MOVIE REVIEW: The Hobbit - An Unexpected Journey Extended Edition

When news came out that the somewhat slim Hobbit book would be turned into not one, not two, but three epic movies, the collective voices of the internet immediately shouted, “Shameless Cash Grab!” After the first movie came out last year, critics heaped scorn on its shallow and plodding plot, its uneven tone, and in the case of 48fps showings, its “Masterpiece Theater in HD” visuals.

Well, I’m here to discredit all of that. I saw it in 48fps in the theater last year and it blew my mind. At first I whispered to my wife, “There’s no way. There’s no way the movie is going to look like this for three hours.” The descriptions I had read were accurate. It looked as if you were viewing an extremely detailed live production through a giant window. It was glorious. And even after two hours and forty-five minutes, I was sad to see it end. Now, at the time, the visuals were so distracting (with 48fps, you’re receiving twice as much visual data than the normal 24fps of everyday schmoe movies), I barely paid any attention to the plot or what was happening.

Earlier this year the home video release of the Hobbit came out and I strained hard to resist it because I knew that there would inevitably be a special extended cut that would come out just before the next installment hit the theaters. And the extended cut did come out, just a couple weeks ago, and I greedily swiped it up and proceeded to watch the hell out of it.

After viewing the Blu-ray extended cut, the nine and half hours of behind the scenes special features, the movie again with commentary, and then half of it again in French just to see if the songs would be sung in a different language (they were!), I can safely say that I am qualified to review this movie, and that it is not shallow, plodding or a cynical cash grab by Warner Brothers. Although, the tone does jump around a bit here and there from kid friendly to gruesome, from corny dwarf songs to “serious” talk of mountains and dragons, I don’t personally find it distracting, that’s just part of the charm and epicness of the film. Nobody wants to be grim for three hours straight.

Any fan of the movie or the original Lord of the Rings trilogy should get this edition and watch the behind the scenes material. As was seen on the LOTR extended editions, the behind the scenes material is outstanding. Every aspect of making the film is covered in depth, in detail and in HD. It’s really cool to have a talking head tell you about an incident on the film set, and then they show the actual footage of that incident. Some of it seems pretty personal, for example a scene where Ian McKellen had to act in front of a green screen by himself for a long period of time and became quite upset about it. Other stuff is mind blowing in its conception. That same scene involves the actors performing live on two identical sets, except the one Ian Mckellen is on is slightly smaller in scale. Then they overlap the two and it looks like a large Gandalf walking around a tiny hobbit hole interacting with a tiny hobbit.

While the first disc of extra content covers the technical film-making side of things, the second disc covers the lore and creation of the film’s world. They go into extreme detail on each of the thirteen dwarves, showing their lineage, personalities, weapons, relations with each other, etc. It’s shocking how much of this content does not come across in the film. I’m assuming they will all be fleshed out more in the upcoming releases. At least, I hope so because it’s all really great. Did you know that one of the dwarves has an axe blade lodged in his head, and because of that he can only speak in Dwarvish?

The extended scenes only add up to about thirteen extra minutes of material, mostly taking place in Hobbiton and Rivendell. We get more great visuals and a few minor conversations, and a couple more songs. The scenes are seamless enough that I couldn’t really tell much of a difference. To me, the more material, the better.

Having experienced the Hobbit extended edition, I’m now psyched for the next two installments. I almost wish I could just skip the theater and immediately own the next two extended collections, but then I remember that 48fps. It’s the only thing the theaters can hold over me as competition against my comfy couch. Once again, if you’re into these movies, get this for sure. If you were a bit disappointed with this first Hobbit film, but wish you weren’t, then get this extended edition. I think it will let you enjoy the film a lot more than you did the first time around.

BOOK REVIEW: Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace

I've finally done it. I've finished Infinite Jest.

For those unaware, Infinite Jest is a novel by David Foster Wallace from 1996 whose 1100+ pages contain a story notorious for being willfully difficult in a postmodern sort of way (this novel comes with nearly 400 endnotes, some of which run for ten or so pages and have their own endnotes). It's long been though of as "that big book that some people put on their shelves just so they look smart." I've started and given up on it multiple times, but I've finally slayed this beast of a novel.

