Here's a question I had after completing my trek through Naughty Dog's Uncharted 2: Who is Nathan Drake? I don't mean in general, as the "back-of-the-box" description would say he a roguish sort who explores ancient locales in order to recover rare artifacts or treasures for sale. What I mean is the deeper tissue aspects of who he is, particularly as to how that intersects with the actual gameplay. Having gone through a couple of the Uncharted games, I can say that this seems to feel like a reoccurring problem, one where the actual moments of player agency seem tonally at odds with the more traditional narrative moments (cutscenes, cinematics, etc.).
For example, there are many moments where two characters will exchange a series of quips and expository dialogue much more in line with something Indiana Jones would say, then engage in an armed conflict with a dozen or so enemies at a time. Nathan Drake doesn't just shoot back, he annihilates these people in a variety of ways: grenades, automatic gunfire, snapped necks, throwing them off of cliffs, and much more. Dialogue-wise, it hews much more to Indy, but it's more towards the film Commando with regards to gameplay.
All of that is really indicative of the fact that the Uncharted franchise wants you to feel as though they've dropped you in a summer blockbuster film, much like the Call of Duty franchise has done for the past few years. I don't see that motivation as a negative, yet I'm inclined to have an issue with the execution. Let it be known that I actually had a very good time with Uncharted 2, and thought that what character was there was charming, as well as finding some moments genuinely exciting. Even so, it's those tonal inconsistencies that cast a shadow over the whole of the game.
A name has been given to this specific fault: Ludonarrative Dissonance. It's when the moments of player agency (gameplay) fail to align to the tone of the more traditional narrative moments (cutscenes). Take, for example, the game Grand Theft Auto 5. If I was playing as the character Franklyn and I randomly mowed down a group of people walking down the street, that would be out of character with that we're given of who he is. Yet, I can do so and wait long enough for police to leave me be, then it's as though I never did anything. It seems that so much of the game is catered around empowering the player to do what they want in gameplay, that it shoots itself in the foot narratively and dramatically. If I'm to be more honest, most games have this problem.
What's a person to do? On the one hand, in the moment, it feels pretty good to be able to defeat hundreds of folks shooting at you and then to have your character spout some witty one-liner. On the other hand, when it doesn't fit that character's characterization it brings everything down a bit. It almost makes me wonder if the whole of game development has been mostly focused towards indulging the player's desires for empowerment. That would explain why so many games focus on making you feel as powerful as possible. I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing, but it happens so much that it's no wonder that there are still so many who see the medium as immature.
That being said, I think there are some good examples out there. One such game is actually made by the same developers of Uncharted 2: The Last of Us. It's a critical darling that takes place in a post-apocalyptic United States overrun by a plague of the undead. In this game, the player is brought into the desperate mindset of the protagonists, Joel and Ellie, via the cinematic affectations of the cutscenes as well as through the gameplay. That level of tonal and emotional unity is achieved by forcing the player to make a series of difficult choices. Say you want to make some sort of gun with the parts you've scrapped. Well, sorry, but to do that you have to use a resource that may be needed to make certain traps that are useful against particular enemies. Even more, the game goes on as you're in this menu, meaning that you can be ambushed whilst trying to craft a new tool. It forces one to think critically about what you need, while also being on the lookout for danger, much like what Joel and Ellie have to do. Even more, Joel isn't a killing machine. It takes time to make it past a group and often may require you to play it quietly with stealth. Through this, there is a strengthened backbone behind its themes of desperation and the limits of empathy.
Does that all mean that I think the Uncharted series would have been better with less gunplay and more of a focus on self-preservation? Maybe, especially considering the fact that Nathan Drake is essentially Indiana Jones. What if the best way to play was finding a way to not engage in combat with the various, elite, bloodthirsty mercenaries and to make it past them? What if Nathan could use his copious wits to figure out a way through this? Sure, he could still engage in some gunplay, but the player really would have to work for it. Maybe my tastes don't totally align with Uncharted's bigger audience, but popularity is not indicative of quality. Sure, the Uncharted franchise is fun, but that doesn't mean that the storytelling has to aspire to be merely good.
Friday, June 17, 2016
Monday, May 30, 2016
Mini Movie Review: RIDE ALONG 2
There's a moment at the end of Ride Along 2 where Oliva Munn's character, Detective Maya Cruz, is staring at Ice Cube and Kevin Hart (as James Payton and Ben Barber, respectively) as they argue over who's going to drive the brand new sports car they just acquired. She shows an interesting procession of emotions on her face as this transpires: humor, bewilderment, concern, and then a settled-upon sense of mediocrity. That pretty much sums up my take on this film, one of some minor entertainment that is largely devoid of value.
For what it's worth, Tim Story does direct some clear looking action sequences with a solid sense of geography. That has value. Unfortunately, the rest of the film is on on-par with a mid-level, 80's to 90's era, direct-to-tv cop drama. That's a shame, considering the fact that both Ice Cube and Kevin Hart are capable of more (I mean, Ice Cube was in 21/22 Jump Street, both of which are clever riffs off of those same direct-to-tv cop dramas).
That being said, I think there are interesting things within the film. Hart's character has the arc of the baffoon who seeks to prove himself, with Cube's James Payton slowly recognizing that Barber has some value, despite his foolishness. With this is an interesting juxtaposition of Hart's somewhat non-traditional masculinity and Cube's hyper-gruff version, almost as though it's saying there's room for both. Even more, part of me wanted to see this near-savant side explored a bit more, but it's too often disregarded for more overstated gags.
It comes down to a mismanagement of resources, or at the very least it feels that way. Hart does what he often does, which is to be far too much for what's needed of him. Jokes stretch on too long and continuously depreciate in value. Those interesting thematic elements are rarely explored. Everything is mostly painted in broad brushes. All of the more intriguing elements are buried under all of this. Mediocrity, thy name is Ride Along 2.
