If Video Games Are Art, They Must Be Treated As Such

I recently read an article claiming that all video games should have a difficulty option. The primary game that the author posits in his article is Bloodborne, which is a spiritual successor to the Souls series of games, namely Demon's Souls, Dark Souls, and Dark Souls 2. These interactive experiences are universally infamous for being insanely hard, and have been described as punishing, merciless, and even sadistic by game journalists and reviewers time and time again. Bloodborne continues the tradition.

A typical Bloodborne encounter

The author argues that every game should include an option to dial the difficulty back, which is not an uncommon option to be found in most video games. In general, a video game will have at least three difficulty tiers: Easy, Normal, and Hard. This slider has an obvious purpose - not all gamers are equal in their skill and they don't all have an equal amount of time to devote to a particular game, so providing the option to dial the difficulty back makes sense. The author acknowledges this fact, but then goes further to argue that every single game should be designed with this option out of a concerted effort to make the game as accessible as possible to as many people as possible. Every game, including Bloodborne. More people playing a good game can't be bad, right?

Actually, it can. Difficulty is one of the core pillars of what makes Bloodborne tick. It is so essential to the very ethos of the experience that if it were to be removed, you would quite literally be playing a different game. Bloodborne has been painstakingly designed to provide the player with a truly phenomenal experience, over and over.

That experience starts with the player coming up against a challenge that is just ridiculously, insanely impossible. Maybe it's a boss the size of a building who can lop off two thirds of the player's health with one swing, or a mob of enemies who surround and obliterate the player before he can even get his bearings. The player tries, and is killed quickly. The player learns something. He then tries again and gets a little further, but dies a second time. This may happen ten times, but the game is educating the player - trusting him to grow, to learn, and adapt. On that tenth try, the player finally does it. He deals that killing blow. What comes after is simply jubilation. He springs up from his seat, punches the air, maybe screams a throaty, satisfied "YES," and knows that he earned that victory, and even more, he knows that he just got a little better at this crazy game.

He's also met with this message. It's satisfying to say the least.

That experience is the core of this game, and an easy mode would shatter it. Someone who wants to play Bloodborne on easy mode doesn't want to play Bloodborne at all. They're not interested in the actual feelings that the game conveys, the core thematic thread that runs through its whole length. They're not interested in the meticulously fine-tuned piece of art that the developers labored over for years. They want to play a cool fantasy game with some swords and some monsters, and on easy mode, that's all Bloodborne will amount to.

Let's come at this from a different angle. I love the film No Country for Old Men. It's probably my favorite movie. It deals with some incredibly dark and disturbing subject matter and presents some incredibly dark and disturbing imagery to its audience. The film is using these images to say things about the world around us; the nature of evil and violence, the pessimism that good people can take on when confronted with horrors too awful to fully comprehend, the ways in which men of different ages can greet these horrors that threaten the good things of life, the futility of giving one's self over to nihilism and chaos, etc...

Now, someone comes up to Joel and Ethan Coen, who directed the film, and says he's heard that No Country for Old Men is really great. He's read reviews that say the cinematography, editing, acting, writing, music - all of it - is fantastic (all true, because it's the best frickin' movie ever). He's really interested in it. But then he says he's also read that there's a lot of yucky stuff in the movie. Lots of brutal violence, language, dark themes, etc... and he just doesn't have the stomach for all that. So he goes on to ask if Joel and Ethan could maybe put together a cut that just removes all of that stuff. "I just really wanna watch your movie," he says, "and isn't it a good thing that more people would see it?"

He has no interest in watching the film and piece of art that is No Country for Old Men, the film that the artists have carefully and deliberately crafted - he's just interested in watching a well-made movie. Lucky for him, there are plenty of well-made movies out there that don't have any disturbing content or imagery in them, and he can watch those. No Country for Old Men is not for everyone. Not only is that perfectly fine, it's absolutely necessary. Some of the best, most important pieces of art in the film medium are difficult, even ugly, on some level. By their very nature, they're not for everyone, not even close. But my goodness, what incredible stories they tell.

Art itself is incomplete if there is no room for works such as these. There must be room for them. And to alter and deface them would be nothing but a disservice to the artist's intentions. But let's get back to games, shall we?

There is still some debate as to whether or not games are art to begin with. People who are passionate about games, like myself, usually fall firmly on the side that says they are, or at the very least, can be. Only an ignorant man would refrain from admitting that art goes into games. Drawing, painting, sculpting, writing, composing and editing are only a few of the artistic crafts that coalesce to make a working video game at the end of the day. But I want to be careful to not fall into the "anything is art," trap, for that can't be true. No, ultimately, what makes something a piece of art is whether or not it was designed for the purpose of making someone ponder or feel something (or at least that is the definition that I subscribe to).

This is a video game 

Unfortunately, there is a big problem with a lot of the people in the "games are art" camp that I inhabit. Too often, I find people who will go blue in the face insisting that this medium is artistic, that it can be beautiful, affecting and evocative. But then as soon as a game comes along that does something truly artistically difficult, these people will, rather embarrassingly, completely ditch their "games are art" premise and resort to childish statements like "Oh, stop being so artsy fartsy," or "C'mon, it's just a game!" Is it really? Because a minute ago you were trying to convince me that your favorite game is some sort of modern day Mona Lisa. A minute ago, you seemed to take this "games are art" thing seriously.

So a game like Bloodborne comes along that is doing some truly difficult things (I haven't even mentioned the labyrinthine level design, or the esoteric storytelling), and of course, there are some people in the gaming community that are crying out, claiming that it's too hard and that it should be whittled down to something it's not. They want something more approachable, something easier, something that they can feel more at ease with when they play it.

Some games don't want you comfortable.

The problem is that "at ease" and "approachable" aren't even in Bloodborne's vocabulary. Its designers want you to feel terrified of what might be around the next corner. They want you to feel off-balance, unsure of how to proceed. This is completely vital to what they want you to feel next: victorious. Educated. Faster. Sharper. Even joyful. This is how Bloodborne makes you feel. Beyond all its visual beauty, brilliant level design, and near-flawless mechanics, this is how and why Bloodborne is art.

Let's hope its developers never let the moaning of a few hypocrites convince them to deface their own work.

