A New Challenger Approaches!

Throughout the past couple of posts, I've been going on and on about the immersive potential of structurally fractured narratives, yet I haven't directly discussed any serialized media. As much as I love me some irony, this is an oversight which cannot stand. The next few posts are going to be about comics, television (including manga and anime respectively), and maybe some web series' as well. Lots of exciting things happening in these regions, and they need to be talked about.

Before we venture to these new and exciting regions, I'd like to offer my thoughts on Street Fighter IV, as it provides us with a topical opportunity to discuss the most serialized genre of video games: The 2D fighter. I haven't talked much about the potential pitfalls of narrative fractures and I can't think of a better example to prove my point. Let's begin with a personal history.

I became a serious gamer a bit later than most of my millenial contemporaries, (about 9 or 10 as opposed to 5 or 6) on account of good parenting. You see, I still hadn't figured out the whole "how to read" thing, and Mom and Dad didn't see how sitting in front of a television screen for hours on end would help matters. They already had to limit my time with the Gameboy Grandma gave me when I was 7. Ironically, I really began to blossom as a reader around the same time they caved and got me a Super Nintendo for Christmas. Whether there's a correlation is a matter for another post. Seriously. Remind me.

Anyway, my delay came with one grave cost: I missed the early-to-mid 90's fighting game boom, and I started too late to develop the insane hand eye coordination necessary to be competitive in the genre. Somehow I've managed to live on. This was part of my parent's plan of course. The media was rife with the horrors of Mortal Kombat; GTA of its day, though I never found it that appealing to begin with. My reading skills were still too feeble to appreciate the edginess of spelling 'Combat' with a 'K'.

I was always firmly in the Street Fighter II camp, allured by its anime-aesthetic, and the most iconic videogame attack of all time. I'd always beg for a turn at friends' houses, only to be laid to waste in a matter of seconds. By the time I had a SNES of my own, the entire 2-d fighting game scene was dwindling with the emergence of consoles with 3D capabilities, and Street Fighter II had lost most of it's mainstream appeal since Capcom saturated the market with a host of different editions of the game. They tried to revive interest in the series by introducing a new roster of characters in Street Fighter 3, but this pissed off players who had spent years training with the original characters, the vast majority of which were inexplicably cut. Capcom attempted to make amends by returning some of the cut characters with two more editions of SFIII. It didn't really work. The Street Fighter Alpha series found a small but dedicated following, though most mainstream fighter's got their fix with Capcom's cross over games, which really are incredible.

The age of street fighter seemed to have ended. Then this emerged.

I recognized it for what it is, but I still can't remember the last time I had been more excited about a sequel. Oh wait, yeah I can. Anyway, as much as I hoped the game would have the trailer's painted look I was afraid they would try to take the series to 3D again like they did with SF EX (which isn't even worth linking). Fortunately, Capcom decided to stick with 2D gameplay, while giving the characters and backgrounds detailed 3D characters models. The result is pretty, but it also looks a lot like SF2 updated with modern animation and HD graphics, which is funny because that already happened.

So how does it play? The phrase "returning the series to its roots" was thrown around a lot during the previews, and it's consistent with my experiences, right down to the old school throw-your-controller-against-the-wall difficulty. The CPU routinely kicks my ass on "Easy." Granted, I was trained in the weakest style of arcade kung fu, and just recently graduated to a style which is only slightly less embarassing. Still, there may be hope for me yet in the form of Focus Attacks; one of the two new mechanics Capcom introduced to the gameplay. Simply explained, Focus Attacks are easy to use all-purpose counter attacks. The other feature, known as the Revenge Gauge, seems to be a more technical version of the Special Attack Gauge (which is also still present), but I have yet to make heads or tails of it.

"But what of the story!?" you ask? I give you a flat stare and reply dryly, "What indeed."

Like every other game in the series, (hell pretty much every game in the genre), Street Fighter IV is centered around an international fighting tournament. Chronologically, I believe it occurs after SFII and before SFIII but I'm not sure. When I combed wikipedia for answers, I got a headache. The former's story has been told so many times, I don't know which one to go on. Normally I'd go with what's in the game, but to my knowledge, the only story telling that occurs in game are the quips your character makes to defeated opponents. Yet I know there is all this stuff about some evil organization with, and fighters harnessing dark energy floating somewhere in the periphery. Maybe it was in the game's manual somewhere? SFIV is slightly better. Each run through arcade mode begins and ends with these really nicely drawn anime scenes, but out of context, they make no damn sense. The scene that begins Abel's 'campaign' is a perfect example. This guy is brand new to the game, and not only does he have a huge amount of history, he's found a way to forget all of it! Are we supposed to have some idea who he is? How does he know Chun Li?

