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Ta-metru_defender

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  1. Ta-metru_defender
    Essays, Not Rants! 064: Shakespearean Gateway Drug
     
    Like most everyone who’s taken an English class, I’ve had my share of Shakespeare. I’ve read a handful of his plays, know the plots to a few more, and think I mostly understand what’s kinda going on (but clearly still miss a lot of it). That said, I’ve also seen Kenneth Branagh’s Henry V and Hamlet, and enjoyed both, so hey: Shakespeare. Thanks to Branagh’s films, though, I’ve had this appreciation for those long monologues and weird words without stage directions that make up a Shakespearean play.
     
    Sometimes it seems that actually seeing something makes you appreciate it more. Take Joss Whedon’s new adaption of Much Ado About Nothing. I got the chance to see an early screening about a month ago (if you’re wondering: it’s phenomenal, go see it). What makes this movie particularly fun is that the script is pure Shakespeare. There’s no updating of the play, there’s no cutting out bits. It’s just Shakespeare.
     
    Sure, that means you don’t quite follow everything (unless, y’know, Shakespeare’s your thing), but you get the point of the play. You can follow the plot well enough and you’ll catch most of the jokes (chalk that up to Whedon’s direction and the excellent acting). It’s all Shakespeare, but it’s made intelligible. Or more intelligible. Whatever. As it stands, Whedon’s Much Ado About Nothing is Shakespeare presented as Shakespeare — not dumbed down — and watchable and understandable by people who normally wouldn’t watch Shakespeare. Familiar faces like Clark Gregg and Nathan Fillion (and BriTANick!) help ease you into the Bard’s story. You don’t have to have a Masters in Shakespearean Literature to get Much Ado. It’s there and it’s clear; there’s no attempt to snobbify it. And it just might get someone to pursue Hamlet or A Midsummer’s Night Dream. It’s a Shakespearean gateway drug, if you will.
     
    Shakespeare isn’t the only tough thing to get into. Star Trek, as a whole, is a rather intimidating fandom. You have the original series, The Next Generation, a cornucopia of films, and a bunch of other tv series out there. There’s a lot. 2009’s Star Trek remade the universe so an outsider could jump into it. The recent follow-up, Into Darkness, delved deeper into Trek lore. It’s filled with shout outs and nods to prior works that get Trekkies’ approval, but also encourages newer viewers to investigate further. All the while it never alienates newcomers.
     
    In fact, Into Darkness pulled this off magnificently thanks to Benedict Cumberbatch’s casting as the villain. His devoted fan following from Sherlock — a modern real-life retelling — wound up watching Into Darkness — a futuristic story about space exploration. In this case, Cumberbatch is the gateway drug. Coupled with J.J. Abrams’ storytelling, we receive an open invitation into a world we’d have needed a qualification for. Their efforts, like Joss Whedon’s helmsmanship of Much Ado About Nothing, simultaneously encourages and reassures potential viewers that even though what they’re about to watch may not be their usual fare, it probably won’t be that bad. In fact, it might actually be great.
     
    To that effect, both Into Darkness and Much Ado About Nothing are fantastic films. They have that feeling of being for a specific group of people, yet are still remarkably accessible. Even if you still get thee and thy mixed up or thought Spock was that guy with the lightsaber, you’ll still enjoy these films. Heck, you might even try to find more like them.
  2. Ta-metru_defender
    So I turned 22 today (er, yesterday). Was fun here in South Carolina, shenanigans, dinner with Mom, that sort of thing. Hanging out with some friends playing Smash till 2am. Yeah.
     
    Now I'm enjoying a couple beers and some writing before I have to wake up and start preparing stuff for my trip to Singapore for the rest of the summer.
     
    Friends, I am an adult.
  3. Ta-metru_defender
    Hey guys.
     
    Yep. It's late. As it happens college is conducive for procrastination. Whodathunk?
     
    Welcome To Josh's Fifth Annual Movie Awards Part One
     
    As usual I'm listing every movie I saw this year. You get the idea. Naturally these are all subjective.
     
    Legend:
    º means did not see it in cinemas
    Multiple * denotes number of times saw in cinema
    - — Eh. More or less sucked.
    -/+ — Meh. See it if you want.
    + — Fairly good film, worth a watch.
    ++ — One of the better films of the year. Definitely go see this.
    +++ — Amazing is not description enough. Go watch it.

    Contraband, -/+, it's not a bad film but it doesn't really stick with you after
    Haywire, +, interesting, smart, enjoyable action flick with a great cast
    Chronicle, ++, blends a unique use of the superpowers and found footage genre into a gritty, well done drama.
    Safe House, -/+ decent action flick with not much else going for it.
    This Means War, —, the winning leads can't salvage this lousy movie.
    Act of Valor, ++, deft action film that's further enhanced by its SEAL actors.
    John Carter, ++, a severely underrated science fiction film that's exceptionally good.
    21 Jump Street, +/-, it's funny enough, but nothing to write home about.
    The Hunger Games, ++, fantastic adaption of a fantastic book.
    October Baby, —, I've written enough about this film's flaws on Essays, Not Rants!, so nothing else.
    Wrath of the Titans, -/+, it's alright, but nothing memorable
    The Cabin in the Woods, ++, phenomenal post-modern piece of horror fiction.
    Blue Like Jazz, ++, I drove two hours to watch this movie. Worth it.
    Lockout, -/+, it's Die Hard in space, but Guy Pearce isn't quite as charming as Bruce Willis.
    The Five-Year Engagement, -/+, forgettable comedy with few merits.
    The Pirates! Band of Misfits, +, fun stop motion film.
    The Avengers******, +++, perfect.
    BZP Lovers 3, +, it's enjoyable enough, but nothing more.
    Moonrise Kingdom, ++, quirky and enjoyable, it's Wes Anderson being Wes Anderson.
    Snow White and the Hunstman, —, just blah.
    Madagascar 3: Europe's Most Wanted, +, though not as good as the second one, it's fun enough
    Prometheus, -/+, look, it's not horrible, but it doesn't use its Alien roots.
    Rock of Ages, —, good as the songs are, the movie itself sucks.
    Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, ++, great piece of historical fiction with vampires.
    Brave, +, Pixar does a fairy tale, and a great one at that
    Beasts of the Southern Wildº, —, not terrible, but sorely lacking in anything distinctive
    Ted, ++, hilarious comedy with particularly great effects
    The Amazing Spider-Man**, ++, yeah, the new Spider-Man is a better Spider-Man. Great cast too.
    The Dark Knight Rises**, +, it's good even if it doesn't live up to The Dark Knight.
    The Watch, —, lousy piece of not-quite-funny comedy.
    Total Recall, -/+, Arnold did it better.
    The Expendables 2, +, not as good as the first, but still a big dumb action movie.
    Dredd, ++, like John Carter, another piece of underrated science fiction.
    End Of Watch, +, well put together cop drama
    The Perks of Being a Wallflower, ++, well done heartfelt coming of age story
    Looper, ++, again: exceptional piece of science fiction
    Taken 2, +, though not as good as the first, still a decent action flick.
    Argo, ++, fantastic drama with absolutely terrific acting and direction that deserved its Oscar
    Seven Psychopaths, +, it's funny, it's weird, and Sam Rockwell is amazing.
    Cloud Atlas, +, a surprisingly coherent blur of storytelling.
    Skyfall, ++, absolutely amazing James Bond film that might be the best.
    Wreck-It Ralph, +, probably the best video game movie ever.
    Lincoln, +, Spielburg and Day-Lewis nail this biopic of the 16th President.
    Silver Linings Playbook, +++, beautiful movie about broken people.
    Life of Pi, +, beautiful adaption of a great book.
    Deadfall, -/+, a messy story that could have almost been good.
    The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey**, +, not as good as The Lord of the Rings, but not quite terrible.
    Zero Dark Thirty, ++, has what might be the best piece of military action on film.
    Django Unchained, +, it's Tarantino at his Tarantinoist, and all the better for it
    Les Misérables, +, there's a lot of singing in this tearjerking film.

