Quaaludes and Red Wine

Rants, raves, reviews and such by a supercilious fellow, with delusions of grandeur.

[mike-harker]

“What a piece of junk!” - A diatribe on the Star Wars special editions

   A few days ago I finally saw Star Wars. In a manner of speaking anyway. I’d watched it before, first in 1997 when the original trilogy was re-released in cinemas, again on Blu-Ray in the run-up to last year’s release of The Force Awakens and countless times in between. However there was a difference between the Star Wars I watched the other day and the Star Wars I saw in ‘97.

   When the series’ creator, George Lucas, put the films back in theatres he took the opportunity to spruce them up somewhat. The picture and soundtrack were cleared up (not an unusual move for a re-release) and some errors in the old effects were removed (something which may upset purists but hardly a deal breaker for most people). But that’s not all. Some of the original effects were replaced entirely by (then) modern CGI effects, deleted scenes were sliced back in and even some classic moments were altered in some way. To call this an unpopular move amongst the fanbase would an understatement.

   It’s not uncommon for alternate cuts of movies to be released. For example there are several versions of Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner knocking about and he even recut Alien into a ‘director’s cut’ for a theatrical release in 2003. I think it’s safe to presume there are few people resentful of the mere existence of a 'special edition’ of a film and there may well be those who prefer some of them. In the case of the Star Wars trilogy, however, the ‘special editions’ are the only versions readily available (by 100% legitimate means) in anything even resembling a decent quality. To many the film that changed Hollywood and movie making forever in 1977 may as well be gone. For a lot of fans, especially those old enough to remember when Star Wars was new, this is a travesty.

“The special edition, that’s the one I wanted out there. The other movie, it’s on VHS, if anybody wants it. ... I’m not going to spend the, we’re talking millions of dollars here, the money and the time to refurbish that, because to me, it doesn’t really exist anymore. It’s like this is the movie I wanted it to be, and I’m sorry you saw half a completed film and fell in love with it. But I want it to be the way I want it to be. I’m the one who has to take responsibility for it.”

George Lucas, speaking out of his arse in 2004.

   Well George, I wanted to see that ‘other movie’ and imagine my surprise when I spotted a dusty VHS tape of Star Wars in the local charity shop. The box helpfully informed me the tape was released in 1995 so, grinning from ear to ear, I found myself purchasing a VHS for the first time in over a decade*. One long hunt for a working VCR later (thanks mum!) and I was watching Star Wars for the first time (again). It wasn’t perfect, it was a VHS! The sound was fuzzy, the picture quality never rose above barely tolerable and it had been cropped to fit a ‘90′s TV, but I didn’t care! I was finally watching the original version of Star Wars**. And I loved it! But what I took most from the experience was a more intense sense of irritation at those ‘special editions’ than I’d felt before. Comparing the Star Wars of ‘77 with that of ‘97 (and all that followed) seems to indicate that George Lucas doesn’t quite understand how to tell the story or why it resonates with audiences.

   The moment that comes under the most scrutiny is easily the, practically memetic, ‘Han Shot First’ scene so let’s get that out of the way. In this scene Han Solo finds himself cornered by Greedo, an alien bounty hunter, and deals with this problem aptly. With gunfire. In the original cut Han simply shoots Greedo after a moment of listening to some not-so-veiled threats. In the ‘special edition’ the scene was edited to have Greedo fire a shot before Han kills him, now in self-defence. This drew a lot of ire for a couple of reasons. For one, it makes Greedo look rather incompetent as this presumably professional bounty hunter manages to miss his target at point blank range. But the main point of contention is from those who allege that this scene is damaging to Han Solo’s character and his arc from cavalier rogue to heroic rebel. Do I agree with this? To be completely honest, not entirely. The more vocal opponents of this change argue that the scene no longer establishes Han as a merciless killer and as such there’s little indication of his character being more heroic by the end of his arc than at it’s start. However even without this Han is still portrayed as being a self centred jerk, rejecting Luke’s plea to save Princess Leia from execution (“Better her than me!”) until promised a monetary reward (“I ain't in this for your revolution...I expect to be well paid”), making his last minute appearance during the climatic attack on the Death Star still seem like a satisfying conclusion to his story. It still believably feels like the character has been changed by the events he’s experienced and the people he’s met. Besides if you go back and watch the Greedo scene you will see that the camera cuts to close ups of Han surreptitiously readying his weapon out of sight, as he distracts Greedo until the opportune moment when he’ll be ready to fire. For me the fact that Greedo manages to get a shot off first isn’t particularly relevant when you consider that the scene is clearly about Han preparing to murder the man in front of him. Does the change make the scene better? Not at all! It looks ridiculous (depending on which version you watch either Greedo’s aim is laughable or Han Solo’s neck bends in a speed and way that is unique to himself) and let’s face it the sight of Han simply shooting Greedo in cold blood and walking away is just cool. I don’t find it as offensive as most people do but even then, the original version is the best***. Besides I’m not so charitable about certain other changes.

   Rewind back a few scenes. Luke, Obi-Wan and the droids are looking upon Mos Eisley. In the original cut Obi-Wan declared the town a ‘wretched hive of scum and villainy’, we cut to a shot of the group riding towards town then see them get stopped by a group of stormtroopers. It quickly and clearly establishes how dangerous their situation, and this place, is. For reasons I struggle to fathom George Lucas felt the need to add a couple of minutes worth of computer generated characters, creatures and establishing shots in between Luke et al seeing Mos Eisley in the distance and arriving there. It’s completely unnecessary and the movie feels a little less streamlined because of it, but I could have forgiven or at least ignored this if the added scenes weren’t filled with the kind of humourless humour that many of us would come to despise when we met Jar Jar Binks in The Phantom Menace. Watch a droid ‘hilariously’ slap another out of the air! Thrill as a jawa ‘comically’ slips off his alien mount and swings off the reins! Mos Eisley no longer feels like a town filled with danger. It feels like a joke. And don’t even get me started on the CGI creatures skirting around the edges of the screen to distract us from the ‘obviously’ uninteresting scene of Obi-Wan using the Force to avoid arrest. I find this truly baffling. Why would anyone think this would be necessary to improve the film? There’s only one conclusion I can come up with, it was for the purpose of world-building. Despite being set in a universe brimming with aliens and monsters the original Star Wars trilogy is oddly anthropocentric so perhaps Lucas thought that adding a bunch of CGI creatures would convey the sense that this is an enormous universe teeming with life and we are seeing only a small part of it. If I’m right that still doesn’t forgive the tonal dissonance the additions create and, worse still, it’s completely superfluous because the famous cantina scene serves the same purpose.The patrons of the bar are a diverse group of mostly non-human creatures that hint at life and stories beyond those we see. Even the bartender’s throwaway line about not serving droids has interesting implications as to what what this society is like.

   Tonal dissonance is a recurring problem throughout the special editions. There’s the aforementioned scenes in Mos Eisley but there’s also a particularly odd case in The Empire Strikes Back. After Luke and Darth Vader’s duel and the revelation that Vader is Anakin Skywalker (oh, spoilers I guess), he attempts to lure Luke into turning to the dark side of the force. Luke responds by letting himself fall, presumably to his death (that’s how I always saw it anyway). It’s a powerful scene which would only be undermined if someone decided to put a sound effect of Luke screaming as he falls. Guess what George Lucas did for the ‘special edition’! What makes this odd though is that he seemed to realise his mistake, making this one of the few changes he actually went back on in later years. If only he’d done the same for the particularly egregious ‘Jedi Rocks’ scene in Return of the Jedi. That scene was set in crime lord, Jabba the Hutt’s palace, a sleazy underworld dive populated by dangerous criminals. As we all know nothing says ‘sleazy underworld dive populated by dangerous criminals’ better than terrible, heavily produced jazz music. Hey, speaking of Jabba the Hutt...

   This is scene that inspired the rant you’re currently reading. After seeing the original cut of Star Wars it was the thought of this scene that turned my opinion of the ‘special editions’ from mild annoyance to near violent disdain. Jabba the Hutt never made any appearance in the original cut. His scene was filmed but ultimately shelved until 1997 when George Lucas dusted it off, added a terrible CGI Jabba over the actor portraying him and spliced it back into the film. People say the ‘Han Shot First’ scene ruined the character of Han Solo, here I’m going to posit that this scene retroactively damages the character of Jabba. Remember that an audience seeing Return of the Jedi in 1983 knew little about this character other than the fact he had put a price on the head of Han Solo because he was owed money. There would be some anticipation as to what this mysterious figure would be like. When they were finally introduced to Jabba he was revealed to be a grotesque, disgusting (in all senses of the word) and above all ruthless alien criminal. Thanks to the ‘special edition’ of A New Hope a modern audience meets him two movies earlier (actually five if they watch the prequels first but whatever) and to them Jabba seems...lenient, almost friendly and there’s nothing particularly disgusting about him. Worse still is how Han Solo interacts with him. When Han first spoke to Jabba in Return of the Jedi he does so with barely hidden fear, in this no-longer-deleted scene he speaks in a rather cocksure, blasé manner. Then he steps on his tail clearly causing some pain in the Hutt. How does Jabba respond to this blatent display of disrespect? He doesn’t. He just ignores it and carries on like nothing ever happened. Someone please enlighten me as to why I should fear this creature or why I should be anticipating his battling our heroes. He just comes across as a pushover. Then Boba Fett wanders in before looking at the camera as if even he’s confused about why we should care about this. Now in fairness Lucas did eventually go back and improve this scene...by putting a slightly improved CGI model of Jabba in there.

   None of that is what annoyed me though. I’d realised all that long ago. I’d even accepted it. I loved Star Wars and this was the only version I’d ever known. The ‘special editions’ are still brilliant in a way and though they may make me grumble I’ve always enjoyed them in spite of their problems. It’s not as if the original versions were perfect. If not for some highly talented editors A New Hope would likely have been terrible thanks to a rather drab script and as much as I love Return of the Jedi it is deeply flawed. No, what irritated me was what happened immediately after where the Jabba scene would have appeared in the '77 cut. Here we see Luke and Obi-Wan sell the speeder then immediately cut to them arriving at a hanger to meet Han Solo. The camera follows them into the hanger then pulls back to reveal...The Millenium Falcon! Han Solo’s ship in all it’s majesty. I’d seen this scene before in the ‘special edition’ but this time I actually felt something. Some sense of wonder at the sight of the ship that would take our heroes into the stars. So much so that when Luke declared it ‘a piece of junk’ I actually laughed because of the dichotomy between his response and my own. It took me a while to realise why the scene had such a different effect on me this time when I’d frankly never particularly cared about it before. Why did the reveal of the Falcon fill me with giddy anticipation in a way it never did when I was a child. Then it hit me. It’s because in the ‘special edition’ this scene isn’t the first time we’ve seen the ship. There it first appears in the background of the Jabba the Hutt scene with the focus purely on the confrontation between the disappointingly affable criminal and the cocky smuggler. The Millenium Falcon is little more than a prop in it’s first appearance and as such there is no impetus for us to think otherwise even when Luke first sees it.

   Thanks to a rather minor piece of editing George Lucas unwittingly (one assumes) robbed a once brilliant scene of it’s impact. I can’t help but wonder if his tinkering with Empire and Jedi hasn’t done the same. Maybe one day, with the rights to the franchise now out of Lucas’ hands, we’ll find out. Maybe Disney will give us the version of the Star Wars trilogy we deserve to see.

I will say one thing for the ‘special editions’, I’ll take ‘Victory Celebration’ over ‘Yub Nub’ any day. But maybe that’s just me. 

Thanks for reading.

*I know about the ‘despecialized edition’ of the trilogy but Windows 10 has done it’s damnedest to make downloading them as difficult as possible for me and I don’t really have the time or inclination to figure out a way around it right now.

**Well, kind of. The version I was watching was still subtitled A New Hope and let’s not open that can of worms right now.

***Rumour has it that this alteration came about because George Lucas wanted to avoid the ‘special edition’ receiving a PG-13 rating. I have no idea whether this is true but for what it’s worth, when the original versions did get a (terrible) DVD release here in the UK it still received a U rating which is our equivalent of a G. Make of that what you will.

[mike-harker]

“I want to believe” - The X-Files: Conduit

 Welcome back to...whatever it is I eventually decide to call this retrospective on The X-Files. If you’re new to these parts you may want to start with my look at the Pilot here. Or don’t. I’m not your mum.

  Here’s something interesting. A ‘mythology’ episode that apparently contributes so little that someone decided it wasn’t worth including when it came time to release The X-Files Mythology Collection on DVD. I’ve always found that a little unfair, both to Conduit itself, which is a fine episode, and to the poor viewers who bought that set. I get it though. Presumably someone got lumbered with the job of compiling the ‘mythology’ episodes together but also had some constraints on how much space the discs could hold. They saw this episode, which has no sign of any conspiracy nor does it introduce or enlighten us on any of the mythos’ overarching mysteries, and thought it superfluous. That’s all well and good but here’s the thing; Conduit is one of the most important episodes to understanding what The X-Files is about.

  Before we go into high praise I have to preface this by saying that, as a narrative, Conduit doesn’t quite work for me. It’s not bad it’s just rather slight. A teenager, Ruby, is abducted by aliens, then she reappears. In between that her brother, Kevin, dutifully jots down pieces of binary code he’s somehow deciphering through the static on the television. There must be more than a few people out there who lament the lack of that old-fashioned static on modern television sets since it seems to hold some fascination amongst horror writers, Poltergeist comes to mind or maybe Candle Cove to you young’uns. There is the germ of an interesting idea here that manages to go beyond the usual ‘dead air’ pun being riffed on. Static of course is simply random signals from various sources unintentionally picked up by a television’s antenna.

  Presumably (the episode comes close but never quite gets around to explaining) Ruby has been taken by aliens who want to study humanity, it’s technology and it’s culture. Somehow they have the capacity to create a link between Ruby and Kevin. They have Kevin stare at the static, the random signals he sees within it are ‘broadcast’ from him to the aliens who use Ruby as a receiver. Great, a means of researching Earth without having to set foot upon it and risk your presence being discovered. Like I said there’s an interesting idea in that but it falls apart when you wonder why a race so technologically advanced they can manipulate genetics to create a psychic link between family members can’t simply stick an antenna onto the side of their ship. Then there’s Conduit’s visual set piece. The so called ‘WOW moment’. A massive, living room spanning portrait of Ruby’s face in binary.

   It’s certainly a striking image but does nothing but quickly shunt Mulder and Scully towards the episode’s denouement. Somehow. Some explication as to why the portrait exists (within the logic of the episode rather than because ‘the writer thought it would be cool’) would have been appreciated. I think we’re supposed to assume this was the alien’s way of saying to Kevin “BRB with Ruby. k thx by. xx” but that’s an odd logical leap to make and seems rather convoluted. That sums up the alien aspect of Conduit really, illogical and convoluted. Then again maybe this is all perfectly rational to an extraterrestrial mind so who am I to judge. As it stands it’s an interesting ride with an unsatisfying destination and if that was all there was to the episode this write up would end on a very sour note indeed. Thankfully that’s not the case.

   In the end Conduit is not about aliens and conspiracies. The scale is smaller than most future ‘mythology’ episodes aim for and the stakes are low but what is here manages to be all the more powerful for it. Conduit delves into the psyche of Fox Mulder, it’s about a desperate search for the validation of his beliefs. The boxset sitting on my shelf may sell itself with Mulder standing on an airfield staring at an alien spacecraft but ask me to state the greatest moment of season one’s mythology episodes and without hesitation I’d describe Mulder on his knees at a shallow grave uttering ‘What if it’s her?’

   Back when we looked at the Pilot I mentioned that there’s no reason (yet) to believe there was anything paranormal about the disappearance of Mulder’s sister. He told Scully he remembered the events of that night when he was under hypnosis. Here’s the thing about that, despite what proponents of UFO conspiracy theories will tell you, hypnosis is not a completely reliable method of regaining lost memories. The process is just as likely to implant you with a false memory based on your own biases and preconceptions. While this point is never raised in Conduit (or indeed in any episode if memory serves) it would appear that Mulder is aware of this. 

SCULLY: Stop running after your sister. This won’t bring her back.

MULDER: Come with me or don’t come with me but until they find a body I am not giving up on that girl.

   ‘That girl’ is Ruby of course but it would hardly be a stretch to think he is actually talking about Samantha. If Mulder can prove what happened to Ruby was an alien abduction it would lend credence to his theory of what happened to his sister. So he pursues this investigation with a determination, even aggression that we are not quite used to. He disregards the (quite frankly) overwhelming amount of evidence that posits a much more down to earth explanation because it doesn’t fit with what he believes. If not for Scully he would have broken protocol when discovering a body, ‘disturbing a crime scene’ because he just ‘need(s) to know’ if it’s Ruby. His relief when he is told it isn’t is unspoken but palpable.

   By episode’s end Ruby has been returned and evidence points to the extraterrestrial. But Mulder still doesn’t get the result he had hoped for. Darlene, Ruby’s mother, refuses to let her talk about what happened as ‘the truth has caused (her) nothing but heartache’.

MULDER: She should be encouraged to tell her story, not keep it inside. It’s important that you let her.

DARLENE: Important to who?

   It’s a piercing question, thanks to the clarity of the answer. What’s important to Darlene is that her daughter has been returned. Kevin got his sister back. Mulder never did. He’s no closer to discovering what happened to Samantha than he was before. But we know he’ll keep searching.

   The episode ends with Scully listening to a tape from one of Mulder’s hypnosis sessions. While she does we see Mulder sat alone, crying, perhaps praying in a church. On the tape Mulder recounts his memory of the night Samantha disappeared.

DR. HEITZ WERBER: Can you see your sister?

MULDER: No, but I can hear her.

DR. HEITZ WERBER: What is she saying?

MULDER: She's calling out my name, over and over again. She's crying out for help but I can't help her. I can't move.

DR. HEITZ WERBER: Are you scared?

MULDER: I know I should be but I'm not.

DR. HEITZ WERBER: Do you know why?

MULDER: Because of the voice.

DR. HEITZ WERBER: The voice?

MULDER: The voice in my head.

DR. HEITZ WERBER: What's it telling you?

MULDER: Not to be afraid. It's telling me no harm will come to her, and that one day she'll return.

