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Originally Posted by redshifter /img/forum/go_quote.gif
Oh you will rue the day you disrespected John Carpenter, for his second coming is nigh!
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Disrespect seems rather a strong word for a candid assessment. While I'm well aware of Mis-s-s-s-s-ster Carpenter's virtues, I think it's important to distinguish between what he does and doesn't do well. What he doesn't do well is unforced dialogue, which he tries to correct by encouraging actors to improvise. Sometimes it works, but when it doesn't, C's wisecracking tough-offs sound rather like bad expository cut scenes (such as the ones at the beginning of Resident Evil 4 -- a game that reminds me more of Carpenter than Romero).
Like De Palma, Carpenter excels at a particular kind of visual storytelling. But while De Palma, an operatic film geek, wears his smarts on his lens, Carpenter cloaks his cleverness in stealthy goofiness (the absurdly long fight in
They Live being one of my favorite examples). Hence the virtuous side of Carpenter: humor, economy and intelligence that never tries to impress.
As for his Second Coming, I'm hoping
Psychopath nets him a bit of the critics' praise generally reserved for Romero, since Carpenter's trim-the-fat approach to exposition makes sense increasingly in an ADD-afflicted age.
Grindhouse pays special homage to Carpenter's soundtracks as well as his filmmaking, which means younger critics will probably pay more attention.
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Scrypt, what I liked so much about Myst and Riven was the unusual plot and devices, and the overall production design (for lack of a better term) of the games. Also, the music and ambient gameplay sounds were haunting. The voice acting was only adequate. . . . Like you are saying, games are trying to be movies, but movies are trying to be games these days too--and the results are usually not the best either genre can offer. |
That doesn't sound different from my sense of Myst's virtues. Myst is also an early example of steampunk and, like Ico, features highly fun contraptions. My gf misses that game as well; I was thinking of buying her a copy of the PS version (and possibly Riven) until I tripped over the huge new online franchise. Apparently, there have been sequels upon sequels. I have no idea whether any of them are good.
Certain of my compulsive gaming friends can't understand why I love Rule of Rose, since the battles are often irritating. But the answer lies in all of the supposedly extraneous elements that made Myst engaging. With the exception of one tedious ditty that plays throughout the first half of the Funeral chapter, the music is as good as the Bartokian pastiches in Psycho; I actually prefer the music in RoR for its salon music intimacy. The soundtrack, ironically fatalistic tone, unusually good dialogue and Victorian morbid aesthetic -- all make RoR worth playing for a person like me.
Conversely, the Marvel Comics approach of God of War -- in which Ares could easily be a character by Jack Kirby, complete with triple-exclamation-pointed shouting -- annoys me slightly, despite the control decisions, battle design and programming, all of which are ingenious and in an entirely different class than RoR.
Thing is, I didn't grow up playing games regularly, as you did. I avoided them consciously from the age of six, when I made the decision to focus on becoming a composer/writer to the exclusion of nearly everything else. When I wanted to play games, I turned instead to the "game of tonalities," as Hindemith called it: I made satisfying puzzles out of formalist poetry and music composition by imposing various rules. I've always loved Stravinsky's quote, "I limit myself in order to free myself." I think it applies as much to gaming as it does to creating art.
I only picked up gaming later as an exercise, since I've always considered it an important part of collective experience and of any individual's personal skill-set: like mastering an instrument, excelling at gaming can help one to excel in other ways. That's why I could appreciate flamerz's irritation at friends who don't want to practice FPS long enough to improve their technique. When I began gaming, I actually wanted to find the equivalent of Czerny or Hanon -- a CD consisting purely of game exercises. I only ever found the equivalent in tutorials and within the games themselves.
All of which leads me to make a distinction between us, which might also extend to your love of Carpenter versus my qualified enjoyment and respect: I have no sense of nostalgia associated with my past, but it appears you do. Nothing wrong with that, of course; but I don't long for a period in which games were pure. Rather, my experience with various imperfect forms of technology-conversant writing causes me to see incredibly inspiring potential in the
impurity of modern gaming -- future variants might be baroquely cinematic at the expense of conflict resolution, but in an artistically successful way; others might do away entirely with the idea of battles and competition, and function as leisurely surreal journeys through impossible landscapes. IMEO (in my egotistical opinion -- and, yes, I'm joshing), the beauty of Ico has little to do with story objectives. It has everything to do with gorgeous lonely environments (inspired by De Chirico, perhaps) and the personality invested in characters' appearance and movements.
Still: Kudos to game creators everywhere for injecting dreams with a shot of cold discipline, which is exactly what dreams require to be realized with humility and finesse.
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Modern games that go for realism suffer from the same syndrome Roger Ebert wrote about, where the more realistic computer-generated actors are, the creepier they are. Take the most advanced graphics engine and make some NPC's and they still look like talking mannequins. Until they can fix this, video games should strive for the kind of creative abstraction earlier technological limitations imposed on the first games. But with better graphics. |
I like the idea of "creative abstraction," RS; I think it's possible to combine the cinematic and the abstract. Ideally, cut scenes should not exist as separate parts of the game. Metal Gear Solid has made strides in that area (where, for example, you can be shot while listening to ironic meta-meta explanations of the main character's objectives -- you're still in the game, not watching an arbitrary clip). The crude marrying of the improvisational to the fixed inherent in cut scenes shows why games like GTO San Andreas and Gran Turismo 3-4 are more enjoyable in free-form mode than when you're following the story (or are in "arcade mode"). One eventual development might be that the gamer's choices help to create the
story itself rather than selecting one of four options from a menu of key points and endings. Another development might be that works of art loosely called games will incorporate improvisation and story in ways that don't depend on the usual structure of gaming. Such works might not appeal to gamers at all, but could herald the coming of bracing new forms in an era of played-it-all cynicism.