My Super Spoiler-y Force Awakens Impressions

There's a fairly short list of films I've seen that have occupied my mind after the fact like The Force Awakens has. The funny part is that they're usually heavy, subversive films. The Shining. Apocalypse Now. Prisoners. But here I am, lying awake at night, thinking about a carefree $200 million blockbuster made by the Walt Disney Corporation. I don't mean to trivialize it, though. This is the new Star Wars movie, after all. The biggest film of the year, and probably the last decade. But why am I so fixated on it?

Why do you HAUNT me so?!?!

Because I'm not sure I've ever seen a film that has so many identifiable problems, yet is still so legitimately good. Not great (I don't think a great film has this many issues), but seriously, it's good.

So let's get the bad out of the way first.

The Problems

It's way too derivative of A New Hope

This is easily the film's main flaw in my eyes. I was okay with starting on a desert planet where a droid with plans concerning an older Jedi is discovered by unsuspecting characters who are thrown into an adventure that includes an escape from said planet on the Millennium Falcon and a stop by a Cantina populated by a bunch of weird alien creatures. But did we really need to re-hash the giant planet-destroying superweapon plot again? Including the bit where there's a ticking clock running down to the point where the weapon is "in range" of the base where the people (primarily Leia) with the transparent graph things are?

It's also really weird how the aerial dog-fight is almost exactly the same scale as the one in A New Hope - the Resistance fleet seems to be comprised of, what, twenty ships? This was an issue that A New Hope had as well, but it was understandable due to the technical and budgetary restraints. Here, it's blatantly too small. The film feels like it needs to kick into high gear in terms of scale, with hundreds of ships on both sides, filling up the sky in a furious aerial battle. It needs to unleash, but instead it plays things too safe and seems content to tepidly mimic a film that did the same thing better.

The larger political context is totally glossed over

While it was a good idea to steer the film clear of plot points that revolve around trade disputes and senate meetings, I'm afraid that JJ swung the pendulum too far to the other side. Who the heck is the First Order? How widespread is their influence? How big is the resistance? What are the stakes here? Is the resistance on its back foot, making one final, desperate attempt to turn the tide of the fight, or is this just another engagement in a tug-of-war battle where the question of dominance is still up in the air? What was the actual impact of the First Order obliterating that handful of planets? Is the Republic gone now? WHO KNOWS. It's almost comical how the film refuses to let its audience in on the larger context of what's actually going on. 

The score is surprisingly unremarkable

Of course I don't mean this in the sense that the Star Wars score itself is unremarkable - it's one of the most remarkable pieces of music in cinematic history. But consider how, for all their flaws, the prequels added some pretty fantastic (even iconic) numbers to the Star Wars musical canon, and you can understand why I was eager to hear the new material that John Williams would be bringing to this new trilogy. So imagine my disappointment as the credits began to roll and I realized "I barely ever even noticed the music." From what I could tell, there were no new themes, nothing to latch your ear onto. Of course the classic themes play here and there, but even then I felt like they could have been used more powerfully. Bummer.

Han's death is kind of... off... 

Now, it doesn't feel totally wrong. The film spends ample time with Han as it leads up to this point so the audience doesn't feel cheated when he goes, but the actual incident is too haphazard. Han merely stumbles across Kylo Ren (or Ben, which is cool), and there's little sense that this is the culmination of something huge. A friend of mine said this scene would have been improved if Han had actually been intentionally looking for Ben, and I definitely agree. It's just too convenient otherwise, and lacks the weight it needs.

Some more niggles

• Captain Phasma turns off the shields without the slightest sense of resistance. The character is a wasted opportunity and this scene underlines her needlessness.
• The bit where Han is in trouble with the two gangs and lets out the two incredibly cartoony monsters isn't just weird but a rather useless scene altogether.
• I wasn't really into the look of Supreme Leader Snoke. It's cool that he's a huge hologram, but he's kind of over-designed and the cgi is just too blatant. 
• The film might be a bit too fast-paced. All the other Star Wars films (even the prequels) are a little more contemplative - they have the freedom to slow down and let the themes sink in. The Force Awakens is almost constantly barreling forward with development after development, which it honestly does well in its own right, but it does feel a bit more shallow than its predecessors as a result.
• Domhnoll Gleeson is miscast. He's a good actor but he's simply too young to play the big bad general of the First Order. 
• The movie is missing a bit of that Star Wars magic when it comes to the locales and vehicles. Other than Jakku (which has been a huge part of the film's marketing), I can't tell you the names of any of the other planets, nor can I recall any pieces of tech (aside from BB-8) that stood out in a way that even approaches the immense coolness of an AT-AT or even a Star Destroyer. 

So What Does It Get Right?

Kind of rough, huh? What is it about this movie that actually tips the scales back after such a barrage of problems?

These Three

For all the flaws that eat away at the edges of The Force Awakens, the film's heart and center is pure gold, and that center is comprised of Rey, Finn and Poe Dameron. I don't think I can overstate how genuinely wonderful it is to watch these characters inhabit this universe, and you can bet that Daisy Ridley, John Boyega and Oscar Isaac have officially launched their careers into super stardom with their work in this film.

Daisy Ridley's Rey is the crowning achievement here. She's the best protagonist in a film of this type that I've seen in, gosh, I don't know how long. Empathetic but not weak, strong but not masculinized, sincere but not boring, smart but still relatable, she's a fantastic presence in the film. One could argue that her journey from lone scrap scavenger to lightsaber-wielding force-user is a bit hasty, but it's just too satisfying to observe, and anyone who didn't want to cheer when that lightsaber flew past Kylo Ren's hand and into her's is probably a little dead inside. It's also refreshing to have a female main protagonist in what has otherwise been a male-dominated franchise.

John Boyega's Finn is arguably the most interesting character here. Beyond just being the everyman who's in way over his head, he's not so much a brave character as he is trying to be brave. He's actually a little off-putting in some ways; he flat-out lies to Rey just to get off Jakku and save his own skin and he's almost constantly in need of rescue, but ultimately the goodness that we see in him during his first scene rises to the top of his character as he pushes past his self-interest to see the greater good. Boyega's innate charm and commanding sense of comedic timing go even further to cement him as a great addition to the roster of Star Wars characters.

