Category Archives: movies

Movies vs. Video Games: The Problem with Comparison

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There has been a strange trend with the recent reviews of Peter Jackson’s “The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey.” Surely, one would expect comparisons to Tolkien’s original book and Jackson’s previous “The Lord of the Rings” trilogy. But video games?

Yes, the recently released film adaptation of Tolkien’s timeless story has become the latest victim of being negatively compared to a video game. While critics have taken issues with the film’s slack pacing, bloated length and overabundance of CGI, some have also seen it as less of a cinematic exercise and more of an electronic one.

The recent “Hobbit” film is only the latest movie to be negatively compared to a video game

Rottentmoates’ Tim Ryan writes:

“I love the following things, in no particular order: cinema, video games, and BBC series. However, The Hobbit taught me an important lesson: I don’t like it when my movies look alternately like video games and/or BBC series. There were moments in the film where I wasn’t sure whether I was watching the making-of featurette or a cut scene (for a millisecond after Gandalf showed up to rescue the dwarves from the Great Goblin, my brain instinctively steeled itself for an intense boss battle).”

While Ryan wrote mostly of Jackson’s controversial decision to shoot the film in 48 frames per second (twice the normal 24), a similar argument could be made for the film’s CG-heavy visuals. It’s certainly not the first popular movie to receive the seemingly ignoble distinction. Everything from “The Avengers” to film in the “Transformers,” “Pirates of the Caribbean,” and “Spider-Man” franchises have been, one time or another, been compared more to video games than movies.

The comparison is rarely flattering. After all, video games are child’s toys, while film is an old and sophisticated art form. Or so the consensus seems to be.

But, for several reasons, comparing movies to video games is never a truly valid critique. The major flaw in reasoning is the fact that movies and video games are fundamentally different mediums. No matter how much we might call it so, “The Hobbit” is a movie. It will never be interactive. Regardless of how many times I watch it, even if I memorize every line, the movie will never change. It is an artifact, immovable in time. That’s the beautiful thing about film: the story itself changes the same, but our interpretation of it can change along with us.

The major difference for video games is that they are, by their vary nature, interactive. It is a more dynamic medium, with a greater potential to engage the audience via its unique interactivity. Why then, are video games mentioned when a movie is criticized for being all flash and no substance?

 

“Bioshock” (2007) is one of the premier examples of the power of interactive storytelling, something that film will never be able to share.

Roger Ebert’s famed argument that “video games can never be art” is still being hotly debated, but certainly they can be as entertaining and emotionally engaging as movies. For every forgettable shooter or smash-em-up, there seems to be another game that is thought-provoking or emotionally engaging in ways that the medium of film can never convey. A popular example is “Bioshock,” and for good reason. The games dystopian themes and twisted world are magnificent simply because the player is allowed to explore them and shape them as they see fit. The reason a “Bioshock” movie sounds so unpalatable is simply because fans can’t imagine a version of that universe in which they aren’t the ones making the decisions that shape the story and world.

Or consider “Amnesia: The Dark Descent,” arguably the most terrifying game ever played. The terror exceeds that of any horror film because you are the one being hunted, you are the one running for your life. Many games emphasize making the player feel powerful, but this one trades in the art of fear.

Oddly enough, video game critics sometimes make the opposite argument: a game can, apparently, unflatteringly resemble a movie if there are too many cut scenes, too much static plot and not enough interaction. The greatest example is probably the “Metal Gear Solid” series, which features award-winning game play but has often been criticized for requiring players to sit through hours of convoluted storytelling before pressing a button.

“Metal Gear Solid 4” was criticized by some for its lengthy cut scenes sometimes resembling a movie more than a game.

The fact is that movies and video games can both be wonderful experiences, but for very different reasons. Movies will never be video games, and video games will never be movies. They are fundamentally different mediums, with their own strengths and weaknesses. Look at adaptations; there’s a reason both video games based on movies and movies based on video games rarely turn out well. No one has been able to quite figure out how to translate one medium’s strengths to the other. And maybe that’s the way it should be. Ultimately, critics should stick to what they know best. Movies should be compared to other movies, and games should be compared to other games. It does little good to call a film or a game something it’s not.

“The Dark Knight Rises” and the legacy of Aurora

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No, I haven’t written for this site for a while. In fact, one could say I have let it idle. There are several reasons for that. But, the main reason is Aurora.

Yes, the horrendous shooting that shocked the nation almost two months ago may is still doing just that. As new revelations about the shooter, James Holmes, seem to be a near-daily occurrence, many are still reeling from the sheer magnitude of the tragedy.