Reading this book is not unlike eating a cinderblock. It's an original experience that doesn't relent in its challenge, and the first bite goes down pretty much like the last bite. The story takes place mostly in Boston, specifically an upscale tennis academy/boarding school and a nearby halfway house for drug addicts of various kinds. The two locales are eventually linked in the narrative by the search, conducted by triple- and quadruple-agents for a film made by the former headmaster of the tennis academy that is apparently so compelling that it will render a viewer hopelessly, fatally addicted. However, the chronology is a purposeful mess, and many of the scenes of expository action are present only in semi-occluded references, which means that figuring out what's really going on is a puzzle of fairly tall order.

Since Wallace is very interested in being (maddeningly) detailed, you will, over the course of this novel, learn way more than you ever wanted to know about competitive junior's tennis and drug addiction, not to mention fictional US/Canadian relations, optics, and whatever else Wallace decides to include, often at very little prompting. The obsessive detail leads to the very real fact that a reader of this novel will need to be able to confront more than three pages in a row with nary a single paragraph break on a regular basis without cracking. It makes an already very long book even longer as it forces your brain to render all that data into a coherent scene.

The story takes place in the near future, which means the near future from a 1996 perspective, which actually means approximately now-ish. As such, he's included speculative elements about the course the nation could take; some fantastical, some all too possible. It provides him a way to sneak even more commentary into the book, a tendency that he indulges on basically every page. For example, there's a great twenty+ page scene that finds the high-schoolers at the academy playing "Eschaton," a game of their own invention that sits at the intersection of tennis, international diplomacy, and thermonuclear war.

Very few will attempt this novel, fewer will make it through, and fewer still will understand just what happened, but those who do will be rewarded, if rewarded is the correct word, with images and scenes that are totally indelible. It's a book of great density and Byzantine structure that will necessarily change how a person views both fiction and human observation, but whether or not it's worth it is entirely up to the reader, as is the decision as to whether the nested references to Hamlet and other such brain-intensive exercises are actually genius or merely overwrought. For my own part, I'm immensely glad I got to see the view from the top of this word-mountain, but it's unlikely I'll climb it again.

ALBUM REVIEW: Keaton Henson - Birthdays

Ladies and gentlemen, gather close and listen to a harrowing tale of a pallid Englishman with a knack for making you cry! No, it’s not because his music is bad; it’s because he writes songs that are so fragile, it feels like you could crack them by simply listening too hard. As I’m wont to do, I will start this review with a semi-long winded story, fasten your seatbelts and grab your complimentary onboard vomit receptacle. HERE WE GO!

Long ago, in my heartbroken days of squalor and alcohol (specifically, early last year), I was recovering from a long-term and emotionally invested relationship. The fallout was terrible and could probably be compared to the Oppenheimer nuclear test experiments. My apartment was a wasteland and the only solace and comfort I possessed was a newly found passion for finding new music. I discovered a young British musician by the name of Keaton Henson through an affiliated (but in no way similar) act. The first song I heard was a live performance of the track “Lying To You”, which can be heard on the album Birthdays. I was astounded by the performance. It wasn’t anything dazzling really, just a dude sitting out in his garden playing a song of discomfort and heartbreak. The tune was lovely, but I was particularly moved by his manner of conveyance in his emotions. You could hear his mental state in his voice more than his lyrics.

I immediately went in search of any albums he may have released. Unfortunately, at that point, all he had was a dinky winky EP (I’m not a huge fan of EPs, if you couldn’t tell) and my thirst for a full-length installment of material went unquenched. I was thirsty for Keaton, I tell you! Nothing could get in the way of me acquiring music at that point, except if said material didn’t exist. So for a little while my operation was derailed and the dragon that was my ravenous acquisition remained safely sedated.