     
    So there it is, my Big List. Tune in tomorrow for the proper awards.
  4. Ta-metru_defender
    Essays, Not Rants 063: Heroic Motivation
     
    I'm gonna do something a little different this week. A few weeks ago I wrote a post as a sounding board for a Research Paper I had to write for a class. Now I figured "hey, why don't I post that research paper?" So I am. Its much longer than a usual post (nearly 5 times as long), but I feel like it's one of the best things I've written. So here it is, in all its A-, MLA-ish glory:
     
     
    “Heroes. There’s no such thing.” So says Ben Kingsley’s Mandarin in Iron Man 3 as he threatens the titular hero and, to an extent, the villain is right. Lately, heroes, particularly in adventure narratives, have taken a turn for the unheroic. Where once there were heroes like Luke Skywalker or Frodo Baggins who, through and through, were good to the core, now heroes are of a murkier sort. Even Iron Man is not a clear cut hero. In the past, protagonists were motivated to do their heroics simply because it was good. They were the good guys; the prince saves the princess and slays the dragon because he’s good and the dragon is evil. But time went on and fiction began to explore princes who weren’t so clean cut, heroes who weren’t good for the sake of good. Yet these protagonists remained heroes; they would still ultimately rise up to do the right thing and save the day (even if saving the day had little effect on the outside world). So what is it that motivates these protagonists who aren’t strictly heroes to heroism? Perhaps it would do to examine reluctant heroes from books, movies, video games, and television as diverse as Pi Patel, Tony Stark, Nathan Drake, and Malcolm Reynolds in the hopes of finding some commonality between them. What drives characters who are ordinary teenagers, irresponsible playboys, selfish treasure hunters, or lawless rebels to acts of heroism?
     
     
    Pi Patel, of Life of Pi, is an ordinary boy for whom the fate of the world does not hang in balance. He has no superpowers and there is no princess in a tower waiting for him to save her. Yet this Indian boy, who survived over two hundred days drifting in a lifeboat in the Pacific Ocean with an adult Bengal tiger, is a hero nonetheless. Furthermore the narrative of his story falls in step with Joseph Campbell’s analysis of the heroic archetype in the book The Hero With a Thousand Faces. Most striking is Pi’s long trials in the lifeboat, which Campbell appropriately describes as The Road Of Trials: “Once having traversed the threshold, the hero moves in a dream landscape of curiously fluid, ambiguous forms, where he must survive a succession of trials” (Campbell, 97). That Pi’s conflict is primarily internal makes him no less of a hero in his victory. He spends his days trying desperately to survive and to defeat his enemy. Indeed, Pi has an enemy. It is not the tiger itself but rather fear: “I must say a word about fear. It is life’s only true opponent” (Martel, 161). Pi’s time in the lifeboat is marked by his battle against fear: his fear of the sea and fear of the tiger named Richard Parker. To not give in to his fear and the despair it brings is a heroic task given the hopelessness of his surroundings. Pi, the ordinary boy, is able to defeat his enemy of fear and perform the heroic task of surviving due to being a religious man three times over.
     
    For Pi, an adherent of Hinduism, Christianity, and Islam, that voice within himself would be attributed to God. Pi makes the decision, due in no small part to that voice, to survive day after day. In his situation, just giving up would be the easiest thing to do, but he instead does his best to overcome the odds and defeat his unseen adversary. Not only does Pi choose to not give in to fear, but he is able to maintain his humanity in a place where it would be all too easy to become as feral as Richard Parker. His experience in the lifeboat could have left Pi raving mad and unable to adjust back to ‘normal’ life, yet in the narrative we find out that Pi is able to go on to a career in academia and to start a family of his own despite his ordeal. During those trials the tiger in the lifeboat is a very real enemy that Pi must face: embodying both his fear and the temptation to give in to his animalistic side. Pi’s heroism is his resistance to both pulls and his survival with his humanity intact. Pi’s motivation to survive both physically and spiritually lies in his faith, in his devotion to God.
     
     
    But if we accept the interpretation that religion is the cause of heroism we then rule out many heroes who are not religious. As writer K. Dale Koontz points out, “it is very possible to be moral without faith and be immoral with all the trappings of faith” (Koontz, 106). So perhaps we must expand our scope beyond a religious motivation. Self-described genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist Tony Stark is a man marked more by his hedonism than the remotest trace of religious piety. In the 2008 film, Iron Man, before he takes up the mantle of the titular hero, the arms-dealing Tony Stark is seen sleeping with a reporter, gambling during his award presentation, and displaying an overall negligence towards any form of responsibility. His world appears perfect and he sees no need to want to alter anything. This all changes after he is grievously injured in Afghanistan and taken hostage by terrorists who demand that he build them a new weapon to complement their arsenal of Stark weaponry, weapons which Tony was not aware were being sold to the the enemies of the American soldiers he thought he was supplying. Trapped, Tony decides to start building, only not the weapon his captors desire. Instead he creates a weaponized suit of armor to facilitate his escape. On his way out, Tony is issued a challenge by his dying mentor: “Don’t waste it, don’t waste your life” (Iron Man, 0:38). Tony takes this newfound purpose to heart, using the Iron Man armor to fight terrorists and bring peace: he becomes a hero, albeit a flawed one. Tony is still reckless, disrespectful, and generally irresponsible of anything falling outside his duties as Iron Man. He’s not the cut-and-dried ‘good’ hero; he’s far from perfect and does things that no ‘proper’ hero would do. Yet despite not having the characteristics commonly associated with the hero, for some reason Tony still plays the part. Christopher Robichaud explores this side of Iron Man, looking for a reason for his heroics. He investigates the idea of guilt; whether, for example, Tony Stark is indeed responsible for the crimes committed with weapons he designed. The conclusion is that whether or not he actually is responsible is unimportant in light of Tony’s need to redeem himself: “Tony clearly feels that he must somehow “right the wrongs” Stark Industries has done, and that the best way he can do that is as Iron Man” (Robichaud, 62). It’s a valid motivation, one that not only spurs him to greatness but will plague him so long as he lives. Tony Stark is the atoner. Before the cave in Afghanistan Tony was happy to waste his life cruising by with women and money. Now the electromagnet in his chest is a constant reminder that he must seek redemption for his past and Tony will stop at nothing to achieve it. The driving force in Tony’s life is his relentless need to make things right. In a similar vein, Pi adheres to Christianity and Islam; two religions which preach strongly on man’s need to atone. Like Tony, Pi would seek to do good to make up for his sins. Perhaps this desire for redemption then works as the motivation for heroism.
     
