Warning: This review may contain general plot spoilers to Prometheus. I recommend you see the film first (it's worth it!), and then read my review, if you don't want to be spoiled. :-)
Prometheus is not an Alien movie. And that's really the only significant criticism I have for it. But while I was really hungering for another good movie featuring the Alien creature (the likes we haven't had since Aliens), I think it was the right decision for this movie. Unlike other movies that have capitalized on the marketing appeal of the Xenomorph (including the AvP series) - which were terrible movies, thus weakening the legacy of the Xenomorph - Prometheus is actually a really good movie; and while it may be a sort of Catch 22 in that featuring the Xenomorph would have cheapened the film (so sad that the Xenomorph itself has been prostituted to that extent), I sat through this film thinking how satisfying it would be to view those creatures in another film of this high quality (as I said, the likes of which we haven't seen since the original Alien and its supremely effective sequel).
That having been said, Prometheus is indeed an Alien Prequel - not in a strict sense, in that it ties directly into the latter film, but on a conceptual and intellectual level. And one of the strengths of this movie not just as a standalone title but as a part of the franchise is that, in exploring the genesis of the Xenomorph (albeit almost as an aside to the main thrust of the plot, which concerns the Space Jockey race), it contributes to the mythology of the creature and expands its legacy, which is also one of the main strengths of the Aliens sequel, in introducing the Queen and the species' hive-like properties.
But though the creatures in this movie are very cool-looking, with a definite sci-fi vibe, I felt that the movement away from H.R. Giger's original design reduced their impact as horror monsters. They were too smooth, almost soft, squishy. And while it's understandable that we're seeing related forms of the Xenomorph, probably predating the form that appears in Alien, which it hasn't yet evolved into, the net effect is that, while still being a sci-fi/horror, Prometheus clearly leans toward the sci-fi when compared with Alien, which, in spite of its heavy sci-fi atmosphere, was first and foremost a horror film - and one of the most fundamentally frightening of all time. Again, that's what I've really been wanting to see all these years - a good film (which rules out Alien Resurrection and Alien v. Predator and so on) that utilizes the Alien creature to its fully horrifying effect.
But just because Prometheus wasn't exactly the film I'd have liked it to have been doesn't mean that it was not a very good, very smart, and very appropriate continuation of the franchise (which is saying a lot given all the other titles in the franchise that have failed to do any of those things). I loved the implication that the Xenomorph was created as a biological weapon (indeed, the ultimate biological weapon), and am pleased that this film maintains the suggestion that the Xenomorph (which, ultimately, may appear in many more forms than the iconic one we're most familiar with - which I, personally, would describe as the "perfect" form) absorbs and retains qualities of its host, perhaps (this is my speculation) in order to keep the most advantageous qualities and discard the rest, in order to, from one generation to the next, improve its biological makeup in search of a more perfect form. This is a fantastic evolutionary advantage, and contributes to the appeal of this creature because it is not only aesthetically impressive but also conceptually fascinating.
Prometheus is an apt title for this film, which, to my nerdy delight, takes as its premise the "Ancient Astronauts" theory that an evolved, highly intelligent race is responsible for creating mankind. In the not too distant future, human technology catches up with our archaeological curiosity, and an expedition is sent to make contact with the race that presumably had contact with prehistoric man, thanks to identical star maps found in cave drawings across cultures. The myth of Prometheus tells of a rebel who stole fire from the Gods and gave it to man, and was then punished, and this infuses our story with a deep level of symbolism and iconic interpretation. The story is fused also, via one of the main characters, with a religious curiosity. And though I'd have loved to see the depiction of a future where religion is altogether eliminated in favor of atheism, this character's spirituality at least provides us with the theme of questioning what God's role in the creation of mankind is, when science provides hard evidence of our creation, and whether or not the ones who created us can effectively be viewed as Gods.
As I stated, Prometheus is a really good sci-fi film. I was particularly intrigued by the characterization of the requisite android on the crew, which is also a tradition in the Alien series. Ash in Alien was a cold-minded villain, who unsympathetically held the value of his mission (procuring lethal arms for 'the company') above any concern for the survival of his human crewmates. Bishop in Aliens turned that expectation on its head and turned out to be (thanks to technical modifications made in subsequent versions after the era of the Ash model) a very friendly and helpful addition to the team. Despite occurring previously in the timeline of human technology compared to Alien and Aliens (a nearly inevitable problem that frequently occurs in prequels that take place in-story years, if not decades, before previous stories that were actually released years before the prequel), the android character in Prometheus, named David, appears to be light years ahead of them both (while adopting bits of both of their characters), demonstrating in a variety of ways both his impressive sophistication at emulating human emotion and curiosity, while not altogether being able to completely bury the fact that he is a synthetic human. However, I find his character to be utterly fascinating, especially in the combination of his incredible processing power (giving him abilities far and above what any human could acquire in a single lifetime), and his genuine interest in very human pursuits like music, sports, etc.
Another compelling character, although perhaps to a slightly lesser extent, is the main lead, who follows in the footsteps established by Ellen Ripley in Alien and Aliens (and also the other, less noteworthy sequels) of providing films in this franchise with a very strong female lead. She is Elizabeth Shaw, who demands answers from man's creators - namely, why they created us, but also, as the information begins to come in, why they might be trying to destroy us. David rightly asks whether the answer to that last question matters, but I am in agreement with Dr. Shaw, not simply because I, too, am inquisitive by nature (and this film does not provide as many answers as questions), but because their reasoning could very well explain not just whether or not the continued existence of humanity is actually best for the universe, but also could provide great insight into the nature of humanity itself, and perhaps even the nature of those who created us (who may not be very benevolent after all).
Prometheus borrows a lot of other elements from the Alien franchise, but, perhaps due to how well crafted the film is, it avoids feeling formulaic, and instead comes off as hearty tribute. Or, perhaps, the little touches here and there that add further depth and complexity to the elements we are so familiar with imbue it with a welcome breath of fresh air, lending them a feeling of freshness that a more superficial treatment wouldn't be able to acquire. As a result of this and other factors I have discussed, Prometheus feels very much in line with the Alien franchise, while at the same time distinguishing itself enough that it doesn't feel like a rehash of something we've seen before, and thus something superfluous that may as well not have been made. Quite the contrary. It is a smart, fresh addition that expands on the Alien legacy.
And for the dedicated Alien fans, there are enough elements thrown in here and there ("easter eggs", if you will) to tie this title in with the previous film, while not restricting itself to being a direct precursor to its events. In that way Prometheus does really present itself as a spiritual prequel to Alien, but while giving itself enough room to suggest a possible sequel. This could be an exciting prospect - albeit with a lot of risk, as sequels seldom live up to their progenitors; Aliens, within this very franchise, being one of the most remarkable exception to that rule in film history. But, if done properly - and I do realize that is a huge if - a sequel to Prometheus (which, to be effective - and not merely financially successful, must accomplish what Aliens did and build on the mythology of the alien creature - or, now, the Space Jockey race) could be immensely exciting given that it could present a better opportunity to reintroduce the classic (or close enough to be terrifying) Xenomorph once again within the context of an intelligent film.
