Space Ghost Writer

Originally published February 19, 1999, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1318

It was recently reported that Columbia-Tristar has optioned the classic comic series Nexus as part of its children’s programming. Both Mike Baron and Steve Rude, the series’ creators, are aboard with Rude signed on as a producer and Baron as the scripter.

I remember the first time I saw Nexus in development as an animated property. Somehow I knew that, in that particular instance, it was doomed from the get-go.

I had been brought to Hanna-Barbera studios to meet with an executive regarding a project that seemed, to me, to have tremendous potential: An animated feature film of Space Ghost.

I’m probably one of the few people who isn’t all that blown away with Space Ghost: Coast to Coast. Oh, it’s certainly clever and well-crafted enough, with a snarky and entertaining sense of humor. But you have to understand, when I was a kid, I unreservedly adored Space Ghost as a character. I thought he was the coolest thing going. Everything, from his visual to the creepy and memorable theme music, to his assortment of nifty powers… it all worked for me. Hell, Space Ghost even pioneered the first mega-crossover in superhero animation as one storyline took a time-traveling Space Ghost into the arenas of such HB superfolks as the Mighty Mightor.

Basically, the message I come away with from Coast to Coast is, Hey, you idiot, how could you possibly have taken Space Ghost seriously, even when you were a kid? Look how stupid he and his villains are! The thing is, I know that now. But I don’t feel as if I need an entire TV series to tell me that. I still have enough of that childlike affection and loyalty to the character that it just rubs me the wrong way to see him portrayed as a total doofus… especially when they don’t have to do all that much to make him come across as a total doofus.

So when reps at HB wanted to see me about the concept of giving Space Ghost a big screen treatment that would restore him to his (rightful, I felt) place as a genuine crusader for heroism in the galaxy, I was absolutely there and ready to go.

So I met with this woman, and she was very sweet and very enthusiastic about the project. There were a couple of illustrations of Space Ghost around her office. But what also caught my attention was a very large poster of Nexus. “Why do you have the Nexus poster?” I asked.

“We’ve optioned it,” she told me proudly. “We think it has tremendous potential. Are you familiar with it?”

“Oh, it’s a great series,” I said. “I admit, I’m a little surprised… it’s not the type of property I would have associated with Hanna Barbera… no offense.”

“We’re trying to branch out,” she said. “Go for some more adult-oriented properties.”

“Well, that’s certainly one of them, what with his being an assassin and all…”

She looked at me with an expression that indicated polite confusion. “Assassin?”

“Sure. He has these dreams that compel him to execute people…” My voice trailed off. “You… did know that, right?”

“Well, it’s in development,” she said, unflappable. “Things can be changed.”

“Changed?” I made no attempt to hide my confusion. “How… can that be changed? The entire character and story hinges on that. If you change it, he’s not Nexus anymore, and what was the point?”

She smiled at me in a way that clearly said, You poor, innocent thing… you don’t know Hollywood very well.

Which, of course, I didn’t. But Space Ghost was something of a learning experience, as conversation steered away from Nexus and to the proposed film adventure of one of the galaxy’s premiere defenders.

“What we’re going to do,” she told me, “is try to convince Turner (their parents company at that point) of the viability of Space Ghost as a big screen property. And what we want you to do is rethink him and reimagine him for a modern day audience.”

“Well, what precisely did you have in mind?” I asked, leaning forward, all attentive. I was holding a glass of water. In Los Angeles, people in offices are very big on bringing you water. All you have to do is sit down to wait in a lobby for about five seconds and an assistant or receptionist will offer you either bottled water or a glass of it.

“What we’re looking for,” she said, “was something in the spirit of Spawn. Are you familiar with Spawn?”

I kept the glass steady, not spilling a drop. “I’ve heard it mentioned here and there,” I said. “I don’t read it… but it’s fairly dark, from what I understand. Are you sure that’s the direction you want to go?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she said. “We’re looking for a Space Ghost story for a 90s viewers: Something dark and grim and intense.”

“But… that will be nothing at all like the old TV show. Are you sure you want to go that far afield from the source material?”

“Definitely,” she told me, head bobbing.

So I went home and drafted an outline for a dark, grim intense Space Ghost that was nothing like the old TV show. I turned the outline in, and it was greeted with much enthusiasm by the exec who said it was exactly what they were looking for. I then wrote the script, following the approved outline exactly, beat-for-beat, and sent it off to HB.

I was then back out in Los Angeles and another meeting was scheduled with HB. I went to the office where I had been greeted so cheerfully before, and got a somewhat frostier reception this time. “We’re very disappointed in the script,” she told me without preamble.

“Disappointed?” I couldn’t quite wrap myself around the sentiment. “I don’t see why. You guys approved the outline. The script is absolutely no different. How could I have gone that wrong?”

“But it’s so dark!” she said. “And grim! And intense! It’s nothing like the old TV series at all.”

I sighed. And I said, “Okay… I gave you what you asked for. And now I’m going to go back home, and do a page one rewrite, and give you what you really want.”

And I did exactly that. It was still a relatively mature handling of Space Ghost, with some changes and fleshing out of the character for a big screen feel (including giving him a name, an origin, and up-aging Jan so that she represented a potential romantic interest. I also included Blip the monkey, who was nowhere to be found in the grim-and-gritty version, although I made him in a computer-generated entity rather than simply an annoying chimp.) I was very pleased with it. The exec at HB was also very pleased with it.

At which point they sent it to Turner, and the folks at Turner said, “Under no circumstance are we interested in making a Space Ghost film.” Which frustrated the hell out of me, because if they weren’t interested under any circumstance, why the devil did they bring me aboard in the first place? I decided to be philosophical about it; at least it left me with two interesting writing samples in case anyone was interested in reading a feature-length Space Ghost film to judge whether I could write movies.

The utter futility of the exercise, however, convinced me that Nexus would likewise never see the light of day as long as it was optioned by HB. No slam intended against that fine studio; I just had a feeling that Nexus and HB wasn’t going to be a good fit. Which, as it turned out, was the case.

I can only hope that the Columbia-Tristar deal has a much happier result, although the “children’s programming” tag on it makes me wonder. But if Rude and Baron are aboard in any sort of creative capacity, and that capacity gives them a modicum of power, then it could be pretty sharp.

And even if he winds up not being an assassin—which wouldn’t surprise me—whatever they come up with has got to be better than Nexus: Coast to Coast.

(Peter David, writer of stuff, can be written to at Second Age, Inc., PO Box 239, Bayport, NY 11705.)