When one considers the current political climate in the United States, the timeliness of something like Denis Villeneuve's ARRIVAL is pretty fantastic. Given the premise of Amy Adam's expert linguist, Louise Banks, being called in to interpret the intentions of the seemingly unintelligible alien visitors to the Earth, it's hard not to think of how there are so many chasms between modern people in this day and age and how they put many of us in similar situations.
This kind of layered, heavily nuanced film-making isn't in any way new for Villeneuve, as his previous English-language film, SICARIO, was a pretty measured look at the intersection of dubious government action and hyper-masculinity, as well as being an allegorical take on how people face trauma at the hands of those systems. That same care carries over to ARRIVAL, a film that manages to work in both the concrete and the abstract. The actual drama of the film is effective due to the purposeful slowness of some of the pacing, scenes sometimes crawling from one to the next. Their run-times give you space to breathe in every detail, after which pieces start to come together.
I would dare say there's a sense of....melancholy? It's this haze that hovers over the whole of the movie, one definitely explored as some events go a bit downhill and as some characters are profoundly changed by their experiences with the visitors. It's these experiences that contain the heart of the film: the fact that the ability to communicate ideas is one of the most powerful tools we have as human beings.
Tuesday, November 29, 2016
Friday, October 7, 2016
A Few Thoughts on STRANGER THINGS, episode two
***This contains spoilers***
Oh boy...
This episode left me with more questions than answers. For starters, when did this major shift occur in Barb regarding Nancy's relationship with Steve? In the previous episode, she's all gung ho with the idea of the two dating, going so far as to essentially "mmhmm gurl" when Nancy found Steve's invitation to meet her in the bathroom. In this episode, she seems very against the idea of Nancy going to Steve's party, citing that "he just wants to get in her pants." Honestly, what did she think before? Secondly, was the decision to have the mystery beast that took Will also take Barb supposed to be some kind of subversion of the "final girl" trope? Barb would have been the "chaste" one in this situation considering that it was Nancy who seemed to want to engage in the illicit activity with Steve. So, according to the trope, Nancy would have been eaten before Barb. Obviously, I'll have to see how this plays out, but in the moment it seems bizarre.
Third, is Jonathan Byers crushing on Nancy? Is that the look he gave her after she talked to him in the hallway? Also, are we supposed to find it cute that he was taking pictures (while hidden in the woods) of Nancy and friends at Steve's party? Something tells me that this was the intent, but I assure you I read it as supremely creepy. Another also, why was he still there even after Nancy went back inside the house after falling in the pool? Was he waiting for her to come back out? Was he trying to photograph her through the window? A third also, the worst way to establish this kid loves photography is to show him snapping covert pictures of the girl we barely see him speak to. In fact, he doesn't really speak to anyone outside of his immediate family in the first hour or so of this series. That whole segment of the episode was so bizarre on so many levels, and I'm at a loss at what the Duffer's intended the audience to feel.
At this point, I'm starting to feel the weight of the influences of other films from the 80's on the show, and not in a good way. During the day, Mike plays hooky from school to look after Eleven. We can essentially call this section of the show "the E.T. part", because that's essentially what it is. It also confirmed something for me that I had suspicions of: I don't feel anything for Eleven. Now, that's not for lack of trying. I just haven't seen much in these first two hours to really attach me to her. The problem with doing what they do in this episode is that it's missing a few elements that E.T. had. In E.T., the titular character is a little, green, pot-bellied, pencil-necked alien with a face like the maggot-baby from ERASERHEAD. In short, he's weird looking. That goes a long way to adding humor to scenes where the kids try to give him clothes to disguise him or try to hid his presence. Simply put, a strange looking creature doing human-like things will have the appearance of being humorous.In the case of Eleven, her looking like a girl with a buzz-cut kind of takes the wind out of any humor hat could be drawn from the scene.
The E.T. moments also stretched into Eleven hiding in the closet and in the basement. The closet yielded a little bit more information about her past and relationship to the massive facility, but it also prompted more questions from me. For one, how much English does she know? In the flashback she seems to have more of a grasp on it, but in the present she has to be taught what a recliner is. If she knows more, is she choosing not to speak because she doesn't trust anyone, or does she honestly not know much of it? This isn't so much a problem, as much as it is a general question. If it turns out she knew a good bit of English, then having her go so long without talking would seem just a way to stretch for time.
The only major positive for me was when Will's mother, Joyce Byers, uncovers more about the mysterious phone calls she's been getting that she believes is, somehow, Will. In this moment, as she's seeing the lights flicker in a pattern that's leading her to Will's bedroom, it's one of the few times in the two hours of the show I've seen up to this point that doesn't have the characters catching up to information the audience already knows. It's something that I noticed in the first hour, but this second hour has almost doubled-down on it. I'm not against dramatic irony, but so much of this show is the audience finding out a good bit and then the rest of the characters finding out and hour or so later. I'm concerned that this is a trend that will continue through the whole of the season.