DR. HEITZ WERBER: Do you believe the voice?

   Mulder’s answer neatly encapsulates what Mulder’s quest and, really, what the entirety of The X-Files mythology is about. He does not give a simple affirmative or negative. He answers with an optimistic but somewhat non-committal ‘I want to believe’. That phrase is more than just a quote to shove on a poster or merchandise. It’s the beating heart of the series. What The X-Files is, as that quote and the final shot it is uttered over signify, is a story about faith. 

   For Mulder it is faith that his sister is alive, well and just waiting for him to find her despite all evidence to the contrary. The X-Files is a tale of faith, it’s power and the sometimes extraordinary lengths people will go to follow it. Conduit is key to understanding this and that’s why it’s exclusion from the Mythology Collection is a disservice to the fans and creators alike.

Next time: The Jersey Devil.

[mike-harker]

“Betraying my Cool Exterior” - The X-Files: Squeeze

   Well this took me a lot longer than anticipated but my procrastination is finally over. Here is the third instalment of my look back at The X-Files. New to the blog? Start here.

   In a way this was my first real exposure to The X-Files. It was 2003. The show had ended the previous year and it’s popularity had waned long before that. Mulder and Scully had no place in my life outside of that one episode of The Simpsons. Then in the run up to Halloween, Channel 4 broadcast The 100 Greatest Scary Moments, one of those relatively cheap and easy to make countdown programmes that require little more than movie/TV clips, a bunch of ‘talking heads’ to tell you exactly what you just saw in said clips and an inexpensive but recognizable celebrity host to provide ‘humorous’ comments. I lapped it up of course. Nestled comfortably somewhere in the top 20 was Squeeze and a clip of a man reaching down a chimney, his fingers stretching, his bones audibly cracking as he slips himself into this impossibly small space. For weeks after that countdown, with much of it already forgotten, that moment was imprinted on my mind. One year after the show left our screens, The X-Files became something I needed to see. A similar reaction, I imagine, to those lucky enough to watch it unspoiled back in 1993. 

   “There were two kinds of episodes,” my father told me after I enquired as to whether The X-Files was worth watching, “the ones with aliens and the ones that were actually good”. I disagree with his assessment but there is something to what he said. While developing the series Chris Carter realised that no matter how compelling the alien conspiracy plot could be, it likely wouldn’t sustain the audience’s interest for long. The solution was to have two kinds of episodes. There would be the ‘Mythology’ episodes, dealing with extraterrestrial phenomenon and government conspiracies, and then there would be the ‘Monster of the Week’ episodes which dealt with...well here’s the interesting thing, providing there was something paranormal or sufficiently unusual occurring then they could deal with whatever the writers wanted. Want to do a ghost story? Of course you can! Rashomon style vampire comedy? Go for it! Inbred lunatics who keep their quadruple amputee mother/lover under the bed? You’re a sick, twisted fellow but knock yourself out! It made for a surprisingly versatile show and kept the series from stagnating (for a while anyway). Of course it’s easy to say this now, thanks to the wonders of hindsight, but at the time the broadcast of the inaugural MotW episode must have been like having to put out a second Pilot. With the first two episodes rooted firmly in the purview of UFO folklore it was up to Squeeze to prove that The X-Files could pull off more than government intrigue. And it does. It really does.

   Here’s where I should make a confession. As you can probably tell from the fairly anecdotal paragraphs above, I’m struggling with this one a bit. Not because there’s nothing I want to say about it. Far from it! It’s just that Squeeze is the episode I’ve seen more times than any other and the one I’ve read the most about. It’s not my favourite (we’re a couple of seasons away from that) but for me this is the episode that best encapsulates what is so wonderful about The X-Files. When I meet someone who has never seen the show, this is the one I’ll point them towards. It’s fun, has genuinely hilarious moments and some charming scenes between Mulder and Scully. And on top of all that, it’s terrifying! With that in mind I worry this humble blog will struggle to do it justice. But hey, I like a challenge!

    Despite MotW episodes being more or less standalone, with little prior knowledge necessary, Squeeze is key to the relationship between our leads with Scully having to choose between her loyalty to Mulder and the X-Files and possibly the future of her career in the FBI. This is framed through Scully’s relationship with the loathable Tom Colton, an old friend from the academy. From his first scene it’s clear his motivation towards crime investigation revolves purely around how solving the murders will benefit him when he lets slip his disdain towards a colleague for ‘lucking’ into a promotion.

SCULLY: Two years out of the academy, how'd he land that?

TOM COLTON: Lucked into the World Trade Center bombing.

SCULLY: Well, good for Marty.

TOM COLTON: Oh, come on Dana, the guy is a loser, look where he is now. That's where we should be.

   For Colton a successful case is nothing more than a chance to climb the ladder. This contrasts with Mulder whose motivation is more noble (though considering his history, still somewhat selfish), a need to discover the truth. As well as portraying working on the X-files to be less lucrative than other branches of the FBI we also discover it to be seen as something of a joke within the organization, as is the man who investigates them. As well as having Scully run the risk of becoming a laughingstock due to her association with him, this aspect of the script allows us to greater emphasise with Mulder. Knowing from previous episodes how astute his leaps of logic really are pushes us to ally ourselves with him in the battle for Scully’s respect in spite of how shrewd the choice of leaving him may be, while the ‘out there’ nature of the case means their scepticism is understandable. Thus a balance is provided between the audience’s awareness of the veracity of Mulder’s theories and the possible frustration we may feel from other characters refusing to believe him. Said balance is vital and thanks to that it is impossible feel sorry for Mulder when other agents openly mock him. At least it would if, in a particularly delightful moment, he didn’t manage to run rings around Colton simply by playing along with his assumptions...

TOM COLTON: So, Mulder, what do you think, does this look like the work of little green men?

MULDER: Grey.

TOM COLTON: Excuse me.

MULDER: Grey. You said green men, a Reticulan skin tone is actually grey, they're notorious for their extraction of terrestrial human livers. Due to iron depletion in the Reticulan galaxy.

TOM COLTON: You can't be serious.

MULDER: Do you have any idea what liver and onions go for on Reticula? `scuse me.

   ...before immediately showing him up by discovering what turns out to be a vital clue Colton had missed. Never are we in any doubt which of these agents is superior either professionally or morally. The moment Scully declares her allegiance is perfect. There’s no bathetic speech about what a great agent Mulder is. Just two words that manage to coldly tear apart Colton’s self-aggrandisement. 

TOM COLTON: Look Dana, whose side are you on?

SCULLY: The victim's.

   None of that is what this episode is best remembered for though. That would be our villain. Eugene Victor Tooms. The X-Files was surprisingly reluctant towards having non-conspiracy related enemies making a return appearance so it says much that this is one of the few that did. Doug Hutchison gives an exemplary performance managing to appear unassuming, almost milquetoast during his interrogation while switching to a disturbingly primal, animalistic mode when he attacks. His modus operandi is as chilling as it is ridiculous. His ability to squeeze himself through small spaces hits on the very real fear that no matter how secure you may feel, an intruder may still find a way into your home. 

   In a lesser series the scene where Tooms squeezes through the chimney would have been hilarious rather than scary but for the decision to simply show his fingers stretch (a special effect that admittedly hasn’t aged all that well) before cutting to the outside to show the actor actually squeezing his way through the tiny hole* (a special effect that will never age thanks to it’s not actually being a special effect). Add in the horrible sounds of snapping bones and you have a scene that will never leave you. Once again we see that less is more as there are very few scenes which actually show Tooms use his ability with the episode often cutting away moments before, leaving it to us to picture it. A wise choice as even with the more advanced CGI technology of today I doubt it would look anything but awful if used without restraint.

   But what really makes Tooms frightening to me is something I see mentioned very little. His taking a souvenir from each of his crimes is what truly makes him a monster in my eyes. Without this detail he may have appeared to simply be a victim of his mutation, killing because he must if he wants to live. By having Tooms claim a memento from each killing the writers show that this is not only a necessity for him. He enjoys what he does. So much so that he likes to remind himself of each of his victims. It’s what makes Tooms a truly disturbing character and dispels any sympathy the concept may have unintentionally elicited.

   So if Tooms is a terrifying character already why then did the writer’s feel the need to include the character of Frank Briggs? Briggs is introduced as a retired cop who worked a similar case sixty years prior. He posits that Tooms is the physical distillation of the very worst impulses and traits of humanity, ‘like all the horrible acts that humans are capable of somehow gave birth to some kind of human monster’. It’s an intriguing concept to be sure but one may well argue that such a lofty concept doesn’t sit well within an episode of such a small scale. Indeed the histrionics of Briggs come across as melodramatic rather than chilling. That said though there is a dimension to this that is worth exploring further and it revolves around the objective of the murders. The human liver. 

   Writer Glen Morgan claimed that he and James Wong chose the liver to be the organ Tooms would consume as it is ‘funnier than any other organ’. Sorry, but I’m going to have to call bullshit on that! Partially because the spleen is the funniest organ. That’s simple fact! But also because, as well as being an organ that is capable of regenerating itself (thereby giving some pseudo-explanation as to why Tooms may need it to continue living) the liver actually holds an interesting place in philosophy. Several sources (including The Talmud and the philosopher Plato) reference the liver as being the part of the body where the worst excesses of mankind gather with wrath, jealously and greed calling it home. With this in mind it could be said that Tooms does not target this organ simply because of it’s actual regenerative qualities but rather because, being a creature born of the evils of mankind, he must gorge on that evil to exist. So what better meal for him than the very seat of humanity’s darkest emotions?

All that and I couldn’t find room to talk about some other great moments. The fingerprint scene, Mulder’s ‘at least you respect the journey’ line, the tense climax where Tooms...oh, if you haven’t already, just watch it!

Next time: Conduit.

*Not played by Doug Hutchison here. Rather a contortionist was hired to pull of the shot.

[mike-harker]

“Not Entirely Dissuasive”- The X Files: Deep Throat

The second part of my personal investigation of The X-Files. Missed the first part? Then start here.

   I imagine there was a sense of inevitability in the X-Files writer’s room. The moment the decision was made to focus a number of episode’s upon UFOs and government conspiracies there was simply no getting around it. This was a story that would simply have to be written eventually so why not just get it out of the way. Mulder and Scully go to Area 51. 

   Well actually no, they don’t. Not really. But to anyone familiar with even the fundamentals of UFO conspiracy theories it’s clear what we’re watching here. There’s a top secret facility guarded by shadowy government types. Mulder theorises the purpose of said facility is to reverse engineer alien spacecraft. They even stop to visit what is blatantly supposed to be The Little A’Le’Inn. One almost wonders why the agents are swanning around Idaho when it’s clear that they should be in Nevada. At least until one realises that having the pine forests of Vancouver doubling for the desert would probably stretch credulity just a little too far for most viewers so let’s not nitpick. Especially not with what is another superb episode. Mostly.

   While the Pilot offered up an alien horror story with the trappings of a conspiracy thriller at the edges Deep Throat flips this around giving us paranoia and conspiracies with a hint of the extraterrestrial, focusing on the military and it’s treatment of it’s own personnel. That’s not to say the horror has been stripped out completely. Mulder and Scully’s investigation of a missing test pilot reveals that some of those flying experimental aircraft have suffered from mental deterioration, exhibiting unusual behaviours they never had before. Mulder posits that the cause is the pilot’s minds struggling to cope with the strain of using alien technology beyond their comprehension. It’s a theory that will be familiar to avid readers of H.P. Lovecraft, an author whose heroes were often driven mad by the revelations of cosmic beings they couldn’t begin to understand. But while the Lovecraftian connection is there it’s understated and easily missed (I must have seen this episode at least five times now, this was the first time I’d noticed it) which is a shrewd choice as it makes the effect all the more horrific. 

   The plight of the test pilots and their families is disturbing not because it’s uncanny or because we can’t comprehend it but because to a lot of us it’s all too recognisable. Take away the elements of Science-Fiction from the proceedings and what we are watching is simply mental degradation. A reminder that at any time and for no good reason we or our loved ones could suddenly or slowly lose the faculties we take for granted. It’s terrifying in a way monsters from space simply aren’t. At least then we can console ourselves with the fact that there is no such thing. 

   Less successful is the episode’s brief dalliance with a more overt extraterrestrial encounter, the reveal of the ‘alien’ spacecraft. Realised through the fledgling CGI of the early 1990′s Mulder’s first encounter with a spaceship does nothing but disappoint thanks to special effects that fail to be anything close to special. It’s a scene that should be brimming with wonder and horror in equal measure but manages only to elicit a response of “oh dear”, though I will admit it does make for a nice iconic image to be shunted onto the side of a DVD collection. Making matters worse it is a scene that manages to be outdone moments later by a much more low rent effect as a disorientated Mulder is quickly wheeled through a hanger and sees the same ship in silhouette behind a barrier. A pity as what could have been an intriguing moment has been undermined by the previous CG monstrosity. Had the silhouette been all we’d gotten then the episode would have been improved substantially. It would have been recognisable to the audience from a photo we were shown earlier but since it’s not seen directly and what we do see is through the eyes of a barely conscious Mulder there would be no guarantee of what we saw. This would have given Scully’s angry declaration that they don’t know ‘anything more than when (they) got here’ a lot more weight. Mulder may have had his memory of the ship erased but we sadly cannot.

   Deep Throat sees Mulder and Scully on opposite sides of an interesting ethical quandary that is sadly ignored by many similar shows and by conspiracy theorists in the real world.

Scully: Doesn't the government have a right and a responsibility, to protect it's secrets?

   It’s an interesting dilemma and the episode gives a nicely balanced argument that yes of course it does, but not when the only one benefiting from said secrets is the government itself at the expense of it’s people. 

Mulder: Yes, but at what cost, when does the human cost become too high for the building of a better machine?

Scully: Look, these are questions we have no business asking.

   It’s a shame Mulder doesn’t fight that last claim because yes they bloody well are!

   While the episode seems to side with Mulder on this debate it’s hesitant to laud his actions later as he breaks into the air base. At this point we should remember that a contemporary audience knows nothing about the conspiracy. The Cigarette Smoking Man hasn’t uttered a word. The Syndicate has yet to reveal itself. There has been nary a hint of Black Oil. Here there is still a possibility that the goals of the aliens and the conspiracy are benign even if their methods are ethically dubious. Keep this in mind while you consider that while Mulder is ostensibly here to locate a missing person, by the time he has entered the airfield said person is no longer missing. Viewers of the Pilot will be aware of his personal stake in this and other UFO related investigations giving these final scenes an unpleasant hint that Mulder is more interested in furthering his own crusade. When he is released from the airbase to be told ‘it’s you who have acted inappropriately’ it is hard to disagree.

   After seeing their relationship built last week it’s surprising to see Mulder and Scully end this episode on a fairly tense note. For the first (and the last?) time Scully’s monitoring of Mulder feels like something that could truly threaten his investigations into the x-files and yet there is much here to imply the two are simply growing closer. There are many lovely moments between the pair, the way they tease each other in the diner (’sucker!’), when they watch the dancing lights in the sky and how their first scene of the episode has Mulder approach Scully in a way that looks so much like he’s going to kiss her that the only explanation is that they were trying to torment the shippers they couldn’t possibly know they’d have. Scully’s reaction to Mulder’s capture, to take a member of the airbase security hostage, demonstrates a willingness to throw everything away to ensure her partner’s safety. It leaves us with the inference that Scully is angry not because they have wasted their time on this case and have learnt nothing of value, but because Mulder put his life at risk for what turned out to be a pointless cause.

   I suppose we can’t end this without actually talking about Deep Throat himself since they did name the episode after him. Not that there’s a great deal to say yet since he’s barely in his titular début*, his scenes amounting to little more than a quick ‘drop this case’ and a just as brief ‘told ya’ at the end. And yet he manages to fulfil the same task as The Cigarette Smoking Man in the Pilot, hinting at something larger that we can’t see. Through his demeanour we are led to believe he is non-threatening and that Mulder now has a valuable ally in his search for that fabled truth but his admission that he can only provide information for as long as it is beneficial to himself shows he may not be entirely selfless. Still, I can’t help but like Deep Throat. I wish him a long happy life.

Next time: Squeeze.

*At this point in television history a programme’s episode titles tended to be allocated to avoid confusion among the production team since several members could be working on different episodes at the same time. This could lead to some rather prosaic titles, some titles which had only the flimsiest connection to the episode itself and, presumably, is why so many pilot episodes have the imaginative name of Pilot. This may also explain why no one ever questioned the wisdom of naming an episode Deep Throat**.

**Yes, I am well aware Deep Throat is a reference to the Watergate informant as well as being a title that makes your girlfriend give you funny looks when you’re watching the DVD.

[mike-harker]

“The FBI’s most unwanted” - The X-Files: Pilot

   With a revival looming ahead, and the recent release of the complete series on Blu-ray there’s no better time to relive what is, perhaps, the quintessential show of the 1990′s. So why not do just that? Join me as I watch and recap every government cover up, every monster of the week and every moment of maddeningly unresolved sexual tension. Shall we begin?

   Over nine seasons and two movies The X-Files carved itself indelibly into the public consciousness. I never watched a single episode when it was first broadcast (I was a toddler when the first episode was shown and had terrible taste in television) but I knew who Mulder and Scully were. I knew they looked for aliens and monsters and I certainly knew THAT theme music. Everyone did. To this day that music still evokes images of the unknown and the supernatural even to those too young to remember a time when The X-Files was a regular fixture of television. Not bad for something that never quite escaped the status of being a ‘cult’ show. The Pilot first aired on September 10, 1993. Had it been a decade sooner it is unlikely The X-Files would have become an icon. It may still have been successful but iconic? Doubtful. To understand why we have to understand the culture of the time. 