The lack of which, I repeat, is my only significant complaint with Prometheus, even as I comfortably concede that the decision to exclude them was almost certainly correct. For this title. But maybe, just maybe, for the sequel...
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Dead Space (PC)
Dead Space is a sci-fi/survival horror third person shooter game. I'd say it's a sort of spiritual successor to Doom (a game with a very similar theme - encountering hellish monsters in space), which I grew up on, but with a third rather than first person perspective. On a cinematic level, it seems to draw inspiration from many classic titles in this genre, such as Alien, John Carpenter's The Thing, and most obviously, Event Horizon. The result is a very effective (that is, scary) survival horror game in space, that also manages to be lots of fun to play. The game is not without flaws (which I'll go into), but except for one spot in particular, they didn't prevent me from enjoying my gaming experience very much.
In Dead Space, you play as Isaac Clarke, a seeming jack-of-all (or nearly all) trades, who is part of a very small crew sent in to investigate the USG Ishimura, a "planet cracker" (a large starship that mines planets from space) in the midst of a total communications blackout. After your inevitably rocky landing, it quickly becomes clear that some horror without precedent has occurred on this ship, as the crew is mostly dead, the few survivors seem to be insane with terror (or something else), and the ship is crawling with "necromorphs" - a kind of biological alien predator that manifests from corpses. The ship itself is in a state of total disrepair, and so you must embark on a quest to get the ship back in relative working order, while trying to uncover the mystery of just what the hell is going on.
And it has something to do with a "Marker" that was discovered on the planet below, which is probably alien technology, and certainly is the source of the necromorph invasion - but exactly how is a little hard to work out. Many of the crewmembers of the Ishimura were (perhaps not uncoincidentally) members of a fanatic religious cult that views the Marker as some kind of divine idol. Their fervor, which involves an unhealthy fascination with the necromorphs, does nothing to facilitate the needs of those who'd prefer to live - and stay human.
I think Dead Space is fascinating on a number of levels - first, from the horror perspective of exploring a ship crawling with monsters; but also the idea of trying to get this ship back up and running. That task takes you all over the ship, one section at a time. For example, you have to visit the medical bay to recover computer access codes from the body of the captain - who lies in the morgue. Than you have to travel to the engine room to get the ship up and running, after which you have to divert power to asteroid shields so the ship isn't torn to pieces. Then you've gotta head to hydroponics to sort out the problem of alien growths polluting the air. This goes on and on until the ship is almost as good as new (okay, I'm exaggerating), at which point it's inevitable that you're gonna have to find some way to get off of it. It's lots of fun, although from a logical perspective I think it's amazing that a crew of just three (with Isaac clearly doing the majority of the grunt work) could put a ship back together that its own much larger crew couldn't hold together. I mean, it's not like we're not also being ambushed by these necromorphs at every corner! But I guess maybe we have the advantage of not being subject to the sheer confusion of an entire ship under attack and perhaps also in mutiny.
Let's talk a little (or a lot) about gameplay, which is where my main gripes come up - although Dead Space has a lot of clever innovations as well (at least as well as I can tell, given my lack of experience with a lot of modern games of this sort). The primary difficulty I've had with this game is with the interface/motion controls/targeting. I'm willing to chalk it up to my inexperience with third person shooters that use the mouse (I like the simplicity of Doom's keyboard only setup), but I was a lot less confident in moving around, as well as targeting my gun. Of course, that enhances my feeling of vulnerability, but not in a good sort of way. I also felt that the mouse was a little slow or choppy in responding, which further added to my frustrations at trying to stay alive - particularly when the necromorphs swarm and ambush, sometimes causing considerable slowdown. That may be a function of my computer's capabilities, though, as I do not have a computer optimized for gaming.
Ultimately, I've been able to more or less adapt, but every once in a while there'll be a portion where it becomes a frustrating difficulty. That frustration is partly compounded by what is actually one of the cleverest innovations in this game - that the necromorphs, alien organisms that they are, can only really be killed by cutting off their limbs (though I'm still not sure why). So instead of firing into the large mass of flesh that's hurtling toward you, you have to aim for its flailing limbs (although shooting out the legs is a frequently effective strategy) - hard enough when the adrenaline is coursing through your veins, but even harder when your mouse isn't responding as fast as you'd like (and sometimes, when you start impatiently jerking it around, you find yourself spinning 180 degrees, losing track of the monster that's clawing at you, and then by the time you've got the gun trained back on him, you're dead...). I'd also mention the difficulty of opening up your inventory (a painfully slow process when each second could mean your death) to use a med pack to restore health in the middle of a fracas, except that I discovered there's a 'health' button that does that automatically, that I guess I missed the first time I went through the tutorial at the beginning of the game. (facepalm)
I have to take a moment to mention the Asteroid Defense System. About a third of the way through the game, there's a little "mini-game" portion, just before you get the asteroid shield up around the ship, where you have to manually shoot the asteroids hurtling toward the ship from a gun turret for a couple minutes (that feel like eternity). It's like playing Asteroids in 3D, except that it's IMPOSSIBLE! Maybe with a hair-trigger mouse it wouldn't be such a big deal, but with the slow response I had to deal with, it was really, truly, impossible for me to get past that portion of the game. I was honestly this close to just giving up and not finishing the game, but finally I turned in desperation to the control options and upped the mouse sensitivity the highest it would go. It was still kind of jerky, but fast enough that I was at least able to actually beat that portion of the game. But I still have very strong negative feelings toward it, and I was only slightly reassured (during the height of my period of frustration) to read an interview with the game's makers apologizing for that part of the game, and assuring the public that it wouldn't be reprised in the game's sequel.
More on gameplay. I love the stasis module (which freezes/slows things down - good for combat and non-combat situations), and even more, the kinesis module, which allows you to grab things at a distance, draw them toward you, and then shoot them away, if you like. Very cool. The weapons are lots of fun too. I ended up using the first weapon - the Plasma Cutter - well into the game because I was so familiar with it. But once I started picking up less ammo for it, I had to resort to trying some of the other weapons, some that are more useful than others. The Line Gun is currently my favorite. Powerful, with a wide shot - excellent for taking off an approaching necromorph's legs, and if that doesn't do him in, another shot will tear off his arms as he starts crawling toward you. Also great for those little buggers who jump on the walls and have those three tentacles that shoot darts (well, except when they're hanging vertically). I was excited when I picked up the Flamethrower, but I ended up using it very little, since fire just doesn't kill the necromorphs fast enough. The Ripper is really neat - it shoots a spinning razor blade that hangs in the air - but I've had a lot of frustrations trying to handle it appropriately. Love the Contact Beam - not for regular combat, but for taking out those nasty pustules (particularly on the grabby tentacles) in a single hit.
