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Johnny Mnemonic by Terry Bisson
reviewed by XXXX
Original appearance: Albedo one issue ??, date?
How much effect can the star of a film have on the eventual personality of the character he plays? That may sound like a stupid question to ask in a review of a book, but when the book is the novelisation of the movie of William Gibson's short story JOHNNY MNEMONIC by TERRY BISSON and the star is Keeanu Reeves, I think the query is justified. The cover of the novel is dominated by the aforementioned Mr Reeves' mugshot and you are left in no doubt that Keeanu is Johnny. I'm sure that's not going to cause problems for the enormous cinema audience and I'm just as sure Reeves will do a fine job, but I could not help but hear, in my head, Reeves' distinctive tones whenever Johnny speaks in the book. And that's the problem as I see it.
Reeves has a very distinctive voice that is an acute distillation of his (on-screen) personality. Perhaps (and I suspect this may be the case) this screen persona is pretty much an accurate reflection of Reeves the person. I have heard him quoted as saying in his early days that he was none too bright, just said the words and got on with it, or words to that effect. And I can't help agreeing with that sentiment. No matter how cool and on the ball the characters he plays, I can't help feeling that underneath it all they are more than a little confused and getting by on bluster and the good fortune that seems to regularly accompany well meaning idiots.
So right from the outset I was getting the impression that Johnny was not exactly a rocket scientist. Not having read the original short story I'm left in the dark as to whether this impression is created by Gibson in the original story, or in his screenplay for the movie, or by Bisson in the novelisation. God forbid it is merely the face of Reeves on the cover allied to my own prejudices
And the novel itself? Superb rendition of an action piece with convincing realisation of a grim future society which has already begun to crumble under pressure of its own soullessness. The pace is unflagging and the invention is on a par with the best in the genre. Don't go looking for even the minor intellectualisations of Gibson's own work. This is aimed directly at the mass market and makes no excuses for itself. Falls into the category which used to be known as a thundering good read which, as a genre, will probably be lampooned in twenty years by the successors to Eric Idle and Michael Palin. But right now, it unpretentiously delivers the excitement quota. Four star entertainment.
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