     
    Not all heroes seek redemption, however; Nathan Drake of the Uncharted video game series seeks treasure and riches. Furthermore, in his adventures seeking El Dorado, Shambhala, and Iram of the Pillars, Nathan Drake makes few references to any deity beyond colloquial interjections. Like Tony Stark, he is a man of neither religion nor God. Yet he consistently ends up being the hero (if a regretful one). Drake’s selfish; he wants treasure, he wants riches, he wants an adventure. He will happily shoot his way through soldiers and mercenaries or break into a museum to steal a treasure if it could yield profit. But in all three games in the Uncharted series he ultimately chooses to forgo treasure in favor of stopping the villain from carrying out their nefarious schemes. In the second game, Among Thieves, Nathan Drake is in a race with war criminal Zoran Lazarevic for the mythical Cintamani stone of Shambhala and the riches and power it contains. At Drake’s side are two women: Chloe Frazer, a fellow treasure hunter posing as part of Lazarevic’s team to find Shambhala; and Elena Fisher, a reporter on the trail of Lazarevic, eager to bring him to justice. Both have a romantic history with Drake and both are fascinating characters in their own right, but Chloe and Elena also bring out Nathan Drake’s inner duality of being a selfish thief and a selfless hero. On the one hand is Chloe. In the game’s early chapters she and Drake plot to scam a member of their group out of the treasure and carry on without him. Her ultimate goal is to save her own skin no matter the cost, even if it means sacrificing an injured ally. On the other hand we have Elena, very nearly the antithesis of Chloe. She’s in Nepal because she wants to help bring Lazarevic to justice. After Drake barely survives a brutal train-wreck he decides it’s time to stop searching for Shambhala and the Cintamani Stone despite the legends of it granting nearly unlimited power. It’s Elena who insists that he continue after it.
     
    In the end, Drake sides with Elena choosing to pursue justice and stop Lazarevic over escaping the recently discovered broken paradise of Shambhala. Chloe protests that it’s suicide, but Drake stumbles down to the Tree of Life to confront Lazarevic anyway. He does what he does not out of some religious fever or even a desire for redemption but simply because it’s the right thing to do:
     
    Deep down, Nathan Drake has an occasional fiber of moral responsibility within him. He may be selfish but there can be little doubt that Drake acts like a hero. Though Drake is usually content to just not take part in whatever’s going on, to profit off of Lazarevic rather than confront him, for example, on occasion Drake will overcome his selfishness. He has a conscience, one that gets activated when he realizes that it’s the only option left that will allow him to live with himself. Stuck in the lifeboat, Pi knows he will not forgive himself if he gives up. Similarly, Tony Stark’s transformation left him with a need to exact justice to make up for his prior irresponsibilities. For these characters, it’s when the chips are down and this sense of right and wrong becomes overt that they step up to become heroes.
     
     
    Captain Malcolm Reynolds, of Joss Whedon’s TV show Firefly, is not an irresponsible man, but he lacks Drake’s sense of justice, Tony’s need for redemption, and certainly Pi’s religion. And no wonder; after the crushing defeat of the Independents by the Alliance during the Battle of Serenity Valley, Mal is left faithless and listless. By the time the TV show picks up, “Mal has spent the intervening years attempting to deliberately calcify himself into a dark, bitter husk of a man, unlikely to be touched or moved and therefore, unlikely to be disappointed or hurt” (Koontz 103). But the calloused man sometimes shows signs of decency. He sends the mercenary Jayne away from the dinner table when he insults Kaylee (Firefly 1.01: “Serenity”) and he chooses to return the cargo he was hired to steal when he discovers it to be medicine for impoverished settlers (1.02: “The Train Job”). Clearly the man will step up and be a hero, he has a morality to him. But Mal’s conscious isn’t as clear as Nathan Drake or Pi’s since “Mal’s inner code is further complicated by the fact that his moral compass lacks the true north of a belief in anything larger than himself” (Koontz 107), or, as Mal himself discloses in the film Serenity: “I got no rudder. Wind blows northerly, I go north. That's who I am.” He’s not a simple character, he’ll shoot a man in cold blood one moment and sacrifice himself for his crew the next. Here, more so than with the others, we have a nuanced character whose heroics are difficult to attribute to any belief system or even a sense of duty. Yet there can be little doubt that somewhere Mal has a shred of goodness; or as Koontz puts it: “it is the conflict between his desire to be an empty, unfeeling crook and his inherent, bone-deep decency that makes Mal so intriguing” (104). Mal doesn’t want to be a hero; he has neither cause nor belief, yet for some reason he still plays the part. The motivation for his heroics is best found in how his decency manifests itself. In the episode “Safe,” fugitive siblings Simon and River Tam are taken captive by a tribe of crazy hill folk. Mal is faced with a choice. He can either leave the siblings behind and fly away, no longer having to worry about the Alliance chasing him in search of the Tams, or he can go back for them. In a move that doesn’t help his desire to be left alone by the Alliance and the law, Mal opts to save River and Simon from being burned at the stake. This is an oddly selfless act for a seeming amoral captain. Simon confronts him afterwards, asking him why he returned for him. Mal’s response is to curtly inform the young doctor that he’s on his crew. But Simon presses further only to receive the same response:
     
    We see the captain’s care for his crew again in the episode “Ariel” when, after crew member Jayne nearly turns Simon and River over to the Alliance, Mal threatens to eject him out the airlock. Why? Because “You turn on any of my crew, you turn on me!” (1.08, “Ariel”). Mal has an intense devotion to his crew that supersedes any other code he might embrace; “Mal has worked very hard to create this family and he will protect it at all costs” (Koontz, 106). The question that must now be asked is why does Mal protect his crew. Is it because they make him feel as if he can control some aspect of his wandering life? Is it because they give him a sense of security he believes he lost years ago in Serenity Valley? Is it because they have become his family? The answer is more than any of that: it is that core of love under all that bitterness and hatred that motivates him to heroism. Koontz agrees: “Love is the force that will galvanize Mal to take action, rather than continuing to mourn his losses by becoming increasingly brittle and bitter” (111). It is love that drives Mal. His love for freedom caused him to join the Independence movement and years later still harbor disdain for any attempt to subjugate people. His love for his ship, Serenity, inspires him to keep her safe and to refuse to leave her behind no matter the cost. His love for his crew will drive him to the ends of the universe if it means he can keep them safe from whatever evils are thrown at them. Mal sticks his neck out for Simon and River not because he thinks it’s the right thing to do but because as much as he is loathe to admit it the two have somehow wormed their way into his care. He returns the medicine to the settlers and risks the wrath of his client not out of some desire to please a deity or a want to redeem himself for prior slights, but because his love for his fellow man outweighs his greed. It appears that love might be the only immaterial thing Malcolm Reynolds truly believes in. This is driven home at the end of the film Serenity, when, after the crew endure hellish trials and the death of their friends, Mal tells River what the first rule of flying is: “Love. You can learn all the math in the 'Verse, but you take a boat in the air that you don't love, she'll shake you off just as sure as the turning of the worlds. Love keeps her in the air when she oughta fall down, tells you she's hurtin' 'fore she keens. Makes her a home” (Serenity). Mal loves, Mal believes in love, and love is the only force in the ‘Verse strong enough to drive an angry calloused man to heroics.
     
     
    Is it love then, in all its forms, that motivates people to heroism? Adrift in the Pacific Ocean in a lifeboat with only a tiger for company, Pi admits that keeping his faiths — his love for God — was not easy. The storms would rock him and food would be scarce and Pi would nearly despair. But all was never lost. “The blackness would stir and eventually go away, and God would remain, a shining point of light in my heart. I would go on loving” (Martel, 209). Despite enduring a hellish trial, Pi does not lose sight of his love. He chooses to love Richard Parker rather than hate it, because loving the tiger causes him to seek to understand it and learn to coexist. His love for life encourages him to force himself to stay alive. Most of all, his love for God gives him the motivation to survive his ordeal and come out the stronger for it. Pi loves.
     