There are a couple of other guns; my only real complaint is that you can only carry four at a time. I guess that means there's some strategy to what guns you're gonna carry, and I think the ammo you pick up depends on what guns you're carrying - so that, I guess, you get ammo for the guns you're actually using. But I like the Doom method of having each gun designated to its own number. It makes getting familiar with the guns much easier as they're always in a particular spot (5 is the rocket launcher, 3 is the shotgun, 7 is the BFG, etc.), rather than being shuffled around the only four carry spots you've got. But oh well. I think it's interesting that each gun has a secondary fire mode, which is fun to discover (some of them I haven't even bothered to learn yet, since I don't want to waste ammo, and the middle of a scuffle isn't always the greatest place to experiment).
Other neat gameplay elements include the Zero-G and vacuum portions (which may or may not occur simultaneously). The Zero-G portions were lots of fun for me. After the first one, I said to myself, that was really cool, I hope there are more like it later in the game. The suit you're wearing has boots that can attach to the floor, so you don't actually go flying through space, but you can jump onto the walls and ceilings, and there are often large, circular rooms designated for Zero-G areas. It's lots of fun. As for the vacuum areas, they're cool, too, although there's an element of impatience involved, as your suit only has so many seconds of oxygen before you need either a refill, or to exit the vacuum. It's like the underwater portions of other games, where you can only hold your breath for so long. I've always hated those portions, because I like to take my time and not feel rushed, and make sure I'm not missing anything. But in this game, it's rarely so bad that you don't have enough time before you exit the vacuum or get to an oxygen refill station, so I'm less scared of those portions. Plus I love that the sound actually mutes in those sections (well, mostly), given that sound does not carry in a vacuum, which is very cool. On that note, I noticed that when monsters attack in those vacuum sections, it's less scary for me, which indicates that a not insignificant portion of their intimidation is a result of the scary sounds they make, as well as the scary music and other effects that usually accompanies their attacks.
Alright, I've almost exhausted what I want to say about this game. One last gameplay element is the bench. In the game there are benches where you can upgrade your weapons and equipment with power nodes that you can collect throughout the game. You can make your weapons faster, stronger, hold more ammo at a time, etc. You can also power up your stasis and kinesis modules (improving range and duration and such), as well as your rig (which is your suit) - you can increase your HP and the amount of oxygen your tank can carry. At first, I didn't like this gameplay element, because it involved making decisions - what to upgrade and how, as the upgrade dynamics are not linear: there are connected dots on a 2D grid, some of which indicate upgrades, others just placeholders, and you can only activate a dot adjacent to one you've previously activated, with only certain dots on the perimeter designated as entry points (sorry if that's not very clear). I just hate the feeling that I might upgrade one thing, and find out that I wasted those nodes because a challenge I face later in the game requires more functionality from one of my other weapons, for example. But I guess that's really just me being overly cautious. Because I've warmed up to the system, and I actually really like it a lot now - it allows a certain customization of gameplay: so that if I like a particular weapon, I can make it really powerful; or I can decide between upgrading a gun's capacity or reload rate in order to have faster or less frequent reloads (an added advantage of the latter is that the more the gun holds, the less inventory slots you'll use up for spare ammo); or if I, for example, have particular trouble on the vacuum portions, I can dedicate my power nodes to upping my oxygen capacity, whereas someone else who has no problem with those areas, but instead has trouble with the challenges that require stasis, can use his power nodes to increase the duration of his stasis!
And that's actually one of the biggest contributions to this game's replay value. I just beat it (finally) the other day, and I wasn't planning to play through it a second time. But you get to keep all your equipment on subsequent playthroughs, along with some extra gifts for beating the game, so the temptation for me to collect more power nodes and make my equipment that much more powerful is strong. There's another thing, though - I still have some questions about some of the details of the plot. There's actually a very interesting plot to this game (even if I think the cult's fanaticism is ridiculous, and no better than the ravings of a lunatic). I've got the basics down from one playthrough of the game, but I'm a little uncertain about the motivations of various characters, and what exactly the truth is about this Marker, because there are some different perspectives on it from different sources, and I'm not a hundred percent sure yet who's right and who's not. So maybe another playthrough will make that a bit clearer for me. I know I'll certainly enjoy it, even as my confidence and familiarity reduces (though definitely not completely) some of the feelings of fear and vulnerability that this game creates.
Which reminds me of one thing I forgot to mention, and that's how much I hated the one necromorph that's effectively immortal, constantly regenerating his limbs. I hate him with a passion. They throw you into a room with this monster, and then the ship locks the doors in quarantine, and you have to fight with this monster until one of your crewmates can override the lock and get the doors open. Trick is, you can't kill the immortal necromorph, you just have to run around, killing all the other necromorphs that break in through the air vents, trying not to let the strongest one catch up to you and tear you a new one. Even more difficult than it sounds, and very frustrating. I'll tell you, it was with great satisfaction that I finally had a chance, considerably later in the game, to effectively incapacitate him.
In Dead Space, you play as Isaac Clarke, a seeming jack-of-all (or nearly all) trades, who is part of a very small crew sent in to investigate the USG Ishimura, a "planet cracker" (a large starship that mines planets from space) in the midst of a total communications blackout. After your inevitably rocky landing, it quickly becomes clear that some horror without precedent has occurred on this ship, as the crew is mostly dead, the few survivors seem to be insane with terror (or something else), and the ship is crawling with "necromorphs" - a kind of biological alien predator that manifests from corpses. The ship itself is in a state of total disrepair, and so you must embark on a quest to get the ship back in relative working order, while trying to uncover the mystery of just what the hell is going on.
And it has something to do with a "Marker" that was discovered on the planet below, which is probably alien technology, and certainly is the source of the necromorph invasion - but exactly how is a little hard to work out. Many of the crewmembers of the Ishimura were (perhaps not uncoincidentally) members of a fanatic religious cult that views the Marker as some kind of divine idol. Their fervor, which involves an unhealthy fascination with the necromorphs, does nothing to facilitate the needs of those who'd prefer to live - and stay human.
I think Dead Space is fascinating on a number of levels - first, from the horror perspective of exploring a ship crawling with monsters; but also the idea of trying to get this ship back up and running. That task takes you all over the ship, one section at a time. For example, you have to visit the medical bay to recover computer access codes from the body of the captain - who lies in the morgue. Than you have to travel to the engine room to get the ship up and running, after which you have to divert power to asteroid shields so the ship isn't torn to pieces. Then you've gotta head to hydroponics to sort out the problem of alien growths polluting the air. This goes on and on until the ship is almost as good as new (okay, I'm exaggerating), at which point it's inevitable that you're gonna have to find some way to get off of it. It's lots of fun, although from a logical perspective I think it's amazing that a crew of just three (with Isaac clearly doing the majority of the grunt work) could put a ship back together that its own much larger crew couldn't hold together. I mean, it's not like we're not also being ambushed by these necromorphs at every corner! But I guess maybe we have the advantage of not being subject to the sheer confusion of an entire ship under attack and perhaps also in mutiny.