   Almost two years had passed since The Cold War had come to a rather anticlimactic (though considering the alternative, not disappointing) end. The Soviet Union had collapsed and the Iron Curtain dropped, allowing the so-called wonders of Capitalism to sweep eastward and engulf all it touched. America emerged victorious and was allowed to stand proudly as the undisputed greatest economic superpower of the world. But for some in ‘The West’ this sudden shift in the balance of power wasn’t as comforting as one might expect. For nearly fifty year citizens had lived their normal lives but with the knowledge that at any moment it could all come tumbling down on the whim of someone, somewhere with their finger hovering over a big red button. It’s easier than you’d expect to come to accept an invisible danger is hanging over you but to simply accept being told “right, that big horrible dangerous thing you could never actually see is gone now honest” is a little bit harder. And so it was that the more paranoid, typically far-right members of American society found a new target for their distrust. America itself. Incidents like that at Ruby Ridge and the Waco siege ended with the deaths of US citizens at the hands of US Government agencies. To the far-right this was indisputable proof of the governments readiness to brutally stamp out anyone who refused to conform. The fact that the ‘citizens’ in both instances had access to illegal firearms was further proof to them that the government was willing to take away their rights and out of this grew a fascination with the ever popular New World Order, a shadowy (often Jewish because why not throw anti-Semitism into our stew of paranoia?) conspiracy lurking just out of sight and waiting for the right moment to snatch power from the hands of the people of the world. Soon we saw the growth of the Militia Movement, groups who armed themselves in preparation for the day the New World Order would attempt their takeover which should be any day now honest! On the other side of the political spectrum, the left and far-left were also heavily critical of the US Government, though for different reasons. There was a growing fascination with anarchism (though few organised groups lasted long) and the Food Not Bombs group grew in popularity. Neither the anarchist or the Militia Movements ever gained mainstream appeal but both were very visible. Add in the introduction of the World Wide Web to the general public allowing a new faster way for the average man to obtain a flood of information and misinformation and we have the world into which The X-Files was released and could thrive. It lasted as long as it was allowed, coming to a sudden end when it found itself floundering in a world that no longer needed or wanted it. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves, back to 1993.

   The X-Files would become notorious for it’s overly convoluted mythology so what is striking about the Pilot is how simple it is. It’s a rather basic tale of alien abductions which reads like a checklist of popular UFO urban legends (lost time? check. Blinding light? Check. Repressed memories unearthed through hypnosis? Check) as Mulder and Scully investigate a series of mysterious deaths linked to a group of alleged alien abductees. That’s not to be taken as a bad thing because what we have here is a skilfully crafted piece of television. An episode that isn’t quite scary but does manage to be quietly unsettling.

   Writer and creator of the series, Chris Carter shows remarkable restraint in his script. While the episode may revolve around alien experimentation it refuses to actually show us anything particularly otherworldly, a bright light and some swirling leaves not withstanding. There are no spaceships and certainly no aliens running through the woods. Even the discovery of what is first implied to be an alien corpse turns out to have a more terrestrial origin. And yet their presence is felt throughout as Mulder expounds his theories, Scully discovers mysterious substances and the local police detective does what he can to hinder the agents investigation. Furthermore the very thing which many people attribute to be a key factor in the eventual death of The X-Files is a boon here, a refusal to answer questions. The episode presents us with many mysteries and while it often answers ‘how’ something happened, it refuses to explain ‘why’. All this culminates in a delightfully creepy scene with an alien abductee put under hypnosis to explain the plot to us. His calmness as he describes what he saw coupled with the reactions of those listening to him are gripping and stay with you in a way that actually seeing the abduction and the alien experiments wouldn’t. There’s an understanding that what we don’t see and can’t quite comprehend is scarier than what we do. Once you can put a face to the thing that frightens you it loses some of it’s power.

   But The X-Files did not trade purely on it’s ability to scare. What brought audiences back each week was the interplay between David Duchovny’s Mulder and Gillian Anderson’s Scully and the Pilot introduces them with aplomb. It could have all gone so very wrong. Mulder’s passion for finding a supernatural explanation could have come across as creepy and the ramblings of a madman but Duchovny’s rather dry delivery keeps the character grounded to the point that when he does become enthused over a possibly paranormal event it’s impossible not to join him. Scully could have been so easy to hate. Had the role been given to a lesser actor she may have come across as patronising but Anderson manages to perform her lines without disdain, her scepticism comes across as rational (which it is, let’s be honest) and the script knows exactly the right moments to let her slip into accepting the extraordinary explanations. She doesn’t start to believe Mulder too quickly as for it to seem rushed and she doesn’t argue against him for so long as to become intolerable. And then there’s a delightful vagueness as to just how much of Mulder’s theories she is willing to accept. As the episode unfolds we see a natural progression from an icy introduction to being faintly dispassionate to partners with a relationship built on trust and respect for one another. Not bad for forty-eight minutes. It’s not quite perfect, the scene where Scully removes her clothes to find what could be alien marks on her skin comes across as the pandering that it is. Sure it shows that perhaps she’s more susceptible to believing than she’d care to admit and her going to Mulder to ask him to look at it signifies their trust towards one another but I can’t help but feel the scenes would have worked just as well if she’d kept her shirt on. There’s nothing wrong with fanservice of course but here it’s out of place and more than a little jarring (according to Chris Carter this scene was added at the behest of some Fox executives so we can perhaps let him off the hook for this if nothing else).

   The Pilot has a small scale with little at stake beyond the town’s border but there are hints of something bigger and a lot darker just out of sight. The aforementioned aliens are still out there of course. We hear Mulder’s tale of the night his sister was abducted by aliens for the first time. As motivations go it’s a good one leaving him with a purpose that makes his dangerous, sometimes ridiculous actions in future episodes understandable but what’s very easy to forget after all this time is that the Pilot gives us no reason to believe any of his story outside of “she just disappeared”. He claims he had no recollection of the night until he went under hypnosis and it is plausible that he’s simply projecting UFO folklore onto himself in an attempt to assuage his guilt for not being able to save her. Of course we’ll never actually go so far as to not believe him (Mulder is always right after all) but it adds a layer of complexity to the character and his beliefs that is not often remarked upon. Finally there’s the conspiracy lurking, quite literally, in the background represented here by the Cigarette Smoking Man. Much respect has to go to William B. Davis, a man who played a part with no dialogue yet still manages to steal every scene he’s in through the sheer amount of menace he oozes. He gives us our final scene. The Cigarette Smoking Man wanders a vast archive. We see he’s holding an alien implant discovered by Mulder and Scully earlier and with which Scully had hoped to prove the veracity of her report to the FBI. He removes a box from a shelf and places the implant within...alongside several other implants. He leaves, locking the door behind him. A sign reveals the archive is locked within The Pentagon. It’s a scene so simple yet so loaded with mystery and promise that it’s practically daring you not to tune in next week. The various implants indicate that these events have happened before, the size of the archive implies that there is much more happening elsewhere and the location infers that the US Government is aware of all this, but refuses to let the public know. It casts the series’ villain as none other than the United States Government which, in 1993, must have seemed like the most terrifying force on the planet.

   One down, two hundred and one to go. Join me next time for ‘Deep Throat’ (stop laughing!).

[mike-harker]

“You Have To Make It Fall” - The Eleventh Doctor. Genocidal Maniac?

   I really should warn you that this post contains spoilers for the ‘Doctor Who’ episodes ‘The Impossible Astronaut’ and ‘Day Of The Moon’. Let’s be honest though; if you’re reading this you've already seen them.

   I seem to be a rarity on the internet in that I don’t become apoplectic at the mere sight of an opinion that fails to cohere with my own. At least in terms of the media I enjoy. When hearing criticism of my favourite music, books, films or television shows I tend to find it more interesting than irritating. Rarely I might even find myself agreeing with it to a point. It is for this reason that I often find myself perusing Tumblr’s ‘Moffat Hate’ tag.

   I love Doctor Who. I have done from the moment I saw Christopher Eccleston take Billie Piper by the hand, inviting her to “Run!” Since then I’ve been introduced to the seven Doctors of the retroactively named ‘classic’ series, the underrated Doctor of the underwhelming TV movie and of course Eccleston’s successors; Tennant, Smith, Hurt (I'm counting him, damn it!) and Capaldi. Splendid fellows. All of them. Now, there are some who would disagree with the preceding sentence which brings us back to the aforementioned tag.

   The ‘Moffat Hate’ tag is where a certain subsection of Tumblr’s Doctor Who fans gather to voice their displeasure at the direction of the programme under current showrunner, Steven Moffat. It may seem something of an oxymoron to hear of fans who don’t enjoy the show but in this case it’s not all that surprising. By accident more than design, Doctor Who has become a show that thrives on change. It wouldn't have lasted so long if it didn't. Each of The Doctor’s regenerations heralds a new direction for the series, doubly so if it also signals the arrival of a new production team as was the case with Matt Smith’s inaugural appearance in 2010. Backlash was inevitable because the new direction simply won’t be to everyone's taste. It’s hard seeing something you once loved change into something you don’t and it’s not surprising in the age of the internet for one to find themselves venting profusely to like-minded strangers when it happens.

   Now there is little in the ‘Moffat Hate’ tag I find myself wholeheartedly agreeing with but I do find it interesting to check in every week after a new episode airs. It was on a recent visit that I stumbled upon a post regarding the portrayal of the Eleventh Doctor. (I'm not going to link to or quote the post directly, so you’ll just have to take my word for what follows.) In it was a GIF (a shorter version of the one above) taken from the climax of the 2011 episode ‘Day of the Moon’. Text beneath the image informed me that this was the Doctor’s reaction to committing genocide. There was a clear implication that this was a demonstration of the immorality of this incarnation of The Doctor and the post being tagged ‘Moffat Hate’ suggests whomever posted it was rather disgusted at the writer.

   The trouble with the post is quite simple. It’s wrong. Unequivocally wrong. This isn't a matter of differing opinions, as I inferred above I can respect that. This is a blatant misreading of the text at it’s most basic level. I’m tempted to call it confirmation bias. On the bright side however, in refuting the post I get to rant at total strangers about one of my favourite Doctor Who stories from a writer I admire greatly. So that’s nice.

(Before we go ahead let me just say that if you, dear reader, are one of those who doesn't enjoy Steven Moffat’s writing or the Eleventh Doctor that’s just fine. This isn't an attack on you or your taste in television. I've said before that if we all liked the same things the world would be a less interesting place and I stand by that. So if you disagree with anything or everything I say here feel free to say so but let’s keep it civil, shall we? With that in mind join me after the jump. Maybe grab yourself a cup of tea first. This is a long one.)

“A lot more happens in ‘69 than anyone remembers.”

   First, a quick recap of the pertinent facts. ‘The Impossible Astronaut’ and ‘Day of the Moon’ (both written by Steven Moffat) made up the two-part story opening Doctor Who’s 2011 series. The Doctor and his companions travel back to the USA in 1969 not long before Neil’s Armstrong’s fabled small step for a man. They discover an alien species calling themselves The Silence which can not be remembered by those who encounter them. The moment you look away you instantly forget that you ever saw them or that they even existed. Over a few months The Doctor discovers the species exists throughout the world. Not only that but they possess the ability to plant ideas in the heads of those they speak to and have used this power to enslave humanity. For thousands of years The Silence have been secretly pushing us in a direction that suits them and their (at this point) unknown objective. To free the human race The Doctor takes a recording of a Silent mockingly saying ‘you should kill us all on sight’ and sneaks the footage into the live broadcast of the moon landing. By using The Silents’ own power against them The Doctor has turned humanity against their masters. Humanity (or at least those who were watching television at the time) starts to revolt, their chains are broken and the reign of The Silence is ended. So the questions we should ask ourselves are, was removing The Silence with violence morally justifiable? Was this genocide? Why did Steven Moffat write this? The short answers are yes, no and to make a point. 

“We have ruled your lives since your lives began.”

   The relationship between the human race and The Silence is clear throughout. Humans are slaves, The Silence are their masters. The Doctor pointedly states “we are not fighting an alien invasion, we're leading a revolution” painting The Silence as a tyrannical occupying force. Despite this I have seen it argued that The Silence weren't actually evil. That everything they did was to the benefit of the human race as they pushed us to travel to the moon. That The Silence weren't enslaving humanity, they were simply manipulating them for their own ends. Besides the human race was completely unaware of the situation so did it really matter? Of course it did.

THE EDITOR:  Is a slave a slave if he doesn't know he's enslaved? THE DOCTOR: Yes.

   That rather succinct debate on the ethics of the clandestine manipulation of a populace is taken from 2005 episode, ‘The Long Game’. I don’t feel I should need to say anything else to prove that point because it’s self-evident even without that quote. As for the claim that this is manipulation and not slavery, if someone is forced to work for another without choice or payment that is slavery. It’s honestly that simple.

   All right, you may say, but what about the way they helped mankind advance. The Silence encouraged the human race to create and embrace new technology after all. Is that worth nothing? The problem with this argument is it sounds all too much like ‘The White Man’s Burden’.

   ‘The White Man’s Burden’, for those who are unfamiliar, is Rudyard Kipling’s poetic love letter to colonialism. It begins:

TAKE up the White Man's burden - Send forth the best ye breed - Go bind your sons to exile To serve your captives' need; To wait in heavy harness On fluttered folk and wild - Your new-caught sullen peoples, Half devil and half child. 

(If you’re interested you can find the whole thing here.)

   According to Kipling, annexation is a duty. The ‘white man’ must capture and reign over those (so called) less developed countries. It’s the only way to help them advance because of course they can’t do it themselves. They’re far too primitive. This was the justification made for the British Empire forcing it’s dominance over other cultures. It’s an attitude which in my opinion (and hopefully yours too)  couldn't die fast enough. However if we say that The Silence were right to push the advancement of humanity through slavery then we are forced to agree with Kipling because it’s the same principle. 

   As for whether pushing humanity to the moon was in any way beneficial, well that’s a little more complex. The moon landing was an amazing achievement in our species’ history. Something that shows just how far we've come in our short time on this planet. That wasn't the purpose of it though, at least not for the governments of either the USA or the Soviet Union. For them getting to the moon first wouldn't be a cultural landmark, but a military victory. When the USA launched Apollo 11 it was the most expensive display of sabre rattling in history.

   In the wake of the Second World War we had two superpowers, The USA and the USSR, who frankly loathed one another. Each saw the other as a threat and so began the nuclear arms race. Over the next decade both had stockpiled more than enough nuclear weapons to obliterate their enemy. At the same time they had German scientists continue to develop the rocket technology they had pioneered under the Nazis. It wasn’t long before some bright spark had the idea of combining the two and lo and behold, the nuclear missile was born.

   Of course the problem with actually launching a nuclear missile at a country which is armed with nuclear missiles is that they might actually retaliate by launching a nuclear missile at you which is not ideal regardless of how many more nuclear missiles you may have tucked away. This led to the US and Soviet military forces adopting the (wonderfully acronymed) strategy of Mutual Assured Destruction. This wasn’t enough however. A display of technological superiority was required for national security (apparently). But what to do? How to prove your missiles are better than those of your enemy? We’ve established that they couldn’t attack one another and attacking another country with a nuclear weapon was hardly a way to endear yourself to the world. It was at this point that both set their sights to the sky. After plans to explode a nuclear weapon on the moon were scrapped (seriously) the race to put men on the moon began. And it was to use the same German engineered rocket technology used in their nuclear missiles, thus proving that whomever got men to the moon first had technological and military superiority (apparently).

   How is this relevant to ‘Day of the Moon’ specifically? If The Silence has been (as The Doctor puts it) “standing in the shadows of human history since the very beginning”, manipulating it to the point where we gain this technology then we can infer that they directly influenced the development of the rocket, the nuclear bomb and even the tensions between east and west that (apparently) necessitated the space race. All of which came about in and because of the Second World War. So The Silence must have a hand in starting that conflict, the death toll of which may have exceeded 80 million. But wait, it gets worse. The Second World War came in the aftermath of The First World War with it’s estimated death toll of over 38 million. From those two conflicts alone The Silence are indirectly responsible for the deaths of over 118 million people. That’s not to mention the long bloodied history that led to WWI. The Silence was there for all of it, as one happily informs us “We have ruled since the wheel and the fire”. So perhaps The Silence haven’t benefited Earth per se. In fact they’re starting to sound just a little bit...evil.

“Superparasites”

   So now let’s take a step back from the narrative and look at what Steven Moffat may have been trying to portray with The Silence. The obvious answer is that he wanted to invent a creepy alien monster for The Doctor to fight. This is true of course but one of the wonderful things about science fiction is that a creepy alien monster is never just a creepy alien monster. They represent the terrible things that exist here on Earth. As a random example the design and modus operandi of the titular antagonist of Ridley Scott’s Alien paints it as a disturbingly literal sexual predator. Look at Doctor Who and the most obvious example would be The Daleks with their penchant for extermination and subjugation of what they see as lesser races being allegorical to the Nazis*.

   So then who would be a real world counterpart to The Silence? A group who have the power to influence entire populations through the subtle application of poison in the ear? A group who uses that influence to sway public opinion in a way that benefits them? Sounds like an oligarchy to me but do we really have such a thing in a supposedly democratic country? We do, these days it’s colloquially known as The 1%. The ones fortunate enough to have a damn sight more money than they actually need and little desire to allow the introduction of anything that might be detrimental to their having a damn sight more money than they need. The ones who might like to have these fellows in power:

   So let’s say you have a vested interest in getting these people into Downing Street. How can you ensure they end up there? Why not ask this guy:

   Rupert Murdoch is a grotesquely influential figure in Britain. Owning several newspapers and a satellite broadcasting network will do that (and that’s not even getting into his business’ outside of the UK). It’s been pointed out many times that a reliable way to spot the victor of an upcoming General Election is to simply look at the party supported by Murdoch’s newspaper, The Sun. Back in 1997 The Sun switched it’s allegiance from the Conservative party to Tony Blair’s Labour party.

   At this point Labour had failed to win every General Election since 1979, losing out each time to the Conservatives. Come the 1997 election and the Conservatives were out of Number 10 and Labour was in. So it continued in both the 2001 and 2005 elections. But in 2009 Tony Blair was gone (having resigned in 2007) and The Sun jumped ship to once again support the Conservative party for the 2010 election.

   The Conservatives were in power again, though this time in coalition with the Liberal Democrat party. I suppose you may be saying that this could just be a coincidence. Surely the fate of an entire country can’t simply rest on the whim of one elderly man. Perhaps the fact that the election ended with a coalition government proves he isn’t that influential after all. Well this year (2015 if you’re reading this from the future) saw another election and a look at who The Sun decided to support is particularly illuminating.