     
    Superhero Tony Stark would adamantly and charismatically deny that he acts out of love. That said, the climax of the film The Avengers has Tony Stark realizing that the only way for him to save Manhattan is to carry a nuclear missile into a portal to space, sacrificing himself in the process. This moment is an act of love that fits the very Biblical description of selfless love: “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (John 15:13). He acts because his love for his fellow Avengers, his girlfriend Pepper, and indeed the whole of Manhattan now outweighs his love for himself. There is little doubt that it is the self-sacrificing, altruistic form of love that motivates Tony’s purest single act of heroism. Tony loves.
     
     
    In the resolution of Among Thieves Nathan Drake shares a kiss with Elena. Not only does he choose the path of justice, but he chooses to be with the woman who represents it too. Drake doesn’t want to let Elena down. Drake’s Deception, the sequel that takes place two years later, depicts them as an ex-couple who’ve drifted apart in the interim. In a moment of quiet when Elena asks an exhausted Drake to rest for a moment he apologizes for letting her down as he strokes the wedding band on her finger (Drake’s Deception, Chp. 15, Sink or Swim). It is his love for her and her love for him that brings out Drake’s own sense of justice. He cares about her opinion and wants to do right by her. Because of this, and because Elena supports and loves him, Drake is able to find in himself the motivation to step out and be a hero. Drake loves.
     
     
    Love is different from goodness. Whereas goodness tends to be a state of being, love is active and directed at something. The prince who saves the princess is good, but with that goodness comes a love of good that he then acts out. His love of righteousness drives him to overcome the evil dragon. Though it seems to be the material for a very special episode of some Saturday morning cartoon, it is love that serves as the catalyst for even the most unlikely of heroes rise to heroism. Even for characters who are the Chosen One or ones who have been uniquely tasked with thwarting the villain, we find that it is love that will drive them. The core motivation that brings out the best in people goes to the root of religion, atonement, and even morality: the motivation for an act of heroism is love. Perhaps then we no longer have true heroes in modern fiction, merely ordinary people who are driven by love to become heroes.
     
     
    Works Cited
    Campbell, Joseph. The Hero with a Thousand Faces. Princeton, NJ: Princeton UP, 1968. Print.
    Martel, Yann. Life of Pi: A Novel. New York: Harcourt, 2001. Print.
    Koontz, K. Dale. Faith and Choice in the Works of Joss Whedon. Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2008. Print.
    Robichaud, Christopher. "Can Iron Man Atone for Tony Stark's Wrongs?" Iron Man and Philosophy (2010): 53-63. Print.
    Iron Man. Dir. Jon Favreau. Prod. Avi Arad and Kevin Feige. Perf. Robert Downey Jr, et all. Paramount Pictures, 2008. BluRay
    Iron Man 3. Dir. Shane Black. By Shane Black. Perf. Robert Downey Jr, et all. Walt Disney Studios, 2013. Film.
    Uncharted 2: Among Thieves. Dir. Amy Hennig. Perf. Nolan North. Naughty Dog. 2009. Video Game.
    Uncharted 3: Drake’s Deception. Dir. Amy Hennig. Perf. Nolan North. Naughty Dog. 2011. Video Game.
    Whedon, Joss. Firefly. 2002. Television.
    Serenity. Dir. Joss Whedon. By Joss Whedon. Perf. Nathan Fillion. Universal Pictures, 2005. BluRay.
    The Avengers. Dir. Joss Whedon. By Joss Whedon. Perf. Robert Downey Jr, et all. Universal Pictures, 2012. BluRay.
  5. Ta-metru_defender
    Saw a Sneak Peak tonight at a nearby IMAX theater.
     
    In a word: magnificent.
     
    Just, dang. I went with a friend of mine who's a huge Trekkie (she sat me down to watch Wrath of Khan a few months back) and she loved it too.
     
    Gotta say it's a toss up between it and Iron Man 3.
     
    But dang. Go watch it.
  6. Ta-metru_defender
    Essays, Not Rants! 061: Breaking Point

    Let’s talk about Into Darkness. It’s a sequel to a reboot and also has some shades of a remake. Those are all things that seldom bode well for a movie, but, Into Darkness pulls it off magnificently. It simply does everything right. The main thing I want to address is Into Darkness’ existence as a sequel. There’s no getting around that. Amusingly, the main criticism I see in reviews is just that: Into Darkness doesn’t feel as fresh or new as 2009’s Star Trek. I’d like to counter that by saying: hello, it’s a sequel.
     
    Now, a year ago, I wrote a post about what makes a good sequel. In that post I quoted Joss Whedon’s thoughts on how to make a sequel that would top The Avengers: “By not trying to. By being smaller. More personal, more painful… By being the next thing that should happen to these characters, and not just a rehash of what seemed to work the first time.” This is exactly what Into Darkness does.
     
    What was 2009’s Trek about? A vengeful threat from the future seeks to destroy Earth and it’s up to the crew of the Enterprise to band together to stop him. The stakes are massive (destruction of Earth) and it allows our characters to come into their own and form the crew their supposed to be. It firmly establishes the new universe, re-introduces the characters, and sets it up for their next adventure. Why don’t we make a chain of stars explode and rip apart several planets now?
     
    Into Darkness’ stakes are less direct. The whole of Earth isn’t quite currently at risk, but we do know the sweeping consequences if they fail their mission. Rather, the villain John Harrison and his actions cause tension and conflict among the Enterprise’s crew (particularly Kirk and Spock) and forces them into a corner, forces them to face the thing they fear most. Kirk is faced with the most difficult no-win challenge of his life. Spock is forced to face a scenario absent of a logical solution. These characters are forced to their breaking point, situations which, as Kirk says, “I have no idea what I’m supposed to do”. What’s so important about this scenario? Well, as Kirk goes on to say: “I only know what I can do.” This desperation marks much of the film. Where once we had our protagonists scrambling around trying to save the world, Into Darkness sees them trying to save each other and, at their core, themselves. It’s personal, it’s painful, and it’s precisely where the story needed to go.
     
    2009’s Star Trek saw the assembly of the crew, Into Darkness forces them into a stronger, more unified whole. We need to see the Enterprise’s trial by fire for them to become the crew from The Original Series. This is their moment to become who they are.
     
    Another thing that Into Darkness succeeds at is its reconciliation of the ‘first’ film and any future films with the classics. This movie, more than the prior, looks at Gene Roddenberry’s idealistic view of the future and translates its core tensions to work in a modern setting. It’s worth noting that in modern science fiction interplanetary organizations tend to be militaristic: Halo’s UNSC for example, far from the exploratory nature of Starfleet. The idea of pure exploration isn’t as cool anymore, is it? Into Darkness, more so than its predecessor, takes apart our own expectations and Starfleet itself, rebuilding it and proving that, yes, Roddenberry was right. Into Darkness is Roddenberry’s vision rebuilt.
     
    Into Darkness is a phenomenal film. It follows up 2009’s movie by not trying to go bigger, but instead to go deeper. It draws on ideas from prior movies and episodes to create a new adventure that really gets into the heart of the characters. It dares to push them to their breaking point and forces them to find a way out. This is what sequels should do. The end result is a fantastic film that effortlessly blends old ideas in a new world.
     