Then came the magical day, April 2nd, 2012! Keaton Henson unleashed a sweeping saga of sadness that was sure to overwhelm you with emotion and beauty. It was somewhat difficult for me to procure this album since it was not, and is still not available in the US. Now, let me digress further and tell you how much disdain I hold for importing music. If importing music were like coaxing a fat man to give you his burrito (which I have had to do on occasion, for his safety), it would be like him charging you 50 dollars for a 5 dollar burrito treat. ‘Nuff Said. All of that aside, my desire for the album outweighed my desire to keep money in my coin purse and I paid handsomely and waited…

Two weeks later, I received a parcel from the United States Postal Service of Give Me My CD. Upon opening the parcel, I greedily ripped open the plastic wrapper and annoying security seal and stuffed my very own, brand new copy of Dear into my decrepit, archaic CD playing device. What I received was a personal message from Keaton Henson, in this correspondence, he told me of heartbreak, depression and frustration. I listened to every word that came out of his mouth with awe and enthusiasm. I wanted to make music like this.

Alrighty then, still reading? Good, because I’m getting to the point. Early in January of this year, I was made aware of a new Keaton Henson album. A new album? HOT DOG!!! It seems like he just released Dear and he is releasing another full length album already! My excitement was explosive.

I ordered his new record, cheerfully entitled Birthdays through Amazon import, as I had with his first album. Little did I know, they would release his album here in the states not two months later. I kind of knew what to expect, to think that he would change his style drastically in just one year was asinine. So I waited patiently for another personal message to be shipped across the Atlantic Ocean by Mr. Henson and lo and behold, a day came when the United States Postal Service of Give Me My CD dropped off a parcel on my doorstep. I almost felt nostalgia or a sense of déjà vu; a package with a personal message, a decrepit old CD player, and me sitting on the floor on the verge of crying like a little baby. Now, without further ado, Birthdays.

Birthdays. Birthdays… A beautifully arranged set of sad songs presented in a minimalistic, personal style. It almost seems like he performed each of the solo songs in one take right after hearing that his cat died. His voice fragile, not weak; tells of times passed when he actively sought love but was unfairly damaged by rejection. Some critics have characterized Keaton’s music as “sad bastard tunes”, we call those people “assholes”.

The structure of the album is different from Dear, though it starts off very similar. Quiet tunes, just guitar and vocals with some sparse accompaniment and minimal backup vocals. Then, out of nowhere, Keaton punches you in the face with two very loud, full blown electric songs. Then it calms down again. My interpretation of these songs being placed in this specific structure is that Keaton is expressing an emotion he didn’t really touch on in Dear, anger. He also hints that people have come to him and asked him why he writes such nasty songs about them. It’s all very scandalous if you ask me and makes for an interesting listen.

If there were a rating system that I could stand behind and believe in, I would give Birthdays the Bob Saget award for excellence in capturing raw emotion and making my soul weep openly. This is in the running for my favorite album of 2013 and now that it has been released in the states, you have no excuse not to get it. So why don’t you go and get it right now! I’ll wait.


Written by IV Freelancer Tobias Gaia.

PS: Here's the original video mentioned earlier in the article:

ALBUM REVIEW: The Dear Hunter - The Color Spectrum

Brainchild of vocal virtuoso Casey Crescenzo, The Dear Hunter is a brilliant rock band with progressive leanings. Their first three albums each comprise a single act in a planned six act story arc.  The second album, Act II: The Meaning of, and All Things Regarding Ms. Leading clocked in at seventy-seven minutes (whittled down from one hundred and twenty minutes of material). A sprawling masterpiece, this album was the true beginning of their unique, old-time, burlesque influenced progressive style.

On the third album, Act III: Life and Death, the band continued to polish their original style and managed to streamline the work into a much more manageable fifty-seven minutes. Out of the first three albums, this one is their most accessible. Every song on it is solid and compact, without the careless meandering heard on the last record that those with low attention spans may not be able to handle.

After completing Act III, Casey decided that he needed to take a break from the original concept and work on a new project. He announced “The Color Spectrum”, nine, four track EPs, one for each color: Black, Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet, and White. The sheer ambition of this project was enough to raise an eyebrow from adoring fans. Who would want to buy nine separate EPs, each based on how a color sounds? Oh, me of little faith.

In lesser hands, this would have been an epic, career ending failure, but now I as kneel  humbled and shamed by my earlier doubt before the great alter of Crescenzo, I am thrilled to say that “The Color Spectrum” is yet another amazing masterpiece. This album (and it is an album, all thirty-six tracks comprise its whole) evokes in me a kind of synesthesia. Each four track section sounds like its representative color looks. I don’t know how he did it. But he did, and it is good.