Finally we get to Oscar Isaac's Poe, who enjoys far less screen time than Finn and Rey but makes up for it by being utterly magnetic. He's almost too likable, to the point where you sort of wonder if the film would have benefited from him being the main protagonist (until you remember just how good Daisy Ridley is as Rey). Isaac walks away with every scene he's in as he exudes the perfect blend of humor, sincerity, confidence and flat-out coolness that you can't help but feel drawn to.

These three are about 70% of why this film is absolutely, 100% worth seeing. It's hard to convey how wonderful it is to watch a Star Wars film that feels so human. The cardinal sin of the prequels was their clunky, plastic awkwardness - their incredible inability to convey even the simplest of human feelings. You find none of that here, and it does absolute wonders for the Star Wars formula.

It's gorgeous

The sights and sounds of The Force Awakens are simply stunning to behold. The blend of practical and computer generated effects is executed to near perfection, with evident care and love poured into nearly every frame. But beyond the incredible effects work, the movie is beautiful on a much more fundamental level. What a joy it is to see a Star Wars movie that was shot on actual celluloid, something we haven't seen since 1999. It just feels right, with all the warmth and organic richness that film affords. Gone is the cold, lifeless look of the second two prequels. Most importantly, the film is skillfully mounted with sumptuous lighting and compositions and tight, snappy editing that keeps the pace up while respecting the rules of the screen. Almost every action beat is superbly handled and the audience knows exactly what to follow (something that's far too much to ask of most action blockbusters). This will be a worthy addition to any Blu-Ray collection on the merits of its visuals and sound alone.

It actually has a villain, not just a bad guy

Kylo Ren could have easily been another Darth Maul - a cool looking bad guy with a cool looking lightsaber amounting to nothing more. Thankfully he's actually a character, a psychologically tormented monster who finds himself seduced by the light side of the force (a nice little twist on what we've seen in previous Star Wars films). Adam Driver is not necessarily the obvious casting choice here, but he ultimately works quite well. He conveys the petulant rage of his character without compromising the sense of raw power that Ren can exhibit (stopping that blaster bolt in mid-air is the definition of awesome). His trajectory as a character is one of the most intriguing things about this new trilogy, and that's a huge accomplishment. 

Other Goodies

• It's great to see some lightsaber fighting in the good old-fashioned broad sword style of the original trilogy. 
• BB-8 is absolutely spot-on. He's adorable, he's got some of the biggest laughs in the movie, and he's a worthy addition to the C-3PO/R2-D2 duo.
• Speaking of laughs, this movie is funny. It almost borders on becoming too cutesy at times but never actually oversteps its bounds. A Star Wars movie with jokes that are funny? Intentionally? It's been so long... 
• Some great use of the Force, mainly seen in some of Kylo Ren's powers (again, that blaster bolt thing... gosh...) and then Rey's hallucination scene, which almost toys with the same kind of weirdness that we see with Luke in the cave on Dagobah. Very cool stuff. 
• That giant pig thing that Finn drinks next to. Seriously great practical effect.
• It is never, ever boring. Something that can't be said about any of the prequels. Heck, you can't even say that about most Christopher Nolan films. 

In the end

It's easy to simultaneously feel like I'm giving the film too much slack and that I'm being too hard on it. The Force Awakens is a hugely watchable, hugely entertaining movie, so should I want more? Maybe. Throwing my hands up and saying "It's Star Wars!" goes both ways. Yeah, on one level, Star Wars has never amounted to a whole lot more than popcorn spectacle. Saturday morning Flash Gordon serials fused with re-purposed archetypes that a nerdy young film school grad took from some Joseph Campbell classes in the 70's. But on another, arguably more important level, Star Wars is an unassailable classic of cinema. Some of my earliest memories are of Star Wars. A century from now, the original Star Wars trilogy will still be revered - not as some collection of popcorn movies, but as art, and very little of this is out of some misty-eyed sense of nostalgia. Those are truly great films. So is it too much to expect greatness of The Force Awakens? Yes, in some ways, and no in others. 

This is why this movie has burrowed its way into my mind. It's easy to review these movies with hyperbole, but not so with The Force Awakens. It's good. That seems like such a pejorative thing to say, but it really isn't. This film is truly good. And I applaud that in a way that I don't think I've ever done for a merely "good" film. Is that just my fanboyism talking? Maybe a little, but how can anyone just flip the switch and turn that off? I've tried, and my ultra critical inner film snob has lunged at the numerous opportunities it's seen to point out the cracks in this film's armor. 

But the cracks just aren't big enough. The movie is too fun. It's so skillfully presented, so kinetic and alive, and most importantly, so human. And those are great things to say about any film, Star Wars or no. So yeah. It's good. It's a good Star Wars film. Seriously. 

Now, let's get the great one made.

Oh, it could definitely happen.

Why The Lord of the Rings Extended Cuts Aren't That Great

The holiday season means a few things in the King household. Christmas decorations are out, the cat will be forced to wear a Santa hat at some point, and we will watch through the Lord of the Rings trilogy. As far as I'm concerned, these are Christmas movies, through and through. But as much as I love these films, there's one nagging thought that has not ceased to annoy me year after year...

I wish we were watching the theatrical cuts.

The Extended Edition Blu-Ray set that we own not only includes an encyclopedic wealth of special features, but also offers the highest quality video transfer currently available on the market, so naturally it's the best option for an LOTR fan who wants a well-rounded experience. But, unfortunately, I'm now forced to live with these extended cuts. Now, I'm well aware that many fans consider these the definitive versions of these films and will swear by them to their dying breath, but let's take a closer look at what these cuts actually offer - both the good and the bad.

Some scenes do indeed enrich the story and characters

The best extended scene in the entire trilogy appears in The Two Towers, where we witness a flashback to Boromir, Faramir and Denethor right after a battle to retake Osgiliath from the armies of Mordor. The audience is given a hugely meaningful look at who Boromir is when he's not being driven mad by the ring and buckling under the weight of his father's demands; a strong, kind man who loves his people and his little brother. It's easily the best the extended cuts have to offer in terms of valuable content that enriches the narrative.