For what it's worth, Tim Story does direct some clear looking action sequences with a solid sense of geography. That has value. Unfortunately, the rest of the film is on on-par with a mid-level, 80's to 90's era, direct-to-tv cop drama. That's a shame, considering the fact that both Ice Cube and Kevin Hart are capable of more (I mean, Ice Cube was in 21/22 Jump Street, both of which are clever riffs off of those same direct-to-tv cop dramas).
That being said, I think there are interesting things within the film. Hart's character has the arc of the baffoon who seeks to prove himself, with Cube's James Payton slowly recognizing that Barber has some value, despite his foolishness. With this is an interesting juxtaposition of Hart's somewhat non-traditional masculinity and Cube's hyper-gruff version, almost as though it's saying there's room for both. Even more, part of me wanted to see this near-savant side explored a bit more, but it's too often disregarded for more overstated gags.
It comes down to a mismanagement of resources, or at the very least it feels that way. Hart does what he often does, which is to be far too much for what's needed of him. Jokes stretch on too long and continuously depreciate in value. Those interesting thematic elements are rarely explored. Everything is mostly painted in broad brushes. All of the more intriguing elements are buried under all of this. Mediocrity, thy name is Ride Along 2.
Sunday, May 22, 2016
Video Game Review: Guacamelee
One lesson that I wish more modern video game developers would learn (especially those who design "retro" styled games) is the value of efficiency of game design. By that, I mean containing only as much as you need to get your point across as well as you can. These games tend to look back and emulate the good of what came before, while also finding elements of the present to amplify those things. A few games that come to mind that fit this description include Shovel Knight, Undertale, Random Access Memories, Wolfenstein: The New Order, and Dark Souls. To that same list, we can now add Guacamelee, and what an entry it is.
Guacamelee puts us in the shoes of a burly farmer named Juan Aguacate who grows agave in his small, Mexican village. His humble life is torn asunder with both the return, and subsequent kidnapping, of the daughter of the president by the undead charro skeleton Carlos Calaca. To make things worse, Calaca then kills Juan, which sends him to the underworld. It's there that he meets an undead, female luchador, Tostada, that gifts him with a mask that changes him into a powerful luchador and sends him back to the land of the living. This places Juan in the position of being the only person powerful enough to take on Calaca before he sacrifices the president's daughter in an ancient ritual in order to ascend to godhood.
DrinkBox Studios was gracious enough to give Juan a wide array of abilities to achieve this task, and all of them arranged around dealing out as much pain as possible to the hordes of undead minions Calaca puts in his path. Combat is most similar to what one would find in beat-em-ups like God of War, or even Double Dragon. A series of combos can be done in succession, leading to a throw that sends enemies in whichever direction you choose. These throws, a few other moves, and a variety of upgrades to Juan's stats can be purchased from the myriad checkpoints (in the shape of ofrendas, no less) dotting the world. As far as navigation is concerned, Juan can leap with the best of them, lending to comparisons to the joyful jumps of the Mario Bros. franchise.
Let's talk about the luchador-loving world of Guacamelee for a moment, shall we? DrinkBox Studios crafted a world exploding with personality that is at once gorgeous, yet adorable. There are a number of opportunities for exploration of the various jungles, temples, fishing villages, and deserts. Even more, these opportunities often reward you, resulting in next to no moments of disappointment from going off the beaten path. A big part of this world are actually the people living in it, as speaking to them can yield new opportunities for exploration and upgrades, as well as subtle ways of fleshing out background bits of the narrative.
The majority of the game is based around the Dia de Muertos, or Day of the Dead. as everything Juan does is related to it in some way. His entire quest is to keep Carlos Calaca from causing disharmony between the lands of the living and dead, and requires him to pay heed to both groups. In essence, this game makes literal the symbolism of Dia de Muertos. The player, along with Juan, goes through the act of actively working with the living and dead, sometimes going in-between the two worlds in order to bring closure to people in both.
At its core, Guacamelee is a distillation of the various cultural influences present in Mexico, whether in the ancient, Aztec-like temples that lay in the jungles (many of which contain Super Metroid-like upgrades in "Choozo" statues shaped vaguely like ancient deities), or the villages with a variety of churches, restaurants, and gyms for luchador training. Even the monsters are seemingly inspired by the art of native Mexican peoples, and not once does it seem to be mindlessly appropriating any of the iconography. In essence, it's outstandingly competent on all accounts, and that just at the least.
Guacamelee puts us in the shoes of a burly farmer named Juan Aguacate who grows agave in his small, Mexican village. His humble life is torn asunder with both the return, and subsequent kidnapping, of the daughter of the president by the undead charro skeleton Carlos Calaca. To make things worse, Calaca then kills Juan, which sends him to the underworld. It's there that he meets an undead, female luchador, Tostada, that gifts him with a mask that changes him into a powerful luchador and sends him back to the land of the living. This places Juan in the position of being the only person powerful enough to take on Calaca before he sacrifices the president's daughter in an ancient ritual in order to ascend to godhood.
DrinkBox Studios was gracious enough to give Juan a wide array of abilities to achieve this task, and all of them arranged around dealing out as much pain as possible to the hordes of undead minions Calaca puts in his path. Combat is most similar to what one would find in beat-em-ups like God of War, or even Double Dragon. A series of combos can be done in succession, leading to a throw that sends enemies in whichever direction you choose. These throws, a few other moves, and a variety of upgrades to Juan's stats can be purchased from the myriad checkpoints (in the shape of ofrendas, no less) dotting the world. As far as navigation is concerned, Juan can leap with the best of them, lending to comparisons to the joyful jumps of the Mario Bros. franchise.