Another trend that concerns me pertains to the usage of the musical score.
Now, I know that S U R V I V E were seeking to emulate John Carpenter/Tangerine Dream, and the soundtrack is fine on its own, but some of the ways it's used in context strike me as odd. For example, in the aforementioned scene where Johnathan pines after Nancy in the hallway, a very ominous piece of music plays as he's shown exiting the building. The problem there is that music doesn't fit emotionally with what preceded it. In fact, I would go so far as to say that the music could have been removed and the scene would have largely played the same.
Overall, this was a pretty tough episode to get through. All this seems to not bode well for the rest of the series that, for some reason, I intend to keep watching. Here's hoping things improve.
Oh boy...
This episode left me with more questions than answers. For starters, when did this major shift occur in Barb regarding Nancy's relationship with Steve? In the previous episode, she's all gung ho with the idea of the two dating, going so far as to essentially "mmhmm gurl" when Nancy found Steve's invitation to meet her in the bathroom. In this episode, she seems very against the idea of Nancy going to Steve's party, citing that "he just wants to get in her pants." Honestly, what did she think before? Secondly, was the decision to have the mystery beast that took Will also take Barb supposed to be some kind of subversion of the "final girl" trope? Barb would have been the "chaste" one in this situation considering that it was Nancy who seemed to want to engage in the illicit activity with Steve. So, according to the trope, Nancy would have been eaten before Barb. Obviously, I'll have to see how this plays out, but in the moment it seems bizarre.
Third, is Jonathan Byers crushing on Nancy? Is that the look he gave her after she talked to him in the hallway? Also, are we supposed to find it cute that he was taking pictures (while hidden in the woods) of Nancy and friends at Steve's party? Something tells me that this was the intent, but I assure you I read it as supremely creepy. Another also, why was he still there even after Nancy went back inside the house after falling in the pool? Was he waiting for her to come back out? Was he trying to photograph her through the window? A third also, the worst way to establish this kid loves photography is to show him snapping covert pictures of the girl we barely see him speak to. In fact, he doesn't really speak to anyone outside of his immediate family in the first hour or so of this series. That whole segment of the episode was so bizarre on so many levels, and I'm at a loss at what the Duffer's intended the audience to feel.
At this point, I'm starting to feel the weight of the influences of other films from the 80's on the show, and not in a good way. During the day, Mike plays hooky from school to look after Eleven. We can essentially call this section of the show "the E.T. part", because that's essentially what it is. It also confirmed something for me that I had suspicions of: I don't feel anything for Eleven. Now, that's not for lack of trying. I just haven't seen much in these first two hours to really attach me to her. The problem with doing what they do in this episode is that it's missing a few elements that E.T. had. In E.T., the titular character is a little, green, pot-bellied, pencil-necked alien with a face like the maggot-baby from ERASERHEAD. In short, he's weird looking. That goes a long way to adding humor to scenes where the kids try to give him clothes to disguise him or try to hid his presence. Simply put, a strange looking creature doing human-like things will have the appearance of being humorous.In the case of Eleven, her looking like a girl with a buzz-cut kind of takes the wind out of any humor hat could be drawn from the scene.
The E.T. moments also stretched into Eleven hiding in the closet and in the basement. The closet yielded a little bit more information about her past and relationship to the massive facility, but it also prompted more questions from me. For one, how much English does she know? In the flashback she seems to have more of a grasp on it, but in the present she has to be taught what a recliner is. If she knows more, is she choosing not to speak because she doesn't trust anyone, or does she honestly not know much of it? This isn't so much a problem, as much as it is a general question. If it turns out she knew a good bit of English, then having her go so long without talking would seem just a way to stretch for time.
The only major positive for me was when Will's mother, Joyce Byers, uncovers more about the mysterious phone calls she's been getting that she believes is, somehow, Will. In this moment, as she's seeing the lights flicker in a pattern that's leading her to Will's bedroom, it's one of the few times in the two hours of the show I've seen up to this point that doesn't have the characters catching up to information the audience already knows. It's something that I noticed in the first hour, but this second hour has almost doubled-down on it. I'm not against dramatic irony, but so much of this show is the audience finding out a good bit and then the rest of the characters finding out and hour or so later. I'm concerned that this is a trend that will continue through the whole of the season.
Another trend that concerns me pertains to the usage of the musical score.
