about automotive design. All car designs, including the earth-bound vehicles of today and the airborne versions of tomorrow, can be roughly grouped into two camps: curves and angles. Curvaceous cars, like Ferraris, have fluid, feminine lines and soft edges, while angular cars, like Jeeps and Land Rovers, have straight, masculine lines and strong angles. If you want to draw a Ferrari, you need a set of French curves, whereas for a Jeep, a ruler will do.

Most cars today fall in the curvy category because soft edges generally yield a lower drag coefficient. This means lower fuel consumption, so the approach is rooted in practicality. Most people also seem to prefer curves over angles, and this preference is so strong that they use words like “boxy” to describe angular designs. This is incorrect of course since boxes have right angles, which are rarely found in cars.

Cars are machines, so why should they appear soft, flowing and organic? We make no such demands of toasters and microwave ovens. So thought Giorgetto Giugaro, a brilliant designer who rose to fame in the 1970s by showing the world that angular cars could be beautiful.

Lotus Esprit designed by Giorgetto Giugaro

Giugaro gave us origami inspired masterpieces like the Lotus Esprit and Delorean (the latter coincidentally became a flying car in the film Back To The Future). Angular designs also made their way into the more affordable end of the market, the Fiat X1/9, Toyota MR2 and Volkswagen Scirocco being examples. Today, high performance car manufacturers tend to go either all curvy (like Porsche) or use a blend of curves and angles (like Lamborghini).

Back to K’s spinner. This fine piece of hardware, bearing the nameplate of French automaker Peugeot, is an unabashedly angular design. It incorporates a healthy dose of DNA from the Lotus Esprit and is decidedly different from the other spinners in Blade Runner 2049. The Wallace Corporation spinners, like the one which attacks K and Deckard at the casino penthouse, are devoid of any elegance or grace. Their bulbous, oversized greenhouses give them an ungainly look. This is entirely appropriate. After all, the bad guys always have ugly cars, and the hero has the coolest one.

So how did the design of K’s spinner—which we can all agree is the best Peugeot ever—come about? Production designer Dennis Gassner, in response to director Denis Villeneuve’s request for a “brutal” aesthetic, created a spinner for 2049’s lead character which Gassner calls “robust, angular, and chiseled.” K’s spinner is built on strong triangular motifs which create a bold, masculine look. Its three-wheeled chassis gives it a hint of eccentricity (as you would expect from a Peugeot). And its worn-out, beat-up exterior sets it apart from the well-maintained company cars it goes up against in the film’s climax. This is not a pampered vehicle, but a utilitarian workhorse for a detective on a budget. It fits K much the same way that the 1968 Mustang in Bullitt fit Steve McQueen’s character. These guys don’t sentimentalize their cars. They treat them as disposable tools to get the job done—nothing more. And dispose of them they do. Both the Peugeot and Mustang end up getting ditched.

As with many fictional craft, how the spinner actually flies isn’t addressed in the film. According to an article in Wired magazine, K’s spinner is powered by “a futuristic form of fusion.” This is actually plausible for such a compact vehicle, since fusion propulsion relies on solid lithium propellant, which takes up much less volume than liquid rocket propellant. NASA’s website has a good article on it. “It’s a new technology,” Gassner is quoted as saying, “since in the world of 2049 they don’t really have a lot of fossil fuels or sun to power a car.”

The question on everyone’s mind is, when are we going to see a model kit of K’s spinner? So far, all we have is a couple of diecast toys from Cinemachines (one 3” and one 6”) which are clearly intended for kids. Given that 2049 is an obviously adult film, the marketing logic behind these diecast toys is questionable.

Fujimi did a superb (if not timely) rendition of the spinner from the 1982 film, which was a delight to build. Too bad it didn’t come a few decades sooner. I wired mine with LED lighting and put it in a diorama which you can see here. Hopefully Fujimi has reached out to 2049’s producers for licensing rights and will offer K’s spinner at some point as well. Let’s keep our fingers crossed.

If you like to build dioramas and want to learn more about how to optimize the visual impact of your work, you might like my new book, Diorama Design. It’s available in both ebook and print formats at Amazon.

-Ivar

 

 

 

Naval diorama kits from Fujimi

Fujimi has a series of interesting products in 1:3000 scale which are a great introduction to naval dioramas. Each kit depicts a Japanese naval port and includes a base with docks and buildings molded in one piece, as well as a selection of ships. Any number of diorama scenes could be created with the supplied parts.

The key benefit of these kits is the professionally designed base, which gives the novice diorama builder a good head start. Coming up with the overall design for a diorama is probably the most daunting task for the novice.

The Fujimi bases can be enhanced in a number of ways. The one piece molding of the base makes painting difficult but not beyond reach for those with lots of masking tape and patience. You’ll want to stock up on fine brushes and a good magnifying glass before detailing the tiny ships. A more ambitious upgrade would involve replacing the sea (which is molded in opaque styrene along with the rest of the base) with clear acrylic or some other material to create a more realistic water effect.