Let's talk about the luchador-loving world of Guacamelee for a moment, shall we? DrinkBox Studios crafted a world exploding with personality that is at once gorgeous, yet adorable. There are a number of opportunities for exploration of the various jungles, temples, fishing villages, and deserts. Even more, these opportunities often reward you, resulting in next to no moments of disappointment from going off the beaten path. A big part of this world are actually the people living in it, as speaking to them can yield new opportunities for exploration and upgrades, as well as subtle ways of fleshing out background bits of the narrative.
The majority of the game is based around the Dia de Muertos, or Day of the Dead. as everything Juan does is related to it in some way. His entire quest is to keep Carlos Calaca from causing disharmony between the lands of the living and dead, and requires him to pay heed to both groups. In essence, this game makes literal the symbolism of Dia de Muertos. The player, along with Juan, goes through the act of actively working with the living and dead, sometimes going in-between the two worlds in order to bring closure to people in both.
At its core, Guacamelee is a distillation of the various cultural influences present in Mexico, whether in the ancient, Aztec-like temples that lay in the jungles (many of which contain Super Metroid-like upgrades in "Choozo" statues shaped vaguely like ancient deities), or the villages with a variety of churches, restaurants, and gyms for luchador training. Even the monsters are seemingly inspired by the art of native Mexican peoples, and not once does it seem to be mindlessly appropriating any of the iconography. In essence, it's outstandingly competent on all accounts, and that just at the least.
Wednesday, May 11, 2016
What's Appropriate?
As I learn more about cultural appropriation, the thing I realize is that if one is going to apply it, one should go all the way with their application. That's to say that if you are tangentially related to the people an act is being appropriated from, but aren't actually from that culture, you may be culturally appropriating their work if you do it. Here's a few thought experiments I've run on it.
So, let's take an easy scenario. Let's say there's a very specific Native American tribe that has a very specific kind of headdress for very specific purposes. Now, let's say some outside person sees this headdress, likes the aesthetics of it, then proceeds to imitate it and sell the imitations to a bunch of people. Is that cultural appropriation? I'd say so. Now, what if the person wasn't from the outside, but from that very tribe? What if this person took their very people's religious imagery and sold it to the masses? Is this cultural appropriation? Are they making many other people complicit in cultural appropriation?
This can get even more complicated. Imagine we have a person whose great-grandparents came from a very specific village from somewhere in the South Pacific. Now, this very specific village has very specific customs and dress. If this particular person, who has been 100% enveloped into the culture of the United States and had no desire to better learn about their great-grandparent's culture, were to wear around that particular culture's dress not as a nod to that culture, but just because they thought they looked good, would that be cultural appropriation? I'm thinking yes, but mainly due to the fact that the person has nothing to do with that culture, even though they are of the same ethnicity. It's that cultural specificity that makes the difference, it seems.
So, let's take this to a...controversial real-world example. Let's take twerking. It's origins as a dance are a bit uncertain. Some believe it may be derived from the Mapouka, a traditional dance from the Dabou area of the southeast region of Cote d'lvoire that originated with the Alladian, Aizi, and Avikam people. Some also call it the "dance of the behind." It's mostly performed by women who stand facing away from the audience while shaking their behinds, sometimes while bent over. It should be noted that in its origin the dance was not sexual in nature, but the newer version has drawn some controversy. It's this modern version that is most closely related to twerking, and was even rendered as lewd from some time by the Ivorian government from the 1980's up until the year 2000. Even so, this version spread throughout countries along coastal West Africa. Some other people attribute it to a dance called The Bump. This was mostly done in the 1970's, as possibly popularized by by a guy named Johnny Spruce. In this dance, the dancers would bump hips on every other beat of the music. The dance progressed over the years and people started bumping hips to butts, bumping and bending over, and so on. There's even some that suggest that the term was originated in New Orleans with the rise of bounce music. At any rate, since the 1990's, the dance found its way into hip hop, and then the world. It even entered the Oxford dictionary, which claims that the word has been around for nearly 20 years.
So, now that we have some background info out of the way, let's get to the thought experiment. We know that it's origins may most likely be African in nature, and from a very specific place there. So, if a person in the United States does this dance, having absolutely no relation to its African origins, is that cultural appropriation? Let's go a step further. If a black person who lives in the United States, who has never been to this part of Africa, does this dance is it cultural appropriation? In both cases, the cultures of the latest people dancing to it are completely removed from their original context. What if the person doing the dance is descended directly from people from that region, but never traveled there and grew up totally immersed in the culture of the United States? I'm gonna still go with yes. Again, cultural specificity matters.
What's really important to consider in all of this is the power of globalization. Ideas and customs spread so quickly thanks to the internet that it's difficult to keep practices and beliefs contained to where they originated. This ultimately creates an environment where a culture's religious clothing or traditions can be somewhat co-opted by another, more affluent, culture. The new iteration becomes completely devoid of the original's intent, thus serving as a bastardized version. The thing is, much of our culture is made of aspects and influences of other cultures. Just look at some of the words that we say, like gumbo (Bantu, Africa), bacon (Germanic), jungle (Hindi or Urdu), or julep (Arabic). Many of the words we consider as being English are from other countries and cultures. Are we all subject to appropriation? Can OUR culture be appropriated?
To be honest, I don't know the answer to that. This is, as you've seen, a pretty complicated subject. It's a discussion that's being had online more and more, so more are becoming aware of it. With that, I think it's important to consider what we do and how we do it. That being said, 50 years from now, whole cultures may be absorbed in to less homogenized societies. Given that the United States is a country of many different cultures, with states sometimes seeming like completely separate countries that interact with each other, I'd imagine that it'd be difficult to keep different cultures from mixing in. At that, I suppose the best we can do is attempt to be as respectful as we can to what people believe and practice. All the same, this is an issue that may not be leaving any time soon
So, let's take an easy scenario. Let's say there's a very specific Native American tribe that has a very specific kind of headdress for very specific purposes. Now, let's say some outside person sees this headdress, likes the aesthetics of it, then proceeds to imitate it and sell the imitations to a bunch of people. Is that cultural appropriation? I'd say so. Now, what if the person wasn't from the outside, but from that very tribe? What if this person took their very people's religious imagery and sold it to the masses? Is this cultural appropriation? Are they making many other people complicit in cultural appropriation?