Now, I know that S U R V I V E were seeking to emulate John Carpenter/Tangerine Dream, and the soundtrack is fine on its own, but some of the ways it's used in context strike me as odd. For example, in the aforementioned scene where Johnathan pines after Nancy in the hallway, a very ominous piece of music plays as he's shown exiting the building. The problem there is that music doesn't fit emotionally with what preceded it. In fact, I would go so far as to say that the music could have been removed and the scene would have largely played the same.
Overall, this was a pretty tough episode to get through. All this seems to not bode well for the rest of the series that, for some reason, I intend to keep watching. Here's hoping things improve.
Wednesday, October 5, 2016
A Few Thoughts on STRANGER THINGS, episode one
***This contains some spoilers for this episode***
If there was one word to describe the first episode of the Duffer Brothers' STRANGER THINGS, it would be "pleasant." It's no more than that, and it's no less. Given it's nature as an ode to the 80's and its movies (Spielberg and Carpenter seem to be the focus in this first installment), it has all of the prerequisite elements: a John Carpenter-esque score (made by the brilliant duo, S U R V I V E.) as well as various decade-specific needle-drops; era specific font for title cards and for the intro; kids on bikes in a suburban setting; a soft filter that gives it an era specific look to the picture quality; "Spielberg Oners"; etc. Really, I could probably go on for a few more paragraphs listing the amount of either straight up references or nods to films from the 80's. This isn't inherently a bad thing, though it remains to be seen if this will continue on with diminishing returns.
The actual plotting of this episode feels quite nice, as nearly every character gets introduced and given their respective story lines in a fairly succinct manner. The only one that seemed to go nowhere belonged to Nancy Wheeler, older sister to the character Mike Wheeler. The episode took her from having just entered a new relationship, to her kissing her new boyfriend, and finally to them kissing some more. It doesn't go much further than that, and given how much more every other character gets, it's unfortunate.
As far as moments go, the one that stood out the most to me was the sequence introducing the four main characters as they play a game of Dungeons and Dragons. It really gives the sense that these characters are good friends, and it's a pretty tensely shot scene, as well. Also, the symmetry between this scene and the moment that Will Byers gets taken by what is practically the Demogorgon from their D&D session is really tight narrative in a way I can't help but be happy with. Also, I have to mention the one-take shot in the police station. It was very clean and understated.
I can't really say too much in the way of where this show is going, considering this is the first episode, but I do hope that things move beyond this merely "pleasant" feeling it's giving off. As much as I liked certain elements, I didn't really finish the episode with any anticipation of what's coming next. At any rate, I'll continue the series.
If there was one word to describe the first episode of the Duffer Brothers' STRANGER THINGS, it would be "pleasant." It's no more than that, and it's no less. Given it's nature as an ode to the 80's and its movies (Spielberg and Carpenter seem to be the focus in this first installment), it has all of the prerequisite elements: a John Carpenter-esque score (made by the brilliant duo, S U R V I V E.) as well as various decade-specific needle-drops; era specific font for title cards and for the intro; kids on bikes in a suburban setting; a soft filter that gives it an era specific look to the picture quality; "Spielberg Oners"; etc. Really, I could probably go on for a few more paragraphs listing the amount of either straight up references or nods to films from the 80's. This isn't inherently a bad thing, though it remains to be seen if this will continue on with diminishing returns.
The actual plotting of this episode feels quite nice, as nearly every character gets introduced and given their respective story lines in a fairly succinct manner. The only one that seemed to go nowhere belonged to Nancy Wheeler, older sister to the character Mike Wheeler. The episode took her from having just entered a new relationship, to her kissing her new boyfriend, and finally to them kissing some more. It doesn't go much further than that, and given how much more every other character gets, it's unfortunate.
As far as moments go, the one that stood out the most to me was the sequence introducing the four main characters as they play a game of Dungeons and Dragons. It really gives the sense that these characters are good friends, and it's a pretty tensely shot scene, as well. Also, the symmetry between this scene and the moment that Will Byers gets taken by what is practically the Demogorgon from their D&D session is really tight narrative in a way I can't help but be happy with. Also, I have to mention the one-take shot in the police station. It was very clean and understated.
I can't really say too much in the way of where this show is going, considering this is the first episode, but I do hope that things move beyond this merely "pleasant" feeling it's giving off. As much as I liked certain elements, I didn't really finish the episode with any anticipation of what's coming next. At any rate, I'll continue the series.
Monday, September 12, 2016
Mini Film Review: Hail Caesar
Like many other complex systems, filmmaking is made of many parts: directors, camerapeople, PA's, catering, makeup, wardrobe, actors, writers, etc. Each and every component is needed in order to make a film a reality is explored in the Coen Brothers' HAIL CAESAR, the chronicle of a day-in-the-life of studio "fixer" Eddie Mannix (Josh Brolin). Through his perspective we are taken on a guided tour of the annals of the Hollywood system, a la old Hollywood in the 40's.