Let's talk a little (or a lot) about gameplay, which is where my main gripes come up - although Dead Space has a lot of clever innovations as well (at least as well as I can tell, given my lack of experience with a lot of modern games of this sort). The primary difficulty I've had with this game is with the interface/motion controls/targeting. I'm willing to chalk it up to my inexperience with third person shooters that use the mouse (I like the simplicity of Doom's keyboard only setup), but I was a lot less confident in moving around, as well as targeting my gun. Of course, that enhances my feeling of vulnerability, but not in a good sort of way. I also felt that the mouse was a little slow or choppy in responding, which further added to my frustrations at trying to stay alive - particularly when the necromorphs swarm and ambush, sometimes causing considerable slowdown. That may be a function of my computer's capabilities, though, as I do not have a computer optimized for gaming.
Ultimately, I've been able to more or less adapt, but every once in a while there'll be a portion where it becomes a frustrating difficulty. That frustration is partly compounded by what is actually one of the cleverest innovations in this game - that the necromorphs, alien organisms that they are, can only really be killed by cutting off their limbs (though I'm still not sure why). So instead of firing into the large mass of flesh that's hurtling toward you, you have to aim for its flailing limbs (although shooting out the legs is a frequently effective strategy) - hard enough when the adrenaline is coursing through your veins, but even harder when your mouse isn't responding as fast as you'd like (and sometimes, when you start impatiently jerking it around, you find yourself spinning 180 degrees, losing track of the monster that's clawing at you, and then by the time you've got the gun trained back on him, you're dead...). I'd also mention the difficulty of opening up your inventory (a painfully slow process when each second could mean your death) to use a med pack to restore health in the middle of a fracas, except that I discovered there's a 'health' button that does that automatically, that I guess I missed the first time I went through the tutorial at the beginning of the game. (facepalm)
I have to take a moment to mention the Asteroid Defense System. About a third of the way through the game, there's a little "mini-game" portion, just before you get the asteroid shield up around the ship, where you have to manually shoot the asteroids hurtling toward the ship from a gun turret for a couple minutes (that feel like eternity). It's like playing Asteroids in 3D, except that it's IMPOSSIBLE! Maybe with a hair-trigger mouse it wouldn't be such a big deal, but with the slow response I had to deal with, it was really, truly, impossible for me to get past that portion of the game. I was honestly this close to just giving up and not finishing the game, but finally I turned in desperation to the control options and upped the mouse sensitivity the highest it would go. It was still kind of jerky, but fast enough that I was at least able to actually beat that portion of the game. But I still have very strong negative feelings toward it, and I was only slightly reassured (during the height of my period of frustration) to read an interview with the game's makers apologizing for that part of the game, and assuring the public that it wouldn't be reprised in the game's sequel.
More on gameplay. I love the stasis module (which freezes/slows things down - good for combat and non-combat situations), and even more, the kinesis module, which allows you to grab things at a distance, draw them toward you, and then shoot them away, if you like. Very cool. The weapons are lots of fun too. I ended up using the first weapon - the Plasma Cutter - well into the game because I was so familiar with it. But once I started picking up less ammo for it, I had to resort to trying some of the other weapons, some that are more useful than others. The Line Gun is currently my favorite. Powerful, with a wide shot - excellent for taking off an approaching necromorph's legs, and if that doesn't do him in, another shot will tear off his arms as he starts crawling toward you. Also great for those little buggers who jump on the walls and have those three tentacles that shoot darts (well, except when they're hanging vertically). I was excited when I picked up the Flamethrower, but I ended up using it very little, since fire just doesn't kill the necromorphs fast enough. The Ripper is really neat - it shoots a spinning razor blade that hangs in the air - but I've had a lot of frustrations trying to handle it appropriately. Love the Contact Beam - not for regular combat, but for taking out those nasty pustules (particularly on the grabby tentacles) in a single hit.
There are a couple of other guns; my only real complaint is that you can only carry four at a time. I guess that means there's some strategy to what guns you're gonna carry, and I think the ammo you pick up depends on what guns you're carrying - so that, I guess, you get ammo for the guns you're actually using. But I like the Doom method of having each gun designated to its own number. It makes getting familiar with the guns much easier as they're always in a particular spot (5 is the rocket launcher, 3 is the shotgun, 7 is the BFG, etc.), rather than being shuffled around the only four carry spots you've got. But oh well. I think it's interesting that each gun has a secondary fire mode, which is fun to discover (some of them I haven't even bothered to learn yet, since I don't want to waste ammo, and the middle of a scuffle isn't always the greatest place to experiment).
Other neat gameplay elements include the Zero-G and vacuum portions (which may or may not occur simultaneously). The Zero-G portions were lots of fun for me. After the first one, I said to myself, that was really cool, I hope there are more like it later in the game. The suit you're wearing has boots that can attach to the floor, so you don't actually go flying through space, but you can jump onto the walls and ceilings, and there are often large, circular rooms designated for Zero-G areas. It's lots of fun. As for the vacuum areas, they're cool, too, although there's an element of impatience involved, as your suit only has so many seconds of oxygen before you need either a refill, or to exit the vacuum. It's like the underwater portions of other games, where you can only hold your breath for so long. I've always hated those portions, because I like to take my time and not feel rushed, and make sure I'm not missing anything. But in this game, it's rarely so bad that you don't have enough time before you exit the vacuum or get to an oxygen refill station, so I'm less scared of those portions. Plus I love that the sound actually mutes in those sections (well, mostly), given that sound does not carry in a vacuum, which is very cool. On that note, I noticed that when monsters attack in those vacuum sections, it's less scary for me, which indicates that a not insignificant portion of their intimidation is a result of the scary sounds they make, as well as the scary music and other effects that usually accompanies their attacks.
Alright, I've almost exhausted what I want to say about this game. One last gameplay element is the bench. In the game there are benches where you can upgrade your weapons and equipment with power nodes that you can collect throughout the game. You can make your weapons faster, stronger, hold more ammo at a time, etc. You can also power up your stasis and kinesis modules (improving range and duration and such), as well as your rig (which is your suit) - you can increase your HP and the amount of oxygen your tank can carry. At first, I didn't like this gameplay element, because it involved making decisions - what to upgrade and how, as the upgrade dynamics are not linear: there are connected dots on a 2D grid, some of which indicate upgrades, others just placeholders, and you can only activate a dot adjacent to one you've previously activated, with only certain dots on the perimeter designated as entry points (sorry if that's not very clear). I just hate the feeling that I might upgrade one thing, and find out that I wasted those nodes because a challenge I face later in the game requires more functionality from one of my other weapons, for example. But I guess that's really just me being overly cautious. Because I've warmed up to the system, and I actually really like it a lot now - it allows a certain customization of gameplay: so that if I like a particular weapon, I can make it really powerful; or I can decide between upgrading a gun's capacity or reload rate in order to have faster or less frequent reloads (an added advantage of the latter is that the more the gun holds, the less inventory slots you'll use up for spare ammo); or if I, for example, have particular trouble on the vacuum portions, I can dedicate my power nodes to upping my oxygen capacity, whereas someone else who has no problem with those areas, but instead has trouble with the challenges that require stasis, can use his power nodes to increase the duration of his stasis!