   For those of you who don’t follow British politics the SNP are the Scottish National Party. While the 2010 election ended with Labour holding forty of Scotland’s fifty-nine constituencies, they now only hold one while the SNP hold fifty-five**. Why would The Sun support the SNP in Scotland while continuing to support the Conservatives everywhere else? It was generally accepted that the Conservatives stood no chance of winning many seats in Scotland (they only won one as it happens) so any call for the Scottish to vote for them would fall on deaf ears. But if they could be convinced to vote for the SNP (who had already seen an increase in supporters in the past year) then that would be a massive blow to the Labour party and the result would still favour the Conservatives. Support for the SNP would also feed into the concerns in England and Wales that the election could end with a coalition between them and Labour, which we were told would be terrible. In the end the Conservatives won 330 seats giving them an easy win.

    When you consider just how near-omnipresent Murdoch’s media empire is in Britain you begin to realise just how inescapable his propaganda machine is. Maybe this seems like conspiracy theorist type paranoia but it is certainly true that we are influenced by the media we consume and if we trust that media implicitly we may find that when certain ‘facts’ are given to us within a certain context we start to believe them without questioning why. So we have to ask ourselves, who really runs the country? The man in power or the man who put him there? Is it really right for any one person or group or corporation to have that much power over a country? It’s true that there are a great deal of other factors that can influence votes but the parallel between who Rupert Murdoch supports and who wins is just too visible for the people unhappy with this status quo to dismiss. Steven Moffat, particularly, seems to have strong views in this regard considering what he had Sherlock Holmes do to Charles ‘totally-not-Rupert-Murdoch-honest’ Magnussen in the Sherlock episode ‘His Last Vow’ (Spoilers)***.

   With all of the above in mind should we really be surprised to find Moffat based his villains, a group of society manipulating monsters, on a society manipulating news magnate and the privileged elite he represents? I’d say probably not.

“Kicking the Romans out of Rome”

   Now that we have the context for the Doctor’s decision to turn humanity against The Silence we can finally answer that question burning away in it’s click-baity glory at the top of this page. Is the Eleventh Doctor a genocidal maniac? No. No he is not. The Silence are evil and should be deposed by whatever means necessary. It’s not a difficult question to answer and despite my partially titling this post after it I don’t even think it’s actually worth asking at all. Because what The Doctor does to The Silence isn’t even genocide. It wasn’t even an attempt at genocide. But don’t take my word for it, just watch the scene in question. I’ll help you, it’s right here. Watch how The Doctor defeats The Silence, listen to what he says and you’ll see that his solution may have been violent, but genocidal? Not by a long shot.

   Remember that GIF up at the top of this post allegedly showing The Doctor smiling as he ‘committed genocide’? Did you notice that wasn’t even in the video I linked above? That’s because it happens moments before when The Doctor enters The Silence’s ship to enact his plan. The reason he’s smiling away is because River’s flirting with him. Admittedly the dialogue may come across as being belligerent...

THE DOCTOR: This is my friend River. Nice hair, clever, has her own gun, and unlike me, she really doesn't mind shooting people. I shouldn't like that. Kind of do, a bit. RIVER: Thank you, sweetie. THE DOCTOR: I know you're team players and everything, but she'll definitely kill at least the first three of you. RIVER: Well, the first seven, easily. THE DOCTOR: Seven? Really? RIVER: Oh, eight for you, honey. THE DOCTOR: Stop it. RIVER: Make me. 

   ...but considering the situation they’re walking into it makes sense. If you’re ever going to walk straight up to and try to intimidate someone who is eager to kill you, I would recommend displaying a willingness to defend yourself. Besides it’s not out of character for The Doctor himself to shoot his enemies if absolutely necessary (See ‘The Invasion of Time’, ‘Earthshock’ and ‘Attack of the Cybermen’****), so him having River do it for him isn’t all that shocking. Anyway, my point is that using that GIF to say The Doctor is happily wiping out a race is a crassly misleading manipulation of information to suit the aims of the original poster (sounds rather Murdoch-like when we put it like that).

    Throughout ‘Day of the Moon’ The Doctor describes the battle against The Silence as being a revolution. 2011 was a rather good year for revolutions as it happens. By the time the episode was broadcast the Arab Spring had dawned across much of the middle east as the Arab world struck out against it’s oppressive leaders in a battle for freedom and human rights. It’s not difficult to see the parallels between this and the revolution against The Silence we see on screen. When The Doctor does turn humanity on The Silence the most telling line is “How fast can you run?” The Doctor doesn’t want The Silence wiped out, he wants them gone. He hasn’t raised an army to seek out and destroy The Silence, he did it to force them into a humiliating retreat. As he says “Today is the day the human race throw you off their planet” and since the human race will unknowingly be doing this for “a thousand generations” there is no chance The Silence will be able to return to take it back. So no, there was no genocide, merely a forceful ouster.

   One last question to answer before we go. What was Moffat driving at with this? By showing humanity turn against The Silence he’s asking us to turn against their real world counterparts, those oligarchs we talked about above. Doctor Who has erred towards being an anti-establishment show throughout much of it’s fifty-two year history and by 2011 it had finally found itself wildly popular on an international scale rather than just a local one. It’s message could now reach across the globe. Just like the moon landing ‘Day of the Moon’ was watched across the world and everyone who saw it, saw The Doctor’s message to rise up and fight for freedom. You have to admire the parallel between writer and character as both use the medium of television to inspire a revolt.

   In the same way that The Doctor uses The Silents’ influential voice to rouse his army, Moffat uses the media, the very tool with which the Oligarchs sway the opinions of the populace. By the end of the year the revolutionary fervour reached the west with a series of anti-capitalist demonstrations and we saw the emergence of the Occupy Movement. It would be nice to think that some part of that was down to The Doctor’s call to arms, after all “The revolution is not an apple that falls when it is ripe...”

Thanks for reading.

* A quick aside. There have been many claims that the most recent episode at time of writing (‘The Zygon Invasion’) is Islamophobic because it’s villains are a blatant emulation of ISIS. I won’t go into why I believe this to be wrong (many other people have already done so and it’s failed to quell the screams of “RACIST!”) but I will point out that if we carry that myopic logic forward then we have to accept that The Daleks (being allegorical of Nazism) are a disgusting depiction of the entire population of Germany. No one is saying that though. Because that would be silly.

** This is probably as good a time as any to explain how British elections work for those who don’t know. When we vote we’re voting for which MP (Member of Parliament) we want representing our constituency. There are 650 constituencies in all and each of those is represented by a seat in the House of Commons. For a party to win an election they must gain over half of those seats. Simple enough. If no one party gains enough seats to hold a majority then a deal can be struck to form a coalition of two or more parties who would then hold power together which is what happened in 2010.

*** I recall hearing Moffat also had a unflattering portrait of Murdoch in one of his early shows (Press Gang I think) but I haven’t seen any of them so I can’t say for certain.

**** Actually don’t see ‘Attack of the Cybermen’. It’s dreadful.

[mike-harker]

“Wow Enough” - ‘Jurassic World’ review

   The movie opens with a close-up of an egg. We watch the shell crack as the hand of a dinosaur pushes it’s way out. It brings to mind a beautifully executed scene from the original ‘Jurassic Park’ as an infant Velociraptor hatched. It was a scene which managed to extol the wonder of nature before seamlessly giving way to a sense of horror upon the realisation of what we have just witnessed the birth of, and of what it will become. In ‘Jurassic World’ the scene held no wonder nor horror. Just a sense of dejection at what we as an audience seem to have lost since 1993. In a way, it encapsulates my feelings to the film as a whole and yet…I’d be lying if I said I left the cinema unsatisfied.

   After twenty-two years, director Colin Trevorrow brings us what we have all wanted from a ‘Jurassic Park’ sequel. The park open to the public and it’s a joy to behold. The enthusiasm of the crowds as they flock to witness living dinosaurs is infectious and the contrasting tension between staff and management regarding the direction in which the park is moving, as well as the pursuit of profits over the well-being of the animals is a delight to watch. It is almost with regret that the film all too swiftly shifts focus to the Indominus Rex, a genetic hybrid created with the express purpose of being a dinosaur that is more terrifying and “cooler” than any seen before. While the premise may seem ill-advised (both within and without of the narrative) there is a valiant attempt to salvage it, twisting the concept so it becomes a scathing critique of Hollywood as it strives to outdo itself without any idea of how outside of “do it again but bigger”. Stand out moments came early as characters butted heads over the necessity of the I.Rex, with dialogue that feels like it was lifted directly from a transcript of a pointed discussion between Colin Trevorrow and a myopic Universal Studios executive. Alas, this soon gives way to the inevitable; a seemingly unstoppable rampage portrayed through well-executed but unoriginal, predictable action-packed set-piece after action-packed set-piece. It’s a sad day when I say I’d rather see a dinosaur theme park running smoothly.

  Guiding us on our tour of prehistoric thrills and spills are a cast of assorted clichés. There’s Bryce Dallas Howard as Claire, the frigid businesswoman with no time for little things like family that may get in the way of what’s important in her life (by which I mean business). Her nephew Zach (Nick Robinson), a moody wannabe Casanova who has much better things to do than babysit Gray (Ty Simpkins), his overly enthusiastic geek of a younger brother. Rounding off our main cast is Chris Pratt as Owen, an expert in handling dangerous wildlife who just so happens to be the greatest, most charismatic man alive loved and admired by everyone. Well everyone except that shady security leader Hoskins (Vincent D’Onofrio) who plans to breed and train carnivorous dinosaurs for military purposes because apparently that isn’t obviously an ethically reprehensible/financially suicidal/completely stupid idea  (I’m currently working on a theory where Ingen falls on hard times only to be bought out by Weyland-Yutani). It’s not that the cast is lacklustre in any regards, far from it. There’s no obvious weak link amongst them and all admirably manage to bring out the best in what the script offers, which sadly is very little.

   With four separate writers sharing the credit of ‘screenplay’ (and another two with ‘story’) it may come as little surprise that the final product is a narrative mess with little thematic coherence. One can almost feel the film buckling as the script wrestles with itself in a desperate struggle to find the point it wants to make. Does it want to be a sci-fi horror story about the importance of family in a harsh, dangerous world? (Like ‘Aliens’). Does it want to be a biting satire of animal parks run and funded by immoral capitalists caring more for their wallets than the safety of the creatures and employees in their care? (Like a fictionalised ‘Blackfish’). An indictment of businesses profiting on weapons of war? (At least one of those four writers was a big fan of ‘Aliens’ it would appear). Perhaps it wants to be a polemic against mankind’s folly as it tries in vain to tame that which is untameable, nature itself? (Like…you know…‘Jurassic Park’). Unable to come to a decision, a compromise is reached whereby the script will attempt each of those directions. Unfortunately it fails to follow any of them through. The destination it reaches is simply ‘monster movie’ and it is best viewed as such. When the film is allowed to indulge in the inherent ridiculousness of it’s premise it at least manages to hover just on the right side of the line between entertainingly silly versus irredeemably idiotic. That is, it does until it leaps across said line with a climatic battle that is a great contender for the stupidest moment I’ve ever seen in a cinema. A moment that could have drained much of the goodwill I had for the movie if I hadn’t been laughing so hard at the idiocy of the thing. As just another summer blockbuster ‘Jurassic World’ is a success as far as entertainment is concerned. Go in, sit back, relax with no lofty expectations of an artistic masterpiece and you’ll come out happy when the credits roll. But this isn't “just another summer blockbuster’. This is a ‘Jurassic Park’ movie and that should mean something. When ‘Jurassic Park’ was released it wasn’t just entertaining or a masterpiece of cinematic storytelling (though it was both of those things). It was breathtaking.

   Up top, you may have been curious about my being filled with deep sorrow over two scenes of eggs hatching. Why did one scene fill me with a rather eclectic range of emotions while the other left me cold. It’s simple. In ‘Jurassic World’ I saw a computer generated image that resembled a dinosaur hatching from an egg. In ‘Jurassic Park’ I saw an actual dinosaur hatch from an egg. When we used to talk about the magic of cinema, that’s the sort of thing we meant. The power of the screen to transcend it’s inherent artificiality and allow us to glimpse a world that by all natural laws shouldn’t be allowed to exist and to make us believe it. ‘Jurassic Park’ was full of that magic. It breathed it. Yes it used CGI, but it did so with restraint at a time when the technology was new. Yes, the CGI it did use hasn’t aged well in places, but the movie didn’t rely on it and made use of models, animatronics and other practical effects when it could. Through the screen those practical effects weren’t effects. They were dinosaurs. They would be tangible if only you could reach in. ‘Jurassic Park’ had a script that would have ensured the movie would be at least respected if the effects had been a failure. ‘Jurassic World’ has a script that is little more than an excuse for more action. The CGI of ‘Jurassic Park’ looks unrealistic in light of the progress twenty-two years brings, but I can still believe it. At time of writing ‘Jurassic World’ has been out for less than a week. In twenty-two years I won’t believe it, but then I didn’t when I watched it last night. That’s the price of progress I suppose. 

   Like the scientific progress that allowed John Hammond to create the park he’d always wanted with no regard for the consequences, cinematic progress has granted filmmakers the technology to create everything they want from a film. The results are similar. Jurassic Park was a dream that destroyed itself. CGI has destroyed magic, or at least the magic that made a 1993 sci-fi movie into something more. But then, I knew all that when I bought my ticket. I knew there’d be no magic, that the logistics of releasing a movie like ‘Jurassic World’ simply doesn’t allow for it. That’s why I wasn’t unsatisfied when I left. I expected a silly monster movie. I got it. I even enjoyed it. It just wasn’t what I wanted. Cinema can still amaze, thrill and change lives I won’t deny it but I don’t believe they’ll ever be another film like ‘Jurassic Park’. Then again, I’d love to be wrong.

3/5 Stars. By it’s own merits the best ‘Jurassic Park’ sequel, though that means little. A perfectly serviceable popcorn movie, let down by the calibre of the original.

   Thanks for reading. This review may have been hampered by my not writing anything for nearly a year between this and my last post, as well my decision to write this at ohchristwhyamIstillawake O’ clock in the morning so apologies for any spelling errors or nonsensical statements that made perfect sense to a sleep deprived mind.

[mike-harker]

'Shut up and take my money' - My First Steam Summer Sale

I solemnly rise and look upon my works with despair. Perhaps there is a chance, something I may yet salvage from the cataclysm. No. Naught remains but desolation and ruinous wastes. The ramifications of my recent deeds. They lie before me. In a time, not long since past, this place did flourish. Unassuming it may have been, but it’s presence gave some comfort, some hope. All gone. All but a vacant husk. Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. My bank account’s seen better days quite frankly.

Anyway, enough bathos, let's get to the point. The Steam Summer Sale. If anything's justified my recent conversion to PC gaming this was it. Originally I had my eye on the PS4 but my rather pretentious disposition was lured in by the pioneers of independent game development who have taken residence in the Steam store. Their more cerebral work (games such as Dear Esther and Gone Home) seemed to far outstrip the hackneyed 'AAA' games that seemed to dominate the consoles*. When the summer sale rolled round last week I was no longer happy with becoming a PC gamer, I was elated. I went into it with £50 and left with 25 new games. For the less mathematically inclined (those such as myself) that's a game for every £2 and that's not even counting the DLC packs I bought. How many PS4 games would I have got for £50? Not 25, I imagine.

So since I have nothing else to talk about right now why don't we have a very quick look at some of those 25. Why not start with...

The Stanley Parable

Not all that long ago games became obsessed with player choice and the idea that our actions and our decisions will truly matter and affect the outcome of the story. It became cliché and now we see many games built to serve as a deconstruction of that idea. Games as diverse as Far Cry 3, Spec Ops:The Line, the Bioshock series, even Metal Gear Solid 2 to some extent (though being released in 2001, it far preceded the current trend), railed against the illusion of free will granted to the player, declaring it to be ultimately false and striving to expose the lack of agency they truly possess. It's becoming a cliché itself and as much as I adore those games I mentioned above, I'm getting a little tired of it. The Stanley Parable is yet another to add to that list but despite my weariness regarding the topic I found it to be rather wonderful. In fact, it may possibly be the most triumphant of this 'game about games' genre we've inadvertently acquired. You, as the titular Stanley, are guided by an omnipotent narrator in an effort to solve the mystery of his missing co-workers. What follows is a hilarious meditation on, not only choice but linearity, the relationship between player and protagonist, the goals of the player versus the goals of the designer, the pavlovian response of players regarding certain ludic stimuli and the concept of 'winning'. 

Bioshock Infinite

I don't want to talk about this much, partially because it needs no introduction but mostly because I may do a post dedicated to it some time in the future. What I will say is that, with hindsight, it's a little odd that I bought it. I already owned it. All I know is that it appeared in a flash sale then suddenly it was in my library and installed on the computer. Was it because the DLC were also on sale? Sure let's go with that and not because I am a mindless consumer easily swayed by the lure of the 75% off tag. The strangest thing is...I don't like Bioshock Infinite that much. I don't like it but according to Steam I've played it more than any other game I bought in the sale. And I haven't touched the DLC yet. I don't know what's wrong with me.

Retro/Grade

Another day another side-scrolling space shooter but there’s something special about Retro/Grade that offers a unique twist to this most well worn genre. The game opens with you defeating the final boss and the credits rolling when a temporal anomaly causes the flow of time to run backwards. It’s a side-scrolling space shooter IN REVERSE. The gameplay is difficult to describe succinctly but try and imagine a rhythm/shooter hybrid, equal parts Gradius and Guitar Hero perhaps. You’ll navigate through waves of enemies whose ships un-explode before your eyes and you un-fire your weapons at just the right moment to preserve the increasingly fragile space-time continuum. It has everything such a game needs. Gorgeous graphics serving up an ocular feast. A default difficulty level that manages to remain just on the right side of fiendish, with more available for us lunatics who enjoy the sensation of repeated death. A catchy electronic soundtrack. Plenty of challenges to keep you coming back well beyond your completion of the main campaign. And of course, fast-paced, intense gameplay that’s simple to pick up but difficult to master. 

