Barsoom, but make it bingeable?

Or, on not messing up the proposed John Carter of Mars animated TV series.

As news filters in across the ether (or more accurately, from SFcrowsnest) that John Carter is possibly getting a fresh animated science fiction series, my inner 16-year-old cheered at the news. Admittedly, my outer middle-aged author only raised an eyebrow in muted approval - but in this here casa, that’s a high bar.

For those who missed the SFCrowsnest news, this is not your grandfather’s Carter. Nor, hopefully, will it be the expensive, muddled 2012 Disney live-action take that somehow managed to make a tale of a teleporting Virginian war veteran who becomes a sword-swinging superhero on Mars feel a little bland. Quite a feat, that. You have to admire the sheer physics of it.

But here we are again. Barsoom might be returning, this time reimagined through animation - a smart choice, frankly. Pulp fiction always lived in exaggerated dimensions. Muscles like coiled cables, cities perched on impossible cliffs, flying craft that bank like dragonflies on Red Bull - this stuff needs to be drawn. Trying to make it look gritty and grounded in live-action just invites viewers to start Googling Martian gravity and complaining on Reddit. Animation frees Barsoom to be what it is: spectacular nonsense, but glorious nonsense.

Which brings me to the adaptation question. How do you rework Edgar Rice Burroughs' century-old Mars saga for today's audience? How do you entice jaded sci-fi teens without inciting the rage of the old guard. Those rare but vocal fans like yours truly who still use the word “pulp” without irony and can tell you exactly which sword knife Dejah Thoris carried into the Battle of Zodanga?

First, the tone. Burroughs' original novels were sincere to the point of chest-thumping. They were powered by a sort of wide-eyed confidence that now reads as, well, quaint. But sincerity doesn’t need to be jettisoned. What we don’t want is smugness; especially that irritating postmodern style of adaptation that insists on apologising for its own source material while simultaneously mining it for IP gold. Don’t wink at the audience too much. Your peepers will get a cramp.

Instead, embrace the wildness. Double down on it. This is a world of four-armed green warriors, psychic priestesses, ancient cities, and flying galleons. There is nothing small about Barsoom. Nothing timid. The series should be operatic, melodramatic, and earnest. Play it straight, but with style. Think Avatar: The Last Airbender rather than Scooby Doo Meets the Martian Warlord.

Then there’s the thorny cultural update question. The original books come freighted with early 20th-century baggage: noble savages, imperial overtones, damsels in distress. This will be hard to balance without narking off either the trad fans on the one hand, or the gen whatevers on the other. Let Dejah be a strategist as well as a stunner? Let the Tharks have internal politics that don’t revolve entirely around who can bash whom harder? But keep the swashbuckling and make it fun, not a finger-wagging struggle session.

Most of all, give the show a clear visual identity. The 2012 film, for all its flaws, hinted at a Barsoomian aesthetic that could work today. Weathered bronze, scarlet skies, art-deco alien ruins. But don’t be afraid to go more stylised. A hint of Mobius here, a dash of Dune there? Something that says this is not another generic post-apocalyptic desert planet, but a place with history, mystery, and a few silk loincloths that somehow manage to stay PG-13.

If the writers are wise, they’ll resist the urge to explain too much. The original John Carter tales were structured with a dream-like logic. Carter wakes up on Mars, leaps about a bit, rescues a princess, stabs a few monsters, learns about an ancient secret that might destroy the planet, and then somehow ends up back on Earth wondering if it was all real. Good. That’s how it should be. Don’t let streaming-episode sprawl flatten that energy into exposition.

And if they want a throughline for modern audiences? Simple. Focus on the theme of outsiderness. Carter is the perpetual alien, the man out of time and place, navigating codes he doesn’t fully grasp but respects enough to learn. That’s the real link to today’s viewers. Not just who he stabs or snogs, but who he becomes on a world that doesn’t owe him anything.

If this new John Carter series can channel even half the pulpy splendour of Burroughs’ vision while adding the self-awareness and depth that modern animation thrives on, it could be a hit.