Actually a cool guy ^^^

But most additions completely disrupt the flow of the film

What makes the previously mentioned Boromir flashback work so well is the fact that it's a self-contained scene that stands on its own. However, more often than not, the extended content is woven into pre-existing scenes, which usually creates a very awkward sense of pace and tone. What was once a tightly edited, efficient scene now feels a bit meandering. A huge contributor to this sense of imbalance is the music, which is awkwardly stretched out to cover the extra shots that are added, turning Howard Shore's originally masterful work into a distraction. As an editor, I find myself frequently annoyed by the odd rhythm these scenes tend to take on once they're burdened by the extra content.

Many of the extended scenes exist purely to indulge Jackson's juvenile sense of humor

Don't get me wrong, I'm no comedy elitist.

Funny ^^^

With that said, too many of the extended scenes feature moments of comedy that are a bit... embarrassing... Gimli is overly featured in gag after gag, drawing much unneeded attention to the fact that his character exists for the sole purpose of comedic relief (though I suppose I don't have as much of a problem with Legolas existing for the sole purpose of doing cool stuff). Scenes like this bit in Return of the King are particularly irksome and feel far too indulgent for what is already a three and a half hour movie.

Look no further than The Hobbit films to see a filmmaker who is a slave to his own giddiness and enthusiasm and seems to have a troublingly low standard for what should actually make its way into his films. Jackson has often been described as a guy who will "always go for the gag." While this quality can occasionally bring out some genuinely impactful moments, it's pretty damaging to the overall integrity of his films when he's given more room to roam and add in whatever he wants.

In the end, these scenes were edited out for a reason
One of the main grievances I have with extended or "director's" cuts is that the film the audience sees in the theater is the director's cut. This is the film in its tightest, most essential form, and when you add in all of these extended scenes, however interesting they may be, you're adding unnecessary content to what was already a finished film. Are we really so excited to have these scenes that were originally deemed to be expendable fused back into the fabric of what was already a fine film? Would it really be so bad if these scenes existed where they belong on the deleted scenes menu, since that's precisely what they are?

Extended Editions can limit choices
The worst part of all of this is that unless I shell out another $40 for the theatrical edition blu-rays I'm stuck with these extended cuts, despite there being more than enough room on a blu-ray disk to fit both. What's worse is that the video transfers of the theatrical cuts are inferior. These are the movies I saw and fell in love with over ten years ago. These are the movies that won the Oscars and garnered such critical acclaim, and I don't like being corralled into a position where it's less favorable to own those films and more advantageous to own these flabbier, bulkier cuts. It's important to preserve art as it was initially presented to its audience and the LOTR deserve to be handled with more care.

I Don't Feel Like Pursuing God. What Now?

       I follow my feelings too much. No, this is not an "emotions are bad and you should never act on them" christian blog post; God created and uses emotions and to outright deny the usefulness of deep, heart-rending emotion is foolish and short-sighted. My problem is that I all too regularly bounce from circumstantial, experiential feeling to circumstantial, experiential feeling and simply don't possess a neutral state of obedience and discipline. A very clear prayer came to my mind when I started thinking through this:

       "God, thank You for not acting on Your feelings."

       Consider Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane on the eve of his crucifixion. Matthew records that His soul was "very sorrowful, even to death," and Luke notes that Jesus was in such agony that He literally was sweating blood, a condition known as hematidrosis. Christ knew exactly what the coming hours held for Him, and in a desperate plea, He prayed "Father, if You are willing, remove this cup from me." Of course He goes on to say "Nevertheless, not My will, but Yours, be done," which is where many teachers and writers camp, rightfully highlighting Christ's faithfulness and submission. I have always found myself struck by the first half of this request; that Jesus Christ, God Himself, seems to be asking for a plan B.

       Jesus, being the God and creator of the universe, did not feel like being arrested, beaten, humiliated, tortured, nailed to a piece of wood and murdered. If He had acted on His desire to opt out and had decided to find a different way to pay the debt of humanity's sin, could one really blame Him?

       Thankfully, we do not worship a God like that.

       We worship a God who is utterly uncompromising. We worship a God who, in perfect communal harmony with Himself, wove His thread of redemption through the tapestry of human history before the very foundations of time were laid. We worship a God who is patient and strong enough to see that plan through in the exact fashion that He planned it. We worship a God who acts according to His promises, not His feelings, justifiable and holy as they are.

       This highlights the fact that experiential feelings and desires simply do not validate themselves. If God Himself decided to not act on the things He was feeling at certain points in history, how much more should we strive to put our feelings below what we know we ought to do? *

       And now we're back to my problem: I follow my feelings too much. So often I simply don't feel like reading the scriptures. I don't feel like praying, I don't feel like handling this situation like Christ would, I don't feel like being loving, joyful, peaceful, patient, kind, good, faithful, gentle or disciplined. I'm always encouraged, at the very least, by my "desire for desire." You know, how you "want to want to?" It tells me that, at the core of my being, I yearn for unity with my Lord, but so often I let my flesh drag me back down to the slums of self-indulgence.

       It is a great help, then, to look to Christ. There we see the Man who was tempted and tried but persevered through His dying breath, even as legions of angels waited upon His command to vanquish His murderers. As with every struggle, simply looking to Christ provides all the perspective that one could need, and through observing and following Him, we may come to start living and acting as we were made to.


       * If you're troubled by the idea of God desiring something that He should not do, consider the circumstance of an engaged man desiring sex with his bride-to-be. This is a normal, healthy desire that is not sinful in any way, but if the man acts on this desire, that is where sin comes in. This is an imperfect illustration because I don't think God would desire something that, if acted upon, would be sinful, but I think you get the point.

The Desolation Of Smaug Has 10 Big Problems

The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey was a mixed experience. Even those who liked the film (myself included) have to admit that it had problems, with its awkward rhythm, over indulgence in action scenes and general long-windedness. But for all its flaws, I appreciated quite a few things about An Unexpected Journey. Whenever Bilbo was the center of attention, the film soared. The Riddles in the Dark scene was magnificent. The film was (mostly) gorgeous to look at, and quite a few other little details marked the film as a success, rickety as it was. With the release of The Desolation of Smaug, it would seem like this series will actually hit its stride. The stakes are higher, Bilbo has more to do, the Ring is now fully in play, and we finally get to witness Smaug.