The Novelist

I've yet to complete this so I'll reserve judgement for the time being, though it certainly shows promise. The Novelist follows Dan, a professional author struggling with writer's block, his wife Linda, a struggling painter, and their son Tommy. They're spending the summer in a quiet, remote house in the hopes that the scenic tranquillity will spur Dan's creativity while alleviating some underlying tensions among them. You play a spirit haunting the property, who seeks to help the family. You must sneak through the house finding diaries and notes, as well as reading the minds of the family members to discover what each of them wants. Dan may want to spend the evening focusing on writing his novel, Linda may want Dan to write up an advertisement for her artwork while Tommy may want to play games with his dad. You decide which of them gets what they want by whispering in Dan's ear as he sleeps. If you do well enough you can also decide who gets a compromise, but someone will always get left out. The game is about the juggling of professional, romantic and family lives. It's compelling though gameplay is lacklustre. You sneak through the house by jumping between light fittings. While in the lights you can't be seen, but you must leave and risk being spotted to read notes. It's an interesting idea for a game mechanic but in practice it's a little dull and there's no challenge. It feels like the developers were more interested in story than how The Novelist would feel to play, an idea further reinforced by the stealth aspect being optional. Still it's early days for me, I'm enjoying the story and perhaps the gameplay will improve. Time will tell.

Papers Please

As I discovered trying to describe it to my fiancée, it is near impossible to make Papers Please sound interesting but hey, I like a challenge. You play an immigration inspector tasked with allowing or denying entry into the country through the Checkpoint Charlie-esque gates. You check people's passports and paper-work to ensure there are no discrepancies. As the game goes on more rules and regulations are forced upon the hapless entrants. No one from such-and-such a country may enter thanks to terrorist threats for example, or proof of vaccinations may be required thanks to an outbreak. You must check people's faces against a list of known criminals. There is much to think about but time is limited, you are paid for each person you allow to enter and you have a family to feed and keep warm, so there is incentive to let as many people through as quickly as possible. Which of course leads to small mistakes. That man you just let through? He was 2 feet taller than his paperwork claimed! Letting people in with incorrect or fraudulent identification leads to a cut of your wages being taken away. So be thorough then? Slow and steady? But wait, forget that for a moment because you just let that man through but his wife forgot her entry permit. So do you separate them for who knows how long or do the right thing and keep them together? Hang on, is that the right thing? What does the 'right thing' even mean in this situation. I think you get the point now. It's an incredibly thought provoking game. There are obvious comparisons to the USSR and the aforementioned Checkpoint Charlie but also to travel in the modern day. As, in Papers Please, you force an old woman into a degrading full-body scan because her written and actual weight are slightly off you'll be reminded of our post 9/11 world and the simple freedoms we've happily given up. Papers Please offers a cracked reflection of modern society and as such is one of the most uncomfortable games I've ever played. It's brilliant.

The Final Hours of Tomb Raider

Not a game, but certainly worth your time if you’re a fan of Lara Croft’s most recent escapade (I was). An interactive ebook chronicling the game’s production, it takes us from the earliest prototypes (an odd mix of Silent Hill and Shadow of the Colossus apparently) to what was finally released. It’s refreshingly candid in regards to the history of the franchise (chastising the old ‘dirty little strategies (of) annualised sequels’ and referring to the last two games in the series as being ‘rudimentary’) as well as shortcomings of the early prototypes for the recent iteration. Of course sincerity only stretches so far and we can’t escape the spectre of marketing that looms over the book. In the end it’s little more than an extended advertisement, though it is a genuinely compelling one.

Last but by no means least…

9.03m

Probably the most low key game I bought in the sale, possibly the shortest (less than fifteen minutes long) and certainly the most affecting. We all remember hearing about the tsunami that hit Japan back in 2011. As of the last count the death toll stands at 15,887 (with a further 6,150 injured and 2,615 missing peoples still unaccounted for). Who cares? Few of us westerners do I imagine, our concern doesn’t really stretch much farther than an arbitrary ‘Oh, how awful’. It’s not our fault. 15,887 is an impossible amount for us to picture as anything other than a statistic, a problem exacerbated by the media’s focus on the numbers rather than the people themselves. 9.03m seeks to change that. You find yourself on a beach. Your sole instruction is to ‘find the butterflies’, the butterfly being symbolic of life, death and the soul (among MANY other things) in Japan. Ahead of you is the silhouette of a lone figure. You approach only for it to fade away, leaving behind an item. A wedding ring perhaps. On the item you’ll find what you are looking for as it radiates with light, transforming itself into a luminous butterfly before ascending into the heavens. In the distance, another silhouette. You approach, it fades, there’s an item and on it goes. It’s minimalist in the truest sense of the word but having us examine these items, always something incredibly mundane while being deeply personal, is a potent reminder that behind those 15,887 were men, women and children. People who laughed, played, danced, loved and lived. People just like you and me. The aesthetic may scream low budget, but there’s beauty here that transcends those limitations. All I have left to say is buy this game. It takes very little of your time, at full price it’s a measly £1.59 and the proceeds go to charity. There’s really no excuse.

Well that's it for now, at least until I play through the other 19 games and decide to waste your time by blogging about them. Here's hoping that my bank account can now rest easy, content that the dark days are behind it and that it may enter the slow road to recovery allowing it to blossom once more. At least until the Steam Winter Sale.

Thanks for reading.

*Allow me to quickly assuage any irritation by saying that yes, there are plenty of great AAA games, just as there are plenty of terrible indie games. It's just that, in my opinion, the best of the indie's tend to be more interesting on a creative and narrative level.

[mike-harker]

'Love's a force that's powerful and strange' - Sexuality, Love and Frozen (part two)

More musings on Frozen. Part one is here. Be warned, here there be spoilers.

"Nobody wants to be alone"

When we discuss love, we must observe Frozen’s recurring motif of doors, and the opening and closing thereof. The shutting of a door…

(I will find any excuse to use this gif.)

…figuratively alludes to the act of shutting someone out of one’s life while the opening of a door is symbolic of letting them in. As the song tells us Love is an open door and Frozen unequivocally declares it to be a necessity for one’s happiness, but as it does so it calls into question what love truly is. Which brings us to our protagonist.

When we meet Anna as an adult, her isolation has given her an idealistic and somewhat deluded perception of love. To her love is chivalrous, the perfect man meeting the perfect woman. Two people who were “just meant to be”. Simple as that. She sees it as being akin to what she sees portrayed in the paintings that deck the walls of her home and it is this fictional simplicity that she craves, as we can see when she ‘inserts’ herself into the pictures.

Anna’s tale is her discovery that this ideal of love is a lie. That, while love and letting another in can be an act of beauty there is an inherent danger in doing so indiscriminately. That love extends beyond the romantic and sexual.

"So desperate for love"

When Anna is accidentally injured by Elsa’s magic as a child her parents are told “You are lucky it wasn’t her heart.” Later she is put in mortal danger when Elsa (once again accidentally) places a frozen shard of ice in her heart.The placement of the ice is significant.

The injury occurs when Elsa rejects Anna’s request for her to come home. Elsa, of course, does not realise what she’s done. She understands Anna will be hurt by her refusal to return but fails to perceive the deep psychological damage familial rejection brings.

(We should note that this isn’t purely selfishness on Elsa’s part. Her rejection stems from her desire to keep her sister out of danger ((“You’re not safe here”)). Narratively, the danger lies in Elsa’s magic but beyond that there is the danger of Anna being affected by the homosexual persecution she believes they will be subjected to should she return.)

While the wound weakens her and we understand it’s implications she is spurred onwards by the words of the trolls “only an act of true love can thaw a frozen heart.” The character’s collectively interpret this to mean she can be saved by that most Disneyesque trope, the true love’s kiss. They rush her back to Hans. Anna’s true love. The man with whom she was “just meant to be.” She reaches him just in time. She explains the situation. He moves towards her. She readies herself for the life-saving kiss. He leans in.

Her wound becomes visibly fatal.

Hans is possibly Disney’s most loathsome villain. Past films have given us villains lusting for power and wealth beyond their grasp like Hans but it his method of accomplishing his goal that sets him apart. With hindsight we may see his callous manipulation of Anna’s need to be loved in the Love is an open door scene. 

"Hans: I mean it’s crazy Anna: What?

Hans: We finish each other’s Anna: Sandwiches

Hans: That’s what I was gonna say!”

He hides his true self from her, moulding himself into her perfect match to easily beguile her so she may willingly let him in emotionally and sexually. The manner in which they sneak through the palace grounds is reminiscent of two young lovers partaking in an act of surreptitious coitus, while the image of the open door is somewhat yonic.

Hans uses Anna. Once he has what he desires she is cruelly discarded. As he explains his plot, he moves about the room snuffing out candles and putting out the fire to hasten her freezing to death, further emphasizing that he is breaking her heart. Like Elsa when she sang Let It Go, he removes his gloves. He’s no longer bothering to find his true self.

The real world has plenty of men and women like Hans. Users and abusers. Frozen warns that these people aren’t easy to spot, in fact they are adept at hiding themselves, so before you give yourself, your body and soul away you should be cautious. Love may be an open door, but be wary of who you open that door to. There’s no need to rush and if they are your ‘true love’ they won’t mind waiting. This lesson has come too late for Anna. She is left to die. Literally she is dying of magical freezing, but figuratively she is dying of a broken heart. But she’s not beyond saving.

"True love"

In his book, The Four Loves, C.S. Lewis identified what he believed to be the four aspects of love which he identified thusly:

Eros

Storge

Philia

Agape

Eros is romance, what Anna, and a majority of the audience, most commonly associate with love. We see it in the burgeoning relationship between Anna and Kristoff, while with Anna and Hans’ relationship we see it’s perversion. It is this type of love that Anna desires and believes will save her, but as she discovers there is more to love than just Eros, and Eros is no more important than the others.

With Anna and Elsa we find Storge, familial love (C.S. Lewis’ actual definition of Storge is a bit wider reaching than that but for our purposes, the familial bond is sufficient). Narrative necessity means little of this is displayed through interaction between the sisters so we see it through Anna’s relationship with a different character.

Olaf is the anthropomorphic personification of the sisterly bond between Anna and Elsa. First made when the pair were children we see him crumble following the injury that led to their separation, a tragic symbol of their loving connection being broken. His recreation by the adult Elsa is a sign that their bond still exists on some level, highlighted by his repetition of phrases the sisters said to one another.

His existence is proof that the sister’s broken (or frozen) bond can still be restored. There’s a little more to Olaf than this though.

Olaf’s relationship with Anna (as well as Kristoff’s relationship with Sven) gives us Philia. Friendship. A platonic love between two people with nary a hint of Eros. All Olaf craves is company. As he sings about his dream of experiencing the warmth of summer he does so in relation to his friends:

"And I can’t wait to see, what my buddies all think of me. Just imagine how much cooler I’ll be in summer.”

"Oh the sky would be blue, and you guys will be there too."

When he discovers the dying Anna he relights the fire to slow the progress of her freezing.

"Anna:Please Olaf, you can’t stay here; you’ll melt. Olaf: I am not leaving here until we find some other act of true love to save you.”

His actions here are irrational, but Philia is irrational. It serves little to no biological purpose as such but there are few who can earnestly say it’s less important than Eros or Storge. As C.S Lewis said, “Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art…. It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things which give value to survival.” Or, as Olaf puts it, “Some people are worth melting for”.

Finally, there is Agape which Olaf defines succinctly “Love is putting someone else’s needs before yours.” It is this, combined with the other loves, that saves Anna. Olaf’s Philia keeps her from passing away, despite the risk of his melting. Eros brings Kristoff into the storm looking to save Anna even though he was a safe distance from the danger. Ultimately it comes down to Anna herself, influenced by Storge. Her act of self-sacrifice so Elsa may live is the ultimate act of Agape. Despite all the pain Elsa’s unwittingly caused her and the damage she’s done Anna still loves her and is willing to risk everything to save her. It doesn’t matter if that means riding into the frozen wilderness, running from wolves, climbing precipitous mountains or throwing herself in front of a blade, she’ll do it because that what Agape is. Unconditional love.

As her heart freezes and eventually thaws Anna is flanked by all the people who love her. Sven and Olaf, Kristoff, Elsa. Philia, Eros, Storge. Anna stands in the centre. Agape. It was Agape that provided salvation, but all four loves played their part.

"Open up the gates"

Which brings us back to what these posts are ostensibly about, Elsa and homosexuality. Anna saves not only herself through her selfless act but her sister, in more ways than one. Elsa can see that it doesn’t matter if she’s different. She’s still loved and she always will be. She channels that love to banish the eternal winter and rejoins society to find it unafraid and receptive, as it should be. The Duke and those who continue to hate her are rightly shunned.

Her magic, her sexuality is influenced and controlled by love. In the end that’s what homosexuality is. It’s not something to hate or fear. Homosexuals are just as capable of Eros, Storge, Philia and Agape as any heterosexual. That’s the lesson to take from Frozen. A lesson of acceptance. Don’t reject people purely on the basis of their being different. They are just as beautiful as you are.

"Anna: I like the open gates. Elsa: We are never closing them again.”

Special thanks to this site for the screencaps used throughout these posts, to my fiancée for putting up with a month of me rewatching the movie, listening to and (most horrific of all) singing the songs from said movie in the course of writing this and her sister-in-law who sort of inspired this in the first place. But the biggest thanks of all must go to you for reading this so thank you. Hope you enjoyed it.

[mike-harker]

'Love's a force that's powerful and strange' - Sexuality, Love and Frozen (part one)

Something a little different from me today. This isn't a review, more of an exploration of themes present in Disney's Frozen. As such there will be unmarked spoilers throughout and I advise you to read on at your own risk.

“Born with the powers, or cursed?” the troll asks. He is referring to Elsa, the ice-wielding princess whose powers set the events of Frozen in motion. “Born,” her father replies unhesitating. It's an odd moment if we take it at face value. Narratively the origin of her power is of little, if any, consequence. So is it just a pointless aside? Not quite. It establishes the magic as being a perfectly natural extension of Elsa herself. Something special that nevertheless makes her a little different to others. As the troll goes on to warn us, it is also something that will not be accepted by everyone which will, sadly, strike a cord with many.

With the repeal of the United State's 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' policy still fresh in our minds and the legalisation of same-sex marriage continuing to raise debate in many areas, the time was, perhaps, right for Disney to give us a character who is 'coming out' and coming to terms with their sexuality. With Elsa they have done so but, while generally more accepting, society is not quite enlightened to the point where Disney is going to risk having an openly homosexual character in front of their predominant family audience. No, seeing it requires a little work on the viewers part.

“She'll learn to control it. Until then we'll lock the gates. Keep her powers hidden from everyone.”

As we see Elsa grow the extent to which she hides her identity is underlined meticulously. She repeats the mantra "Conceal it. Don't feel it. Don't let it show". When we watch the young Elsa shutting herself in her room we are watching her retreat into the 'closet' hiding from a world she believes won't understand. Contrast her outfit during the coronation with Anna's.

Both wear the regal clothing expected of them and the designs share a great deal of similarities so Elsa is ostensibly conforming to what she thinks is her place. However with Elsa's ensemble little of her skin is on display as opposed to Anna, her more impulsive outgoing sister, whose outfit is rather revealing for the period. Anna isn't trying to hide, in fact she's openly inviting interaction, while Elsa is behind a carefully constructed façade of what she deems 'normality'. As she sings in 'For the First Time in Forever' she is "put(ting) on a show." Note also the heavy, burdensome cloak she wears signifying the weight on her shoulders. The weight of hiding her identity, her sexuality.

Of course none of this is enough. It is significant that her powers are revealed upon Anna removing her glove, forcibly pulling away some of her 'disguise' so the entire court can see Elsa for who she is. She is 'outed'.

"Don't be the monster they fear you are."

The revelation of Elsa's magic is met with confused shock from those who witness it. The Duke of Weslton's reaction is telling, "Sorcery. I knew there was something dubious going on here." He refers to her as 'monster' and gives chase when she flees the hall. We must remember that this is before the perpetual winter begins and Elsa hasn't acted with aggression (her accidentally firing ice at the Duke is due to him giving chase). There is nothing to suggest magic to be something "dubious", it's mere existence is enough for him to turn against Elsa. When Anna has left to find her he suggests she "may be conspiring with a wicked sorceress to destroy us all." A logical look at how the events unfolded should tell anyone that Elsa's actions were accidental and motivated not by malice but fear. So why should the Duke harbour such an irrational belief in her being a monster? Well there is no real answer to that. It's something that isn't rational, discrimination. Homophobia. It's something we see a lot of today.

“they will do their best to burn Christians at the stake or do what Nero did, I’m sure, in the years to come, because that’s sort of the history of homosexuals”

That's a quote from Pastor Kevin Swanson (who had a few choice words for Frozen) and it's seems to be a common sentiment amongst some of the more conservative members of society with their talk of the supposed 'gay agenda'. People who see homosexuality as virulent and cultural acceptance as an insidious threat to their unwavering belief in heteronormativity. People who solemnly believe that homosexuality is a sinful 'choice' and those who adhere to 'the gay lifestyle' are activity trying to 'turn' the heterosexual populace. I don't think I need to point out to anyone reading this that it is a belief that is, quite frankly, moronic.

The Duke of Weselton is an unflattering, but not inaccurate, caricature of those people. It is hatred such as his that inspired Elsa to hide her true self away in the first place and it is his violent reaction that causes her to run.

Let It Go

Here we arrive at what is the linchpin of our interpretation of Elsa's story as a 'coming out' tale. The film's signature scene, Let It Go. It is the scene where Elsa discards her old false identity and comes to terms with her sexuality.

"The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside Couldn't keep it in, heaven knows I tried!"

The song opens with melancholy piano chords as Elsa laments that her attempts to suppress her sexuality have failed despite her best efforts. 

"Don't let them in, don't let them see Be the good girl you always have to be Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know Well, now they know!"

She bitterly repeats the mantra her parents pressed on her as a girl in their attempts to stamp it out of her and it at this moment she finally goes against them.

She discards the glove she wore to hold back her power... 

"Let it go, let it go Can't hold it back anymore"

...and starts to 'experiment' with what she can do with her abilities. Here Elsa accepts and embraces her sexuality, giving into the desire she held back for so long.

"Let it go, let it go Turn away and slam the door!"

"I don't care What they're going to say"

"the fears that once controlled me Can't get to me at all!"

She elects to be apart from the society that drove her away and relinquishes herself of her regal cloak, symbolising the weight off her shoulders. The weight of hiding and of intimidation. 

"I'm never going back, The past is in the past!"

"That perfect girl is gone!"