Black hits like you’re lost in a vacuum, being pummeled by extra worldly debris. Red flares with the dirty anger that the lyrics define (“I am cynical,” he says, “It’s a curse”). Orange drops the anger for a pure, grooving, ‘grab life by the tits’ attitude. Yellow is reliably sunny and jaunty, like listening to a Shins album on vinyl. Green is a bit more melancholy than expected. It feels like accepting life on life’s terms, it is bittersweet. Blue is sparse and contemplative. Indigo is all electronic, a sort of psychedelic dream. Violet is a triumphant return to their original style, conjuring up burlesque houses, fur coats, and fedoras, particularly on the track “Mr. Malum”. White is a spiritual and necessary end, the end of a journey or the end of life. There is talk of returning home, that everything is okay and it makes you feel that way.

I cannot emphasize enough how awesome this album is. If you buy it, get “The Color Spectrum Complete Collection”. There is another “Color Spectrum” album out there that only has twelve or so tracks, just a couple from each EP. You want the whole thing, and you want to listen to it from start to finish. Not to mention, The Complete Collection comes with a full color book with an explanation for each EP and a DVD with some interesting behind the scenes footage.  

TELEVISION REVIEW: House of Cards

Goodbye cable, I always hated ye!

For those uninformed, House of Cards is a thirteen episode television series funded by and exclusively on Netflix. It is produced by David Fincher and stars Kevin Spacey and by golly is it sure fantastic.

The story revolves around four characters, but centers on Francis Underwood, a congressman played by Spacey, who tricks, sneaks, and manipulates his way into further positions of power. The other players include his equally devious wife, a young female reporter with dubious ethics and another congressman dealing with issues of drugs, drinking and prostitution. These three characters are all interesting and have their own story arcs, but the main focus is on Underwood and how he uses them all for his own benefit.

Spacey’s Underwood pretty much amounts to a political super-villain. He’s an anti-hero that the viewer can’t help but root for even when his actions cross the line into true villainy. Outwardly, he displays a demeanor of humble, southern charm, but on the inside, he is smug and confident, cold and heartless, and only out for himself. We learn this through frequent breaks in the fourth wall where Underwood addresses the audience directly, usually mid scene. This technique adds a kind of theatrical feel to the production and it works perfectly in the melodramatic proceedings that pack each episode.

There’s not much I can really go into without spoiling the fun, but rest assured that you will like the show if you watch it. Even if you have no interest in politics, the show will appeal. The characters are so strong that their setting barely matters. The writing and acting are superb and the production is equivalent to (or better than) anything you might find on other more prestigious television networks.

I read an interview online wherein one of the Netflix higher-ups said that Netflix is working to become HBO before HBO can become Netflix, and I think that House of Cards gives them a huge boost towards achieving that goal.

GAME REVIEW: Terraria

In the way that steampunk envisions a future where technology progresses while remaining focused on the mechanisms of steam power, so does Terraria envision a future where game consoles are state of the art, but the games stay firmly rooted in the 16-bit days of yore.

Terraria is an open world sandbox that blends games like Minecraft with Zelda II and Super Nintendo RPGs. Its graphics may fool you at first glance into believing there is little more behind the charming pixel art than the simplicity of SNES games past, but Terraria uses the power of modern consoles to generate huge worlds, tons of items, and a fully fledged game that will eat away as much of your time as any glossy AAA title would.

After creating a cute 16-bit character, you are dropped into a randomly generated world with only a few tools at your disposal. Your first assignment is to build a shelter by nightfall to protect you from certain enemies that only arise after dark. With axe in hand you get to chopping down trees. You whip up a workbench from your crafting menu and make doors, chairs, tables, and wood paneling for your new abode. Toss a couple of torches on the walls and you’ve got yourself a secure domicile to call home base. Now is when the fun starts.

There is really very little in the way of direction or linearity. The idea is to just start exploring the world, collect materials, build new tools, then explore some more. There are several big boss fights, and you can “beat” the game in a way, but that isn’t really the focus. The focus is on exploration and building your world. With the right structures built, you can attract in NPCs that will help you in various way, like selling you weapons and crafting material. You can roam the lands and underground caverns slaying monsters, or you can plant a garden with the many different seeds you’ve gathered during your travels. It is all up to you how you want to play.