If the movie is half as good as this scene, I'm in.

I just saw The Desolation of Smaug, and I need to get this off my chest: Not only has Jackson failed to avoid the problems of his first installment, but he's introduced a myriad of new flaws, disappointments and over indulgences to a series that is now showing it's true colors as the over-stuffed cash grab that it is. These are the ones that stuck out to me.

1. Things just sort of start happening... and they continue to just sort of... happen.
Good sequels have a way of re-acquainting the audience with the story. The audience catches up with the characters in meaningful, interesting ways (Sarah Connor is in a mental institute, a salvage team rescues Ripley from an eighty year hyper sleep), the audience is invited back into the world in a striking fashion (The Star Destroyer sending probe droids down to Hoth, the future war sequence in T2) and the film just takes its time letting the audience settle into the narrative again. For being such a long movie, The Desolation of Smaug flippently tosses scenes at you left and right from the get-go, and there's no time to actually re-acclimate. First we have the incredibly underwhelming flashback scene in Bree with Gandalf and Thorin, then the dwarves are running away from Wargs, encountering Beorn, getting lost in mirkwood, fighting spiders and being captured by elves within the first thirty minutes. There are no grand establishing shots, no sense of "Yes. We're back in it." Just stuff. Stuff happening. Even the weakest of the LoTR films, The Two Towers, does a great job of dunking you back into Middle Earth (remember that fantastic Balrog opening?) and re-connecting all the dots from The Fellowship of the Ring. More on this sort of stuff later.

2. Beorn is a poorly designed afterthought.
Good design is a hard thing to pin down, but you know it when you see it, and you really know it when you don't. I couldn't stand Beorn. He's too skinny, too eye-brow-y, and he feels like he's of no consequence whatsoever. Then, just as soon as you're starting to process this new character, he's gone, never to be heard from again (until the third film, that is). He feels like a mere footnote, not the powerful, shape-shifting monster that I loved when my mom read The Hobbit to me as a kid.

3. Invisibility is handled poorly.
I get it. Invisibility is fine and dandy to describe in a book, but it doesn't exactly read well on film. The LoTR films hardly feature it at all, and any occurrences of someone wearing the ring are so brief that they don't pose a problem. The Hobbit poses big problems. Multiple scenes require Bilbo to be invisible for extended periods of time, so Peter Jackson had to make some decisions about how to "show" invisibility. Well, I really wish I didn't have to watch the entire spider scene through the "ring-vision" blur filter, and then Bilbo just takes the ring off with Smaug, which effects that scene in ways that I'll hit on later.

4. The Kili and Tauriel love story is beyond ridiculous.
I don't even feel like I need to explain myself here. This sub-plot is the worst offender in the "Why On Earth Is This In The Movie" category. It's embarrassing, unnecessary, and feels like a particularly painful slap in the face to Tolkien's work. Hilariously, Evangeline Lilly herself didn't even want this subplot in the movie.

5. GoPro Footage.
There are these nifty things called GoPro's. They're tiny, $300 cameras that are designed to mount on helmets and whatever else you want to put them on in order to capture footage that would otherwise be impossible to shoot. They're great gadgets, but they simply have no place in a $250,000,000 production. End of story. When my wife and I saw the first shot of GoPro footage in the barrel scene, we looked at each other in disbelief. Its highly compressed, stroboscopic images stick out like a sore thumb in a film that is otherwise shot with 5K camera rigs that cost hundreds of thousands of dollars. I have a hard time wrapping my mind around how anyone involved thought that was a good idea.

6. Every scene has orcs in it.
Yes, that's an exaggeration, but seriously, think of any iconic scene in the book and just know that there's an 80% chance that orcs are involved in some way now. An Unexpected Journey suffered from this a bit, too, but Smaug ratchets it up to a whole other level. It's clear that Jackson is scraping the bottom of the bucket, trying to inject tension and conflict where it simply isn't needed. The ironic thing is that...

7. Tension and rising action are non-existent.
Conflict and danger don't seem to have any weight to them in Smaug. This goes along with my first point about that "things just happening" feeling. Nothing stuck to the wall for me. There's no foreboding or underlying sense of jeopardy. "Here's the bad, nasty King of Laketown and he's bad and nasty for reasons! Here's Gandalf going off to fight this Necromancer because that's just the thing to do. Here's Beorn. He's a bear thing. Bye Beorn. Oh yeah, there's a dragon in this story, too. He's bad news." On that note...

8. Smaug is not nearly as terrifying as he should be.
Smaug had a few good things going for him. Benedict Cumberbatch has a sweet voice, and the design looks pretty nifty, but Smaug, like everything else in the movie, is just sort of... there. Even though he's not on screen until the last forty minutes or so, Smaug absolutely has to command a certain presence through the length of the move. The film desperately needs a sense of dread emanating from his very existence, with the lonely mountain serving as a haunting spire protruding from the landscape, keeping the company of dwarves ever-mindful of the terrible monster that lies in wait for them. Instead, it felt like the dwarves reached Erabor and then said to Bilbo, "Oh yeah, there's a dragon in there." Aside from the build-up (or lack thereof), Smaug himself doesn't feel all that dangerous. In the book, the only reason why Smaug is entertaining the thought of speaking with Bilbo is because he can't see him, and the reader knows that if Bilbo removes the ring Smaug will disintegrate him. Now here's Bilbo practically dancing in front of Smaug in plain sight and they're just having a chat, and beyond that, Smaug's battle with the dwarves is cartoonish and dopey, with Smaug bypassing opportunities to fry Thorin's company right and left.

9. The ending is a disappointing, head-scratching sucker punch.
I was fully expecting the film to end with [spoilers ahead] Smaug attacking Laketown and being killed by Bard, with the movie then setting the stage for the battle of the five armies. Instead, Smaug is seen flying towards Laketown after battling the dwarves, the screen goes black, and any momentum the film had going for it completely and awkwardly dies. I generally think that entering a movie with expectations is a gross error, but quite frankly, I'm laying the fault on the movie with this one. The fight with Smaug at the end simply didn't feel like a climax. A good film gives you effective indicators when it's reaching its peak and everything is coming to an end, but I didn't feel like I had received any "This is it!" signals by the time the credits rolled. Everything felt unresolved and vague, and the problems didn't just lie with the Smaug story thread, either. Gandalf is last seen in a cage being carried away to some ambiguous place by a bunch of orcs, but the stakes aren't clearly presented and the audience isn't given much reason to care. Legolas is last seen chasing an orc captain on horseback away from Laketown and the same flaws apply there as well. If anything, this is the point where it feels like the action is rising and things are kicking into high gear. Instead, the audience is treated to a black screen and all the wind is sucked out of the sails.