And that's actually one of the biggest contributions to this game's replay value. I just beat it (finally) the other day, and I wasn't planning to play through it a second time. But you get to keep all your equipment on subsequent playthroughs, along with some extra gifts for beating the game, so the temptation for me to collect more power nodes and make my equipment that much more powerful is strong. There's another thing, though - I still have some questions about some of the details of the plot. There's actually a very interesting plot to this game (even if I think the cult's fanaticism is ridiculous, and no better than the ravings of a lunatic). I've got the basics down from one playthrough of the game, but I'm a little uncertain about the motivations of various characters, and what exactly the truth is about this Marker, because there are some different perspectives on it from different sources, and I'm not a hundred percent sure yet who's right and who's not. So maybe another playthrough will make that a bit clearer for me. I know I'll certainly enjoy it, even as my confidence and familiarity reduces (though definitely not completely) some of the feelings of fear and vulnerability that this game creates.
Which reminds me of one thing I forgot to mention, and that's how much I hated the one necromorph that's effectively immortal, constantly regenerating his limbs. I hate him with a passion. They throw you into a room with this monster, and then the ship locks the doors in quarantine, and you have to fight with this monster until one of your crewmates can override the lock and get the doors open. Trick is, you can't kill the immortal necromorph, you just have to run around, killing all the other necromorphs that break in through the air vents, trying not to let the strongest one catch up to you and tear you a new one. Even more difficult than it sounds, and very frustrating. I'll tell you, it was with great satisfaction that I finally had a chance, considerably later in the game, to effectively incapacitate him.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins
Warning! This review contains spoilers from the very end of The Hunger Games trilogy! For a spoiler-free introduction to the trilogy, see my review of The Hunger Games.
Having now finished the series, I am happy to report that The Hunger Games maintains its pace of drama and excitement through to the very end. In fact, the climax is probably even more exciting than Katniss' first foray into The Hunger Games, and the conclusion seems to hint at the story's underlying conscience. The writing in these books is so good in a way that you don't often come across - in that it is both highly entertaining, and also very intelligent and insightful, probing the nature of the human condition and asking some very difficult questions.
Like the age old question of what's fair in love and war, what sort of atrocities can be justified, and where you cross the line between self-defense and becoming like the enemy that oppresses you. But there is no easy answer. Gale's anger sometimes feels righteous, then seems to cross the line. Katniss makes some stupid decisions that put her at risk, yet you welcome her moral compass. Ultimately it's clear that war is a terrible, terrible thing, but what isn't clear is whether we can ever truly escape it.
But one of the most disturbing revelations, for me, regards the nature of entertainment. Lines are blurred in Mockingjay, when the war itself becomes a sort of Hunger Games. The propos (propaganda spots) that the rebels create have a clear tactical purpose, yet their effectiveness relies on their entertainment value. And it's instantly discovered by those behind the scenes that staged emotions aren't as exciting as the real thing. So Katniss is put in real danger in order to get good footage. And then later, in the warring streets of the Capitol, it's almost as if the rebels are in the position of the Gamemakers (and I'm sure it's no coincidence with Plutarch being around), realizing that in order to stir up some enthusiasm with their propos, some blood's going to have to be shed. It's chilling, really.
And at the end, in the epilogue, Katniss makes her statement on the games, and I want so badly to believe in the righteousness of that statement, but then I can't help realizing that I've been as bad as the smarmy Capitol residents, calling out for blood, all in the name of good entertainment. After all, The Hunger Games would not be nearly as entertaining if not for the horrors it depicts. Prim's death was the one thing I almost couldn't stand. Almost. It destroyed me, and I was really angry that it happened. But afterward, you still have to admit that it makes the story that much more intense. That it will stick with you for that reason, because it wasn't afraid to pull any punches.
But if there's one consolation, it's that in the real world, I think staged entertainment is just as effective as the real thing. More so, probably. Because in a book, when a character you love dies, it's very sad. But it's still just a character. You can move on. It's like what happens in real life, but on a much smaller scale, because you only knew her for those several weeks you were reading the book, and only in those moments. She's not someone you've known all your (or her) life, and you only know of her what the author has given you. In real life, when people die (especially violently), the horror and the sadness greatly outweighs whatever sick entertainment (if any, really) one could glean from it.
And so I can at least rest assured in the knowledge that though I enjoy reading The Hunger Games (and can't wait for the movies!), it doesn't make me like the Capitol in the story. However, the lingering question that does remain, is the question of war. War still rages on in the real world, and we don't seem to be any closer to ending it forever. Despite the clarity of its horrors - at least to me - on it goes. Just as Plutarch alludes to. I don't know how to solve that one.
Having now finished the series, I am happy to report that The Hunger Games maintains its pace of drama and excitement through to the very end. In fact, the climax is probably even more exciting than Katniss' first foray into The Hunger Games, and the conclusion seems to hint at the story's underlying conscience. The writing in these books is so good in a way that you don't often come across - in that it is both highly entertaining, and also very intelligent and insightful, probing the nature of the human condition and asking some very difficult questions.
Like the age old question of what's fair in love and war, what sort of atrocities can be justified, and where you cross the line between self-defense and becoming like the enemy that oppresses you. But there is no easy answer. Gale's anger sometimes feels righteous, then seems to cross the line. Katniss makes some stupid decisions that put her at risk, yet you welcome her moral compass. Ultimately it's clear that war is a terrible, terrible thing, but what isn't clear is whether we can ever truly escape it.
But one of the most disturbing revelations, for me, regards the nature of entertainment. Lines are blurred in Mockingjay, when the war itself becomes a sort of Hunger Games. The propos (propaganda spots) that the rebels create have a clear tactical purpose, yet their effectiveness relies on their entertainment value. And it's instantly discovered by those behind the scenes that staged emotions aren't as exciting as the real thing. So Katniss is put in real danger in order to get good footage. And then later, in the warring streets of the Capitol, it's almost as if the rebels are in the position of the Gamemakers (and I'm sure it's no coincidence with Plutarch being around), realizing that in order to stir up some enthusiasm with their propos, some blood's going to have to be shed. It's chilling, really.
And at the end, in the epilogue, Katniss makes her statement on the games, and I want so badly to believe in the righteousness of that statement, but then I can't help realizing that I've been as bad as the smarmy Capitol residents, calling out for blood, all in the name of good entertainment. After all, The Hunger Games would not be nearly as entertaining if not for the horrors it depicts. Prim's death was the one thing I almost couldn't stand. Almost. It destroyed me, and I was really angry that it happened. But afterward, you still have to admit that it makes the story that much more intense. That it will stick with you for that reason, because it wasn't afraid to pull any punches.
But if there's one consolation, it's that in the real world, I think staged entertainment is just as effective as the real thing. More so, probably. Because in a book, when a character you love dies, it's very sad. But it's still just a character. You can move on. It's like what happens in real life, but on a much smaller scale, because you only knew her for those several weeks you were reading the book, and only in those moments. She's not someone you've known all your (or her) life, and you only know of her what the author has given you. In real life, when people die (especially violently), the horror and the sadness greatly outweighs whatever sick entertainment (if any, really) one could glean from it.