This can get even more complicated. Imagine we have a person whose great-grandparents came from a very specific village from somewhere in the South Pacific. Now, this very specific village has very specific customs and dress. If this particular person, who has been 100% enveloped into the culture of the United States and had no desire to better learn about their great-grandparent's culture, were to wear around that particular culture's dress not as a nod to that culture, but just because they thought they looked good, would that be cultural appropriation? I'm thinking yes, but mainly due to the fact that the person has nothing to do with that culture, even though they are of the same ethnicity. It's that cultural specificity that makes the difference, it seems.
So, let's take this to a...controversial real-world example. Let's take twerking. It's origins as a dance are a bit uncertain. Some believe it may be derived from the Mapouka, a traditional dance from the Dabou area of the southeast region of Cote d'lvoire that originated with the Alladian, Aizi, and Avikam people. Some also call it the "dance of the behind." It's mostly performed by women who stand facing away from the audience while shaking their behinds, sometimes while bent over. It should be noted that in its origin the dance was not sexual in nature, but the newer version has drawn some controversy. It's this modern version that is most closely related to twerking, and was even rendered as lewd from some time by the Ivorian government from the 1980's up until the year 2000. Even so, this version spread throughout countries along coastal West Africa. Some other people attribute it to a dance called The Bump. This was mostly done in the 1970's, as possibly popularized by by a guy named Johnny Spruce. In this dance, the dancers would bump hips on every other beat of the music. The dance progressed over the years and people started bumping hips to butts, bumping and bending over, and so on. There's even some that suggest that the term was originated in New Orleans with the rise of bounce music. At any rate, since the 1990's, the dance found its way into hip hop, and then the world. It even entered the Oxford dictionary, which claims that the word has been around for nearly 20 years.
So, now that we have some background info out of the way, let's get to the thought experiment. We know that it's origins may most likely be African in nature, and from a very specific place there. So, if a person in the United States does this dance, having absolutely no relation to its African origins, is that cultural appropriation? Let's go a step further. If a black person who lives in the United States, who has never been to this part of Africa, does this dance is it cultural appropriation? In both cases, the cultures of the latest people dancing to it are completely removed from their original context. What if the person doing the dance is descended directly from people from that region, but never traveled there and grew up totally immersed in the culture of the United States? I'm gonna still go with yes. Again, cultural specificity matters.
What's really important to consider in all of this is the power of globalization. Ideas and customs spread so quickly thanks to the internet that it's difficult to keep practices and beliefs contained to where they originated. This ultimately creates an environment where a culture's religious clothing or traditions can be somewhat co-opted by another, more affluent, culture. The new iteration becomes completely devoid of the original's intent, thus serving as a bastardized version. The thing is, much of our culture is made of aspects and influences of other cultures. Just look at some of the words that we say, like gumbo (Bantu, Africa), bacon (Germanic), jungle (Hindi or Urdu), or julep (Arabic). Many of the words we consider as being English are from other countries and cultures. Are we all subject to appropriation? Can OUR culture be appropriated?
To be honest, I don't know the answer to that. This is, as you've seen, a pretty complicated subject. It's a discussion that's being had online more and more, so more are becoming aware of it. With that, I think it's important to consider what we do and how we do it. That being said, 50 years from now, whole cultures may be absorbed in to less homogenized societies. Given that the United States is a country of many different cultures, with states sometimes seeming like completely separate countries that interact with each other, I'd imagine that it'd be difficult to keep different cultures from mixing in. At that, I suppose the best we can do is attempt to be as respectful as we can to what people believe and practice. All the same, this is an issue that may not be leaving any time soon
Thursday, April 7, 2016
A Look Back: MAN OF STEEL
In light of the less than stellar reviews of BATMAN V SUPERMAN: DAWN OF JUSTICE, I think now is a good a time as any to look back at the first entry in the newly minted DCCU (DC Cinematic Universe), MAN OF STEEL. Despite it's own less-than-good critical placement, I come not to bury MoS, but to take a look at what worked, and what didn't. It's my hope to dig out the good from underneath the fiery rubble of the bad, and was there ever a large amount of the latter.
So, let's get the basics out of the way. MoS is a movie whose strength lies in its aesthetics. To be honest, that's essentially Zach Snyder's forte. He always creates visually striking films, regardless of whether or not they have the narrative chops to go along with them. For a film about Superman (or rather, Zach Snyder's version of Superman...more on that in a moment) would be remiss not to have moment to show off both the power and deft of movement of the titular character. There's moment in particular that stands out.
That moment is Superman's first flight. It's here that Snyder achieves the best scene of the movie (and maybe of his career), and truly shows his legitimate chops with visual storytelling. So much effective empathy is being conveyed that just thinking of it makes me a bit upset that the rest of the film couldn't reach the same levels of sheer joy. In this scene, he exits a large Kryptonian spacecraft and begins to truly push his powers to find his limits. There are leaps, first. As they grow larger and larger, you can see his face go from strain to real glee. At one point he gets extraordinarily high and can seem to help but laugh, and hoot, and holler. IT WORKS. We're brought into that head space with him. Up to this point, it had been clearly shown that Kal was conflicted about who he was and where he belonged (more on that a little later), and in this moment we see him truly opening up and using his natural abilities. For the first time, he's not worried about holding back, and so he's more comfortable than he's ever been. You can see that on his face. The culmination of this is when he finally takes flight, after all his unsuccessful attempts. He pushes himself, going faster and higher, until he's in orbit around the Earth. It's here that his place is taken from the metaphorical to the literal. In that image we, and he, and truly see that he is not of this world, but he's far more ok with that.
