Jumping back in the film a bit, we’re going to visit the Ministry of Art. When Theo goes there to visit his brother, after the car pulls to the front of the secured building, Theo steps out and walks toward a metal-detector gate.
Its quite high, about 3 meters tall. The height helps to reinforce the notion that this is a public space.
- This principle, that short ceilings are personal, and high ceilings are public, is I believe a well-established one in architectural design. Read the Alexandrian pattern if you’d like to read more about it.
- Is it a public space? It is, since it’s a Ministry. But it isn’t, since he joins his brother in what looks like a rich person’s private dining room. I was always a bit confused by what this place was meant to be. Perhaps owning to The Dark Times, Nigel has cited Minister rights and cordoned off part of the Tate Modern to live in. If anyone can explain this, please speak up.
- On the downside, the height makes the text more out of sight and harder to read by the people meant to be reading it.
The distance is balanced by the motion graphics of the translucent sign atop the gate. Animated red graphics point the direction of ingress, show a security stripe pattern, and provide text instructions.
Motion is a very strong attention-getting signal, and combined with the red colors, does all the attention-getting that the height risks. But even that’s not a critical issue, as there is of course a guard standing by to ensure his understanding and compliance.
Note that there is no interaction here (which is the usual filter for this blog), but since I’m publishing an interview with the designer of this and the Kubris interface soon, I thought I’d give it a quick nod.
After Jasper tells a white lie to Theo, Miriam, and Kee to get them to escape the advancing gang of Fishes, he returns indoors. To set a mood, he picks up a remote control and presses a button on it while pointing it at a display.
He watches a small transparent square that rests atop some things in a nook. (It’s that decimeter-square, purplish thing on the left of the image, just under the lampshade.) The display initially shows an album queue, with thumbnails of the album covers and two bright words, unreadably small. In response to his button press, the thumbnail for Franco Battiato’s album FLEURs slides from the right to the left. A full song list for the album appears beneath the thumbnail. Then track two, the cover of Ruby Tuesday, begins to play. A small thumbnail to the right of the album cover appears, featuring some white text on a dark background and a cycling, animated border. Theo puts the remote control down, picks up the Quietus box, and walks over to Janice. *sniff*
This small bit of speculative consumer electronics gets around 17 seconds of screen time, but we see enough to consider the design. Continue reading
In the five minute sequence about cyberspace, we’ve seen a variety of interface elements and actions. The single most impressive quality of the Johnny Mnemonic cyberspace is, to me, just how flexible and multi-modal it is.
Cyberspace was envisioned as a 3D spatial metaphor. Here we’ve seen that with specialized hardware, you can fly with hand gestures or voice commands. Or if you’re in a hurry, you can teleport directly. Destinations can be specified precisely with numbers or graphically by pointing. Other actions can be expressed by pointing and other gestures, or by typing in text or numbers, or by speaking.
The primary output channel is obviously visual, but voice feedback is used to indicate successful actions rather than cluttering up the screen. The visual style at the top level of interaction is three dimensional, but internal systems use more conventional 2D interfaces when 3D would be confusing or excessive. Most “applications” run in what is currently called full screen mode, but there is some evidence that the user could have multiple systems appearing side by side in a kind of three-dimensional window manager.
It’s been two decades since Johnny Mnemonic was released, but the film version of cyberspace still looks like an interface that would be both fun and effective. (OK, replace the datagloves with modern motion capture cameras.) That’s quite a lot of staying power, and it’s still worth seeing the film for these five minutes alone.
(And now, finally, after writing far more words than I’d originally intended, there are no more interfaces left to analyze in the film. Roll credits in the Report Card, coming up next.)