And so I can at least rest assured in the knowledge that though I enjoy reading The Hunger Games (and can't wait for the movies!), it doesn't make me like the Capitol in the story. However, the lingering question that does remain, is the question of war. War still rages on in the real world, and we don't seem to be any closer to ending it forever. Despite the clarity of its horrors - at least to me - on it goes. Just as Plutarch alludes to. I don't know how to solve that one.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins
Warning! This review contains spoilers from the first two books of The Hunger Games trilogy. For a spoiler-free introduction to the trilogy, see my review of The Hunger Games.
The Hunger Games continues in book two of the trilogy. After the excitement of the first book, I was curious (though not doubtful) to see if the second book could successfully continue the momentum of the story. It starts off relatively slow (with a few punctuated moments of excitement), even as the first book did, but picks up to at least as exciting a crescendo as the first book, if not more so.
In the beginning I was wondering what this book would cover, since in the first, we had already been treated to an occasion of the Hunger Games. That's when the Victory Tour came in, and I was thinking, oh, hey, this'll be a great opportunity to introduce each of the districts! But the author didn't quite have that in mind, and instead, moved quickly through the Victory Tour and on to even more exciting events that follow it.
Nevertheless, the scene where Katniss speaks to District 11 was one of the most touching in the book, and the following public execution of "the whistler" was one of my favorite scenes, as it so brutally - and for me unexpectedly - brought home the point that hey, the Capitol is ruthless and dangerous, remember? In the first book, there was almost a sense of distance between the Capitol's residents (some of which, like Cinna and his crew, were actually likable) and the brutality they sponsored (i.e., the Hunger Games themselves), that you almost couldn't reconcile the two, and you had to ask the question, if these people are generally decent, how can they possibly support the Hunger Games? It didn't quite add up.
Here, in Catching Fire, you get to see more of the bureaucracy, particularly in President Snow himself, who personally embodies the calculated brutality of the games, and he at least offers some explanation for the Capitol's support of the games, in that the subjugation of the districts is required for the entire nation to continue running smoothly. However, of course, you have to be skeptical of the tyrant's word, and consider that he probably just relishes his power - forcing the poor districts to labor for the convenience of the rich Capitol - as well he probably has a sadistic streak that he enjoys being able to get away with exerting. But then, of course, you come to the conclusion that the majority of the Capitol residents are probably not so brutal or politically minded, and have probably been duped by censorship and propaganda, and bought off with the comforts that the twelve district's labor laboriously produces.
Which brings us to the interviews for the Quarter Quell. But before that, I'll admit that I was shocked when it became clear that Katniss would go back into the arena. When the topic of the Quell came up, I thought, oh, hey, there's an idea, there'll be another Hunger Games in this book! And since it's this "Quarter Quell" thing, it'll be even more bombastic than the last one! But I still didn't think Katniss would return. I figured she'd probably mentor, and the President would probably do something specific to torture her, like force Prim into the arena this time. But, as it becomes clear by the end of the book, Snow's overconfidence in his own power, leading to the decision to put previous Games' victors back in the arena, was a huge mistake.
The interviews before the Games have always managed to be surprisingly climactic, and while the last games' interviews were spot on, these ones for the Quell were unbelievable. Totally brilliant, the way they managed to turn the Games around, and play off their (especially Katniss & Peeta) popularity to practically turn the Capitol's residents itself against the Capitol. So totally inspiring. And even though they still had to go back in the arena (quite exciting once again, and with a very different flavor than the last Games), in the end their solidarity paid off.
It's funny, but as I was getting towards the end of the book, and the Games relentlessly continued on, I started thinking to myself, there's only so many pages left, there's no way they can wrap up the Games that fast, unless something drastic is going to happen. And then, as the other tributes failed to die off quickly enough, I started worrying that maybe Katniss was actually going to die in these Games, and that would be the abrupt ending of the book. A horrifying thought, and though that isn't what happened, the ending to the Games was indeed abrupt, but very exciting.
And now the shit has really hit the fan. The rebellion is on for sure. I love the symbolism of the mockingjay, even as Katniss has spent so much time blissfully ignorant of its meaning, and the significance of her part in the whole 'game' (the rebels' game). And the idea that the mysterious District 13, the alleged secret underground base for the rebels, used to deal in nuclear development is too exciting to write off as the hopeful delusion of the desperate. I'm confident that the final book in the trilogy will offer an exciting and fitting conclusion to this story, but it remains (to me) to be seen who will survive and how the world will fare, for better or worse, when the dust clears.
The Hunger Games continues in book two of the trilogy. After the excitement of the first book, I was curious (though not doubtful) to see if the second book could successfully continue the momentum of the story. It starts off relatively slow (with a few punctuated moments of excitement), even as the first book did, but picks up to at least as exciting a crescendo as the first book, if not more so.
In the beginning I was wondering what this book would cover, since in the first, we had already been treated to an occasion of the Hunger Games. That's when the Victory Tour came in, and I was thinking, oh, hey, this'll be a great opportunity to introduce each of the districts! But the author didn't quite have that in mind, and instead, moved quickly through the Victory Tour and on to even more exciting events that follow it.
Nevertheless, the scene where Katniss speaks to District 11 was one of the most touching in the book, and the following public execution of "the whistler" was one of my favorite scenes, as it so brutally - and for me unexpectedly - brought home the point that hey, the Capitol is ruthless and dangerous, remember? In the first book, there was almost a sense of distance between the Capitol's residents (some of which, like Cinna and his crew, were actually likable) and the brutality they sponsored (i.e., the Hunger Games themselves), that you almost couldn't reconcile the two, and you had to ask the question, if these people are generally decent, how can they possibly support the Hunger Games? It didn't quite add up.
Here, in Catching Fire, you get to see more of the bureaucracy, particularly in President Snow himself, who personally embodies the calculated brutality of the games, and he at least offers some explanation for the Capitol's support of the games, in that the subjugation of the districts is required for the entire nation to continue running smoothly. However, of course, you have to be skeptical of the tyrant's word, and consider that he probably just relishes his power - forcing the poor districts to labor for the convenience of the rich Capitol - as well he probably has a sadistic streak that he enjoys being able to get away with exerting. But then, of course, you come to the conclusion that the majority of the Capitol residents are probably not so brutal or politically minded, and have probably been duped by censorship and propaganda, and bought off with the comforts that the twelve district's labor laboriously produces.
Which brings us to the interviews for the Quarter Quell. But before that, I'll admit that I was shocked when it became clear that Katniss would go back into the arena. When the topic of the Quell came up, I thought, oh, hey, there's an idea, there'll be another Hunger Games in this book! And since it's this "Quarter Quell" thing, it'll be even more bombastic than the last one! But I still didn't think Katniss would return. I figured she'd probably mentor, and the President would probably do something specific to torture her, like force Prim into the arena this time. But, as it becomes clear by the end of the book, Snow's overconfidence in his own power, leading to the decision to put previous Games' victors back in the arena, was a huge mistake.