Now, beyond the purely visual aspects, it's clear there's a strong narrative undercurrent to that scene. It works because of what came before it, and plays off of those things as a sort of culmination. Unfortunately, the rest of the movie doesn't possess that same level of competence in storytelling. In fact, these narrative inconsistencies (not nitpicks, but major narrative roadblocks) are so numerous that I'm inclined to just list them:
So, let's get the basics out of the way. MoS is a movie whose strength lies in its aesthetics. To be honest, that's essentially Zach Snyder's forte. He always creates visually striking films, regardless of whether or not they have the narrative chops to go along with them. For a film about Superman (or rather, Zach Snyder's version of Superman...more on that in a moment) would be remiss not to have moment to show off both the power and deft of movement of the titular character. There's moment in particular that stands out.
That moment is Superman's first flight. It's here that Snyder achieves the best scene of the movie (and maybe of his career), and truly shows his legitimate chops with visual storytelling. So much effective empathy is being conveyed that just thinking of it makes me a bit upset that the rest of the film couldn't reach the same levels of sheer joy. In this scene, he exits a large Kryptonian spacecraft and begins to truly push his powers to find his limits. There are leaps, first. As they grow larger and larger, you can see his face go from strain to real glee. At one point he gets extraordinarily high and can seem to help but laugh, and hoot, and holler. IT WORKS. We're brought into that head space with him. Up to this point, it had been clearly shown that Kal was conflicted about who he was and where he belonged (more on that a little later), and in this moment we see him truly opening up and using his natural abilities. For the first time, he's not worried about holding back, and so he's more comfortable than he's ever been. You can see that on his face. The culmination of this is when he finally takes flight, after all his unsuccessful attempts. He pushes himself, going faster and higher, until he's in orbit around the Earth. It's here that his place is taken from the metaphorical to the literal. In that image we, and he, and truly see that he is not of this world, but he's far more ok with that.
Now, beyond the purely visual aspects, it's clear there's a strong narrative undercurrent to that scene. It works because of what came before it, and plays off of those things as a sort of culmination. Unfortunately, the rest of the movie doesn't possess that same level of competence in storytelling. In fact, these narrative inconsistencies (not nitpicks, but major narrative roadblocks) are so numerous that I'm inclined to just list them:
- For nearly 2/3 of the movie, Superman makes a clear and honest effort to save people, whether they are kids on a bus, who some men on an oil rig, or some soldiers falling to their probable deaths. He even turns himself in to the Kryptonian forces that come for him, rather than the Earth be destroyed. So, most of this movie shows him to be this man who, regardless of the difficulty, will attempt to save and protect. Yet, during the biggest moment of the film, the siege upon the Earth by the Kryptonians, he seemingly goes against all of this. Rather than continuing to be who he was for the majority of the film, Superman decides to throw all caution to the wind and use the whole of the world around him to smash his foes. The major issue here is obviously the collateral damage, which runs counter to everything that is told of his character, up to that point.
- Tonally, Superman and Lois Lane kissing in the crater of much of Metropolis is extraordinarily tasteless. One could assume that hundreds, if not thousands, of people had died in a matter of moments. For the film to show us the massive scope of the destruction the Kryptonians dealt to the city, then to immediately have two of our leads have a completely unearned show of affection just seems to suggest that perhaps there was not as clear a vision on this as one would have hoped.
- It's a peculiarity that Clark's father tells him that he will one day use his abilities to help people, only to then much later question his desire to leave the farm, citing that their whole family had farmers for years. Did he change his mind at some point on Clark using his abilities to help at some point? Even more, this seems like a wasted chance at a strong motivation for Superman to save people. The loss of his father prompting him to always do what he can to help others. Of course, this isn't at all what we get.
- While Zod may be the antagonist in this film, his choice to terraform Earth to be more like Krypton and kill off all of humanity strike me as strange, given what we know of what happened to the Kryptonian colonies after Krypton's destruction: they all died out due to loss of resources. So, how exactly is Krypton supposed to rise again? There's no way to gather some of the same resources again. Zod speaks of going from outpost to outpost of the old Kryptonian colonies, but seeing they were dead from being cut off. Why do this plan at all?
Aside from these few massive ones, there are numerous smaller ones that jam up the production. Now, every film has some kinds of plot holes and contrivances. It's an inevitability due to the fact that we're only human. No matter how skilled a director, cinematographer, or editor you are, things will slip through the cracks. With MoS, we have something different. What we have is a product that is mostly focused on aesthetic and plot machinations. Really just the affectation of depth with none of the substance. It's ultimately that fact that brings down the whole of the film.
The Way Forward for Warner Brothers
So, I can understand WB's desire to be separate from Marvel. It makes sense. Obviously, they are different companies putting out different properties, so having some sort of factor that differentiates the two is crucial. However, there's a major issue with the way they're going about it. They seem more focused on the tone and aesthetic rather than the qualities of their characters.
Now, I'm no expert on screenwriting, filmmaking, or how to run a movie studio. I've only worked on small projects, and I have this here blog that I write on. That being said, it seems clear that WB has not an iota of an idea about what really clicks with audiences. In one article, WB's executives were stated as saying they thought that BvS could really perform well financially and critically. Yet, they were shocked at the fact that audiences and critics didn't adore it. So, they were a bit stuck. Luckily, there seems to be a sort of light at the end of the tunnel.