10. On the list of "The 10 Things that The Desolation of Smaug is About," Bilbo would have to be number 8 or 9.
Beyond everything I've criticized, this is the point that puts the nail in the coffin for me. The Hobbit is Bilbo's story. It's as simple as that. If there's one thing that's true of An Unexpected Journey, it's that when Bilbo is on screen, the movie is alive and well. His Journey is the heart of the story, and when we start looking over at Radagast riding around on his rabbit sled, it's clear that the movie has mixed up its priorities.
There's a reason why The Desolation of Smaug feels aimless, random, disconnected and inconsequential. It has no heart, no core, no unifying element that ties it all together. Why? Because Bilbo is a background character, relegated to comedic relief and errand-running. I would guess that his overall screen time adds up to about half of what it was in the first film, if that. Bilbo is no more fleshed out than any of the dwarves when it comes down to it; even Kili seems to get more attention with the silly Tauriel subplot. Jackson makes feeble attempts to highlight Bilbo's growing attachment to the ring, but the movie loses sight of that all too quickly. Yes, Bilbo has his big scene with Smaug, but he's just an errand boy who survives because of dumb luck instead of his wits. I got the same feeling watching Smaug as I did watching The Dark Knight Rises; that sinking realization of "Wow, Batman hasn't been around for a while... and I'm two thirds into the movie." I don't even understand how this happened, how such a grievous error was made on the part of the writers and the director.

The Desolation of Smaug has me scared, because I'm starting to see The Hobbit trilogy veering off onto a road that runs parallel to the Star Wars prequels, and that's frightening territory. It's very clear now that The Hobbit can't (and shouldn't) sustain three films. The material isn't there, and what we're stuck with now is an ungainly beast of its own making that lacks the finesse and purity of Tolkien's work.
With all of this said, I am fully aware that films like this are very difficult to produce. They're endlessly complicated and stressful to make, and I still respect Peter Jackson, if only for the fact that he made the LoTR trilogy, King Kong, and a serviceable Hobbit movie. But it feels like Smaug is the beginning of the end for Jackson, serving as a perfect example of what happens when a director completely loses sight of what his film actually is. 

My Top Ten Movies

Note the asterisks next to some of the movie titles.

* - This movie contains levels of violence, language and dark thematic elements that may be too much for some adult viewers.

** - This movie contains extreme levels of violence, language and dark thematic elements and should be viewed cautiously. 

The Fellowship of the Ring (2001)

       
          The Fellowship of the Ring is not a perfect movie. It stumbles in a scene or two (mainly Galadriel's freak out after Frodo looks in the mirror), there are numerous technical goofs and some of the effects haven't aged well after twelve years. With all that said, I absolutely adore this movie. Just the sight of that poster gives me the warm n' fuzzies. This was the first "good movie" I really loved, and I must admit the nostalgia factor is through the roof on this one, but don't underestimate Fellowship's objective merits. The film possesses a kind of kinetic momentum and dynamism that I find less of in the other two Rings films (great as they are), and everything just sits so well, mainly because the film is perfectly cast and expertly paced. This top ten list easily changes two or three times a year, but I'm almost certain that Fellowship will never lose its slot.

Sunshine (2007) *

          Sunshine simply exhibits everything that I appreciate in film. Gorgeous cinematography, deep thematic resonance, space, horror, elegant editing married with fantastic music, and Cillian Murphy. This is sci-fi done absolutely right in every regard. The effects are seamless, the themes are at once massively universal and intensely intimate, the scope is epic in every sense of the word and the whole film is simply beautiful, sometimes to a jaw-dropping extent. It's a shame that all the marketing material for this film presents it as something you would see next to The Core or Volcano in its plot and aesthetics, but make no mistake; Sunshine is first-rate, world class filmmaking that demands your appreciation.

No Country For Old Men (2007) **

          Few films match the poise and confidence with which No Country For Old Men is mounted. It's a film that is so unshakably resolute in its story-telling and editing that it serves as a sort of master class in film structure, pacing and tone. The bleak yet surprisingly straight-forward story unfolds with unflinching realism that is justified by the themes this film sets out to convey. Violence, chaos, evil, foolishness, greed and selfishness are all plumbed to their depths, but there is a precious glimmering light at the end of it all, found in Cormac McCarthy's brilliant image of "carrying the fire" through a dark, viciously cold world. 

2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)

          If Sunshine is sci-fi done absolutely right, 2001: A Space Odyssey is certainly the film that set the standard where it remains to this day. This is one of those scary-perfect films where, when assessed on its own terms, there is hardly a perceivable flaw in sight. Everything in the art-direction, cinematography, special effects and editing is immaculate. With that said, one must possess two qualities to watch this film: patience, and a willingness to ponder what is transpiring on the screen. Sadly, these qualities are increasingly absent in audiences today, and it's a shame because one of the most spellbinding, richly layered and beautifully shot films ever made is lost on so many.

Gone Baby, Gone (2007) **

          The central topic and thematic core of Gone Baby, Gone almost feels too simple. It's children; how we raise them, what we think of them and the value we place on them. The plot revolves around the kidnapping of a little girl and the treacherous road that is taken by a private detective to find her and get her back. This is a rough movie, and it displays the darkest recesses of human nature with gut-punching weight, but the questions it asks and the topics it brings to light are absolutely essential. The protagonist is forced to make a simple yet seemingly impossible decision at the film's climax that will confound most people, and the implications of his decision are well-worth delving into. No one was expecting to be blown away by Ben Affleck's directorial debut, but he completely side-stepped every doubt and preconceived notion to deliver a masterpiece.