Even if there weren't so many different versions of the over-arching story, Street Fighter IV would still have to make sense of the fighting game's fundamental fracture: The Character Select Screen. Like all fractures, there's a lot of potential there, and Capcom even realizes some of it. Each character has a different reason for entering in the tournament, and a specific rival to take out. But for some reason, every character ends up in the same final boute against a semi-nude genetic monstrosity with a ying yang orb for an abdomen in a secret lab. Um. What? Is this still part of the tournament? Are the judges there with the evil scientists? I mean, SFII had the same nonsensically bottle-necked final fight, but at least M. Bison looked human. By the way, why is nobody surprised to find him back from the dead?

Look, I know it's a video game where people throw fire balls with their bare hands, and Yoga teaches you how to stretch your arms like Mr. Fantastic, but that doesn't mean you can't be coherent. I can suspend disbelief and ignore logic only so much, and Street Fighter IV crosses that line left and right. But if you're looking for a hardcore fighting game, you won't walk away disappointed.

It is Written

I originally intended to have this up before Oscar night, but as usual, I'm behind schedule.

Slumdog Millionaire is a romance about a boy who goes on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? in India. It also won several academy awards this past weekend, including a well deserved Best Picture of the Year. If you haven't seen the movie yet, this is your stop. Seriously, thanks for reading and see you next post. You already know more about the film than I did when I saw it, and learning more will only diminish your experience of it. The film's best quality, in true underdog fashion, is how it comes out of nowhere and wins you over before you know what happened. And oh yeah, there is also information some would consider spoilers.

As a rule, I despise modern romances because they tend to embrace the story teller's greatest most loathsome foe: The Formula. Every story has a structure, and there are only so many narrative structures one can take, so the true virtue of the craft lies in the telling as opposed to what is told. Therefore in an inherently predictable genre like the romance (which almost always sticks to the first of two traditional endings: A) They hook up or B) they don't) a writer should constantly strive for innovation and take risks to keep the audience interested. The Formula supplants such noble endeavors in the interest of holding on to the most profitable common denominator, giving rise to an industry where "Wow, I'm a cute guy who still lives at home in his 30s" is a premise that warrants a remake.

Like Love Actually and 50 First Dates, two fine romances that mannage to escape The Grim Fate of the Formula, Slumdog Millionaire is actually a collection of stories by design. Instead of being told the story of how Jamal found love and came away a millionaire, you are given the story behind each answer leading to his ultimate triumph.

As Jamal bounces between his past, the game show and his trial in the inspector's office, we are kept guessing about what will happen next, and more importantly what will happen in between. Even more than in The Dark Knight, the fractures in the film's presentation serve to bring us deeper into the movie, by comparing Jamal's experiences with our own. If you were to 'unwind' the plot according to it's strict chronology, it's structure would be far more predictable and this engaging speculative element would be lost completely. This trick of scrambling the sequence of events is hardly new, but very few films have used it to such great effect. We would simply assume, as we do with all straightforward but pre-edited, narratives, that what happens between one scene and another is edited because it is unimportant; it is the time the characters' spend riding buses or in the bathroom. Then again, one of the movies most memorable vignettes takes place in a bathroom of sorts. The net effect is that we assume there is much more to know about Jamal's life, but understand that for brevity's sake, he is only giving us the most crucial details.

By the time the plot arc becomes apparent, (which for me was around the time Jamal and Salim took the skyscraper dive), it has already swept you along like a wave, depositing you amongst Jamal's cheering fans in the Millionaire stadium (who are all curiously absent after the show's over when he's waiting for Latika in the station). That being said, some may be put off by the "happily ever after" when it finally arrives. When Contrasted against some of the film's earlier harsh sequences, it can feel particularly manufactured, simply because real life doesn't spike between those poles so drastically, except in the most extraordinary circumstances. Then again, those exceptions are the ones people tell stories about, and Slumdog Millionaire tells a story about those stories.

Despite my tirade against the derivative evil of formulas, I am something of a traditionalist, and as much as I hate modern romances, I must confess that my favorite movies are classic romances. Movies that move you through tears to laughter and back again, with violence and tenderness interspersed, finally arriving at a finish appropriate for the tale told. And though it might be simple, what ending could be more appropriate for Jamal's experiences than a happy one?

Since only those of you who have seen the movie should be reading this, I don't need to tell you how fantastic the cinematography, the soundtrack and acting are, though I was especially fond of the shots of the kids running through the shanty town, the use of MIA's Paper Planes on the train, and Freida Pinto's portrayal of Latika in the film respectively.

A Dark Knight Indeed pt. 2

As promised, here is the second half of The Dark Knight. Be warned, it’s another long one despite my best efforts.