In light of fan reactions to the SUICIDE SQUAD trailer, reshoots began to beef up the humor and character moments, most of which were apparently in the first trailer. This, at least, shows that WB has some inclination that people want characters they can like, even if they find them somewhat morally bankrupt. It seems there's some truth to Ebert's statement that films are "empathy machines." Films that really connect are films that get you to care about its characters. Just look at the critical and commercial success of DEADPOOL, an R-rated "superhero" film filled graphic violence and language that really put a focus on character. As a result, people REALLY liked DEADPOOL.
While the expression "character is king" isn't a hard and fast rule for screenwriting, it isn't a bad what to go about the whole enterprise. Hopefully, WB will be more open to that mindset regarding their DC films. There's nothing wrong with having bleak stories and aesthetics, but without fully fleshed-out characters, you've just got a lot of artifice with no substance. It's the equivalent of a kid playing dress-up.
Now, I'm no expert on screenwriting, filmmaking, or how to run a movie studio. I've only worked on small projects, and I have this here blog that I write on. That being said, it seems clear that WB has not an iota of an idea about what really clicks with audiences. In one article, WB's executives were stated as saying they thought that BvS could really perform well financially and critically. Yet, they were shocked at the fact that audiences and critics didn't adore it. So, they were a bit stuck. Luckily, there seems to be a sort of light at the end of the tunnel.
In light of fan reactions to the SUICIDE SQUAD trailer, reshoots began to beef up the humor and character moments, most of which were apparently in the first trailer. This, at least, shows that WB has some inclination that people want characters they can like, even if they find them somewhat morally bankrupt. It seems there's some truth to Ebert's statement that films are "empathy machines." Films that really connect are films that get you to care about its characters. Just look at the critical and commercial success of DEADPOOL, an R-rated "superhero" film filled graphic violence and language that really put a focus on character. As a result, people REALLY liked DEADPOOL.
While the expression "character is king" isn't a hard and fast rule for screenwriting, it isn't a bad what to go about the whole enterprise. Hopefully, WB will be more open to that mindset regarding their DC films. There's nothing wrong with having bleak stories and aesthetics, but without fully fleshed-out characters, you've just got a lot of artifice with no substance. It's the equivalent of a kid playing dress-up.
Tuesday, April 5, 2016
Movie Review: BATMAN V SUPERMAN: DAWN OF JUSTICE
***THERE ARE SPOILERS IN THIS***
The most interesting aspect of big summer blockbusters is how they prompt a unique sort conversation on cinema. In the case of BATMAN V SUPERMAN: DAWN OF JUSTICE, that conversation has extended towards the basic mechanics of what makes a movie "work." Now, there's no real way to answer this without first remembering the subjective and ever expansive nature of art, though it contains a great deal of objectivity in the form of specific techniques, mechanics, and concepts. Basically, it's in one's best interest to keep an open mind with film and art. Different things will play in different ways to different people.
That's the mentality I took when approaching "BvS", one of sincere open-mindedness. Of course, I was aware of its less-than-stellar critical reception, but that didn't color my opinion of the film as I'm more than capable of forming one of my own. As it turned out, I didn't need the multitude of negative takes on the film to sway me, for the film earned it all on its own. It is, for lack of a better term, a mess. There's not one single thing that sinks the behemoth that is "BvS", but instead a menagerie: some small, some gargantuan.
Zach Snyder's latest takes place in a world 18 months forward from Superman's near-apocalyptic tussle with Micheal Shannon's General Zod. A battle which left quite a bit of collateral damage. It's this very collateral damage that fuels Ben Affleck's Bruce Wayne's anger and rage towards Superman, Also feeling this resentment is Jesse Eisenberg's Lex Luthor, and he devises a plot to have the two engage in combat to eliminate them both.
Now, here's the thing. That description certainly sounds straightforward. In fact, the basic elements actually are. Yet, the editing would lead you to believe otherwise. The totally disjointed first hour jumps from scene to scene with little-to-no regard for how they all fit together. There's no momentum, but instead plot points dropped into place in such a way that one would be forgiven for being unable to put them together in some sort of clear image. It's that lack of clarity that seems to have been carried over from Snyder's MAN OF STEEL, his first film with Henry Cavill's Superman.
Also carried over are some of the same issues with characterization present in Superman himself. Throughout "BvS" it seems we are meant to feel that this character is being unfairly disliked by the world, his character misjudged. A few scenes show him engaging in heroic acts: saving the crew of a rocket launch gone wrong; saving people from a burning building; rescuing people from a rooftop in the midst of a flood. He seems a savior, of sorts. Yet, in no moment during the film is it ever suggested that he wants to save anyone, excluding his girlfriend, Lois Lane, or mother, Martha Kent. In fact, the one moment in the film where Superman could explain his sullenness and his actions to the public (a hearing in Washington D.C. lead by a senator played by Holly Hunter, trying to breathe life into the film but being burned with the same terrible writing) he's stopped by an explosion that kills everyone in the building except for him. It's almost as though Zach Snyder, Chris Terrio, and David Goyer (the writers of this beast) decided it would be too hard to actually have one of their protagonists voice their motivations, so better to have everyone else do it instead. It's that very reluctance to character that drags down much of the film. There seems to be more of a concern with the iconography, either religious or in references to some of the defining/popular works of Batman and Superman, than actually filling characters with substance. What this does is create a character that is mostly unknowable to the audience which is a surefire way to not endear your viewers to them.