Wall-E (2008)

          Wall-E is summed up in one word for me: joy. As one can see from the surrounding titles on this list, I revel in dark, soul-searching themes and moody atmosphere, but Wall-E simply makes me smile, and it does this for so many reasons. The character of Wall-E himself is nothing short of a marvel of animation. Pixar took a box and a pair of binoculars and turned them into the most expressive, sympathetic, dare I say human character in their entire catalog, and they did it without dialogue. Thomas Newman's score is achingly beautiful and textured (as always), and the movie hits all the right comedic and dramatic notes. Things may get a little weird once the giant baby-people start zooming around in their hover chairs, but Wall-E remains to be an exemplary technical achievement, a touching love story, a solid sci-fi piece and a thoroughly engaging experience through its entire duration.

The Matrix (1999)

          How many films are there that have shaped pop-culture and filmmaking to the extent that The Matrix has? It's easy to forget just how much this film completely revolutionized special effects, marketing, video games and multiple film genres, and showed how all of those elements could be synthesized into something so cohesive and flat-out cool. Even beyond those accomplishments, The Matrix is simply quality filmmaking. The most basic dialogue scenes exhibit the same rock-solid cinematic presentation as the most intricately choreographed action set-pieces, and the film is in no rush to send bullets flying. It has a wonderful, James Cameron-esque three-act structure where pockets of action and sci-fi wizardry sprout up intermittently for the first two thirds of the film, only to be followed by a third act that bursts with unrelenting kinetic energy all the way to the finish line.

The Thing (1982) *

          I don't watch the films on this list very often, just like I don't listen to Kid A by Radiohead very often, because these are special experiences that I dare not over-saturate myself in. The Thing is sort of the anomaly here because I'm pretty sure I could watch this movie once a week and not grow too tired of it. There's something about The Thing that simply delights me, and it's really easy to appreciate The Thing on a "crazy 80's movie"level, but to simply end there would be a great disservice to the skill with which this film was made. The pacing and editing is fantastic, every shot is well-framed, and of course the legendary practical effects are still out-of-your-mind insane in their grotesque intricacy. In addition, the psychological horror of The Thing only grows richer under close scrutiny, which led me to actually love its ending when I previously hated it and thought it to be the film's weakest moment. 

The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (2007) *

          The Assassination of Jesse James is a slow movie. Of course the film's main event is no secret, being it's very title, but the build-up to that moment is a meticulous but fascinating look at idolatry, cowardice, friendship and betrayal. More than that, the descending action that takes place after the assassination is simply some of the most elegantly presented story-telling I have ever seen. A strong argument can be made that this is Brad Pitt's best performance. His portrayal of Jesse is as tragic as it is manic, showcasing a larger-than-life persona anchored by somber introspection, and his scenes with Casey Affleck are scene-chewing wonders on both ends. The Assassination of Jesse James also boasts one of the finest scores I have ever heard in film, which perfectly accentuates the almost mythic nature of the characters and subject matter. 

Zodiac (2007) *

          I certainly enjoyed Zodiac upon my first viewing about two years ago, but having just watched it again recently, I am convinced that it belongs on this list. Zodiac is an overwhelmingly un-film-able story. It spans two-plus decades and contains a dizzying number of details as it recaps the police investigation of the Zodiac serial killer, who's case file is still open to this day in multiple counties in southern California. While lesser directors would simply crumble under the enormity of the narrative, David Fincher crafts a film that, for all its nuances, is deceptively simple in its through-line of simply showing the grinding tedium of real police work. There are no chase scenes, shoot-outs or final show-downs. This is a movie about obsession and frustration, drawn out over maddening lengths of time, where a scene will take place five years after the one preceding it and they still haven't found the killer. Of course it's presented with all of the classic Fincher trademarks: razor-sharp editing, smart dialogue, impeccable cinematography, beautiful low-key lighting and unbeatable performances. See this movie.

The Best Songs I Have Ever Heard

I decided to take a crack at articulating what it is about these seven songs that makes each of them so special to me. If you're taking the time to read this I would encourage you to listen to a few of the pieces I have here, as I think they are all precious examples of musical, philosophical and artistic expression. One thing I wish to note is that even though I primarily praise and analyze the lyrics of the songs listed here, I do hold to the philosophy that if a song contains great lyrics but shoddy music then it is a waste of sonic space and it should simply exist as poetry. I love none of these songs on a strictly lyrical basis and I believe that merely reading the lyrics to a song is a lessened experience. The title of each song is linked to its respective youtube video for your potential convenience.

Videotape
by Radiohead

When I'm at the pearly gates

This will be on my videotape, my videotape

Mephistopheles is just beneath

And he's reaching up to grab me

This is one for the good days

And I have it all here in red, blue, green

In red, blue, green

You are my center when I spin away

Out of control on videotape, on videotape

On videotape, on videotape, on videotape

This is my way of saying goodbye

Cause I can't do it face to face

I'm talking to you before

No matter what happens now

You shouldn't be afraid

Because I know today has been

The most perfect day I've ever seen

====================

Radiohead is not a Christian band and they never have been, but this song, in the very least, begs to be interpreted on a spiritual level. The lyrics reference "pearly gates," and "Mephistopheles," who appeared as the demon in the Faust legend and German folklore, but beyond that one finds this concept of everything we do being on videotape, "in red, blue, green," referencing the additive primary colors used for various kinds of video displays. I adore this language Thom Yorke uses, especially in the line, "You are my center, when I spin away / out of control on videotape." Is this not what we often experience on some level? The feeling that God sees us in our moments where we are out of control, wandering away clumsily and stupidly in plain sight, knowing this will be on our videotape.

A note: Do try and watch the video of this song. It's a live performance by arguably the best band in the world, so take the opportunity to watch them do their thing.

Jesus
by Brand New

Jesus Christ, that's a pretty face

The kind you'd find on someone I could save

If they don't put me away

Well, it'll be a miracle

Do you believe you're missin' out

That everything good is happening somewhere else?

But with nobody in your bed

The night's hard to get through

And I will die all alone

And when I arrive I won't know anyone

Well, Jesus Christ, I'm alone again

So what did you do those three days you were dead?

'cause this problem's gonna last more than the weekend.

Well, Jesus Christ, I'm not scared to die,

I'm a little bit scared of what comes after

Do I get the gold chariot?

Do I float through the ceiling?

