Heavy Rain demo impressions

Heavy Rain is an interactive movie thing. The game is interesting, but stupid. The controls are weird. You don't control these people so much as you "direct" them, giving indications of where and when to walk and turn, and dictating conversations by choosing different emotions. This might have worked, but filling the shoes of a film director is not properly represented. From what I can tell, the game doesn't really require the player to make tough decisions, even though it would appear so. It's disguise; disgusting deception. I replayed the demo several times, and I tried so hard to deviate from the intended course, but it was impossible. The game only allows you to make choices at very specific times, which of course is not real choice at all. There is even a sequence where a guy has an asthma attack, and you are required to sequentially input buttons to save him. I decided to let him suffer. Well, nothing happens. The animation loops over and over. The sequence is only there for the player to feel "immersed," but the player has no real consequential input. Lame. In the end I wound up trying to kill my character in whatever way possible, to unearth any trace of consequence. There was none. Good game design deigns that the player character and the goals required for progression carry a certain amount of interest to the player. A good (and ancient) way of doing this is challenge; the player cares about what happens in-game because of negative feedback. There is no discernible challenge in Heavy Rain.

So Heavy Rain pretty much fails as a game. At even a basic level it is a conflicted mess. Then how about as a movie? Not any better. The character models are horrendously animated. Metal Gear Solid 4 had millions of cutscenes, but at least the characters animated well and successfully emoted. The characters of Heavy Rain live in the deepest regions of the uncanny valley. Motions are generally stiff, facial expressions are... just plain weird, but most importantly, the eyes are dead and wooden. Eyes are so, so important in animation. They are the single most expressive part of character, and one of an animator's greatest tools of emotion. Even Disney figured this shit out decades ago, I don't know what the deal is with Heavy Rain. Really no excuse. And when judged on cinematographic levels, compared to "real" films, Heavy Rain's camera work is boring and stilted. Shots have zero compositional value; there is no intelligence behind the placement and framing. If you're going to make a game that is deeply rooted in cinematic style, you should probably know a thing or two about filmmaking, first. This is why Kojima's games actually work; the guy is a filmic obsessive. Too bad his unique style has become trend.

Obviously I haven't played the full game, so I can't give a full opinion. Maybe all of these problems work themselves out, but I doubt it. The only intention I can think the game developers had was to create an immersive experience. This is a terrible reason to make a game, because the result is cheap and manipulative. This isn't an intelligent, moral-driven adventure; it's a glorified quick time event that manipulates the player. Ironically, the best way to sum up Heavy Rain is it that pushes players' buttons; the player becomes the quick time event, with their emotions as the timed button sequences. This makes for a possibly immersive and intense experience, but in the end is insultingly shallow, a shallowness that I think will be revealed in time as the game is replayed. I admire the game for trying something new, and having read interviews with David Cage and getting to understand his game design philosophies, he seems like a noble enough guy with good intentions. He cares about games as an art form and wants to see them evolve into something special. But if this is the future of interactive media, then there will never be an art form. The entire medium will be artistically dead in a few years.

Shenmue was better at this sort of thing. At least in that game you were given an interesting world that you were encouraged to explore. Not to mention the controls made sense. And that was 10 years ago!

Institutionalization

Shutter Island is a film about a man at war with himself. The mental hospital in which the story takes place is said to have been constructed during the Civil War, and the freakishly enigmatic "Ward C" (where the really crazy ones are kept) was a fort in that war. Ben Kingsley as Dr. Cawley even remarks on the state of psychiatric study: a polarized philosophic mess of old and new ideologies. Internal conflict. So, it's the usual for a psychological thriller, except this time, it's Scorsese-fied.

Scorsese and DiCaprio have made a super-charged genre picture. Because of this, some will find the film cliche and too close to the mark. They wouldn't be wrong, but they'd be missing the point. Nitpicking the plot of any film is a tremendous waste of time. A film's aesthetics are far more important than its literature, and that above all else seems to be the focus of Shutter Island. Sure, you could list off references to past thrillers (I even flashbacked to Skull Island, of all things, during the opening scene), most notably those of the master himself. Both Scorsese and DiCaprio have cited Vertigo as a major influence, and indeed, the tale of a haunted man warped by his memories of a (blonde) woman isn't simply similar. But also remember Hitchcock's mantras of cinema: not as "a slice of life, but a piece of cake," and "technique over content."