Thankfully, there is a light in this long, dark night. It's ironically in the hands of Batman. Ben Affleck's Batman feels, frankly like he's from an entirely different movie. One that doesn't yet exist, but is leagues better than "BvS". There is an actual sense of direction with his character, as his motivations are painfully obvious and his actions also flow from them. All of this is made better by Affleck's report with Jeremy Irons's Alfred, Bruce Wayne's faithful butler and technician. There's a real sense that they've been together for awhile, and so their playful ribbing comes off as sincere. Even more, The Batman has an unprecedented physical presence in the film. In one early appearance, he is discovered by police officers after beating down some human traffickers and, in his escape, looks as though he's some sort of demon soaring from corner to corner on the ceiling until he explodes out of the window. Even as the civilian persona, Bruce Wayne, Affleck pours in a healthy mixture of sleaze and charisma, especially with Gal Gadot's Diana Prince/Wonder Woman.*
Unfortunately, even the Caped Crusader isn't immune from Snyder's "gritty, grounded" touch. The same kinds of narrative and emotional shortcuts are present. At one point he attaches a tracking device to a truck containing kryptonite, seemingly in order to find out where it's going, then he proceeds to chase it with the Batmobile anyway, seemingly killing 95% of the people he was chasing. The real kicker is that he was going to steal the kryptonite off of the ship it came on, so why even attach the tracking device in the first place? There's an extended dream sequence (?) that shows what seems to be a possible future where Superman is ruling the Earth. Batman is a freedom fighter of some sort. This is never brought up again, and seems to only exist to introduce Darksied in the most obscure way possible. Even more, he proceeds to show Batman's origin yet again, as though it hasn't been shown before. This time, it's a shot-for-shot retelling of his parent's death from THE DARK KNIGHT RETURNS, Frank Miller's seminal work that Snyder scavenged for elements of this Batman. In fact, it's this act that results in one of the most asinine moments ever put to screen. In the climax of the titular fight, before stabbing Superman through the chest with a kryptonite-tipped spear (!), Superman cries out that they have to "Save Martha!" Who's Martha? Why that's Superman's mother, remember? Guess what Bruce's mother was named.
Martha.
This is treated as a revelation so shocking to Batman that he renigs his original 18 MONTH LONG plan and vendetta against Superman. All of the taunting and mild torture he just put him through, including insulting his mother (!!!) is thrown aside due to their mothers sharing the same name. It's so idiotic as to almost be brilliant in a they'll-never-expect-this sort of way.
Yet, somehow, Jesse Eisneberg's Lex Luthor manages to be the singularity at the center of this black hole of a movie. His character is a trainwreck of terrible writing and lack of any real motivation. I can honestly say that I don't really know who his character is or why he does what he does. He hates Superman. Ok. Because of the destruction he was part of. Ok. And because Lex hates God. Ok? And because he reminds him of his abusive father. Wait, what? And because Lex has "knowledge without power." Huh? This is the character we're given.
Amy Adams gives a good performance as Lois Lane but, once again, her character simply exists to give the half-cocked Superman a reason to do anything. Frankly, this whole business of taking great performers and giving them garbage writing is depressing. **
It's curious that this movie exists. The story of a rich and powerful man against a literal illegal alien, but in this case, the rich and powerful man is right to be sceptical of the alien. Is this what Zach Snyder intended with this film? Is it some sort of broken half-commentary on the times we live in? Doubtful. What it can be seen as is some of the absolute worst the pre/summer blockbuster season can offer. Draped and adorned with self-importance, but lacking the substance to make that a reality. The plot contrivances stretch and choke all life out of this picture, so entangled with the plotting and the characterizations that to pull on one thread threatens to unravel the whole thing.
I don't like writing this. In fact, it pains me to do so. Growing up with both Batman and Superman, I've seen them in a variety of styles and stories. In some, both have been actual Gods. In others, the scourges of the Earth. The point I'm making is that there exists a long, and rich history for both characters, so the fact that Snyder and Co. chose this path is downright bizarre. Critics have spoken. More and more audiences are speaking. It seems this film won't make as much as they hoped. Perhaps this will show them that what people want are characters that they can get to know, whether they are likable or not. Whether the mood is dark or light.
*Addendum 1: The fact that I hardly spoke about Wonder Woman is a representation of just how unimportant she was to this movie. She was, essentially, part of a trailer for their other films that was crudely worked into the whole of the picture.
**Addendum 2: At one point, Lois Lane says to a warlord she's attempting to interview "I'm not a lady. I'm a journalist." Garbage.
The most interesting aspect of big summer blockbusters is how they prompt a unique sort conversation on cinema. In the case of BATMAN V SUPERMAN: DAWN OF JUSTICE, that conversation has extended towards the basic mechanics of what makes a movie "work." Now, there's no real way to answer this without first remembering the subjective and ever expansive nature of art, though it contains a great deal of objectivity in the form of specific techniques, mechanics, and concepts. Basically, it's in one's best interest to keep an open mind with film and art. Different things will play in different ways to different people.
That's the mentality I took when approaching "BvS", one of sincere open-mindedness. Of course, I was aware of its less-than-stellar critical reception, but that didn't color my opinion of the film as I'm more than capable of forming one of my own. As it turned out, I didn't need the multitude of negative takes on the film to sway me, for the film earned it all on its own. It is, for lack of a better term, a mess. There's not one single thing that sinks the behemoth that is "BvS", but instead a menagerie: some small, some gargantuan.
Zach Snyder's latest takes place in a world 18 months forward from Superman's near-apocalyptic tussle with Micheal Shannon's General Zod. A battle which left quite a bit of collateral damage. It's this very collateral damage that fuels Ben Affleck's Bruce Wayne's anger and rage towards Superman, Also feeling this resentment is Jesse Eisenberg's Lex Luthor, and he devises a plot to have the two engage in combat to eliminate them both.
Now, here's the thing. That description certainly sounds straightforward. In fact, the basic elements actually are. Yet, the editing would lead you to believe otherwise. The totally disjointed first hour jumps from scene to scene with little-to-no regard for how they all fit together. There's no momentum, but instead plot points dropped into place in such a way that one would be forgiven for being unable to put them together in some sort of clear image. It's that lack of clarity that seems to have been carried over from Snyder's MAN OF STEEL, his first film with Henry Cavill's Superman.