To understand why the Dark Knight is so important, we have to return to the concept of breakage, and its significance in the comic medium. The fragmented presentation of comic books: the gaps between boxes on a page, the disjuncture between text and pictures, between each issue in a series: is it’s greatest point of potential. The breakages allows readers to fill in the gaps on their own terms, drawing them into the world more deeply than other media, for while Film utilizes the same sort of closure, the transition between one cell to the other happens too quickly and purposefully for us to be consciously aware of it.

To a limited extent, The Dark Knight translates this same fractured quality into the film medium. Indeed, the structure of TDK’s plot shares more in common with a typical limited series than it does with other comic book movies, including Batman Begins. Further more, the short quick cuts in fight sequences resemble the blow by box composition of a comic book fight. And do you remember that huge panorama as Bats prepared to jump off the skyscraper in Hong Kong? That was totally a centerfold. I believe this sort of fractured presentation will become increasingly popular in the future, (especially when you consider that the internet features a comparable type of fracture to comics, with its windows and mix of text and images) and given the widespread popularity of The Dark Knight, it will serve as the most effective vehicle to influence other film-makers

In addition to its technical aspects, both the acting and the casting in The Dark Knight are superb. Michael Caine, Morgan Freeman and Gary Oldman don’t break new ground but they give great performances. Maggie Gyllenhall is every ounce the ‘Rachael Dawes’ Katie Holmes was and more. I wish Nolan and Goyer knew how to write women better so she could have had more screen time, and more interesting things to do than falling out of windows. Aaron Eckhart is also at the top of his game, and he really brings a new level of depth and significance to the Harvey Dent/Two-Face character. It’s a shame that his performance has been so over-shadowed, and that he spent the second half of the film with that ridiculous make-up which was more ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ than it was horrifying psychopath.

My critique of Bale’s Batman can be summed up best by this video clip. Before the next movie roles around, (and you all know it will), I really hope Good Sir Gravelthroat has a chance to hear Kevin Conroy’s voice acting in Batman: The Animated Series. Nobody else will ever balance growl, bellow and brood so beautifully.

Then there is Heath Ledger’s Joker.

Like all great character performances, Ledger makes The Joker instantly familiar and distinctive. His drawn out, strangely affected pronunciation, fraught with cheek licks and lip smacks is as chilling distinctive as Hannible Lecter’s reptilian mannerisms, or even Darth Vader’s asthmatic deep breathing. But what really makes him impressive is how he evolved the character. The ever-changing “let’s put a smile on that face” story is a brilliant homage to the character’s inconsistent origin in the comics.

In short, Ledger gave the most memorable and influential performance of the year, and he should be up for Best Actor as opposed to Best Supporting. I realize that the full title of the awards is “Best Actor in a Leading Role” and “Best Actor in A Supporting Role,” but that is not how people refer to them, or how they are thought of. Best Actor is considered the most powerful male performance of the season. By contrast, Best Supporting Actor is thought of as the best nonessential role that elevates quality of the film. And I actually believe that this arrangement is completely appropriate.

The problem is that the Academy is developing a habit of mislabeling antagonists as ‘Supporting Roles’ when they want to honor two leading performances. In some cases, this is an appropriate classification. But can there be any doubt as to whether Anton Chigurh was a leading role, or if The Dark Knight was as much about The Joker as it was about the titular hero? The academy does it do avoid controversy. It is a lazy, half-assed attempt to appease audiences who would cry foul if their candidate walked away empty-handed and it compromises the critical integrity of the Oscars. Best Supporting is effectively reduced to a runner-up ribbon that cheapens the performances of its recipients, and the guy who walks off with the Best Actor Oscar should be humbled knowing he was spared some of the stiffest competition. Worst of all, actual supporting roles worthy of merit now have no hope of taking home an Oscar.

Then there is the lack of a best picture nom. Honestly, if a movie featuring so much technical innovation, an all star cast and one of the most memorable and influential performances in years can’t even contend, what does it take? From what I have observed in the past, winning a best picture boiled down to two main criteria:
1: You have to be a big budget production that employs half of Hollywood.
2: You have to be a timeless story with universal appeal.

In the past few years however, a few international and independent films have taken home top honors. Films with minimal budget’s and star power which manage to become critics’ darlings, because they prove that film can be more than literature made easy. Consequently they tend to be ‘harder’ to watch and less popular. Don’t worry I’m moving on. Films whose stories fall within the realms of para-literature, (Comic books, Science Fiction, Horror, Fantasy; you know, nerdy shit) straddle these two approaches to Best-Picturedom. Though their themes are broadly accessible, their obscure trappings prevent universal appeal, and they are usually too commercial for the critics to enjoy. Therefore they must satisfy themselves with make-up and special effect awards.