She is now her own person, unfettered by the need to conform to social conventions and has no desire to return. She demonstrates by casting off the artifice of heteronormativity she has been burdened with. She throws her tiara aside. She lets her hair down to show us she finally feels free. The conservative attire she has worn from the start, she replaces with a dress of her own design. One that is more revealing, form-fitting. A transparent cloak flows behind her. Her chosen style is a definitive statement that she is no longer hiding.

"Here I stand In the light of day Let the storm rage on"

She stands in the open, basking in the sunlight, proudly showing her true self to the world no longer afraid or particularly concerned about what people will think of her. She creates herself a new home, a castle crafted from her magical ice. If her control of ice represents her homosexuality, the castle represents a homosexual milieu. She slams the door on her past, the people who drove her away and the heteronormative culture itself.

This is a triumphant moment of course, but there is a rather unhappy undercurrent. The castle is large but it's size serves to highlight it's emptiness and the emptiness highlights her continued loneliness. Yes, she's slammed the door on those who hate and fear her but also on those who love her.

When Anna finds her, Elsa says "I'm alone, but I'm alone and free", the resolution of her story can only come when she realises those things aren't mutually exclusive. Which brings us to what Frozen is really about, because despite the preceding 1400 words it's not about homosexuality, not exclusively. It's about something a little more universal. Love.

Continued here.

[mike-harker]

“What's so amazing about really deep thoughts?" - A non-fan's night at Tori Amos' Unrepentant Geraldines Tour

“I’m glad we decided to set off early”, my voice is tinged with sarcasm. “Wouldn’t have wanted to miss this.” It is May 11th 2014, I’m shivering outside the locked doors of the O2 Apollo theatre in Manchester. Droplets of rain are starting to fall, gentle at this moment though I’m sure a downpour is inevitable. I look at my phone to check how much longer we have to wait for our temporary sanctuary to open. Half an hour. Wonderful. At least we’ll be the first in. I glance back and notice a queue is starting to form behind us. I suddenly feel great pressure to be in the correct place, these people obviously hold the mistaken belief that we know what we’re doing and have followed us.

Beside me stands my fiancée, Libby, shaking her head at my facetious comment. She is resting her hands on her belly, the current home of my son who is two months away from birth. I suppose tonight will be his first concert. Experts say he is capable of hearing what is happening beyond his walls though I wonder how anyone could possibly know for certain. We’re here to see Tori Amos, a pop/rock/classical artist who Libby greatly admires. Among her most treasured possessions is a signed copy of her A Piano collection. I’m not a fan. Back in 2011 we were at this same venue to see the Night of Hunters tour. It featured a string quartet. It bored me. And I love strings. I’m not particularly looking forward to this, but Libby’s put up with me and my poor taste for seven years now so I do owe her something. Saying all that I do believe it is vital to keep an open mind about these sorts of things and to allow oneself to be surprised (though this does conflict with my other belief; expect the worst and you’ll never be disappointed). Besides she might play Silent All These Years. I do like that one.

When the clock finally deigns to roll to 7pm the doors are opened and we all but fall inside. As Libby waits in a quiet spot, my first port of call is the merchandise stall to buy her a programme. As the pleasant woman manning the stall fishes out my souvenir I take the time to look at the rest of the stock being displayed. It’s all fairly nice but there are few surprises. The kind of thing you’ll always find at concerts. Some CDs and LPs of the latest album (Unrepentant Geraldines), programmes (of course) and £20 T-shirts. As I hand over my money I wonder, is anyone really willing to pay that much for a shir… “I’ll have three of them shirts please”. Never mind.

I catch up with Libby and we find our way to our seats, which are situated on the ground level at the back of the auditorium. If I squint through a telescope I can just about make out the stage. Last time we were sat in the nosebleeds (known as the circle in the vernacular) and it was necessary to lean forward to see everything so this is something of an improvement. The set seems sparsely decorated. There is a black backdrop. In front of this we have what appears to be nine segments of brick wall (though at this distance I may be wrong) dangling in rows of three. In front of this is a piano and a keyboard, situated in such a way to allow the performer to turn from one to the other quickly. I have a feeling the previous tour had a similar layout but the memory does cheat. “Did they have anything cool at the stall?” Libby asks as we settle down.

I shrug, “Usual stuff. Shirts, CDs, LPs…”

“LPs?” She yells excitedly. “Of the new album?” I nod. Libby and I have a fondness for LPs. There’s something about listening to music from the crackle of a needle running through vinyl grooves that you just don’t get from a CD or a download. Something hard to put into words. Something almost tangible. “It’s not supposed to out ‘til tomorrow! How much were they?”

“£25”

“Oh,” she mumbles dejectedly. £25 isn’t far off what you’d expect for a brand new LP but we don’t exactly have a surplus of money. I’ve told her many times over the last week that I had a choice between buying a desperately needed new jacket or coming to this concert. I was only half joking. As she flicks through the programme I do some quick mental arithmetic (not my strong suit). I hide a smile as I realise I can afford it. Just. I wait a few moments, giving her chance to forget, then excuse myself. I check she isn’t watching then surreptitiously scurry back to the stall.

If there’s one thing I hate it’s people. A single person, I’ll happily put up with. But people (plural), I cannot stand. When ten or more people get together it’s as if things like logic and etiquette are thrown to the winds and so it was with a heavy heart that I saw the queues for the stall have grown substantially in my absence. Undeterred I join it. It is is oft said that the British invented queuing but there are two places our invention has been rejected. Pubs and merchandise stalls. This thought repeats itself across my mind as I’m jostled this way and that, forwards and back. All concept of personal space is lost as I try to claw my way to the front. Finally I make it only to be all but pushed aside by a short woman, her cropped red hair covered with a black cap patterned with stars of many colours. She does not appear as cheerful as her fashion would suggest, so I decide against saying anything. A man to my left, on the other hand, will not allow this injustice to go unnoticed “She just pushed ahead of us all” he loudly declares alerting everyone around to this most heinous of crimes. As she buys her items he yells again, “Pushes in front and gets served first. We should try that, it works wonders.” He’s my new hero. When we reach the stall the attendant approaches me but I point to our knight in shining armour, I’m fairly sure he was there before me. She moves to serve him. He doesn’t bother to thank me. I’ve gone right off him.

“What do you want?” this attendant’s not quite as kindly as the last.

“An LP, please”.

Silence. Stare.

“An album?” she asks almost suspiciously.

“Yes please”. She hands me a CD. I try to correct her gently, “Sorry, I meant a record”.

Silence. Stare.

I feel the eyes of the crowd on me, irritatedly wishing me away. After what felt like hours she slowly asks, “You mean the vinyl?”

“Yeah” I say sheepishly. She takes my money and pushes the LP towards me. I scuttle off with my prize happy to get away from the crowd. As I make my way back to Libby I can see her looking round for me. I have been gone a while. She doesn’t see me. I sneak behind her and slowly lower the LP in front of her face. She jumps, then slowly turns to face me. Her face glowing with surprised joy, a smile beaming towards me. I no longer care if the rest of the night is absolutely horrendous. This moment has made the entire experience worthwhile.

Time passes. I sigh restlessly. People are still pouring into the auditorium so I anticipate a long wait for the show to begin. A quick glance around reveals that I am swimming in a sea of tweed blazers, waistcoats and long coats. I’m wearing a Batman hoodie. I’m starting to feel a little out of place. I struggle to settle down thanks to unavoidable human contact one is inevitably subjected to at concerts. “Excuse me, can we pass?”

Stand up. Let them past. Sit down. Get comfortable.

“Excuse me, can we…”

Stand up. Let them past. Sit down. Get comfortable.

“Excuse me…” I hate people.

I consider reading the programme to alleviate the boredom but foresee it failing to interest me. I try to hand it to Libby. “Hold that in front of your face.”

“Why?”

“I’m taking a picture.”

“Why?”

“For the blog.”

“No.”

“Oh please.”

“No”

“It’s to prove you exist.”

“No.”

“It’ll look cool.”

“No it won’t.”

“Yeah I know.” I sit back in the chair. I give up. I’m going to read the programme. I turn to the first page. The lights dim. Of course they do.

Enter stage right, the support act. A man and a woman, both carrying acoustic guitars. The man approaches the microphone and introduces himself “Mmppphhhhhhhh.” I beg your pardon? Thankfully their singing voices are much more clear, but no one seems to be paying them much attention. The audience seems much more interested in the bar at the rear of the room. I internally lament having to drive home as I watch everyone taking their alcohol filled cups to their seats. The song ends to muted applause. “This next song’s called mmmppphhhh”. Oh good, my favourite.

For all my making fun I do enjoy my time with the support act, finding them pleasantly mellow. The feminine half of this duet has a particularly beautiful voice. I’d certainly recommend them if only I’d caught their name. It seems a shame that the rest of the audience seems fairly apathetic to their presence. Well not me. I solemnly swear I will give this act my undivided atten… “Excuse me…” Oh god damn it!

After what feels like no time at all the act draws to a conclusion. “Mmmmpphhhh album mmmpppphhhh foyer mmmpppphhhhhh thank you”. You’re welcome. They end their set with arms round each others shoulders and a gentle kiss. It warms my stony heart. The lights return and we have a while longer to wait for the main act. I’m sure there’s a perfectly valid reason but I’ve never understood why there is such a long gap between the support and main acts. I always assumed the support act was there to warm up the audience so why give them time to recover?

I recline in my seat and start reading the programme, doing my best to ignore the gynaecological discussion the group behind me is having. A twenty-something fellow sits down beside me clutching a beer. I’m insanely jealous. I don’t even like beer. I’m pulled out of my reading by thunderous applause. I look to the stage. False alarm, nothing’s happening. People are strange. Suddenly my neighbour pokes me in the arm “These people want to get past”. Yeah, thanks. Back to the programme my eye is drawn to the tour dates. On June 15th she’ll be performing in Moscow. Her next show on June 17th will be in Kiev. I’m saying nothing.

Eventually the lights dim to rapturous applause. I remind myself to keep an open mind as Tori Amos takes the stage. She gives us all a graceful bow and seats herself at the piano. As she begins to sing I find my attention drawn to the way she is sat, legs stretched apart in such a manner as to let her spin quickly between piano in front of her and keyboard behind her. It looks incredibly uncomfortable. I discreetly imitate her position in my own seat. It is. It shows great consideration for the audience really. They could easily be positioned in a more comfortable manner but that would mean either having her back to us occasionally or spending the entirety of the show with an instrument obscuring our view. Good on her. I’m also impressed by the sheer amount of theatricality she displays. Despite spending the entirety of the show seated she is able to wring out every possible ounce of movement. It keeps us fixed on her and her performance. It’s a talent I feel may be under-appreciated.

A few rows ahead a young woman pulls out her phone, clearly with the intention of recording some songs for posterity. I watch her as she flicks her way through different filters before settling on a black and white one. A terrible choice in my opinion. Colour and light are a vital part of the show. The backdrop is flecked with stars that dance through every colour of the spectrum. The movement and brightness of the lights gives the set an almost ethereal quality in places like we’re watching through mist. The lights influence the colour of the stage reflecting the atmosphere of the songs. And in the centre is Tori Amos shining through it all in a radiant red gown which fixes our eyes on her. Black and white has a place, but it is not here. By removing the colour she is removing all of this intricately crafted interplay. I can’t help but feel she has just robbed herself.

As for the actual music, I don’t feel it is my place to comment. The majority of the songs were unfamiliar to me and as such I realise that the intricacies of the performance were likely lost on me. What I can say is that I expected to take little from this show but boredom. This wasn’t the case. I can honestly say I had a good time. I found it to be as much a visual show as an auditory one. There were times when the combination of light, colour, lyric and voice coalesced in such a way as to allow the music to enter, not through the ear, but through the heart flowing all the way through to the tips of the fingers flinging us to some hitherto unknown realm of aural delight. An hour and an encore later Tori Amos left us with another graceful bow. I was sorry to see her go.

So let’s conclude this rather aimless rambling. Was I converted to the church of Amos? No. I think it’s safe to say I’ll never be a fan. I can’t say I understand the sheer amount of adoration her rather zealous fans bestow upon her but do you know what? It really doesn’t matter. If we all liked the same things the world would be a wretchedly dull place and there would be no point in art. So if you believe Tori Amos (or anyone else for that matter) to be a great artist don’t let a condescending jerk like me tell you otherwise. Besides I still enjoyed myself and she even found time for a delicate rendition of Silent All These Years. I can’t complain.

P.S. To the guy who laughed when my pregnant fiancée tripped and nearly fell. Fuck you!

[mike-harker]

"Don't let him in"-'Slender:The Arrival' game review

There’s something macabrely satisfying about horror. A sort of primal delight granted by facing down your worst fears. Unfortunately horror is a genre that is difficult to do justice in any medium. There are several reasons for this, but a primary one is detachment. Go to the cinema to see the latest scary movie. As the characters creep into the haunted house you yourself are safely munching popcorn, likely surrounded by many other people shifting, rustling and coughing. Take time at home to read the latest doorstopper by Stephen King. No matter how well written the novel or how immersive the world, tension is undercut by the knowledge that you are safe in your home reclined in your chair in a well lit room, perhaps with your partner/children/parents/squatters providing occasional distractions as they wander in and out. In theory, detachment shouldn’t be an issue in videogames. You place Silent Hill 2 in the console, pull the curtains shut, turn off the lights and plug in your headphones. You aren’t watching or reading about James Sunderland entering the fog-draped town in search of his wife, as he’s hunted by grotesque monstrosities. You are James Sunderland, you are entering the fog-draped town in search of your wife. You are the one being hunted. Done right a game can crawl beneath your skin, chilling you more than the terrors provided by film, books, campfire tales or any other medium you care to mention. The best horror games can stand proudly as some of the most terrifying fictional experiences ever created. Slender:The Arrival doesn’t quite reach that far, but it’s a valiant effort.

In 2012 Parsec Productions released Slender, a free game based off of a certain internet meme turned urban myth. There was just one level. A seemingly abandoned forest, bereft of anything resembling life. The player was armed only with a flashlight and the ability to run. Their task was to explore the woods searching for eight pages, all the while being stalked by the faceless, implacable entity known colloquially as the Slender Man. In spite (perhaps because) of it’s minimalist gameplay, it became something of a sensation in the gaming community and a sequel was soon announced. In 2013 Slender:The Arrival slithered online.

The Arrival takes inspiration from popular Slender Man based Youtube series Marble Hornets. The game’s aesthetic is that of a video, being filmed with a handheld camcorder ala Cloverfield or The Blair Witch Project. Behind the camera is your character, Lauren, who has come to visit her old friend Kate. You exit your car with the sun hanging cheerfully in the sky, illuminating the woodland between you and your destination, but as you begin your long walk the nights falls quickly, draping all you see in an all but impenetrable darkness. When you arrive at Kate’s home you find the door wide open, the house seemingly abandoned. You enter, soon discovering that something is very amiss. A mysterious figure of a faceless man is etched upon the wall, an ominous reminder to lock the doors is scrawled on the fridge, discarded letters to Kate talk of hallucin-what was that outside? You spin round to face the window, shining your flashlight through the glass. Nothing. Your camera’s interface flickers ominously as you continue your search. Finally you unlock Kate’s bedroom. You enter. The walls are hidden behind various papers, upon which warnings and mantras of madness have been hastily scribbled. The now familiar figure repeats itself upon the pages. The window has been smashed. A lone page rests upon the dresser. ‘Into the woods’ it declares. You turn to leave. A scream pierces the night. It came from outside. From the woods. Camera facing forwards, flashlight gripped firmly you exit the house and follow the scream.

It’s a brilliantly unsettling start to the game, confounding our expectations of gameplay, relying on a more subtle psychological terror that would not be out of place in the aforementioned Silent Hill 2. As you approach the house and the darkness envelops your surroundings you will hear heavy footsteps, the digital interface of the camcorder will face occasional interference (a sign, familiar to Marble Hornets viewers, of a certain thinly built fellow’s proximity). Even though you cannot see another soul you know you are not alone in the woods. While you roam the house you may get your first look at your faceless stalker, watching you from outside and disappearing when your back is turned. Make it back outside and you may catch sight of him atop a distant hill. Though he is too far for you to make out his features, you know his eyeless gaze is fixed upon you. It makes exploration excruciating. You know your enemy is here. It is clear he knows where you are. You start to wish he would attack, just to relieve this tension, yet he stubbornly refuses. It gives the rather uncomfortable feeling that you are being played with. This is horror as it should be.

'When You See It:The Game'

After this promising start you are thrown into the game proper which is near identical to it’s predecessor. Every level (bar the last) tasks you with searching for a certain number of items before you can move onwards. This runs risk of being repetitive but the game’s short length ensures this mechanic doesn’t outstay it’s welcome. The environments are all well designed, most of them feeling immediately familiar as if they were places we have visited or could easily see in our lives, but have an eerie calmness to them. You will find many signs that these are or were much visited places, parked cars for example or general clutter in what is clearly a break room. The signs of human life make your status as the only one around feel incredibly jarring (if as a child, you ever walked around your school at night when most of the other kids had gone home you’ll know the feeling). Much of the time the only sounds you hear will be your own footsteps echoing around you. It all serves to make you feel totally isolated and alone.

When you find your first item, the hunt begins. Your stalker will start to interrupt your search, the electronic distortion of your screen sometimes, but not always, signalling his presence even when he is out of your line of sight. Lock (figurative) eyes with him and you also lock him in place, but this will only work for a moment. Something about his gaze will force you to stop and you will be caught. Your only option is to turn away and run, breaking sight even though this will renew his freedom of movement allowing him to appear before you once again, perhaps between these trees you are about to pass, or around this corner. The first time the Slender Man appears before you will be a shocking moment, a horrific crescendo to all the dread that has been building and lingering since the start. The second time will still make you jump, so will the third time, but fear cannot be maintained through repetition and this is where The Arrival suffers. Eventually the player simply gets used to his presence, all but numbing the fear.