Despite its overall awesomeness, there are a few things that are irritating about the game. The lack of direction can be frustrating at times, especially when trying to build suitable structures for living. If you are missing a required item or combine two materials that don’t like each other, monsters can spawn inside your house. Also, the crafting menu is awful and clunky, and even though you eventually get used to it, it never feels as fluid and intuitive as it should. These seem like pretty minor nitpicks, but a lot of the game is spent crafting items and building your houses. These irritants don’t ruin the game, but they can be really annoying from time to time.

I’m loving the new indie friendly revolution in gaming because we get amazing games like Terraria. It may not be for everyone, but if you enjoy open world freedom and pixel art nostalgia, download it and enjoy. Beware, though! This game is a devious time sink. Before you know what has happened you’ll have given many hours of your life over to its charm and incredible fun. Still, it's time well sacrificed.

BOOK REVIEW: Moments Captured - Robert J. Seidman

Eadweard Muybridge was the late 19th century photographer who pioneered the methods of imaging that would eventually lead to the modern motion picture. He was also a volatile personality with a complicated history, one which novelist Robert J. Seidman speculates and expands upon for the purposes of his novel Moments Captured.

Seidman’s account begins in the remote American west in the late 1860’s. Muybridge is an ambitious photographer taking his bulky mobile photo studio over the vast American wilderness. He meets and begins a torrid relationship with feminist dancer Holly Hughes, a sexual dynamo who revolutionizes Eadweard’s life and world view. They fall in love and head west together to San Francisco. There Holly scandalizes polite society while Eadweard becomes ensconced with railroad tycoon and technology enthusiast Leland Stanford. Stanford, as well as being Eadweard’s chief patron, is Holly’s main antagonist and target of her righteous fury.

The story follows a course of cultural crusades, hard won victories of invention and romantic jealousies that all lead to a shocking murder. Seidman’s plot is fascinating and the liberties he takes with history compress the culture of post-civil war America into a blur of artistic invention and adventurous discovery. Yet the book suffers from the author’s obsessive and redundant detail in his characters’ sexual encounters.

When one has a fulsome and rambunctious story, so clearly bridling to be told, slowing to focus on the sensate details of sex, seemingly every few pages, for a dominant portion of the book, though it might be intended to deepen sympathy and heighten visceral involvement, slows the story to a clumsy undisciplined crawl. I found myself rolling my eyes every time the story seemed on the verge of yet another torrid encounter and the prose could be seen gathering its energy to plunge again into descriptions of breasts, penis, thighs and pungent juices. I do not object in the slightest to prominent sexuality in fiction but this novel lingers until the passionate becomes lurid, and the titillating, turgid. At the expense of what is otherwise a fascinating subject and a terrific yarn of Guilded Age Americana.

ALBUM REVIEW: Seventh Wonder - The Great Escape

Seventh Wonder is a progressive power metal band hailing from Sweden. They have mostly flown under the radar until recently, when their lead singer Tommy Karevik joined the more popular American power metal outfit Kamelot. When Kamelot’s latest album Silverthorn was released in October of this year it received great critical acclaim, a lot of the praise focusing on the new singer. Some said that as good as Tommy Karevik performs with Kamelot on Silverthorn, Seventh Wonder is still a better band by comparison. That’s where my interest got piqued and what led me to look into Seventh Wonder’s latest album called The Great Escape.

The first song on the album, Wizeman, blew me away. The guitarists provide a twisting and constant barrage of chugging riffage while Karevik somehow manages to sing catchy melodies over them, all the while showing off his impressive vocal range. Karevik immediately stands out from the rest of the band and though some of the instrumental breakdowns are impressive, the music just doesn’t carry much weight without him.

For the most part, Karevik wisely avoids the lyrical cheese that is so prominent in this genre. But there are a few exceptions. Exceptions so devastating as to nearly destroy the entire package (but not quite).