The interviews before the Games have always managed to be surprisingly climactic, and while the last games' interviews were spot on, these ones for the Quell were unbelievable. Totally brilliant, the way they managed to turn the Games around, and play off their (especially Katniss & Peeta) popularity to practically turn the Capitol's residents itself against the Capitol. So totally inspiring. And even though they still had to go back in the arena (quite exciting once again, and with a very different flavor than the last Games), in the end their solidarity paid off.
It's funny, but as I was getting towards the end of the book, and the Games relentlessly continued on, I started thinking to myself, there's only so many pages left, there's no way they can wrap up the Games that fast, unless something drastic is going to happen. And then, as the other tributes failed to die off quickly enough, I started worrying that maybe Katniss was actually going to die in these Games, and that would be the abrupt ending of the book. A horrifying thought, and though that isn't what happened, the ending to the Games was indeed abrupt, but very exciting.
And now the shit has really hit the fan. The rebellion is on for sure. I love the symbolism of the mockingjay, even as Katniss has spent so much time blissfully ignorant of its meaning, and the significance of her part in the whole 'game' (the rebels' game). And the idea that the mysterious District 13, the alleged secret underground base for the rebels, used to deal in nuclear development is too exciting to write off as the hopeful delusion of the desperate. I'm confident that the final book in the trilogy will offer an exciting and fitting conclusion to this story, but it remains (to me) to be seen who will survive and how the world will fare, for better or worse, when the dust clears.
Monday, January 23, 2012
The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins
It only took me over a decade to jump onto the Harry Potter fandom bandwagon, and only just in time to catch up with the series before its triumphant finish (that is, the film series' triumphant finish). Then again, with all of its momentum (seven titles in the series, at least four of the books over 600 pages in length), "jumping into" Harry Potter in the middle of its reign over popular culture was a commitment requiring considerable (albeit rewarding) effort. Well, now another popular book series is being adapted to the silver screen (premiering in March!), and with just three modestly sized titles, it's much less daunting. So I'm getting in while it's fresh, though largely at the behest of my brother who rates it as one of the best series of books he's ever read, up there with Harry Potter.
Naturally, you're gonna have some expectations with hype like that, and since I respect my brother's taste (and recommendations), I had no fear of being disappointed. But opening up The Hunger Games, the first book in the series, I couldn't help issuing a silent challenge to the book, akin to whispering into its leafy pages, "show me what you've got!" And I still wasn't disappointed. There's very little to criticize about The Hunger Games. It's well written. It's a very engaging story, with characters you can relate to, and a tempered love affair that feels - in spite of its context - far more real than the typical romantic fiction of death-do-us-part passion. It's got lots of action, but none of it is mindless. In fact, the story is driven by an intellectual backbone of socio-political commentary, but in a matter-of-fact way that is not the least bit pedantic. It doesn't drill its morality into you, it merely presents an immoral world and allows you to position yourself by your reaction to the effects it has on its very human inhabitants. There's plenty of pathos here - more than one section had me genuinely tearing up. And the length and pacing is comfortable; the book spends enough time on personal and cultural details to bring you into its world, but is constantly moving towards the next great scene or revelation, which is always (to an impressive extent) impeccably engineered.
In sum, it's a whole lot of fun to read, and it doesn't require a huge time commitment. As such, I would heartily recommend it to just about anyone. Unless, I suppose, you're the type of person who would cringe at the very mention of a fictional society that would enthusiastically (and sadistically) rally around a sporting event that pits children (technically, adolescents) against each other in a brutal fight to the death while simultaneously braving the elements of a deadly wilderness arena. It's Survivor meets Battle Royale, where the futuristic dystopia recalls echoes of the gladiators of the Roman Empire. The Hunger Games drops you into an unbalanced society where the lower class inhabitants of twelve outlying Districts scattered across what was once North America are so oppressed that, while struggling daily for survival, they can do naught but sit by and watch as the wealthy, technologically-advanced Capitol remorselessly slaughters their children for entertainment. But rather than condoning these "hunger" games, the narrative follows the perspective of one of its unfortunate contestants, who is nevertheless uniquely poised to give the Capitol a show they won't soon forget. And as the story finally builds to its inevitable climax, I am left wanting to know: what will part two of the trilogy have in store - both for us, and for the unfortunate inhabitants of this frightening world?
Naturally, you're gonna have some expectations with hype like that, and since I respect my brother's taste (and recommendations), I had no fear of being disappointed. But opening up The Hunger Games, the first book in the series, I couldn't help issuing a silent challenge to the book, akin to whispering into its leafy pages, "show me what you've got!" And I still wasn't disappointed. There's very little to criticize about The Hunger Games. It's well written. It's a very engaging story, with characters you can relate to, and a tempered love affair that feels - in spite of its context - far more real than the typical romantic fiction of death-do-us-part passion. It's got lots of action, but none of it is mindless. In fact, the story is driven by an intellectual backbone of socio-political commentary, but in a matter-of-fact way that is not the least bit pedantic. It doesn't drill its morality into you, it merely presents an immoral world and allows you to position yourself by your reaction to the effects it has on its very human inhabitants. There's plenty of pathos here - more than one section had me genuinely tearing up. And the length and pacing is comfortable; the book spends enough time on personal and cultural details to bring you into its world, but is constantly moving towards the next great scene or revelation, which is always (to an impressive extent) impeccably engineered.
In sum, it's a whole lot of fun to read, and it doesn't require a huge time commitment. As such, I would heartily recommend it to just about anyone. Unless, I suppose, you're the type of person who would cringe at the very mention of a fictional society that would enthusiastically (and sadistically) rally around a sporting event that pits children (technically, adolescents) against each other in a brutal fight to the death while simultaneously braving the elements of a deadly wilderness arena. It's Survivor meets Battle Royale, where the futuristic dystopia recalls echoes of the gladiators of the Roman Empire. The Hunger Games drops you into an unbalanced society where the lower class inhabitants of twelve outlying Districts scattered across what was once North America are so oppressed that, while struggling daily for survival, they can do naught but sit by and watch as the wealthy, technologically-advanced Capitol remorselessly slaughters their children for entertainment. But rather than condoning these "hunger" games, the narrative follows the perspective of one of its unfortunate contestants, who is nevertheless uniquely poised to give the Capitol a show they won't soon forget. And as the story finally builds to its inevitable climax, I am left wanting to know: what will part two of the trilogy have in store - both for us, and for the unfortunate inhabitants of this frightening world?
Friday, January 13, 2012
Ginger Snaps (2000)
Reading up on the movies I watch inevitably leads me to ever more movies to watch. And so it is that in the wake of watching The Company of Wolves, I was directed to Ginger Snaps, another werewolf movie that plays on the symbolism of sexual awakening - specifically, the onset of puberty. Unlike the former movie, this one is less an exploration of themes and more a standard narrative. Early on it plays up the similarities between lycanthropy and the changes initiated by menarche, and blurs the appetite for flesh with sexual desire (setting up at least one really good "infection" joke), but instead of maintaining the symbolism, it veers more towards traditional horror fare later on.