    Go see this movie.
  9. Ta-metru_defender
    Essays, Not Rants! 057: Change is Good

    The TV show Chuck begun with a really simple conceit: nerdy, intelligent twenty-something stuck in a lousy deadend job in a BestBuy BuyMore suddenly finds himself with a CIA computer (the Intersect) in his brain and involved with various spy activities with agents from the NSA and CIA.
     
    Simple.
     
    The show could have very easily fallen into step; keep the perpetual romantic tension between Chuck and Sarah (the CIA agent) with Casey (the NSA one) filling the role of the authority figure. They’d fight the villain of the week and just maintain that status quo. It’d be fun, filled with great gags with Chuck and best friend Morgan or with his inability to really mesh with the whole spy gig. Instant formula.
     
    Only they didn’t.
     
    In Season Two, Chuck gets the Intersect out of his head. But then the show plays with the idea of the Intersect, giving him a new one that rather than just information, gives him skills too. So come Season Three, Chuck, now intermittently capable, is able to actually take to the field. He and Sarah become a committed couple (eschewing the will-they-or-won’t-day schtick), and Morgan is let in on Chuck’s double life. As the series continues Chuck loses the Intersect and becomes a spy in his own right, Casey softens into the papa wolf of the group (which in turn expands to include Morgan and Chuck’s sister and brother-in-law). Seasons 4 and 5 were very different from Seasons 1 and 2. The show kept its heart throughout, but allowed its characters to grow.
     
    TV’s a special medium. It’s a blend of short and long-form storytelling, one that allows for long arcs and even changing genres. Look at Lost. The show shifted gears from mostly a drama-mystery to mostly science-fiction show. But, despite the change, it remained heavily character focused right up to and during the end. Lost couldn’t have kept spinning its wheels with the castaways on the island idea, it had to develop beyond the simple idea.
     
    What happens if a show does stay the same? Look at The Office, which began to wear out its format and stories a while ago. Recently, though, the show has begun to explore its idea of being a mocumentary and, with only a couple episodes left, allow its characters to really start making big life choices (that would have them leaving Dunder Mifflin and thus the show). In this case, the show format grew to hamper the story. Anything we saw on camera had to be justifiably filmed by the documentary crew.
     
    Sometimes watching characters grow and change is good too. Look at How I Met Your Mother over the years. Granted, some episodes/storylines fall flat and nothing seems to happen, but the show isn’t afraid to let the characters grow. Barney, for example, grew from a one-note womanizer to an engaged man. Their friendship remains constant, but they’re all in different places from where they were seven years ago. ‘cuz, y’know, people change.
     
    Which brings me to Community. Here again we have a show that’s changed over the years as characters develop and relationships change. Abed has become more social and Jeff legitimately cares now. It’s not as much of a black-and-white change as in other shows, but the dynamic between characters steadily grows and shifts over time. Watching Season One makes you realize just where these characters go. It stays interesting.
     
    I find TV to be a fascinating medium with great potential. Shows like Lost and Game of Thrones wouldn’t work as a film. Long arcs play out so much better in television, especially when they’re character focused. One thing that Chuck, How I Met Your Mother, and Community all have in common is that though some of the storylines can be farfetched and goofy, the characters are always treated with a level of respect and allowed to grow over time. No matter how unrealistic the world around them can get, the characters stay grounded. The shows continue to be interesting and we really begin to fall in love with them and who they are. They change, and change is good. Sure beats pulling a The Big Bang Theory and making the same joke for years on end.
  10. Ta-metru_defender

    Emma Stone

    By Ta-metru_defender,

    My brother's a big fan so I asked her to hold up my notebook so I could send it to him. Which I did.
     
    I also saw Andrew Garfield, Daniel Mindel, and Marc Webb. Film sets are cool, man.
     
    Anyway. I need to go edit my film now. The one that I shot in Grand Central and stuff.
  12. Ta-metru_defender
    Essays, Not Rants! 056: Great Artists Steal

    When explaining what make the Mac so good, Steve Jobs quoted Picasso saying “Good artists copy, great ones steal.” In an interesting twist of fate, that quote often gets attributed to Jobs now instead of Picasso (who may or may not have said it first). It’s a fun quote that definitely is the background for the Mac, it’s also very applicable to, y’know, art. And here that means everything.
     
    Especially Neill Blomkamp’s filmography. Who, you ask? You might know him from the Halo: Landfall short and as the guy Peter Jackson chose to be the one to direct the Halo film. When plans for the Halo film fell through, Jackson instead gave Blomkamp the resources for District 9, an amazing piece of serious science-fiction that showed a few shades of the Halo games in its design and look. It’s subtle, but there’s some resemblance.
     
    E
nter Elysium, the trailer for which dropped earlier this week. It’s Blomkamp’s next film and it looks just as cool as District 9. It too has some stolen design influence. Let’s look at the titular Elysium. It’s a ring-shaped megastructure, like the titular Halo (which wasn’t the first, but more on that later). So we have that look, but it doesn’t look just like a Halo but like Mass Effect’s Citadel as well (the spokes and the interior design). Artificial world inhabited mostly by the rich? Looks like the Citadel’s Presidium to me. It’s an almost uncanny resemblance. But it’s not bad. It’s a good idea, and Blomkamp’s not just copying the idea, but he’s stealing it and mixing it into his own work. He’s using it for a different story.
     
    Halo’s a thief too, particularly from the film Aliens. How much? Halo’s Wikia has an entire article listing them. Not only are the marines’ armor very similar, but Sergeant Johnson is more or less Sergeant Apone. They even have some of the same lines. More than that, the setting of a ringworld is similar to the titular structure in Larry Niven’s novel Ringworld. Halo took conventions, ideas, and designs (and a secondary character) and gave it a new life with a totally new story. Halo doesn’t feel or look derivative; that’s good stealing.
     
    Uncharted is another culprit. Globetrotting treasure hunter who more often that not finds something with a supernatural power? Nathan Drake might as well be Indiana Jones without a whip. They’re often in similar predicaments: already up against lousy odds, everything goes wrong and they’ve gotta fumble —sorry, improvise— their way out. Nathan Drake is Indiana Jones set sixty years late. Yet the works as a whole are different enough. Uncharted’s supporting cast is more different and consistent than Indy’s and the plot and character arcs are very different. Uncharted takes what’s essentially the Indiana Jones mythos and reworks it for a more modern age. The end result is a fantastic video game that, for no small reason, has been called the best Indiana Jones video game.

    The trick with stealing is to not take something wholesale and repeat it. As Steve Jobs said in the interview where he quoted Picasso: “It comes down to trying to expose yourself to the best things humans have done, and then try to bring those things to what you’re doing.” Just copying something isn’t enough, you have to blend it in to what you’re making. Look at Dungeons & Dragons. Much of the setting is taken from JRR Tolkien’s work; you’ve got Hobbits, Ents, and Balrogs (all of which had to be renamed in later editions). But Gygax and Arneson gave the world its own spirit, mixing in influences from other worlds as well. Super 8, Mass Effect, The Secret of Monkey Island; everyone steals from everyone else. The thing is to make it new, to make it work, to make it yours. Don’t copy; steal.
  14. Ta-metru_defender
    Essays, Not Rants! 055: Too Many Characters, Too Little Time

    I started watching Game of Thrones with a couple friends of mine because everybody and their grandmother (actually, no, your grandmother wouldn’t watch Game of Thrones) have been telling us how good it is. And it is, but that’s not quite the point of this essay (that’s not a rant). One of the great things about Thrones is the incredible amount of characters. Seriously, this show gives Lost a run for its money. Unlike Lost, however, Thrones doesn’t have quite as much luxury with giving each character their proper and definite introduction.
     