And oh, such technique, such style. Scorsese has long been acknowledged as a wizard of of the camera, but I find his utilization and mastery of modern film making techniques downright astounding, especially his humblingly efficient use of computer generated special effects. Can you imagine The Aviator without the glossy galvanization of the crash sequence, or the ridiculous realization of the H-4's liftoff? I can't. Shutter Island is not without equally impossible visual wonders. The psyche is home to many elaborate and surreal dream sequences (or hallucinations... who knows!), including the converged perceptions of misrememberings, and the confetti-like, atmospheric, ashy remains of a fire victim, not really affected by gravity, but listless and tormenting.

Also, maybe it was just me, but I found this film to be a joyous playground of motifs. The final shot is a quiet pan over the island's craggy, New England cliffside, settling on the lone image of a lighthouse, a symbol of guidance. This is also the place where the facility performs lobotomies. Chilling! Especially when considered alongside the title itself: the light of memories hidden, even erased, by the quick and easiness of a shutter.

Ultimate Goodass

After one hour the movie officially begins. The backstory of Krypton and Superman's upbringing made more sense and worked better when this and Superman II were planned as one epic feature, but those scenes in Smallville with teenage Clark were honestly always some of my favorites. Clark's adolescence is realized with all the prodigy and Americana of a Normal Rockwell painting, and the airy Midwestern cornfields are captured with such scope and quiet presence. Again, this is quite a lot of time spent on exposition and tone, but you have to admire the sheer amount of geek cred. The fact that we see Krypton or Jor-El or Smallville at all is a testament to the respect for the source material. Indeed, all the buildup is totally worth it when Reeve (perfection) finally zips through those revolving doors and Superman emerges. Soon he's in the air and Lois is in his arms. "You've got me? Who's got you!" Classic.

Looking back, now that the superhero film has become a genre of its own, it's amazing how closely the formula adheres to what was established in Superman. Fitting, considering the Man of Steel was equally pioneering in the medium of his birth: the comic book. I've heard before that all films are allegories of their own production life, and though that's probably not a great rule of thumb, it's certainly interesting in this situation. Supes's transition from the panel to screen and influence on both worlds (or any of his cross-media meanderings for that matter) is almost a retelling of his origin story; the son of one race becomes the light of another. Tarantino was spot on in the second Kill Bill film.

Superman's mythos transcends era. There will probably never be a definitive version, but the 1978 movie is definitely my favorite. Truth, justice, and spectacularly superb opening credits.

Bad, bad, bad criticism. So bad.

I recently came across a website. It is now in my "Places of Hate" links to the right. Hardcore Christian Gamers Association is a place run by one Drew Koehler, and the fact that he has developed a rag tag gang of ardent followers makes me fear for the intelligence of western civilization, and possibly the entire free-thinking world. Where do I begin? I guess the name is a good start.

Hardcore
This refers to term "hardcore gamer." I'm going by the modern (wrong) connotation. Not a pretty sight.

Christian
People who feel the need to "genre-ify" their faith are stupid and probably not very faithful at all. Their products suck, anyway. See: Christian Rock.

Gamers
Shouldn't that be possessive... Gamers'? Ahh, never mind.

Association
I shudder to think there's actual organization and structure behind this. On one hand it's impressive, given the minds in question, but on the other... I'll just point out that on the tabs in my browser, it reads "Hardcore Christian Gamers Ass..."


Now we'll move on to the big stuff. I read three articles, all written by Drew Koehler, all shitty. The first was a review of the movie Legion. On top of being a bad review in general (synopsis is not analysis!), the fact that it is a Christian review kills any objective judgment that may have been. Let me clarify. Christian review and review by a Christian are impossibly different, incompatible, and non-interchangable. The former is an advertisement or brand name, the latter a triviality. I personally don't think the movie looks very good, but his opinion of it is so inappropriately defined and clouded by his faith, that I can't help but jump to the movie's defense. He doesn't seem to understand that this is a fantasy. The filmmakers obviously didn't care about properly representing any aspects of the Bible or Christianity at all, so why should you care? Quit bitching, take your Prozac, and get back in the tollbooth. The funny part is that he complains about some baby in the movie being portrain as a savior, and that the baby is not Jesus. Really? You'd think he'd have a problem with the whole "angels exterminating the human race" plot of the movie, but whatever. Not to mention his attempt to convert readers in the final paragraph. If I wanted a message, I'd check my answering machine.

The second article I read was a review of the video game Dante's Inferno. Not much worth mentioning here, it's still objectively unobjective criticism thanks to the religious slant, but Koehler never once mentions the source material, Dante's Divine Comedy. He's probably never even heard of it, which is almost hypocritical of him, but the real high point of the review is his obsessive dismissal of nudity. He claims to have played through The Godfather II video game to its entirety, and reasons he shouldn't have since the game was full of nudity, and that doesn't sit well with his perception of women... or something. Then towards the end of his Dante's Inferno review (after listing some examples of nudity in that particular game) he exclaims:

"I don’t want to see the devil’s package (yes at the end he’s naked)."