Which isn't necessarily a bad thing. When the movie started, my immediate impression was that it feels like a cheap modern movie (in contrast to the classic and cinematic feel of The Company of Wolves, which is from the '80s), but it turned out, to my delight, to be actually highly watchable. Much of that is probably due to the dual leads, two teenage sisters, who, as gothic outcasts, are eminently likable (and ironically, much more attractive than the "popular" girls they are bullied by). One of their first orders of business in the film is the presentation of their school project, consisting of photographs of elaborately staged suicides by the both of them, as their response to the theme of "Life in Bailey Downs" (which is the name of the neighborhood they inhabit). Seriously, these girls raise suicide to the level of high art, and the teacher's moral indignation is especially egregious because any true artist with integrity would see - not just the talent of the girls' work - but the genius of their artistic vision.
Anyway, there's a mysterious beast loose in Bailey Downs, that's been knocking off the neighborhood's dogs in gruesome fashion. We never find out where this beast came from, or why it's stalking Bailey Downs, but one of our girls, named Ginger, gets bitten (in)conveniently on the night she gets her first (belated, at the age of 16) period. As it goes, gushing blood, strange desires, hair in unusual places, and monthly frenzies are par for the course for any lycanthrope - or adolescent girl. The rest of the movie deals largely with Ginger's gradual transformation into a confident and sexy young woman, albeit with an unusually violent temperament, and her more sensible sister Brigitte's difficult attempts to stick with her, while often having to clean up after her sister's impulsive messes. The movie grows to a rather tense - if a little drawn out - climax, leading to a sad and heartfelt ending. Ginger Snaps doesn't inspire quite like The Company of Wolves did, but it is entertaining nonetheless, and worth watching for fun.
Which isn't necessarily a bad thing. When the movie started, my immediate impression was that it feels like a cheap modern movie (in contrast to the classic and cinematic feel of The Company of Wolves, which is from the '80s), but it turned out, to my delight, to be actually highly watchable. Much of that is probably due to the dual leads, two teenage sisters, who, as gothic outcasts, are eminently likable (and ironically, much more attractive than the "popular" girls they are bullied by). One of their first orders of business in the film is the presentation of their school project, consisting of photographs of elaborately staged suicides by the both of them, as their response to the theme of "Life in Bailey Downs" (which is the name of the neighborhood they inhabit). Seriously, these girls raise suicide to the level of high art, and the teacher's moral indignation is especially egregious because any true artist with integrity would see - not just the talent of the girls' work - but the genius of their artistic vision.
Anyway, there's a mysterious beast loose in Bailey Downs, that's been knocking off the neighborhood's dogs in gruesome fashion. We never find out where this beast came from, or why it's stalking Bailey Downs, but one of our girls, named Ginger, gets bitten (in)conveniently on the night she gets her first (belated, at the age of 16) period. As it goes, gushing blood, strange desires, hair in unusual places, and monthly frenzies are par for the course for any lycanthrope - or adolescent girl. The rest of the movie deals largely with Ginger's gradual transformation into a confident and sexy young woman, albeit with an unusually violent temperament, and her more sensible sister Brigitte's difficult attempts to stick with her, while often having to clean up after her sister's impulsive messes. The movie grows to a rather tense - if a little drawn out - climax, leading to a sad and heartfelt ending. Ginger Snaps doesn't inspire quite like The Company of Wolves did, but it is entertaining nonetheless, and worth watching for fun.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
The Company of Wolves (1984)
The Company of Wolves is my new favorite werewolf movie. Being based on The Little Red Riding Hood, it's more of an allegorical fantasy than a horror movie - which a lot of other werewolf movies are - yet it still manages to be genuinely terrifying. It actually succeeds at conjuring an atmosphere where wolves stalking the woods outside of a village are actually scary again. The cinematography is fantastically dreamlike, which becomes quickly apparent in an impressive nightmare sequence near the beginning of the film.
The story-within-a-story (within a story) structure of the narrative places an emphasis on the themes presented - the symbolism of the wolf as sexual desire, and the anxieties of a young girl entering puberty - rather than the whats and the whys of the characters' lives, which is an element that has attracted criticism from some viewers, but earns my enthusiastic support. Angela Lansbury stars as the old-fashioned grandmother, intent on warning her granddaughter about the wolfish desires hiding within every man. Sarah Patterson (who is remarkably actually 12 in this role) plays the pretty young girl who eventually dons the red hooded cape, with a confidence and curiosity that belies a strength and uncertain knowledge that Granny's outdated perspective on gender relations can't comprehend.
"If there's a beast in men, it meets its match in women too."
In fact, this seems to be one of the themes of this treatment of an ages old tale, which is rife with potential sources of symbolism. The morality is troubled at best, as even though the wolves (those that are hairy on the outside, as well as those that are hairy on the inside) are characterized as a threat, they are at times sympathetic, and almost human. This could perhaps be a statement on the ambiguity of feeling that accompanies one's sexual awakening - that one is taught to fear their animal desires, yet maturity necessitates taking ownership of them, and realizing that one's anxieties often exaggerate the perceived traumas of reality. The story of Little Red Riding Hood is an inspiringly deep wellspring of creative thought, and while no adaptation can comprehensively explore every facet of its interpretation, The Company of Wolves crafts a beautiful, haunting, and thoughtful meditation on some of its central themes.
The story-within-a-story (within a story) structure of the narrative places an emphasis on the themes presented - the symbolism of the wolf as sexual desire, and the anxieties of a young girl entering puberty - rather than the whats and the whys of the characters' lives, which is an element that has attracted criticism from some viewers, but earns my enthusiastic support. Angela Lansbury stars as the old-fashioned grandmother, intent on warning her granddaughter about the wolfish desires hiding within every man. Sarah Patterson (who is remarkably actually 12 in this role) plays the pretty young girl who eventually dons the red hooded cape, with a confidence and curiosity that belies a strength and uncertain knowledge that Granny's outdated perspective on gender relations can't comprehend.
"If there's a beast in men, it meets its match in women too."
In fact, this seems to be one of the themes of this treatment of an ages old tale, which is rife with potential sources of symbolism. The morality is troubled at best, as even though the wolves (those that are hairy on the outside, as well as those that are hairy on the inside) are characterized as a threat, they are at times sympathetic, and almost human. This could perhaps be a statement on the ambiguity of feeling that accompanies one's sexual awakening - that one is taught to fear their animal desires, yet maturity necessitates taking ownership of them, and realizing that one's anxieties often exaggerate the perceived traumas of reality. The story of Little Red Riding Hood is an inspiringly deep wellspring of creative thought, and while no adaptation can comprehensively explore every facet of its interpretation, The Company of Wolves crafts a beautiful, haunting, and thoughtful meditation on some of its central themes.
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