    We’ll meet characters quickly in the background then a couple episodes (or season if you’re Theon Grayjoy or Loras Tyrell) until they become relevant, at which point we’ve probably forgotten their name. Even if we’re plenty familiar with the character it’s still easy to forget their name (“oh, that’s Varys and he’s Pycelle”). But it’s these characters that make the show so terribly interesting. They’re all magnificently fleshed out; each one with their own goals and they lie, lie, and lie. It’s dramatic irony at it’s finest: we know what they want, but the other guy doesn’t and we get to watch as one falls into the other’s ploy. It’s exciting, it’s interesting.
     
    And, of course, this wouldn’t be possible were it not for its airing on television. We get ten episodes a season and each episode’s an hour long. Not the 45 minutes of network television, a proper hour. We spend time with these characters, enough time that even if we’re not quite sure what their name is we know who they are.
     
    Lost did this too. I’ve mentioned this before, but through its flashbacks we got to know the characters. Lost, and like Thrones, developed enough characters enough that watching them die cost us something. Furthermore, enough characters died with little pomp that for a while there we were worried if anyone would survive.
     
    Which in turn is very similar to the climate in Game of Thrones. Anyone can die. It adds tension and, since these aren’t just red shirts beamed down to show how dire the situation is, we actually care about their deaths. The whole issue of character death is further enhanced since very often a death of one is a great character moment for another. Even if a character seems to die needlessly, the ripples of the impact effect everyone and we begin to see exactly who they are.
    The thing is, it ll feels too short. These characters are fascinating, but we don’t get enough of them. It feels like we’re just getting glimpses of them or, in some cases, not seeing them at all (seriously, where was Arya in the season 3 premiere?). Sometimes focusing on one character or another from episode to episode makes sense, but screen time is a valuable commodity and the writers have to make the most of it. Firefly (which, yes, is my gold standard of characterization) had incredibly layered characters that were quickly built up. Granted, the interplay and politicking wasn’t as dense as in Thrones, but the writers found a way to make sure each character really got their dues. Most everything characters did in Firefly said something about their character. The plot advanced due to it. Thrones spends more time dealing with its plot because with a plot like what it has, well, it has to.
     
    Perhaps Game of Thrones suffers more from its short seasons. Had they more than ten episodes we’d get to spend more time with characters and their conniving. We don’t get quite enough time with them as it is. And we want more time with them, these incredibly fleshed out characters with their myriad goals and plans.
     
    As it is, though, I’m eagerly awaiting Sunday night to see what happens next. Because the show is just so darn fascinating. We keep watching to find out more about our characters, hoping that the next episode will focus more on Arya or Jon Snow or Tyrion, and hoping even more that they won’t die.
     
    Except Joffery. I can’t wait till he dies. Because he has to.
     
    Please.
  16. Ta-metru_defender
    I'm taking Games 101 this semester and a lot of people laugh or are jealous because sometimes my homework is playing Halo, Settlers of Catan, or Mega Man 2 (or this week: Civilization V, Advance Wars, or StarCraft II). Thing is, my midterm is tomorrow (Monday) and I'm cramming.
     
    People, I will have to see a picture of a game in play and write down the name, date, developer, platform, and country of origin. AND THAT IS JUST THE FIRST PART OF THE TEST.
     
    I HAVE NOTE CARDS. I HAVE NEVER NEEDED NOTE CARDS BEFORE.
     
     




  17. Ta-metru_defender
    Essays, Not Rants! 053: Earn Your Ending

    Did you see Warm Bodies? Because you really should. It’s a great movie (and has zombies). And I mean a really great movie. We’re talking that sucker gets added to my BluRay collection the day it comes out.
     
    Of course, the comparisons to Zombieland are inevitable and rightly so: both have the same ‘genre’ and tone: zombie films with a level of comedy and romance. It’s their themes, however, that set them apart. Warm Bodies is overflowing with heart. See, Warm Bodies decides to set aside the dark and somber mood oft considered a prerequisite for a zombie film and instead gives it a blast of life and hope.

    Warm Bodies has a legitimately happy ending. Not like I Am Legend or Zombieland but a real happy ending. Even though things got dark, even though sometimes it looked almost hopeless and the world was coming down, they still got their happy ending. A real happy ending, not the “the world’s gone to pot but they have each other” ending, a proper happy ending.

    It’s the same sort of ending you find in Paperman or The Princess Bride or Star Wars. That sense that there’s good in the world, that it can be found no matter what. But more than that it’s the sense that what’s wrong can be set right, that happy endings exist.
     
    Sometimes the idealistic happy ending doesn’t work. I love Serenity, but that movie’s ending is more bittersweet than happy. It’s not bad: good stories don’t need happy endings. Sam said it best in the film adaption of The Two Towers when he tells Frodo about the stories that really mattered. They’ve got darkness and fear, but they’ve got heroes too, the ones who keep going even when things look bleak. But good wins and there’s hope. The Lord of the Rings embodies this so well. Aragorn and the rest are fighting a hopeless battle against the forces of Mordor, Frodo and Sam are struggling to get to Mount Doom. But the Ring gets destroyed and good wins.
     
    What’s important is that the characters earn their ending. They can’t have it just given to them like in fairytales, they have to fight for it! The guy in Paperman could have given up and gone back to his life, Westley could have not rescued Buttercup. Mal could have aimed to behave. But they didn’t and we get the story, we get the ending that leaves us hopeful. We see them prevail, we seem them fight for it.
     
    In order for an ending to provide the appropriate catharsis there needs to be a a something at stake. It doesn’t have to be life threatening: look at Paperman. If we hadn’t seen the guy’s dull job and his boredom with normalcy we wouldn’t have cared about him trying to win the girl. Knowing that he’s tired of life as is, knowing that he wants this break. Furthermore, if we hadn’t seen him fail and fail again we wouldn’t have wanted him to succeed as much. All this makes the happy ending worth it.
     
    I first read Life of Pi seven years ago and now I’m reading it again for school. At the end of Part One, right as the family gets set to sail to America, author Yann Martel takes a break from Pi’s story to return to the metanarrative of Martel listening to Pi tell his story. Martel recounts him running into Pi’s son and shortly after seeing Pi holding his daughter with all the love a father can muster. At this point in the story we don’t know what happened to Pi, just that it was something terrible that haunts him to the present. But we get this glimpse of him with his young daughter and it’s here that Martel writes one of the most important lines in book:
    “This story has a happy ending.”
  18. Ta-metru_defender
    Here we are. Again. Finally. I've been busy.
     
    Welcome To The 4th Annual TMD Music Awards!
     
    Once again I find myself ranking ten albums from 2012 in order of bestness. As such there is not much need for an interlude, just that all ten of these albums are great albums you should check out.
     
    Special EP Mention:
    Freaks EP, The Hawk In Paris
    These guys are amazing. And Birds on a Wire is one of my favorite songs of the year. Give the EP a listen, a full album will be out in 2013.
     