One complaint some have put upon the film is that the multitude of strong performances are often too brief, contributing to the sense that the film fades from memory once over. I'm inclined to respectfully disagree. It's that very brevity that lines up with the theme of filmmaking being many parts working in unison. Ultimately, both in structure and theme, the film is a mystery exploring the dynamics of the myriad relationships within filmmaking, as well as the way people navigate the more unsavory aspects. Ultimately, Mannix is the personification of "suffering for the art" as he navigates the peaks and valleys of the industry, as he does what he does for the sake of cinema.
Brolin's natural mixture of hardiness and warmth add weight to the moments Mannix struggles to make sure the titular film, HAIL CAESAR, gets made, while also balances his work life with his curiously wholesome home life (his remarkably empathetic wife is played by a fantastic Allison Pill). Added to this is a temptation via Boeing for a lucrative job that may ultimately prove unfulfilling for a man like Mannix, a man who takes time to stop in to see early cuts of the films in production at various points throughout the film. He loves movies. He loves filmmaking. For all it's good and bad, it's where his heart lies, and one could ass8ume this could ultimately be said of the Coens.
Wednesday, August 10, 2016
Mini Film Review: Nerve
Ariel Schulman and Henry Joost's Nerve is a morality play with much higher aspirations than most. Adapted by Jessica Sharzer from the novel of the same name, by Jeanne Ryan, Nerve takes some of the conventions of modern social media and frames them in a way that is both thoughtful but incredibly accessible. This thoughtfulness is spent following Vee (Emma Roberts), a high school senior who is deep in her shell. Thanks to some provocation and embarrassment by her friend, Sydney (Emily Meade), Vee finds herself impulsively signing up to play NERVE, a sort of digital truth-or-dare. In the course of playing this, she meets Ian (Dave Franco), a motorcycle-riding Casanova with a mysterious past. Together, the two embark on increasingly dangerous dares, all the while getting to the dark heart of the game.
It would have been incredibly easy to make this movie a paint-by-numbers, lowest-common-denominator piece of cinema. To be fair, it comes a little close to that. Thankfully, it manages to hew just of bland into pure transcendent schlock. The city of New York is painted in neons and broad splotches of color, which pop out during the tightly cut action sequences. There are all the physical artifacts of internet and social media on the literal edges, many scenes being seen through a computer screen or a cell phone. The corners of the app for NERVE has displays for comments and how many viewers each player has. Each of these elements works to further ground this movie into our world. Even more, as the film progresses, we see how different people respond to the game, mirroring our own experiences online.
Anonymity, and the distance of the internet, can make us far more monstrous online than we are in person. Nerve sets out to, through the guise of an of-the-moment thriller, explore that capacity for ugliness we have within us. The only slight I really have is that it pulls its punches at the end, where it expands out into a Hunger Games-esque kind of dystopian vision. A plan is set into motion, and while its end result is fulfilling, a large part of me wanted it to be a bit uglier and to go much further than it did. At the end of the day, this is a remarkably sharp, incredibly competent film that manages to be deeply of-the-now while not talking down to the, likely, young audience.
A Few Thoughts on "Taking a Film for What It Is"
On the recently raised subject of "taking a film for what it is", I often wonder how those who say such a thing think about films. How do they examine them after the fact, thinking back on what they saw? In the process of exploring this, I usually have the following series of thoughts:
- What are [INSERT FILM]'s themes?
- How does it go about exploring those themes?
- Did they consider the fact that movies even have themes?
- What do they think "taking a film seriously" looks like?
- Do they think "taking a film seriously" resembles a bunch of stuffy, turtleneck-wearing intellectuals with notepads writing endlessly verbose screeds against some populist piece of media?
- Do they think it is a focus only on the technical aspects of a film and not on the emotional impact?
- Are they not aware of the fact that it's possible to focus on both aspects?
- Are they also not aware of the fact that, in the act of watching a film, they are doing that very thing?
- Are they unaware of the fact that those technical aspects actively affect the emotional impact the film has upon them?
- Are they able to even identify those technical elements?
- What do they think having "a good time" at the cinema looks like?
- Are they aware of the fact that the majority of critics become critics because they love movies so much and want to talk about them and champion them?
I am aware of the fact that this may have come off as a bit elitist, but these are important questions to ask or consider when you watch a movie. I don't want to seem as though I'm telling anyone the "right" way to watch movies, but when someone says that they "take the film for what it is" I'm inclined to wonder how they got to the conclusion of "what the film is."
Friday, June 17, 2016
Nathan Drake's Ludonarrative Nightmare
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.
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.
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