The second song, Alley Cat, comes in naturally and seems to keep the catchy progressiveness going. There’s nothing better than getting a new CD and finding that each song that plays is as good as or better than the last. And at first glance that is the case with this track…until you hear the lyrics. I’m a fan of power metal, I can handle some cheese, it just comes with the territory, but this goes beyond acceptable.

This album suffers in a weird way. There are six stand alone tracks and one thirty minute epic track at the end. It feels like Karevik excised all the cheese from four of the tracks and then crammed it all into the other three. Having to skip songs on a CD as you listen is an album killer for me. My solution was to delete the three offenders (Alley Kat, Long Way Home, and Move on Through) and take in the album once more in its new abridged format.

What a difference! The album went from fatally flawed to sheer brilliance. And it still clocks in at fifty-two minutes with three songs cut out. Unfortunately, not everyone picking this album up is going to be as brutally proactive as I in carving it up into the masterpiece it should have been, so that has to be weighed into the final verdict.

The Great Escape is an exceptional album with a couple of glaring flaws that nearly destroy the whole thing. If you’re not a power metal fan to begin with, this isn’t going to win you over. However, if you are into this genre or can appreciate music for what it is within its own genre, then I highly recommend you give this album a listen. Just skip the audio abortions mentioned above and you’ll be left with candy and roses.

GAME REVIEW: Borderlands 2

I’ve been wondering in recent years why the quality of the movie industry has been declining and I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s because all of the smart, creative, and interesting people are moving into the videogame industry. It only makes sense: games keep getting better and better as movies keep getting worse and worse.

Borderlands 2 has been out for a while now and I’ve wanted to write a review on it, but there are so many already out there and I doubt that anyone who hasn’t bought the game yet will be overly persuaded by what I have to say. After chatting with a fellow IVer about this conundrum, he said that I should explain, especially to non-gamers like him, why the game is so innovative and why he should care. Well, Chumly, explain I will.

Borderlands 2 takes two seemingly disparate genres and combines them into one fabulous formula. The first genre that BL2 falls into is RPG.  That’s a role playing game, Chumly. Just imagine the old pen and paper, tabletop nerdstravaganzas of yore, where rolls of dice and stat checks determined the outcome of everything. Only now, we’ve got fancy computers that do all that bafflegappery for us, behind the scenes, leaving not but the pure gamey joy bits for us to pleasure in. Yes, this review just took an unexpected turn towards the creepy, but there’s no turning back now.

The second, and more visually apparent, genre that BL2 falls into is FPS. That stands for “First Person Shooter”. That means that when the game starts, you shoot the first person you see. It was invented by a couple of brainy nerd-types named John Carmack and John Romero, the latter of which coined the term “suck it down” and told kids during the nineties that he was going to make them his bitch.

Anyway, not only does the game seamlessly incorporate these two genres into its gorgeous, cell-shaded bosom, but it does them both expertly. The shooty/explodey bits are a blast, and the character skill development trees are elaborate and varied.

One might try to argue that BL2 falls into a third genre: the lootfest. However, I would argue that lootfest is not a genre, but a style of design that can be implemented into a genre. Pay attention, Chumly! A notable game that falls into the lootfest design is Diablo, which was also invented during the nineties, but not by John Romero. Diablo had you wielding a sword or some such fantasy fare and hacking your way through randomly generated levels, killing creatures named “Stinksack the Fetid” or “Chokefist the Scrotal”. But that wasn’t even the best part. For you see, anytime you killed ‘ol Stinksack and his pals, or opened a treasure chest, or vase, or sack, or pretty much anything else, a thick spray of loot would pop you right in the face. You could collect that loot (swords, potions, monies, etc.) and sell or use it to better your character and kill tougher enemies that then spooted even better loot in your face. And so it went on and on.

Borderlands 2 does the same thing, only this time around, it’s guns, shields, grenades, and other devices that alter your characters stats and therefore affect the way the shooty/explodey bits play out.

Okay, Chumly, I can feel your attention wavering (and mine too, obviously), so I’ll stop screwing around here and try to make some points about why BL2 is so great.