The more items you collect, the less sporadic Slender Man’s appearances will be as he becomes more aggressive in his pursuit. His early appearances feature him watching from behind the trees, lurking around corners and standing in the periphery of your vision, succeeding in giving you a fright but also giving you ample room to escape without diverting you too much from your path, but soon he will learn to favour a more up close and personal approach. Screams of fright become groans of frustration as he appears directly ahead of you forcing you to turn around and sprint in the opposite direction far away from where you wanted to go. Many times you will approach a new area hoping to find one of the final items of this most bizarre scavenger hunt, only to be made to find a more circuitous route because the Slender Man decided to make the path you were taking his new loitering spot. Not helping to assuage your irritation is the deliberately obtuse level design. It is easy to wander for a while, only to find yourself back where you started completely unaware that you had been walking in a circle. It should serve (and is, I imagine, intended) to heighten the horror, as not only are you being stalked with no line of defence but you are hopelessly lost. Instead it just annoys, prolonging what is now becoming a tedious chase.

An attempt at variety comes in the game’s middle act. Here we enter the mines and find ourselves face to face, not with the Slender Man, but with what may or may not be his proxy. A masked human character (another feature that has immigrated from Marble Hornets) who pursues you. Once again the game challenges your expectations, their first appearance comes with little fanfare making it all the more frightening. Strange whispers coming from seemingly every direction, you brace yourself for another appearance from your well-suited taciturn foe, you turn the corner. With no warning you see him/her at the end of the corridor bearing down on you. You turn to run and find yourself knocked to the ground. You see human eyes stare from behind that mask as they claw at you in an animal-like fashion. Then they are gone. For now. It’s a scene that is shocking the first time but soon descends from a welcome change, to the game’s nadir.

The Arrival becomes all too eager to kill the player with the proxy. You can momentarily stun them with your flashlight (something the game doesn’t bother to tell you) but otherwise you have no way to defend yourself. The level is filled with dead ends, trapping you between a wall and the proxy, the too thin corridors meaning you can’t run around them, even if they’ve been stunned. Get too close and they will immediately grab you. Worst of all it appears that the damage you can sustain is randomised, sometimes they will kill you after catching you four times, sometimes only two. On occasion the Slender Man would appear directly behind you, in previous levels, triggering a one hit kill but it was rare enough that it simply left the player with a healthy fear of it happening again. Here it quickly moves from scary to tedious, eventually becoming infuriating. A common mistake with horror games is that the developers purposefully make them difficult. If a monster can kill the player easily, then it stands to reason that they will harbour fear for it. In practice that’s not the case. Killing the player is something of a comfort. A game over screen draws you out of the horrific milieu, severing the unsettling atmosphere that had, to this point, been intricately crafted. Such is the case here. When you finally leave the mines behind, it feels too much like luck to give a sense of accomplishment and the only satisfaction it gives is the satisfaction of knowing you’ll never have to do it again.

I forgot to take a screenshot of the proxy, so kindly enjoy this image from the Steam page

Arrival’s biggest advance over the original Slender, at least from a marketing perspective, is it’s narrative. While Slender had none beyond ‘you are being chased, collect these pages’, here the writer’s of the aforementioned Marble Hornets have been drafted to craft a cohesive story around the intense chases that form the bulk of the gameplay. This should have been a great coup for the game, Marble Hornets proves that not only do they have an eye for horror, but can write decent dialogue when the need arises. Sadly, their strengths are not well utilised in The Arrival. Actual dialogue is scarce and the backstory is primarily filled in with letters, emails and notes we can find throughout the environments. This means much of the story is hidden away and can be easily missed if you don’t wish to meticulously explore. While the writers do have a skill for crafting frantically scrawled notes, written with a paucity of sanity, the letters and emails tend to be rather unnatural, a little too formal to be believable. The placement of the notes raise several questions, often the player will wonder why this email has been printed off, put in an envelope and stuck to a post in the middle of nowhere. Suddenly this game about numinous monstrosities from beyond the realm of human comprehension starts to seem a little unrealistic.

The Arrival’s narrative is harmed by that most verisimilitude breaking question a horror story can face. Why? Specifically, why are we doing any of this? Lauren is given no dialogue whatsoever and (aside from one offhand mention in a letter) is never talked about by other characters. As such she has no chance to develop a personality or motive for doing what she does (the only reason I know her name is thanks to a Steam Trading Card that the game helpfully threw my way). We know she’s a friend of Kate’s, she owns a car, a camera and has hands. That’s all. Who is she? Who is she to Kate? Who is Kate to her? Why is she willing to risk her life for Kate? Why does she feel the need to film everything? What is her reaction to the discovery of a supernatural entity breaking the sanity and lives of her friend? Did she already know about the Slender Man? Why does she think collecting pages is worth risking life and limb? Why isn’t her reaction upon finding Kate has disappeared and hearing a scream in the woods, to run straight to her car and get the police? Let’s go back to Silent Hill 2 for a moment, where similar questions could be asked and are all answered satisfactorily with a single line of dialogue:

“I guess I really don’t care if it’s dangerous or not. I’m going to town either way.”

That one line, from it’s composition, to the inflection provided by the actor, tells us everything we need to know about James, his character, his intentions and makes us believe that he has considered the possibilities, has committed to this course of action and that, no, there really is no other choice. This is his only option. The Arrival has nothing of the sort. We’re going into the haunted wood for no reason other than, because that’s what the story needs us to do. On a narrative level The Arrival is a considerable disappointment.

Slender:The Arrival is proof of the old idiom, less is more. The original Slender was ludically and narratively basic but it didn’t need to be anything more. It’s minimalist narrative made it malleable, players could come up with their own backstory and reason for collecting the pages that made sense to them. The limited nature of the gameplay elevated the terror. It could be frustratingly difficult sometimes but you can forgive a free download some shortcomings. Putting a price on The Arrival forces us to be more critical, especially when all it is doing is gilding the lily. It has little new to offer players the original game didn’t have already, and what it does do differently isn’t done well enough to justify it’s existence. The Arrival is a good horror game, providing many genuine scares, but it could have been a great one. If you’re curious you certainly won’t regret buying it, but it’s hard to recommend purchasing it when you can still get the structurally similar original for free.

This review is based on the Steam version of Slender:The Arrival which you can find here. Thanks for reading.

[mike-harker]

"That's just who I am" - 'Journal' review

Journal, from designer and writer Richard Perrin (of Locked Door Puzzle), is a game I wish I could love. It swayed me with it's enchanting art, a premise promising an exploration of the subjective nature of memory and the so-called responsibilities of childhood with a story that takes us between the leaves of our adolescent protagonist's journal, the pages of which have become mysteriously blank. We guide her, not only to solve the mystery of what happened to the pages, but through the transitory period between childhood and maturity. It's interesting territory for a videogame to cover and handled correctly could have been an emotionally stirring piece. In the end though, Journal is a game of unfulfilled promise. Not a terrible game by any stretch of the imagination, but not a good one either.

The world of Journal is portrayed with a minimalist art style that effectively evokes a young girl's view of life. Beautifully drawn by Melissa Royall (who also served as co-writer), the environments help to illustrate our character’s emotions. A well maintained park, for example, will be splashed with bright greens and blues to suggest a place of contentment and joy. By contrast cracked structures, mess and darker hues suggest discomfort, unease and sorrow. Stains on the paper indicate a dark undercurrent to other idyllic surroundings. Much more than a gimmick to make the game stand out amongst it's rivals the environment effectively tells us much about our characters state of mind as her story is told.

Matching the art, gameplay is minimalist in the extreme. An adventure game with the adventure extracted. There's no platforming, no enemies to overcome nor is there much of anything to do. All we have is a remarkably basic side-scroller, the only actions available to us being to walk from one area to the next and to converse with the people we meet. As the conversations progress we must make many choices which ostensibly affect the way the narrative will unravel (ala Mass Effect, The Walking Dead and seemingly every other game we see released these days) and it is to Journal's detriment that they are so poorly implemented. All too often choices must be made without the player being given adequate information to make an informed decision, even though the character they are controlling should be privy to the context. The player is flying blind, even though there is no logical reason they should be. A rather obnoxious example is shown below where the protagonist is talking to a school friend and it is mentioned that few people like Anne, a fellow classmate.

What are we actually being asked to agree or disagree with? That no one likes her? That she's a bookworm? Or that she's having a tantrum? At this point I had yet to meet Anne and yet I am being asked to voice an opinion on her as a person, or her popularity, or her current mental status? In the end I chose to disagree which caused my character to exclaim “She just takes studying seriously,” which is a defence, not a disagreement. The game regularly fails to convey what we are being asked to do and what our decisions will actually mean, but as it turns out it really doesn't matter.

The game rarely follows through on the choices made and on the occasion it does the consequences feel trite. In the end the choices are meaningless and interestingly the game outright admits this in the final act. It's meant to be a profound statement, that the great tapestry of our lives are not always crafted by our own actions and decisions. It doesn't come down to right or wrong choices but all too often to external forces beyond our control. In the end life just happens. A touching message maybe but a rather fatalist one and, in the end, a blatantly false one that falls apart the moment you think about it. Sometimes things do just happen that are beyond our control, we may become ill for example, but to say that there is so very little in our lives we are in control of and that nothing we could have done would have changed anything and that we should learn to accept it? I'm sorry but that's just wrong and it isn't a message artists should be propagating. Not only is it a message that doesn't work, but it fails to work within the context of the game. There are choices the character makes throughout (choices which, rather conspicuously, the player is denied control of) which have a profound impact and would have led the character on different paths had we been allowed to alter her direction. Instead the game forces us down it's one and only road expecting us to accept it's blinkered wisdom without question. It's reeks of writers who believed themselves to be of a higher intelligence than it's audience. The games final statement on choice comes across as condescending, if not downright insulting and leaves a bad taste in the mouth.

A game such as Journal, with gameplay intently focused on the art of conversation, will live or die by it's writing and it's characters.Once again Melissa Royall's illustrative skills shine as we meet the faceless cast of Journal. Despite their rather basic designs and the limitations of the game meaning they never move a muscle, they radiate character. Before we speak to them we know them well from the way they style their hair, their posture, the clothes they wear and the way they wear them. Unfortunately, initiating conversation reveals them to be incredibly dull with little of interest to say. The adolescents tend to fall into stereotypes (the nerd, the popular girl etc.) with little attempt to comment on said stereotypes. Adults, on the other hand, feel like avatars of the authors, figures we should listen to unquestioningly as they spew their moral lessons which most children would find patronising. Lessons such as 'Stealing is wrong!' or 'Cheating is wrong!' Conversing with the characters in this game brings to mind the supercilious faces of the writers as they attempt to teach the audience, speaking on what they erroneously believe to be their level, making sure to use small words where possible and speak slowly lest their inferior mind becomes overwhelmed with the information bestowed upon them. Bizarrely for a game that is, on a certain level, about growing up the game fails to touch upon issues inherent to all teenagers as they reach maturity. There's no indication of characters showing an interest in or taking drugs (not even legal ones like alcohol) and, despite the setting being the innermost thoughts and feelings of a teenage girl (the game is set within the titular journal of course) it's oddly asexual. It's an overly sanitised portrayal of a teenager's life and as such is too detached from reality for us to take seriously.

The only person written with a real modicum of character is our protagonist. A protagonist who, depending on the choices you make is rather mean-spirited at best and intensely vile at worst. A protagonist who wallows in self pity, while unrepentantly abusing those around her. Quick to point fingers if things go wrong when she herself is just as culpable if not more so. When the game allows us to acknowledge and apologise for her actions it always comes across as forced and insincere. It isn't a requirement that a protagonist be 'likeable' of course, many much loved characters are deeply flawed, occasionally cruel individuals (a few random examples being Sherlock Holmes, Walter White and Rorschach among many others) but there has to be a visible reason for their behaviour, interesting characteristics and decent writing to compliment it all. The writing in Journal isn't bad as such but it rarely extends beyond sub par. The character is given little interesting to do or profound to say. She is merely tiresome and the time we spend with her becomes draining. The player waits impatiently for the game to give us some reasoning which will alter the way we look at the character, giving us some understanding of her motivation for being such a wretched person. Reason does come to us at the game's conclusion, but for this reviewer it wasn't enough. I won't spoil the reveal but what is supposed to be the emotional fulcrum of the game, forcing us to look back on past events with a new eye, comes across as a rather barbarous act of blame shifting. Her selfishness does become less evocative of her own self importance and more of a futile struggle against change but it does nothing to assuage our fear that she will continue to go about her selfish existence, metaphorically slapping people down before complaining that they hurt her palm.

As we make our false choices and meet the literally and figuratively two-dimensional cast our character continues to write in her journal. The rustling of it's pages signalling the end of the day and of this stage of the game. To mark the passing of each day the game treats us to a different short story, told through the striking medium of shadow puppetry. They are tales of a travelling carnival, the entertainers who call it home and the crowds who flock to see it. Tales of wonder and temptation. Primarily the wonder that I resisted the temptation of elation the act of defenestrating my monitor would grant me after viewing them. Each performance gives a parable tangentially related to the story. The art, once again, is deserving of praise but the stories themselves are dull, told by a bored sounding narrator and shrouded beneath a thick mist of allegory ensuring they are never enlightening, merely annoying. Allegory is fine when it is weaved subtly into the narrative or is clear enough that the audience can decipher them easily and doesn't obscure the point you are trying to make (for a good example of allegory see Animal Farm or Twilight Zone episode, The Monsters Are Due On Maple Street). Here the tales seem to be deliberately obtuse symbols begging to be dissected so we may bear witness to just how clever the writers are. They add nothing to the story, are tedious and if you have little patience for overwrought symbolism like myself they serve only as padding.

In spite of everything I've said Journal is not a terrible game. There are small flashes of brilliance throughout that kept me going (and may even draw me back in one day). There is the portrayal of feeling overwhelmed in a crowd or with emotion, shown wonderfully by filling the text boxes with random letters moving too quickly to comprehend. The aforementioned art style often doing what the uninspired writing couldn't. The penultimate day is a master-stroke, giving a painful insight into divorce from the child's perspective and a fascinating exploration of grief.

Looking back on the game there is the underlying feeling that many of my criticisms were intentional. The lack of choice, the bland side characters and the sympathy for our main character do make sense when we remember that Journal isn't just about a journal but is based within said journal. A journal is a pouring of a person's soul, but it is also an intensely subjective thing. It offers only a unilateral view of the world with it's author as the centre of it's universe. The choices made no difference because they were in the past and had already been made. The ancillary cast are dull and one note because that is how the author of the journal sees them. And of course, the character is going to be sympathetic towards herself. Looking at the game and it's story from this viewpoint we can see that the developers were trying to give us a haunting character study, but ultimately failed to do. The final statement on choice is wretched. There is no sense that the protagonist starts to look beneath the surface of those she encounters, nor do we see that she learns from her experience or grows as a person.

There is a clear disconnect between the game the developers thought they were making and what actually got made. They wanted to make a game about memory and childhood but failed to truly say anything new or important about either. They tried for pathos but didn't quite reach the target. They expect Journal to be described as poignant when the prominent adjective should be pretentious. In the end it serves as a monument to wasted potential. Which, for myself, is a worse fate than merely being awful. 

Journal is available for Windows, OSX and Linux. It is available for £6.99 on Steam. Thanks for reading.

[mike-harker]

"The dream is over" - 'John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band' album review

It is December 1970. With the doleful chime of a funeral bell, John Lennon’s first album since the break up of The Beatles begins. Before the inaugural song has truly started our expectations have been shattered. This is not to be an album of lightweight love songs, à la those of Paul McCartney’s eponymous debut, nor is it to be a series of revolutionary anthems or avant-garde wailing we have come to expect from John’s previous solo excursions. It is not to be an album you'll play in the background merely to stave off silence. It is an album that demands you stop and truly listen.

John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band is not a pleasant experience. Listening to it is often akin to walking in on someone while they are having an intensely private moment, with every fibre of your being telling you to leave but being too enraptured to walk away. It shows John Lennon at his most bitter as he sheds away the pains of his childhood and the last few years as his band began to rot from within. There is a hitherto unseen starkness in this record with producer Phil Spector forgoing his usual 'wall of sound’ technique, allowing the songs to speak for themselves and highlighting their lyrical intimacy.

The bells give way to Lennon indulging in his own form of primal therapy. Certainly inspired by his sessions with psychotherapist Dr. Janov (author of The Primal Scream), Mother is a confrontation between Lennon and the parents who left him alone. In it he chastises the mother who gave him away (‘I wanted you but you didn’t want me’) and the father who abandoned them both (‘I needed you but you didn’t need me’) giving them both a bitter farewell. This gives way to a brief plea for others to not make the same mistakes he has (‘Children, don’t do what I have done/I couldn’t walk and I tried to run'), perhaps wishing he had confronted his pain sooner rather than hiding it within, merely allowing it to grow and increase it’s hold of him. All this leads to the cathartic moment where he finally lets it go, repeatedly yelling ‘Mama don’t go/Daddy come home’. His yell becomes a scream which becomes an anguished howl, intensely painful for both singer and listener. Finally, almost thankfully, the howls and song fade and we are both released.

His progenitors dealt with, Lennon returns to the present. With Hold On he offers himself and spouse Yoko Ono a quick reassurance that while there will be a struggle, things will eventually get better (‘John hold on/It’s gonna be alright/You gonna win the fight) and they’ll be able to cope together. With that out of the way he is free to unleash his vitriol on everyone else, I Found Out attacks those close to him and reveals his feelings of betrayal while in Isolation he berates the press and the public for their mockery of his and Yoko’s desire to make the world a better place. Between both of these songs is his most damning indictment of all. Working Class Hero is a rallying cry to the proletariats, a three and a half minute dissection of the methods used to keep them under control by the upper classes. If you so desire you can criticize John for his statement ‘If you want to be a hero well/just follow me’ considering his distinctly middle class upbringing but there is no denying that he is correct. Someone needs to stand up for the working classes. Sadly it is a timeless song and is arguably more relevant now in the wake of the Occupy protests than it was in 1970.

The needle of the record player rides into the innermost groove, the crackling speakers signalling the time to turn over the plastic disc. When we do and the album commences we discover a more introspective John Lennon. This surface of vinyl is a self portrait of the artist and his beliefs at this moment. Remember is the memory of his sorrowful youth and a demand that, while he’ll never forget, he best not dwell on it. We have two songs about his relationship with Yoko, Love and Well Well Well. Love is a delicate vignette of what it is to love and to be loved, while Well Well Well gives us a glimpse into their private life as they have a repast and dream of ‘revolution’ and ‘liberation’. As we near the finale we get Look At Me, where he asks us, ‘Who am I supposed to be?’ ‘What am I supposed to do?’ ‘What can I do for you?’ with the overriding question, of both song and album, being ‘Who am I?’ It’s not long before we get a definitive answer.