Also carried over are some of the same issues with characterization present in Superman himself. Throughout "BvS" it seems we are meant to feel that this character is being unfairly disliked by the world, his character misjudged. A few scenes show him engaging in heroic acts: saving the crew of a rocket launch gone wrong; saving people from a burning building; rescuing people from a rooftop in the midst of a flood. He seems a savior, of sorts. Yet, in no moment during the film is it ever suggested that he wants to save anyone, excluding his girlfriend, Lois Lane, or mother, Martha Kent. In fact, the one moment in the film where Superman could explain his sullenness and his actions to the public (a hearing in Washington D.C. lead by a senator played by Holly Hunter, trying to breathe life into the film but being burned with the same terrible writing) he's stopped by an explosion that kills everyone in the building except for him. It's almost as though Zach Snyder, Chris Terrio, and David Goyer (the writers of this beast) decided it would be too hard to actually have one of their protagonists voice their motivations, so better to have everyone else do it instead. It's that very reluctance to character that drags down much of the film. There seems to be more of a concern with the iconography, either religious or in references to some of the defining/popular works of Batman and Superman, than actually filling characters with substance. What this does is create a character that is mostly unknowable to the audience which is a surefire way to not endear your viewers to them.
Thankfully, there is a light in this long, dark night. It's ironically in the hands of Batman. Ben Affleck's Batman feels, frankly like he's from an entirely different movie. One that doesn't yet exist, but is leagues better than "BvS". There is an actual sense of direction with his character, as his motivations are painfully obvious and his actions also flow from them. All of this is made better by Affleck's report with Jeremy Irons's Alfred, Bruce Wayne's faithful butler and technician. There's a real sense that they've been together for awhile, and so their playful ribbing comes off as sincere. Even more, The Batman has an unprecedented physical presence in the film. In one early appearance, he is discovered by police officers after beating down some human traffickers and, in his escape, looks as though he's some sort of demon soaring from corner to corner on the ceiling until he explodes out of the window. Even as the civilian persona, Bruce Wayne, Affleck pours in a healthy mixture of sleaze and charisma, especially with Gal Gadot's Diana Prince/Wonder Woman.*
Unfortunately, even the Caped Crusader isn't immune from Snyder's "gritty, grounded" touch. The same kinds of narrative and emotional shortcuts are present. At one point he attaches a tracking device to a truck containing kryptonite, seemingly in order to find out where it's going, then he proceeds to chase it with the Batmobile anyway, seemingly killing 95% of the people he was chasing. The real kicker is that he was going to steal the kryptonite off of the ship it came on, so why even attach the tracking device in the first place? There's an extended dream sequence (?) that shows what seems to be a possible future where Superman is ruling the Earth. Batman is a freedom fighter of some sort. This is never brought up again, and seems to only exist to introduce Darksied in the most obscure way possible. Even more, he proceeds to show Batman's origin yet again, as though it hasn't been shown before. This time, it's a shot-for-shot retelling of his parent's death from THE DARK KNIGHT RETURNS, Frank Miller's seminal work that Snyder scavenged for elements of this Batman. In fact, it's this act that results in one of the most asinine moments ever put to screen. In the climax of the titular fight, before stabbing Superman through the chest with a kryptonite-tipped spear (!), Superman cries out that they have to "Save Martha!" Who's Martha? Why that's Superman's mother, remember? Guess what Bruce's mother was named.
Martha.
This is treated as a revelation so shocking to Batman that he renigs his original 18 MONTH LONG plan and vendetta against Superman. All of the taunting and mild torture he just put him through, including insulting his mother (!!!) is thrown aside due to their mothers sharing the same name. It's so idiotic as to almost be brilliant in a they'll-never-expect-this sort of way.
Yet, somehow, Jesse Eisneberg's Lex Luthor manages to be the singularity at the center of this black hole of a movie. His character is a trainwreck of terrible writing and lack of any real motivation. I can honestly say that I don't really know who his character is or why he does what he does. He hates Superman. Ok. Because of the destruction he was part of. Ok. And because Lex hates God. Ok? And because he reminds him of his abusive father. Wait, what? And because Lex has "knowledge without power." Huh? This is the character we're given.
Amy Adams gives a good performance as Lois Lane but, once again, her character simply exists to give the half-cocked Superman a reason to do anything. Frankly, this whole business of taking great performers and giving them garbage writing is depressing. **
It's curious that this movie exists. The story of a rich and powerful man against a literal illegal alien, but in this case, the rich and powerful man is right to be sceptical of the alien. Is this what Zach Snyder intended with this film? Is it some sort of broken half-commentary on the times we live in? Doubtful. What it can be seen as is some of the absolute worst the pre/summer blockbuster season can offer. Draped and adorned with self-importance, but lacking the substance to make that a reality. The plot contrivances stretch and choke all life out of this picture, so entangled with the plotting and the characterizations that to pull on one thread threatens to unravel the whole thing.
I don't like writing this. In fact, it pains me to do so. Growing up with both Batman and Superman, I've seen them in a variety of styles and stories. In some, both have been actual Gods. In others, the scourges of the Earth. The point I'm making is that there exists a long, and rich history for both characters, so the fact that Snyder and Co. chose this path is downright bizarre. Critics have spoken. More and more audiences are speaking. It seems this film won't make as much as they hoped. Perhaps this will show them that what people want are characters that they can get to know, whether they are likable or not. Whether the mood is dark or light.
*Addendum 1: The fact that I hardly spoke about Wonder Woman is a representation of just how unimportant she was to this movie. She was, essentially, part of a trailer for their other films that was crudely worked into the whole of the picture.
**Addendum 2: At one point, Lois Lane says to a warlord she's attempting to interview "I'm not a lady. I'm a journalist." Garbage.
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