For the longest time, I wondered how such a tragedy could be expressed in words. Some tried, to varying degrees of success, but there was still something missing for me. I didn’t want to write about it, and still don’t, because I sense that something has changed. I didn’t feel like writing a review for “The Dark Knight.” I didn’t feel like watching very many movies.

Before that fateful night of July 20, the cinema was never a place where we even entertained the thought of violence apart from what was occurring on screen. Sure, there was incidents like the infamous theater bombing in Paris during a screening of The Last Temptation of Christ. But things like that don’t happen in the U.S.

But it did. Now, the theater is a place of risk, just like anywhere else. Rather than an arena of escape, the theater is now inescapably and tragically a reminder of the real world in which we live.

Critic Roger Ebert put it rather bluntly when he wrote for the New York Times:

“Should this young man — whose nature was apparently so obvious to his mother that, when a ABC News reporter called, she said “You have the right person” — have been able to buy guns, ammunition and explosives? The gun lobby will say yes. And the endless gun control debate will begin again, and the lobbyists of the National Rifle Association will go to work, and the op-ed thinkers will have their usual thoughts, and the right wing will issue alarms, and nothing will change. And there will be another mass murder.”

Yes, but what to do in the meantime? Some say it’s time for stricter gun control. Others cry for more transparency in diagnosing and treating mental disorders. Still others go to the movies, and some don’t.

Todd McCarthy, writing for The Hollywood Reporter, encourages moviegoers to keep calm and carry on.

“Along with mourning for the victims and the proper punishment of the culprit, I would vigorously support a public (not industry-sponsored) mass movement to reinstate the primacy and pleasure of movie theater attendance as one of the great communal entertainment experiences. Any fear and trepidation people feel must be honored and acknowledged but also overcome. If some people feel like staying home for a while, so be it. But a lone maniac with delusions of homicidal grandeur can’t be allowed to hold our most basic desires for creative, social and escapist gratification hostage.”

This is easier said than done. The magic of the cinema was lost on July 20. It may not come back again–not for a long time.

 

Classic Hunter: “Ace in the Hole”

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I have a soft spot for classic films. My list of favorite movies often differs greatly from those of people my own age, and I will always find Turner Classic Movies’ host Robert Osborne more of a man than George Clooney and Brad Pitt put together. Here, the classic geek in me reviews classic movies. Sometimes, it will be as I see them for the first time myself; other times, it will be after re-watching one of my favorites. Either way, I hope you’ll check these out, especially if the majority of movies you watch are in color. 

 

Billy Wilder’s 1951 classic “Ace in the Hole” is a great movie about bad people. Or perhaps it’s a great movie about good people corrupted by the idea of greatness.

Charles Tatum, played by Kirk Douglas, certainly knew greatness once. As a hot-shot journalist in cities likeChicagoandNew York, he ruffled more than a few feathers. But libel lawsuits and Tatum’s notorious alcoholism shot him straight back to the bottom. He shows up at a quaint newspaper in Albuquerque,New Mexico, looking for that one big story that will restart his career and bring him back into the good graces of New York’s media elite.

After spending a year writing about rattlesnake hunts and tornadoes that never showed up, Tatum gets his story when he hears about a local man, Leo Minosa (Richard Benedict), who is trapped under rubble in a mountain while digging for ancient Indian artifacts. He sees an opportunity to exploit the story for all it’s worth.

Kirk Douglas made his career off of playing honorable heroes in such films as “Spartacus” and “Paths of Glory,” but there’s none of that here. He’s mostly a snake, and, even his brief moments of humanity are in stark contrast to his actions. He’s not really a character to root for, but, withDouglasthis memorable in the role, he doesn’t have to be. WatchingDouglasis like coming into contact with a terrifying force of nature; the on-screen spectacle he creates is never anything short of mesmerizing.

The campaign to “save” Minosa, led by Tatum, reveals a colorful cast of characters, including the sheriff, who hopes to use the rescue as an opportunity to boost his reelection campaign, and Minosa’s wife, Lorraine (played with icy effectiveness by Jan Sterling), who desires to use her husband’s predicament as an opportunity to split town and make something for herself.

Billy Wilder was one of the first Hollywooddirectors to subvert the traditional archetypes of hero and villain, and one of the first to reject the typical happy ending. Even his comedies, such as the famous “Some Like it Hot,” end on a note of apprehension and uncertainty about the future. The same goes here. The only truly “good” characters here are Leo Minosa and Tatum’sAlbuquerque editor, Jacob Q. Boot (Porte Hall); one trapped in a hole and the other facing irrelevance as the sensible “old guard” of journalism is swept away by sensationalism and the desire to be the first rather than the best. In Wilder’s world, the crooked are powerful and the good are often fighting against a system that finds them increasingly useless.