God, the album’s climax, is John Lennon's liberation. His inner demons repelled, he goes about shedding himself of all the artifice he has unwillingly accumulated over the years with cries of ‘I don’t believe.’ He systematically rebukes his previous beliefs (‘I don’t believe in Bible’), idols (‘I don’t believe in Kennedy’) and inspirations (‘I don’t believe in Zimmerman’) before making his most shocking declaration of all. ‘I don’t believe in Beatles.’ We get the answer to that question of ‘Who am I?’ He is John Lennon and that is all he should be. With that, the final nail has been hammered into the coffin of the four headed beast that was The Beatles. With 1971 looming it’s time for the world to move on. As John puts it ‘The Dream Is Over.’ The song ends there, forcing us to contemplate this revelation that we are now living in a world without Beatles.

Before we can leave one final song scratches it’s way through our speakers. My Mummy’s Dead. ‘It’s hard to explain/So much pain.’ No matter how hard he tries to remove the horror of her loss he never can. Not really. ‘I could never show it,’ but now he has shown it, to a global audience no less. Perhaps this confession will allow him to finally find some peace.

John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band is a haunting portrait of a deeply scarred man, but there’s beauty hidden within. In some ways it is the most powerful album any of The Beatles made. It is certainly the most honest and the closest one to being perfect.

Thank you for reading.

[mike-harker]

"There are no heroes here. Just survivors" - 'Tomb Raider (2013)' review

Ask anyone to name a ‘strong female character’ from videogames and nine times out of ten they’ll say Lara Croft. Anyone old enough to remember the release of the original Tomb Raider back in the good old days of 1996 will remember a time when Lara was ubiquitous. You’d go to the beach and see her face plastered on a holidaymakers towel. Ask a friend for the time and Lara would peer out of the clock face. You’d return home and turn on the TV only to find Ms Croft using her alluring gaze to sell you energy drinks. Tomb Raider was once unstoppable and a new entry in the series whether it be a game, movie, comic or zoetrope would rake in millions for it’s creators. But by 2013 the series could be accurately described as stagnant. With the commercial nadir that was Tomb Raider Underworld it was clear Lara’s jaunts through temples and casual slaughter of endangered wildlife was rather quaint in world where Uncharted’s Nathan Drake would smugly wisecrack his way through wave after wave of racially insensitive villain while scaling the walls of ancient ruins in a desperate race against crumbling architecture. While it’s rivals felt modern and fast paced, Tomb Raider felt slow and ancient, belonging to a time long since past. If it was to survive, with a new generation of consoles looming just over the horizon, the franchise needed to move forwards. Developer ‘Crystal Dynamics’ realised this and did so by taking it back.

Tomb Raider (2013) jettisons all continuity and takes us back to the days when Lara Croft was a fairly ordinary young woman taking her first steps into the field of archaeology. Searching for the long lost kingdom of Yamatai Lara leads her group into the ominously titled Dragons Triangle. Upon approach a tempest washes their ship ashore and they are trapped on an uncharted island. It’s not long before they fall afoul of the machinations of an evil society of zealots and discover that there is perhaps more to this island than it would first appear. It’s a fairly basic adventure story but that doesn’t matter. This game isn‘t about the island or the cult, not really. It is about finding in Lara the iconic character we know and love. It’s an exploration of what would push an innocent girl with fanciful dreams of discovering lost civilisations into becoming a necessarily brutal warrior capable of saving the world.

Tomb Raider has no interest in making you feel powerful. At least at first. It wants you to feel weak, desperate and alone against a merciless world that holds nothing but contempt for your pitiful desire to live. Often feeling more like a survival horror game than an action-adventure shooter, players are graciously provided with an aura of hopelessness. Much of this is provided simply by Lara herself, from her dialogue right down to her most basic animations, every detail makes her seem incredibly vulnerable. In previous instalments dodging enemies would result in Lara leaping to the side, cutting through the air with a graceful arc. Here it has been replaced with a clumsy looking scramble through the dirt. Traversal from platform to platform once appeared ludicrously simple, Lara would jump arms outstretched well prepared to grip the edge and pull herself up (possibly with an elegant cartwheel). Now though her arms flail wildly through the air, grasping at platforms in such a way to appear she reached it more through sheer dumb luck than skill. It is no longer a simple task pulled off with nary a second thought. It is terrifying. Wonderfully so.

The influence of the Uncharted series is displayed in the platforming. As you scale the walls of mountains and ruined temples the world responds to your presence. The rocks you grip will start to crumble forcing you to act fast lest you topple to your death. Drop down to a wooden floor and there will be no guarantee that it won’t collapse under your weight. Bridges drop away beneath your feet and enemies may appear and cut the rope you’re climbing. But despite the similarities there is a tension here that was lacking in Uncharted, where Nathan Drake would narrate his way through these segments with cries of “oh crap”, a sarcastic “oh great” or simply yelling “whoa whoa whoa!” Lara, by contrast, displays fear through her body language, the way she grips edges, glances downwards and presses herself against walls, through heavy tremulous breathing and through the look of fear etched on her face. While traversal is simple and fluid the animation casts an illusion making it appear clumsy giving each leap a thrilling sense of uncertainty and a feeling of euphoria when you succeed.

While combat has always been an essential part of the series it never felt particularly exciting. More of a chore distracting us from the exploration and puzzles. The combat here has been substantially altered and provides a thrill that was lacking before. The days of running circles round creatures and gunmen repetitiously pressing R1 are gone, the developers taking another leaf from the pages of Uncharted instead. On the surface it has the artifice of being cover based, ducking behind the closest wall to avoid the spray of bullets and rising at an opportune moment to fire upon your opponent. Unlike most cover based shooters there is no button press to stick Lara to the side of a wall, simply walk her towards it and she will automatically crouch allowing you to move and retreat with ease when your cover is compromised. Which it will be. A lot. Enemies will use dynamite to flush you out or flank you as you reload, forcing you to constantly be on the move and to rely more on your instincts than strategy. Fights are incredibly visceral, with each successful attack feeling satisfyingly fatal and each wound sustained feeling horribly painful. Less successful are the quick time events, while they successfully induce a sense of panic the prompts can be difficult to make out when they first appear leading to several frustrating and avoidable deaths. There's also some attempt to apply stealth mechanics, but there's little point to it. It boils down to creeping behind opponents and killing them through strangulation or a pickaxe to the cranium. Make a mistake and everyone in the area immediately becomes aware of your position forcing you into another gunfight. Most disappointing of all there seems to be no way to spare your opponents. No choice to simply sneak by leaving them to carry on their patrols unaware of you being in their midst. You have to kill them, quite viciously too, which doesn‘t match what the game tells us about our character.

There’s an infamous moment early on where Lara kills another human for the first time. Despite her actions being justified in the circumstances she is clearly sickened by herself and the realisation that this is what she must do to survive. It’s a powerful scene. Many players have said Lara’s readiness to kill afterwards undercuts it somewhat but I disagree. Enemies tend to fire the first shots and Lara often pleads for them to not fight her. What does undercut the scene is the aforementioned inability to spare lives and the sheer amount of opponents the game throws at you with the final body count probably being somewhere in the hundreds by the time the credits roll. Perhaps this was intentional to show Lara’s growth from innocent victim to action hero but it’s a little clumsy and unnecessary considering how brilliantly and subtly the game displays this elsewhere.

As you progress the survival horror aspect is pushed into the background and by the finale is removed outright. In the introduction environments feel oppressive. Moving through caves feels claustrophobic as Lara presses herself between rocks, her flaming torch doing little to light the way. Leave the caves behind and you’ll find yourself in the midst of an unbearable storm. Lightening cracks the sky overhead and the deafening roar of thunder surrounds you. During battles you’ll want to keep enemies as far away as possible. If they get close you’ve little to defend yourself but your ability to flee. Which won’t get you far. Through all this Lara utters meek uncertain reassurances to herself, displaying her fear but also her resolve to overcome it. However as Lara becomes more capable so do you. Key moments of Lara’s maturation coincide with the player being provided with an item which will make traversal of the island and survival easier. Interior environments become more open. The skies begin to clear. As Lara becomes more defensive you gain new weapons and attacks. No longer will you fear the approach of enemies as you can now despatch them with ease. Her pleads become threats. Combat feels less like you are straddling a thin line between life and death. By the final battle you're nigh unstoppable. It’s wonderfully immersive as you can actually feel the balance of power shifting ever so subtly in Lara’s favour.

While much has changed since Tomb Raider’s early days there is some attempt to hark back to the gameplay of old. Secrets return in the form of artifacts and journals scattered throughout the island, encouraging you to explore every nook and cranny. In lesser hands, these secrets could feel like mere padding but they play an important part in showing a side to Lara other than action adventurer. Find an artifact and Lara will briefly describe it and it’s original purpose, you can then turn it and examine it closely to find out more. It’s inessential but it helps to remind us that Lara is first and foremost an archaeologist urged onwards by the joy of discovery. It’s a small but beautiful addition to the game. Journals are less fascinating but arguably more important. They paint a horrific portrait of the island, it’s history and it’s inhabitants which would get little characterisation otherwise. Also returning are puzzles in the form of Secret Tombs. These hold a strange place in the game, simultaneously being brilliant but feeling incredibly artificial. The puzzles are rarely difficult, taking little more than ten minutes (if that) to solve but serve as a welcome break from the almost wall to wall combat we’re provided with. Complete the puzzle though and all artifice of reality the game otherwise held up, vanishes. They all end the same way. You find the same chest, filled with the same treasure and you’re shown the same cutscene where Lara gasps in awe reaches into the chest and picks up one item, which we don’t see. Lara then turns away and a message appears telling us we found a gun upgrade, a map of secret locations or XP. Nowhere else is it more clear that this is merely a videogame. It feels like these segments were included more to justify the title and to appeal to traditionalist fans of the series than because they really added anything substantial to the experience. Perhaps if the puzzles had been implemented in the main game instead of being put to one side I’d be more inclined to praise them.

Before we conclude I'd like to discuss the game's weakest elements. A key theme of the game is survival. Every character is motivated by the desire to survive at any cost whether they be heroes or villains and the game tries to involve the player in this as well. One of our first tasks is to find and kill a deer for it's meat, you are encouraged to seek out a campfire and to forage for berries and other sources of nutrition. Unfortunately this is completely brushed aside moments later. You can still kill animals and take meat from their carcass and you can forage for food but there's no reason to do so. You'll never starve no matter how long you go without. Your only reward for bothering is experience points to increase your skills but you'll get plenty from battling enemies, finding secrets and completing Secret Tombs. In the end you'll just ignore hunting in lieu of everything else. This isn't a massive issue and certainly didn't detract from my enjoyment but it did feel like a missed opportunity.

Minor issues aside, Tomb Raider is a resounding success. Everything that made the last games so hollow has been reinvented allowing it to stand proudly amongst it’s contemporaries. It feels modern but hasn’t betrayed the elements that made the series what it was. Most admirable of all is the reinvention of Lara Croft. She’s clearly the iconic character the world fell in love with in 1996 but for the first time in the series history she’s more than just a strong female character. She’s a strong human character, who just so happens to be female, which is much more impressive.

Review based on PS3 version. Still new to this whole reviewing thing so once again, constructive criticisms are welcome.Thank you for reading.

[mike-harker]

"In the moment, when things are really out of control, you don't have any choice" - 'The Walking Dead Season 2: All That Remains' Review

  This review contains (very) minor spoilers for ‘All That Remains’ and MAJOR spoilers for the entirety of ‘The Walking Dead: Season One’. You have been warned.

  A few weeks ago, Telltale Games released ‘All That Remains’, the first episode of Season Two of ‘The Walking Dead’ and it had a tough act to follow. Season One told a fairly simple tale of a man trying to protect a child in a horrifying world. It had fantastically written characters who felt like genuine people, reacting to unimaginable horrors in believable ways. It effortlessly played with our emotions, it could be equally distressing, hilarious, touching and tragic. It was a masterpiece (and I don’t use that word lightly). With all this in mind can the sequel series even dream of matching it. After playing through Episode One I can safely say, without a shadow of a doubt in my mind…maybe.

  I have a feeling that my opinion on this is going to annoy a few people so let’s stave off their anger by talking about the many good points. Technologically we can see subtle but indisputable improvements. The graphics have been touched up a little and the animation’s come a long way since Season One’s first episode. Back then a character’s movement could seem a little robotic at times and facial expressions seemed exaggerated, now they move in a much more fluid and natural manner. Gameplay is mostly unaltered but the changes that have been made are welcome. Exploration is still a case of wandering through the environment, moving the cursor over an item of interest to look at, pick up or use it. However the cursor has been shrunk, making it much less obtrusive than in Season One.

The Season One cursor never bothered me but I imagine it will now.

  Combat is, once again, beautifully tense with the action of moving the cursor over a weapon, picking it up, moving cursor back over enemy and attacking managing to elicit a greater sense of danger, panic and urgency than most survival horror games can muster, but still being easy enough to avoid being frustrating. Puzzles have been simplified to the point where I hesitate to even call them puzzles. There’s less ‘find an axe, to break the lock, to open the door, to grab the brick, to smash the glass, to distract the zombies so I can fetch the keys to open the other door’ and more ‘I need to break the oh look a hammer’.

  Of course it would be remiss of me not to talk about the most visible, and most important, change to the game. With Lee’s death at the end of Season One the mantle of player character has been passed down to Clementine, the little girl we spent five episodes teaching and protecting. A natural choice, but also an incredibly brave one. Not many games would give players (stereotypically seen as male twenty to forty somethings) control over a ten year old girl. I admit to being apprehensive but it turns out I needn’t have been. The world and it’s inhabitants feel much more imposing now that they tower over you and there is a tension in conversations that was often absent when we were playing as Lee. In times of danger, when a decision must be made, what good is the word of a child over that an adult. Adults do know best after all. Clementine is once again played brilliantly by Melissa Hutchison, who opts to give her a slightly older voice, still believably childlike but reflecting how the character has matured thanks to her time with Lee.

  Considering all that I've said above, why is it that my feelings towards this episode can only be described as ambivalent? Because none of that matters. It wasn't the exploration, the combat, the puzzles or even Lee that made ‘The Walking Dead’ special. It was the conversations we had, the relationships we built, the choices we made and how all of those things defined the story. It is here where ‘All That Remains’ stumbles a little.

Let's take a moment to talk about railroading.

  When we talk about railroading in a game, we liken the player to a train, the narrative to the rails and the ending to, well, the end of the line. You’ll usually see the term used to describe situations where the player is forced down one particular path, regardless of what they would like to do. If your game has a story, then railroading will probably be a necessity, but if the writers and developers do a good job then the tracks will be hidden from view. This is something Telltale excelled at with Season One. During an initial playthrough it really did feel like I had made an impact on the story. I felt like I’d saved Duck from being thrown out of the drug store, and that Larry might still be alive if I’d acted quicker or said something different. In moments when your choice quite blatantly didn't matter, it was usually justified. “You don’t want to go to the dairy?” the game would say, “well the rest of the group does, so you’ll just have to go along with it.” Unfortunately in ‘All That Remains’ the rails were conspicuous from the first scene with no real justification. Clementine put down her gun, then seconds later needed to fetch an item from across the room. My first instinct was to pick up the gun as a precaution only to discover I couldn't. There was no option to pick it up. Suddenly the rails are visible and so is the destination. The scene ended up leaving me frustrated, not sad, hurt or shocked like it was supposed to, just incredibly irritated. This wasn't an isolated incident either. There are a few moments where choices are conspicuous by their absence.

Why can't I eat this dog?

  Nothing Clementine does is out of character really, they’re all things I can imagine a ten year old doing but I haven’t been ten years old for a while. I wouldn’t do these things and the game forcing Clementine to do it isn’t just blatant railroading to advance the plot, it causes a disconnect between the player and the character. When we are allowed to make choices, they don’t feel important. They don’t carry much emotional weight and (with one exception) feel irrelevant. For a series which is all about making and living with impossible choices (and up to this point, handled it well) this is disappointing.

  My biggest issue though is poignancy. Every episode of the first season had at least one stand out scene that played with our emotions effortlessly, like deciding whether to provide a bitten woman with the means to end her life, Kenny and Katjaa’s reaction to the imminent death of their child and Lee’s last talk with Clementine. ‘All That Remains’ has no moments like these. It tries to have them, but the game gives us little reason to care or simply undercuts them. The only times it comes close are scenes where Clementine reminisces about her time with Lee, but that’s only because it reminds me of the poignant moments of the first season.

Meet the new cast, same as the old cast.

  I should be talking about the story itself, but I don’t have much to say at the moment. It serves it’s purpose as an introduction but that’s all it is, an introduction. The first episode of Season One introduced us to the characters and subtly set up the overarching plot, but it had an arc all of it’s own, with Lee trying to find his family. It was an arc with a clear beginning, middle and (heartbreaking) end. There’s no arc here. At first Clementine is looking for the remainder of the Season One cast but this is quickly forgotten when she meets the new group. With a couple of exceptions, the new cast did little to endear themselves to me, seeming pointlessly hostile. As the story unfolds their motivations do start to make some degree of sense, but they do become tiresome. Unlike the last season's characters you’ll feel little attachment to them, which is surprising. They feel like surrogates of the old characters, which I believe was intentional to a degree, but it’s disappointing. Saying that though, I did have similar feelings to some of Season One’s cast at first. Over time though I grew to respect them, if not like them. Maybe something similar will happen as the series continues.   ‘All That Remains’ is a decent start to Season Two, despite everything I’ve said. It’s just an incredibly flawed start. I do have faith in Telltale, I’m sure that by the time episode five is released I’ll look back on this as an integral part of the larger arc (which is teased here with vague but intriguing hints) but without an identity of it’s own and few meaningful choices there is little to recommend it at this time. Which is a shame.

  Well, there's my first review finished. A quick bit of Googling shows that I'm in the minority with my opinion so I guess it's time to duck and cover. Feel free to disagree with me, constructive criticism is welcomed.