At the end. He played through the whole damn game, even after his Godfather II episode. What a tool! Do you think the game companies care whether or not you're a Christian, or are offended by nudity when you've already spent money on their product? Yeah, probably not.

The third article is below any form of discussion, but there is one really hilarious sentence:

"Bare in mind that this game doesn’t come off as being tactical at all."

Bare? Maybe he doesn't like bears, but more likely, the hypocrite's got nudies on the mind. Oh, God.


PLAGIARISM DISCLAIMER: I may have stolen certain phrases from this guy on YouTube. I apologize. His videos are so funny and brilliant that my rhetoric is forever changed.

A Post by Seth

Opening credits are by nature pretty silly; we're going to see those same names at the end, right? Their existence basically amounts to studio self-congratulations (like the Oscars, only shorter), however if done right they can perfectly set up the mood, tone, or even story of the film. A great example are the titles for Hitchcock's North by Northwest: Bernard Herrmann's rousing theme music and Saul Bass's eye-catching graphic design set the stage for the adventure to come. The unusually green background of the MGM logo and the converging lines, crossed into a grid that then fades into the windows of a metropolitan office building, perfectly instill the themes of subversion and misidentity. It looks good, it sounds good, and it communicates worthwhile information to the audience. Not a single second of screen-time is wasted.

On the other, less masterful hand, are modern opening sequences. Sure we've got real works of the art, such as those found in Spider-Man 2 (brilliantly synopsising the previous film in comic book panels, the frames formed by the irregular quadrilaterals of spider webs), but more often than not we get ego-stroking aesthetic ejaculations void of any significance, and thus can only exist to exercise and flaunt the director's "skill." Take all three of Jason Reitman's films, for instance. Thank You For Smoking's titles are admittedly pretty effective (modeled after tobacco packaging), but in the end are simply gratuitous. There is no reason whatsoever for these credits to be so elaborate. Wouldn't the money to design and animate them have been better spent on, you know, the movie itself? Reitman's other two films, Juno and Up in the Air, are even worse. Musically-edited and masturbatorial, they serve no purpose to the film and communicate nothing to the audience. I suppose you could argue that as much, if not more, time and money was spent on Spider-Man 2's credits, but again, they actually have a purpose: synopsis. There is nothing so noble or at least logical going on in the credits of Thank You For Smoking. My only guess at the logic behind their creation is that they were supposed to "look cool." So the films' first impressions upon the audience are attempted coolness? That's the equivalent of Joe Camel smoking. Thank you, indeed.

Nothing on a movie screen can be taken for granted. The smallest, most nonsensical thing is subject to interpretation by viewers, and if its presence is meaningless then they will see right through it. Even something as seemingly inconsequential as credits sequences can be instrumental tools of expression. I'll end this rant with what are probably the best opening titles of any film, those of Raging Bull. Hopefully my explanation of their genius is not needed.

What's Goin' On

"You know hot dogs got a bad rep? They got a cool shape, they got protein. You like hot dogs, right?"

The Happening is like hot dogs. It got a lot of crap when it first came out, and indeed, I thought I tactfully avoided more Shyamalan kitsch after hating Lady In the Water (though I now want to revisit it), but when I caught this on TV the other night, I was pleasantly surprised and captivated by how clever and funny it was. Satire on sensationalist journalism disguised as an almost slasher-flick styled thriller about killer plants? Um, yes please.

Seriously, that's what I think the movie is about. The characters frequently deliver the word '"terrorism" with fists of ham. Just what are terrorists, what is terrorism? Nothing physically comprehensible. Perhaps the best example is Global Warming, given the ridiculous (though admittedly genius) marketing scheme that is the "green" movement and the (also genius) antagonists that are killer plants -- but this is really just a placeholder. Fill in the blank with any case of invisible evil deemed apocalyptic by experts.

More importantly is what these candidates have in common: the current mass media business market that unhealthily and unnecessarily uses scare tactics for nothing more than to increase ratings; to increase the audience. Who is most affected by the plants' deadly toxins? Large populations, naturally. I kept waiting for a character totally cut off from society and entirely lacking in any knowledge of the epidemic. I got more than I bargained for: not only is there such a character (living quietly and inconsequentially in the country, surrounded by plants and trees at that), but there is also a faceless hillbilly who blows away two kids (one in the face!) with his boomstick, mistakenly thinking they are infected. Fear the plants. Fear them.