The possibilities for diorama scenes are endless. The small scale of these kits affords the possibility of creating an all-out naval battle involving several ships, without needing a model railroad sized space. The diminutive scale chosen by Fujimi was no doubt influenced by the fact that residential space is at a premium in much of Japan. For those with more space, extra ships and sea level extension panels can be bought separately.

Fujimi’s Japanese language website isn’t the easiest to navigate if you don’t speak Japanese, but their naval port kits are available through HobbyLink Japan at http://hlj.com.

-Ivar

The beauty of model kit box art

From my earliest model building days, I’ve always been drawn to the beautiful box art on model kits. A quick search turned up the above photo of the box art from a kit I built as a kid. This illustration captures all the excitement of modern naval technology. The Enterprise is a commanding presence, carving a frothy white wake in an ocean of gorgeous blue. An A4 Skyhawk streaks overhead, reminding us that this is no ordinary ship, but a mobile airfield. So powerful is the illustration, I instantly recognized it out of hundreds of photos in the search results, even though the model is long gone.

Not all box art is created equal, and there’s obviously no relationship between the quality of the illustration and the quality of the kit itself. Some excellent kits come in poorly illustrated boxes, and vice-versa. Japanese kit manufacturers usually get it right on both counts, with well engineered kits in finely illustrated boxes. I find Tamiya’s box art to be exceptionally good.

Not all types of kits get the same artistic treatment. For a long time, science fiction kits were the poor cousins of the box art world. AMT and MPC, which brought us subjects from Star Trek, Star Wars, Space: 1999 and other iconic sci-fi shows and films, always had cheap looking box art. MPC’s Eagle was a mess on all counts: one of the most inaccurately mastered kits ever produced, in a really ugly box!

Things have improved for sci-fi modelers, now that we have premium science fiction kits from companies like Fine Molds and Fujimi. The Star Wars line from Fine Molds features top notch box art. I especially like the box art on the Y-Wing kit. And Fujimi’s Spinner from Blade Runner also comes in a nicely illustrated box.

Some box art is so good, you could cut it out and frame it if not for the type that covers the illustration. And some of the top artists in the field, like Roy Cross, Jack Leynnwood, Kihachiro Ueda and Shigeo Koike, have had their box art republished in prints and books. Koike’s website at http://shigeokoike.com/en features some of the masterful work he’s done for Hasegawa and Fuji Heavy Industries. If you’ve never heard of any of these artists, it’s because they generally aren’t permitted to sign their names to their box art illustrations. The kit producer will argue that they want to promote the kit, not the artist, although I see no reason why they couldn’t do both.

If we think of the model building experience as a journey, then the journey begins when walking into a hobby store and seeing a new kit, or spotting it online. An attractive package will naturally generate more sales, and marketing departments know full well the importance of capturing the prospective buyer’s imagination the first time he sets eyes on a new kit. It can make the difference between winning and losing the sale.

The worst thing a kit manufacturer can do is have no box art at all. Anyone who’s ever bought a resin garage kit is familiar with the curiously anticlimactic experience of receiving their kit in the mail, unwrapping it, and being confronted with a plain cardboard box devoid of any graphics at all. Or a splotchy black and white photocopy stapled to the box, which is worse.

Of course it would be asking a lot to expect a garage kit producer to be a gifted professional artist as well as a good mold maker. Garage outfits are usually one man operations, and few people are that multi-talented.

What’s harder to excuse is mass producers of kits who make bad decisions when it comes to box art. Remember when Airfix offered kits in plastic bags? The only visible artwork was a tiny piece of folded cardboard stapled to the top of the bag! You had to really want the kit badly to stomach such cheap packaging. Even worse, you’d be left wondering if the unprotected parts would still fit together when you got the kit home. Without the protection of a cardboard box, parts could come off sprues and get damaged or lost. But then quality has never been a priority for Airfix.

In the age of online shopping, one reason people still enjoy walking into a hobby store is because it’s like entering an art gallery full of illustrations of your favourite planes/cars/boats/spaceships. The poster-size box art on large kits beats squinting at tiny website photos hands down. Shrink-wrapped kits are even better, adding a glossy coating which makes colours pop (and reassures you that no pieces are missing).

With few exceptions, kit producers prefer to use paintings of the “real thing” rather than photographs of the completed model for their box art. Paintings are better at generating interest for a potential buyer because they exploit his interest in the actual subject, which is the reason he’s buying the kit. And a painter can place the subject in a dynamic scene, whereas a photo of the completed kit will always look static and dull in comparison.

Compare this photographic box art from Testors to the illustrated art from Revell:

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It’s the same subject in the same scale, but the illustrated package is far more appealing. And being human, we assume that what looks good on the outside will transfer to the inside. So most people will prefer the Revell kit, other things being equal.

If you have a closet full of old kit boxes and you’re about to move, you may be contemplating throwing them in the recycling. But instead, consider cutting out the front illustrations and keeping them. You can discard the rest of the box, and still have all that beautiful artwork when you arrive at your new place.

-Ivar