Firstly, it looks great. I mean beautiful. Like a live action comic book. It’s shaded in a way that makes it appear as a 2D drawing while existing in a 3D world. Secondly, the writing is top notch. The characters are believable and unique (see anything Tiny Tina for a good laugh), and even though the plot is pretty straight forward, there are still a few twists and it’s played out well enough that you don’t really mind. There are even a couple of heart wrenching moments, one between a man and his kidnapped pet, and another between the main villain and his daughter. The voice acting carries the great writing into the stratosphere, with every crazy line being delivered pitch perfect and with a genuine quality rarely seen in animated movies or TV shows. I’ve played the game through twice now, and many of the missions several times via online co-op, and there are certain lines I can’t wait to hear again.

Claptrap, your comical, Orko-esque robot friend and initial guide, utters some of the best lines in the game. Near the very end, his reaction to encountering a rather large set of stairs that prevents him from progressing any further with you is both heartbreaking and hilarious. I’ll fight my way to that point again and again just to hear his reaction one more time.

Thirdly, and finally, it’s the attention to detail and the love of it’s creators that really shines through and makes this game the masterpiece that it is. All of the elements--the story, the characters, the visuals, the fictional world, and the gameplay—blend together so perfectly and so lovingly and that’s why this game rises above the rest of the FPS
(and RPG) drivel.

I don’t want to ruin too much of this game by giving lots of detailed examples, moment to moment, of what makes it awesome. It’s like trying to describe a great novel to someone. You just have to experience it for yourself to get the full effect.

Videogames have evolved over the years, so much so that they’re in direct competition with the more mass entertainment formats like movies and books. I believe that they offer experiences just as rich and rewarding as either of those, and they add a new element to the mix: interactivity.

So, in the end, Chumly, I hope this “review” persuades you somewhat into giving modern videogames a chance. I’d hate for you to miss out on the experience that Borderlands 2 and certain of its peers provide. And for the rest of you gamers that are even remotely interested in this game: get it. Get it, get it, get it!

MOVIE REVIEW: Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance

This past Monday a friend and I sat down for a relaxing bout of watching-a-movie-on-Netflix and I arbitrarily suggested the movie Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance. I suggested it because I heard in passing that this movie, along with Director Park Chan-wook’s other films (Oldboy, Sympathy for Lady Vengeance, and the now in theaters Stoker), was the kind of film that breaks your brain with insane disturbingness. Why, you may ask, would I want to watch such a thing? Because to me, that sounds like a challenge! And most of the time, the extreme disturbiality is grossly embellished and I walk away with a shrug and a “meh” and think that I’ve seen worse.

It doesn’t shame me to admit that I lost the challenge. Word of this movie’s traumatizing effects on the psyche were not grossly embellished at all. Nay, I would put forth that they weren’t emphasized enough. People that cherish their positive outlook on life should avoid this movie at all costs. And those that are in a bad place already will be screwed for sure at even the most momentary peek of any given frame. Embellishment, this be not!

But on the other hand, this movie is extremely well made and it manages to accomplish exactly what it sets out to do. It’s a weird thing to have experienced something that yearns from the get-go to crush your soul to pieces and then does so expertly. Well done, I say. Cue singular slow clapping in a big empty theater. You really showed me what for, horrible movie. Bravo.

If you don’t know anything about the plot, there’s really not much to go into without spoiling it because its just a series of unfortunate and then grotesque events. A young, deaf guy gets fired from his crappy factory job. His sister is sick and needs a kidney transplant. He’s not the right blood type and the donor list is long. One day he happens upon a sticker on the wall above a urinal that says something like “Organs for Sale”. After meeting up with the proprietors of said organ selling business, they tell him that they’ll get his sister a kidney, but he’ll have to give them one of his and all the money he has in return. He agrees, then wakes up butt naked in the middle of nowhere with a missing kidney.

Wouldn’t you know that the donor kidney then becomes immediately available through legitimate sources, but shucks, he’s plum out of money and can’t afford it. So his anarchist girlfriend suggests that they kidnap his ex-employer’s daughter, hold her for ransom and use that money to pay for the operation. This all sounds well and good in theory, but unfortunately, things don’t work out so well, and it’s all downhill from there. Not just downhill, though, I mean down into the deepest depths of mind warping horror you can imagine.