Do I divide and fall apart?

'cause my bright is too slight to hold back all my dark

And the ship went down in sight of land

And at the gates does Thomas ask to see my hands?

I know you're coming in the night like a thief

But I've had some time alone to hone my lying technique

I know you think that I'm someone you can trust

But I'm scared I'll get scared and I swear I'll try to nail you back up

So do you think that we could work out a sign?

So I'll know it's you and that it's over so I won't even try

I know you've coming for the people like me

But we all got wood and nails

And we turn out hate in factories

We all got wood and nails

And we turn out hate in factories

We all got wood and nails

And we sleep inside of this machine

====================

The Devil and God are Raging Inside Me is a difficult album. For two years I found it too whiny, too emotional and adolescent, but then I found that Jesse Lacey has this knack for taking simplistic, nearly childish musicality and lyricism and turning it into something surprisingly powerful and emotive. The lyrics seem to contain a fair amount of teen angst and insecurity before they take a dramatic turn toward the topics of death, doubt, sorrow, the sinful nature of man and Christ's imminent return. These words were obviously written by a guy who grew up in a youth group, read his bible, probably confessed Christ as savior at one point, and is now fighting a very real battle within himself. A friend of mine calls this album "the soundtrack to spiritual warfare." This song is the soundtrack to the thoughts that I think we all have if we are honest with ourselves. "If this is all real, when I die, am I going where I think I'm going?" 

Your Hand In Mine
by Explosions in the Sky

As I was listening through my music library to pick songs for this list, I was actually blindsided by the emotional reaction I had to this song. Much of this is due to the fact that this is the song that Mandy walked down the aisle to on our wedding day (courtesy of my good friends, Josh and Griffin). It's cliche in a sense, but that was the best day of my life,  and this gorgeous song was the perfect soundtrack to that moment and now serves as a sort of microcosm of all the feelings and memories I have from that day.  With that said, don't let my bias lessen its stand-alone, objective beauty. The guitar line that begins at the two and a half minute mark will melt you, regardless of your attachment to this song.

Options
by Pedro the Lion

We were walking, holding hands

With our bare feet in the sand

And the seagulls overhead

When I broke the spell and said

"I could never divorce you

Without a good reason

And though I may never have to

It's good to have options"

But for now, I need you

But for now, I need you

But for now, I need you

But it was only in my head

Because no one ever says

What they really mean to say

When there's so much at stake

So I told her I loved her

And she told me she loved me

And I mostly believed her

And she mostly believed me

====================

This has been on my mental list of favorite songs for quite a while, and nothing has managed to bump it from its spot. David Bazzan has always employed two writing styles in his work. The first is characterized by an almost childlike sincerity, and the second is marked by sharp but simplistic sarcasm. This song is a representation of the latter, and every single aspect of it plays into Bazzan's overall message. The cliched, jr. high love poem-language he uses in the first verse, the sing-songy melody with which he sings "but for now, I need you," the alternately somber and whimsical tone that the music conveys; it all adds up to a concise, scathingly effective criticism of modern concepts of love, romance, marriage, commitment and relationships as a whole. The intro/outro is an example of masterful guitar writing as well.

So Did We
by Isis

Our Skin Worn Thin
Our Bones Exposed
Life Reduced to Ticks

From Forest Caves and azure Skies
We Chrashed upon this Earth
The Years, they passed and so did we
Yet, Resistance would be formed

====================

I included lyrics for this song simply because it was in-keeping with the overall format of this blog, but I must admit I had no idea what they were until now. The lyrics are not the point of Isis songs, as evidenced by their general scarceness and in-discern-ability. This song represents almost everything I relish in music. Enormous heaviness, beautifully dark textures and melodies, meticulously constructed builds and crescendos, layered dynamics, solid rhythmic queues, and the list goes on. If anything, listen to the song from 3:50 onward. The vocals completely melt away and everything settles into a slow, methodical jam, which perfectly builds for almost four minutes into a colossal wave. Really listen to the nuances in the guitars; how they layer over one-another and build in complexity. One reviewer described Isis' sound as "the way guitars talk to each other when no humans are around." It's almost an absurd statement, but it captures the hypnotic quality their music possesses. Prepare to be startled by the intro.  

The Seer's Tour
by Sufjan Stevens

In the tower above the earth

There is a view that reaches far

Where we see the universe

I see the fire, I see the end

Seven miles above the earth

There is Emmanuel of mothers

With his sword, with his robe

He comes dividing man from brothers

In the tower above the earth, we built it for Emmanuel

In the powers of the earth, we wait until it rips and rips

In the tower above the earth, we built it for Emmanuel

Oh my mother, she betrayed us but my father loved and bathed us

Still I go to the deepest grave

Where I go to sleep alone

====================

I spoke in my first entry about perspective, and to me, this song is perspective itself. The epic, apocalyptic imagery is sung with the delicacy of a lullaby, and one gets the sense of time standing still right as the world ends. The enormity rises and rises until the music stands in reverent silence before the Father referenced in Ezekiel 16. Then, the response I so often have: "Still I go to the deepest grave / where I go to sleep alone." Still I choose to separate myself. Still I choose to revel in death, to be truly alone.

Stand and Feel Your Worth
by Thrice

Wake, stand and feel your worth, O my soul.

Kneel and know the Word that can save us all.

We are fuel and fire both.

We are water.

Wed with wine and ghost.

We are wrought with breath and dirt, washed in second sight.

Woven through the earth, wreathed in rings of light.

Stand and feel your worth, O my soul.

Kneel and know the Word, come to die.

We will wield a second birth, whet our wits and knives.

Wrap our knees in earth, wrap ourselves in light.

Wake, we will weigh and drink this cup.

We will burn, but we will not burn up.

Wake, feel your worth, O my soul.

Speak the Word, the Word that can save us all.

Awed by grace, I fall on my face.

And scream the Word that can save us all.

====================

This song is simply a battle cry. It is a reminder to see myself as my God sees me. It is the Psalmist's addressing of his own soul. "Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me?" Enormous, beautiful, dark and poetic, this song captures the struggle I face in doing just what it says: "Stand and feel your worth, O my soul. Kneel and know the Word. The Word that became flesh and dwelt among us. The Word that died to save us all."