    Top 10 Albums of 2012
     
    10

    Fallen Empires, Snow Patrol
    Let me forewarn you, my only other exposure to this band is Up To Now; their compilation that came out a couple years ago. This new album is good, though nothing quite rises to the quality of, say Chasing Cars or Just Say Yes, but it has its share of gems.
    Listen to/Download:
    -New York
    -Called out in the Dark
    -The President
     
    9

    Landline, Greg Laswell
    One of the great things about being back in the US is Pandora. I discovered Laswell over the summer and recently decided to listen to a bunch of his stuff on ###### and shortly thereafter bought this album. It's good, to say the least. Especially good when he duets with someone else.
    Listen to/Download:
    -Landline
    -Come Back Down
    -Another Life to Leave
     
    8

    California 37, Train
    I like Train. Their songs provide a nice break with their more mature love songs (as opposed to the poppy sort of love songs). This'll Be My Year is a fantastic song that echoes Billy Joel's We Didn't Start The Fire, only in this song all the events lead up to meeting his love. It's a sweet song typical of Train. 50 Ways is a goofy counterpoint about a breakup, so hey. Train's fun, and this album too.
    Listen to/Download:
    -This'll Be My Year
    -50 Ways to Say Goodbye
    -When The Fog Rolls In
     
    7

    Cold Hard Want, House of Heroes
    Look, by now you've probably realized the things I like in music: good writing and an appropriate sound. House of Heroes embody this, they've got a very organic sound that compliments their great lyrics. They're good.
    Listen to/Download:
    -Dance (Blow It All Away)
    -We Were Giants
    -Comfort Trap
     
    6

    Vital, Anberlin
    What I like about Anberlin is their sound changes a little album to album. Vital has them infusing their usual alt-rock with shades of electronica, and it works fantastically. It gives their sound something different.
    Listen to/Download:
    -Modern Age
    -Other Side
    -Self Starter
    -God, Drugs, & Sex
     
    5

    Weapons, Lostprophets
    Okay, full disclosure, The Betrayed was mildly disappointing. But Weapons is Lostprophets at what might prove their best. Most every song sticks out as being particularly strong; Somedays is a quieter, poignant song, and Jesus Walks and Another Shot are two great anthems that, again, call back to songs like Last Train Home and Rooftops. Took 'em six years, but they're back.
    Listen to/Download:
    -Somedays
    -Jesus Walks
    -Another Shot
    -We Bring an Arsenal
    -A Song For Where I'm From
     
    4

    Babel, Mumford & Sons
    If you thought Sigh No More was pretty good, then give Babel a listen. it's like Sigh No More, but better. It feels that their first album was them finding their voice, and Babel is them shouting it out. The album flows far better than their prior one, songs building off of each other. Hopeless Wanderer and Below My Feet are easily their best songs yet.
    Listen to/Download:
    -Hopeless Wanderer
    -Below My Feet
    -I Will Wait
    -Broken Crown
     
    3

    Not Quite Yours, Barcelona
    This album is different from Absolutes, but not in a bad way. There's slightly less piano and a bit more rhythm. The tone as a whole seems lighter too, but it's still them. It's a natural evolution from Absolutes, and a welcome one. Also: I helped fund the production of this album. Yeah.
    Listen to/Download:
    -Till Death
    -Evermore
    -Less Than Two
     
    2

    Monsters Calling Home, Monsters Calling Home
    I saw these guys open for Anberlin over the summer. They seemed like the lousy band to tide audiences over. Dude. I was wrong. These guys are an incredible outfit. They're just starting out (and recently changed their name to Run River North) and man, their music is good. It's folk, yes, but it's not the cliche sort. Check them out. Seriously. Make them famous.
    Listen to/Download:
    -Foxbeard
    -Goodnight Moon
    -Fight to Keep
    -Whole Dang Album
     
    1

    Scars and Stories, The Fray
    If you thought their last album was good give this one a listen. It's incredible; taking everything from their prior work and just making it so much better. Songs like Rainy Zurich and Heartbeat have this atmospheric sound to their lyrics that just bring it to life. I Can Barely Say is a beautiful song about coming home but not. And The Fighter is their best song yet. Lyrics like "he swings with all his might and all that might have been" just leave you speechless. The other songs on the album are all as good, songs about the Berlin Wall or subtly comparing the uncertainty of the search for the Higgs-Boson to a relationship. It's great.
    Scars and Stories is the best album to come out in 2012. Hands down.
    Listen to/Download:
    -The Fighter
    -I Can Barely Say
    -Heartbeat
    -Rainy Zurich
     
     
    So there you have it, my very biased opinions on good music. No, I'm good at writing about music, but hey, here they are. Check 'em out.
     
    Cheers.
  20. Ta-metru_defender
    Starting Monday I'll be starting work at the Just Salad on 8th St. I think they sell salad.
     
    On the one hand, this might mean so long to bunches of free time and stuff that that entails (like Daily Show trips, long late night conversations, too many video games, Cookies and Coloring Club).
     
    But then this means money. Which means I can buy stuff. Like the Iron Man 3 sets, ME3 DLC, a black tie, alcohol, movie tickets, gloves, and so on.
     
    Heck, I may be able to eat out now and then.
     
    But yeah. We'll see how I feel about this a month down the line.
  21. Ta-metru_defender
    Essays, Not Rants! 048: The Problem With Play Station All-Stars Battle Royale
     
    Yeah, I know, the game came out almost three months ago. I got it for free in a bundle a while back and have been debating selling or keeping it. I’d played Play Station All-Stars Battle Royale before and figured it was alright. The other night, some friends and I decided to finally open it up (negating resale value) and beat each other up.
     
    Virtually, that is.
     
    Now, way back in the Nintendo 64 days (mid-90’s, early 00’s), Super Smash Bros. came out. In it characters from various Nintendo games could, well, fight. It made a great party game: Yoshi, Link, Pikachu, and Donkey Kong going at each other was always a great way to kill time. I tell you this because comparisons between it and All-Stars are inevitable. Both are four player fighting games with characters drawn from across their platform.
     
    And here’s the thing: All Stars isn’t Smash Bros.
     
    All-Stars is to Smash Bros. as the PS3 is to the Wii: the supposedly ‘more mature’ counterpart. All-Stars takes its cues from more technical fighters (like Street Fighter or Marvel VS Capcom). See, Smash Bros. has two attack buttons: one normal, one special. All-Stars has three attack buttons and accompanying it with a direction (or without one) yields all sorts of different attacks.
    This sort of style works fine for traditional fighters where the arena is just that: an arena. But in All-Stars where, like Smash Bros., the arenas consist of several (sometimes moving) platforms, you’re often moving and avoiding the three other players coming at you to focus on precise move input. There’s little more frustrating than thinking your character is about to run and gun but instead stops dead right as your opponent hits you.
     
    This is made only worse due to there being no parallels between characters for most of these moves: what makes one character do an uppercut could make another fire a shot across the stage. You can’t button mash and it can take several rounds to become familiar with a character. There’s no encouragement or incentive to play as anyone else once you’ve mastered one.
     
    And guess what? It gets even more complicated. The only way to kill an opponent is by using a Super. How do you use a Super? By filling up your AP Gauge. How do you do that? By beating up your opponents. Like the moves, there’s no telling what one character’s Super will be. Nathan Drake throws a propane tank a few meters and shoots it, but Sackboy hits anyone right next to him. Spending one third of the match filling up your meter only to miss the shot is not only frustrating, but adds an all too high level of randomness to a supposedly ‘serious’ game. Look, Smash Bros. had a completely unique way of accessing damage and All-Stars couldn’t copy that, but surely there was another way?
     