Looking back on the film today, it’s amazing to see how prescient it was about the course of journalism. In an era of increasing sensationalism, Wilder saw honesty as the first thing to go. Indeed, Tatum fabricates story elements in order to give the people “what they want.” In a world of quick-hit online journalism, this idea is more relevant than ever. But, more importantly, Wilder nailed the idea of the reporter as celebrity and active participant rather than impartial observer. Tatum takes an active role in the rescue efforts and does all he can to bolster his public image. In the process, the publicity becomes more about him than the man stuck in the mountain. This was all before the television even came along. It’s not hard to watch someone like Anderson Cooper today and nod in acknowledgement.

Tatum becomes fiercely protective of “his story” as the big city reporters start to move in on his turf. “This is my story,” he tells the sheriff, “and I’m going to make sure it stays mine.” The idea that stories are shared, and that people’s lives are not a commodity, does not cross his mind. Meanwhile, the popularity of the story brings in spectators from all over the country, and a carnival is set up to entertain the guests. It’s not a subtle image, but it is an effective one.

Without giving too much away, hardly anyone gets what they want by the end. And, with a story this cynical, how can they? Wilder desired to reveal the lowest depths human nature has to offer, and he did so splendidly. Despite this, the movie remains a joy to watch, filled with fine performances and particularly good black-and-white cinematography, emphasizing harsh shadows and showcasing the barren desolation of the desert landscapes.

“Ace in the Hole” is a truly great movie, and an oft-forgotten one in the Billy Wilder cannon. And, in today’s increasingly fast-paced and bottom-dollar world of journalism, it’s an important reminder that, when the humanity is taken out of “human interest,” nobody wins. It’s available on Netflix instant until the end of the month.

Netflix Hunter: “Rubber”

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I’m trying out a couple of different ideas for “series,” if you will. People always seem to complain that there’s “never anything good on Netflix,” but I say they just don’t know how to sort through the vast amounts of useless garbage to find the gems hidden within. Some people might consider this one useless garbage. I don’t. 

“Do you think the tire’s gonna get laid?” Not a line I thought I’d ever hear in a movie. But, then again, “Rubber” is no ordinary movie. The opening of this incredibly odd film contains a monologue that describes how “all great films contain an important element of ‘no reason.’”

“This film is an homage to ‘no reason,’” the narrator, a police officer who is also one of the main characters, explains. Well, at least the filmmakers are willing to admit their movie is pointless. But really, did you expect a movie about a killer tire to need a reason to exist?

“Rubber” goes out of its way to let you know that the filmmakers are in on the joke, that yes, they know the movie is bad. They even create an audience of characters who are watching the events of the film to point out all of the strange pointlessness.

But, here’s the funny thing: the movie isn’t nearly as bad as its creators seem to think it is. While it borrows from a great many movies, it is itself, a unique creation.

The “birth” of the tire is an impressive scene. As it slowly picks itself up out of the sand, it attempts to stand up straight, faltering just a few times. As it begins to roll, it explores both its abilities and its limitations, such as whether it can roll over a water bottle or through a puddle of water. The camera follows from behind, providing, as best as it can, a “point of view” perspective from the “eyes” of the tire. Without dialogue or even sound, the tire is effectively brought to life and given a personality.

Pretty soon, however, we see that the tire has “psychokinetic powers,” and can make things explode with its…mind, I guess. It blows up a rabbit and a crow before making its way up to humans. For just a moment, I felt empathy for this sad little tire, but I can’t muster that much emotion for a serial killer.

Not that I was expecting to feel genuine emotion in a movie about a killer tire anyway. The film, which moves at a brisk pace, is, to put it mildly, odd and surprising. Others might call it batshit insane. Few movies these days are genuinely surprise or offer us something we haven’t seen before. If nothing else, it’s definitely something new. To top it off, this movie does it all with high production values and an unexpected amount of polish, not to mention a healthy dose of self-deprecation.

When you get down to it, “Rubber” is nothing more than artfully constructed schlock. But hey, if you’re in the mood for something stupid, at least you can enjoy some well-executed stupidity.

…And, in case you were wondering, no, the tire doesn’t “get laid.” Even this movie isn’t quite that weird. There’s probably some porn for that out there somewhere. “Rubber” is available now on Netflix instant.

Taking on Ebert

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This guy created a website that specifically chronicles his picks for the great critic Roger Ebert’s 75 worst reviews in a very  respectful manner. I think he’s right on with a lot of these; Roger’s my favorite critic, but I often think he can be harsh on greatness and very forgiving of garbage.