The academy made an exception for The Lord of the Rings Trilogy because A) Tolkien’s work is regarded as the highest example of the fantasy genre and B) the movies’ cast and production values fulfilled criteria 1 several times over. The original Superman movie also managed to take home best picture, because it was the first superhero movie, based on the first super hero. Being the first is worth quite a bit. Having the one of the most memorable score from Hollywood’s best beloved composer didn’t hurt either. Interestingly, I have to admit that music was one area where Dark Knight fell rather flat for me.

Despite that shortcoming though, I couldn’t help but feel that Batman deserved to compete for best picture. Then again, even if he did, I would not want to see him win. You see, Slumdog Millionaire, is the best picture of the year. But I’ll talk about that next time

A Dark Knight Indeed pt. 1

In the interest of full disclosure, I must confess that I believe Batman to be the best superhero ever. As a child I collected his toys, tore around the backyard in a black cape, and occasionally referred to myself as Bruce Wayne. My affection for the character has grown slightly more discrete with age, but it has also grown deeper as I've come to understand him better. Instead of super powers, Batman has serious mental problems. He is not a superior man but a broken one, yet he uses that breakage as a point to draw in strength normal people could not use. Some nitpickers say that doesn't count as a superpower, and that Batman is consequently not a real superhero. But whenever somebody says superhero, the bat symbol comes to mind pretty quick.

That acknowledged, The Dark Knight is the most important superhero movie made so far.

To those who witnessed the release of the original Batman movie, or even the first Spider-man movie, I'm sure this seems like hyperbole. After all, they both broke box office records and made nerdy fanboys out of 'mainstream audiences.' Hell, even Iron Man managed the same trick earlier in the summer: making a well-known 'comicbook character’ into a well-known character, period. Hell of a trick it was too. Tony Stark’s steal alter-ego had grown considerably rusty since his Cold War origins, and Marvel did a bang up job of polishing him into a shiny chrome champion hip to today’s sensibilities. But even after the credits rolled, and Samuel L. Jackson’s Avengers epilogue made all the sidewalk sitters squeal with schoolgirl glee, it was still just a popcorn flick.

The Dark Knight strives to do more with the concept of superhero film. As implied by the new bat-symbol, we are returning to the broken Batman. In fact, the concept of “breakage” is central to the movie’s composition. The story presents us with a number of instances of division by mirror image. To begin with, superheroes are characters fundamentally divided between crime-fighter and alter ego. Bruce Wayne, a shallow cover for the dark knight, is the inverted reflection of Harvey Dent, a white knight who publicly fights crime. Batman the crime-fighter can be similarly contrasted against the Joker, as both are anonymous rule breakers serving opposing interests. This creeping fissure model continues with Harvey’s eventual transformation into Two-Face. This kind of comparison opens the door to a lot of complicated character analysis and some pretty heavy themes.

Naturally, not everybody will like it. Needless to say, those yearning for the whimsy of the Golden Age Batman comics are better off watching the Adam West series: There be no bat-puns or “Holy___’s Batman!” here. But even those who like their caped crusaders fairly hardboiled may be put off by the film’s relentlessly somber tone, as Nolan doesn’t let a minute pass without reminding you how Dark his world is. He never succumbs to the juvenile Underworld-brand of angst that Hot Topic peddles. It’s all genuinely grim, and it can wear you out as a result.

Authentic as the presentation is, the actual message being delivered is rather unsettling. A mainstream movie has never preyed on the fears of terrorism harder. Hell, it’s even in the advertisements.

Fortunately, the Joker is a thoroughly original villain and a refreshing departure from the terrorist archetype. In fact, he’s more like something thought up on /B/ and brought to life: a prospect infinitely more loathesome and terrifying than any islamic extremists. Hell, you could even consider his anonymity to be his super villain power: Batman only manages to beat him by using technology that invades people’s privacy. For me, the “just this once” argument for using the cell-phone sonar was the most chilling scene in the entire movie (though the white-eyed effect was a great homage to the comics). The ending speech about lying to Gotham’s people so they would still have something to believe in gave me a shiver too. The inevitable impotence and corruption of diplomacy, symbolized by Harvey Dent’s transformation to Two-Face, was also a downer. The movie isn’t blatant propaganda though. One walks away with the sense that things are not right, and that the heroes were acting in true desperation as opposed to nationalistic machoism. It bears repeating.

All that writing and I still haven't explained why The Dark Knight is so important. You have to set the stage for these things though. If you bear with me for just one more post- no Dan Brown bullshit- I promise you, I'll get to the point. I'll also offer a general discussion on the academy award, a funny youtube clip embedded right in the blog. No clicking required! Though there will be funny links for the clicking inclined too.