    That said, Superbot and Sony tried hard to make a fun fighting game and they succeeded for the most part. They put effort into recreating the characters (Nolan North voices Nathan Drake and Richard McGonagle showed up to voice Sully in Drake’s Arcade story). Sure, we can nitpick over the exclusion of certain characters (for the record, they’re working hard to bring Crash Bandicoot in as DLC), but All-Stars isn’t actually a bad game. Most importantly: It’s fun. I get to play as Uncharted’s Nathan Drake, a friend of mine can be Jak & Daxter from the games he grew up with, and another friend can go Twisted Metal on us with Sweet Tooth. Even if we’re not that good at the game, we’re still having fun. It’s not a perfect game, but that’s alright.
     
    At the end of the day All-Stars is not Smash Bros. They’re different games that both take the mascot fighter idea and run in different directions with it. All Stars is a different game, less casual, but still a great game to play with a group. All Star’s biggest problem is that it’s not Smash Bros. Accept that, get used to the different gameplay, and you’ll have fun.
     
     
    Writer’s note: Who would I want included in the game as (free!) DLC (besides Crash)?
    Snake (Metal Gear Solid)
    Cloud, Squall, and/or Lightning (Final Fantasy)
    X and Zero (Mega Man)
    Ezio (Assassin’s Creed)
    Commander Shepard (Mass Effect, because why not?)

  23. Ta-metru_defender
    So Amazon has this thing where groups can crowdsource menial tasks to folks for menial pay.
     
    As a broke college kid (who desperately wants to be able to buy books, movie tickets, and Iron Man 3 Legos), it is my duty to perform these tasks.
     
    ...while watching TV in another window, of course.
  24. Ta-metru_defender
    Essays, Not Rants! 047: The Unnecessity of Dialogue
     
    I’m in a filmmaking class here at NYU that focuses on visual storytelling. That is, no dialogue. At first that sounds like quite a challenge since it’s the script and speaking that tend to carry a story. So that got me thinking: what’re the benefits when we don’t have dialogue?
     
    Anyone remember the video game LEGO Star Wars that came out several years ago? It’s a retelling of (obviously) the Star Wars movies only with LEGO. There’s no dialogue. The game relies on players inherent familiarity with the movies to convey the plot and also use a lot of gestures and emotions. It’s a simple form of storytelling — almost crude — but it gets the point across. What we get is a humorous, quirky retelling of and old story.
     
    So it’s doable, sure, but is it effective?
     
    Up. The first ten minutes of that movie tells one of the best, most heartfelt stories you will find in film. And five of those ten minutes are completely devoid of dialogue. In those five minutes (nicknamed Married Life, based on the piece from the soundtrack) we get an overview of Carl and Ellie’s life together. It’s the music that carries it. In fact, dialogue would have hurt the scene.
    The impact of this wonderful scene comes from the animation and music. We don’t hear Carl and Ellie discussing their inability to have a child or the postponement of their dream; instead we seem them consoling one another and going through life. The speechless montage allows the creators to show us their story rather than telling us. The absence of dialogue can be a powerful thing indeed.
     
    If you happened to see Wreck-It Raph in theaters you were treated to a beautiful short called Paperman. Paperman, like Married Life, is devoid of dialogue. Also like Married Life, it tells a complete story.
    See, Paperman is a whimsical romance. It’s not a serious drama or even a romantic comedy; it’s a story about love and the degree of magic found in life. It’s in black and white, features a sort of CGI-2D animation blend, and has no dialogue. Dialogue (and even color) would take away from it. What makes Paperman great is how it’s not quite real life. In real life the boss would yell at him more, in real life there’d be more talking. But in real life paper airplanes don’t fly as well as they do in the short. It’s not meant to be real, it’s meant to be fantastical. Paperman’s music, animation, lack of dialogue, and very precise use of color bring it all together. What could easily end up a trite and saccharine is instead a beautiful piece of animation.
    Sometimes we need a story that steps aside from the rigors of reality. The flourish of romanticism that is Paperman is a reminder that sometimes life can be simple and it can be hopeful The break from dialogue — and reality with it — allows us this diversion.
     
    Long story short: I wanted an excuse to say something about Paperman. I got that excuse.
  25. Ta-metru_defender
    Essays, Not Rants! 046: Why Abrams Is The Man For Star Wars
     
    A little more than a week ago it was officially announced that JJ Abrams would be directing the new Star Wars. Some people met this news with a measure of caution.
     
    Myself? I think Abrams is the person to direct it.
     
    L
ook at Mission: Impossible III. Abrams made his directorial debut with the sequel to this established series. He kept strongly to the themes and style of the original TV show (so I’m told). Not only was it considered the best Mission: Impossible film until Ghost Protocol came along, but it elevated the series from being simple action movies to intelligent, developed thrillers. JJ Abrams entered into a franchise, captured the themes, and made it better.
     
    
But let’s move on to his next film, shall we? 2009’s Star Trek made Star Trek cool. Really cool, lens flare cool. Sure, it felt different thematically from the TV series, but it kept the characters’ personalities and dynamics. It’s not just the old names applied to new people: they’re the same! More than that, he crafted a well made adventure that, like Mission: Impossible III, took an established franchise, made it his own, and made it good. We didn’t get a half-baked sorta-Trek, we got a movie that took the idea of a cool and wonderful future and made it work. It was a sheer wide-eyed adventure of a farmboy saving the world, like the original Star Wars.
     
    His most recent film is Super 8. If you wanted an 80’s adventure film in the spirit of E.T. or The Goonies, you loved this movie. You might be sensing a bit of a trend here: Abrams captured the spirit of movies from that decade but also infused it with a feeling of something new. He wasn’t just rehashing old stories, he told a new one. Furthermore, in Super 8 he balanced adventure and fun with some very quiet, very poignant scenes. As the world around them swirls in a mess and the film reaches its end, characters share these quiet beautiful moments. In the midst of action and visuals, Abrams still captures the emotion. Like in, y’know, Empire Strikes Back.
     
    And through it all, Abrams has this feeling of mythology. He helped lay the groundwork for Lost, he gave us the enigmatic Rabbit’s Foot in Mission: Impossible III and the alien in Super 8. Unlike George Lucas and the prequels, Abrams doesn’t feel the need to explain away every detail. He gives his work a feeling of mystery and myth. Again, this is something the Holy Trilogy was built on (the Force is a mystical energy field, not some, well, whatever midichlorians do).
     
    But the script must count too, yes? Doesn’t matter how good your director is if your script sucks. The writer for Episode VII is Michael Arndt. He’s the guy that did Little Miss Sunshine, a movie that balanced comedy with a lot of heart. A lot. He also did this little film called Toy Story 3 which you’ll probably recall as a sequel that effortlessly slipped into the established continuity and trumped all prior. What do we know from these two films? This man can give a screenplay heart without it feeling shoehorned in and capture the voices of characters who aren’t his own. Furthermore, the script is being supervised by Lawrence Kasdan (who wrote Empire Strikes Back).
     
    As it stands now, Star Wars Episode VII is shaping up to be the Star Wars movie we’ve wanted for a very long time. Did we need a new Star Wars? Not really, but now that we are getting one, and now that we know who’s behind it… We have the perfect storm for a new Star Wars. Yeah, I know, it’s at least two years away… but c’mon man, I’m excited.
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