It’s Friday now and I can’t stop thinking about this film. I’m pretty sure my friend won’t let me pick a movie to watch for a long, long time after this. We both felt physically ill when the whole thing was said and done. However, having said all that, it’s not a technically bad movie. In a way, it’s quite good. The lack of music and long static shots on uncomfortable scenes cut right to the core and achieve their intended goal. I could never recommend anyone watch it, except that I have this urgent need to tell people about it, in the same way that survivors of horrible tragedies need to talk it out with others who have had the same experience. So, I’ve decided to use the tactic of telling everyone I know not to watch this movie. And then remind them frequently not to watch it, over and over. So if someone I know ends up watching this movie, it’s their own fault. I told them not to watch it ever. I told them everyday.

GAME REVIEW: Dead Island

Do you like killing zombies? Do you like punching zombies till their limbs break? Do you like stabbing zombies, drowning zombies, lighting zombies on fire, blowing zombies up, running over zombies in your car, cutting off parts of zombies, cracking zombies over the head with paddles, crowbars, and planks of wood, electrocuting zombies, poisoning zombies till they puke, stomping on zombie heads, and other zombie related shenanigans? Well, then you’re going to love Dead Island. But you better really, really like all those things I listed above because that’s pretty much all this game has to offer.

Dead Island came out several years ago and is pretty much irrelevant today, but since I pride myself in being well behind the times, I picked it up recently and gave it a whirl. What I found at first was a bug ridden, stiff and repetitive game, but overtime it grew in me a deep rooted love of killing zombies in every way I could imagine.

My first playtime in this game was an attempt at multi-player with my brother. After seeming eons of trying to connect with each other, we finally succeeded, only to find missing graphics, skippy lag times, and an eventual PS3 freeze. By the end of this ordeal and a flurry of obscenities, I sent my brother a text that pretty much summed up my thoughts on the experience: Worst. Game. Ever.

But after awhile I decided to give it another try, this time by my lonesome, and what I discovered was a flawed, but actually good gaming experience. There’s not much to the story and there doesn’t need to be. A cliché MTV beach house island resort somewhere that I don’t know where suddenly sprouts a growing population of the undead, and four characters that are immune to their bites band together to kill them all and try to escape from the island. Naturally, everyone else they meet in their travels are useless, sentimental sacks that ask you to go on fetch quests for teddy bears and necklaces and booze and juice boxes. Of course, there are always about a billion zombies between you and your mission objective.

The first thing I noticed about the game is that your character is not a badass. At least not in the beginning. Duke Nukem style protagonists these are not. My first meeting with more than three zombies at once ended badly. Fortunately, you are given a smattering of weapons, both everyday and custom built. Anything you find lying around, like paddles, frying pans, and lead pipes can be used to bludgeon your enemies to re-death. But weaker objects like these have a limited lifespan and will eventually break, leaving you with not, but your bare fists and the ability to run like hell. Eventually, you are able to find blueprints that allow you build custom weapons, like machetes with cell phone batteries duct taped to them to cause electrocution, and baseball bats that continually burn without ever burning away.

Alright, so the upgraded weapons aren’t that realistic, but they are at least plausible in their way. The rest of the game world does provide a sense of realism and that’s one of the few things that the developers nailed just right. The scenes of horror that you come across on beaches and patios, bar side massacres, and fancy swimming pools full of blood and bodies are pretty unpleasant. As scary as zombies are in closed, dark corridors, there’s something much more unwholesome about bikini clad zombies chasing you down in bright sunlight, through trimmed hedges and by pool side lounge chairs.

This game is fairly long and can become repetitive. While the settings change up, from beach side to abandoned city, to sewers, and deep jungle, the enemy threat really doesn’t. Sure there are a few different types of zombies—you’ve got the slow walkers, the speedy infected, and thick skinned thugs—but in the end you pretty much just face wave after wave of zombies. There aren’t many surprises here and if you don’t like the formula, you’re not going to stay on board for very long.

As buggy and repetitive as Dead Island can be, there is still plenty of unsettling charm to keep you coming back. If it had been polished a bit more, it would have been fantastic, but as is, it is an acceptable game for a niche audience. We can only hope that the forthcoming sequel, Dead Island: Riptide, will fix all these problems and add some much needed variety. Too bad it looks pretty much exactly the same…. Well, maybe that’s not such a bad thing.