The Beautiful and Damned

With the upcoming release of Baz Luhrmann's take on The Great Gatsby, I figured now was an appropriate time to revisit F. Scott Fitzgerald's work. The Beautiful and Damned is his second novel, published in 1922. It concerns itself primarily with the courtship and early marriage of Anthony Patch and Gloria Gilbert, two twenty-somethings in New York's upper class.

In my experience, nearly everyone who has read The Great Gatsby ends up loving it. Those who don't tend to blame their dislike on the shallow, vapid characters. This makes sense. Gatsby, Daisy, Tom, and Jordan are complex characters, but not necessarily likable ones. They are, to various extents, vain, proud, and snobbish. They drink all day, engage in extramarital affairs, and feel sorry for themselves and the things they've lost since their youths. Most readers see the characters for what they are, I think, but are still able to enjoy the novel itself because of the brilliance of Fitzgerald's almost lyrical writing.

Take that sentiment, triple it, and you have The Beautiful and Damned. Anthony and Gloria are just flat out insufferable people. They are caricatures of the idle rich, doing little with their lives aside from attending parties and traveling. Anthony's ailing grandfather is worth thirty million dollars, and Anthony is content to spend the prime of his life just waiting for the old man to die already so he can collect his fortune. He doesn't work, and sees no reason to spend his time contributing to any sort of greater cause. Gloria is the type of person whose beauty has enabled her to spend her pre-marital years being endlessly pursued by suitors, flattered by the extent to which she has broken hearts through the years, but saving herself for her eventual husband. Once married to Anthony - the presumptive heir to thirty million dollars, of course - she sinks into a deep state of boredom. Essentially, the two of them spend the second half of the book going from being entitled but somewhat endearing rich kids to truly miserable, vapid thirty-year-olds. Ultimately, Anthony becomes a full-fledged alcoholic, violent toward his wife and those around him; Gloria realizes her beauty is waning, and this loss hits her harder than any other in her life. And that's more or less your story. Other less depressing characters exist on the periphery of the novel, but for the most part this is just a bitter tale about what happens to boring people as time goes by. In that sense, it's a timeless novel. I'm in my mid-twenties now, and although I have to work for a living, I've at times imagined what it'd be like not to have to do so - winning the lottery, or whatever. Never in those quick little daydreams do I end up being a miserable and violent alcoholic, but now? Suddenly I can't see the fantasy playing out any other way. Thanks, F. Scott Fitzgerald!

Like Gatsby, this book also explores the idea that love, feelings, memories, are all transitory. What's incredible when you're young is mundane when you're thirty; what you took for granted in your youth, you may spend the rest of your life hoping to reacquire. Allegedly, this whole story was loosely based on Fitzgerald's relationship with his equally famous wife, Zelda. Makes sense; though Fitzgerald was never the heir to a fortune, he did become a raging alcoholic, and although I know little about Zelda, I don't find it hard to believe that she was beautiful and vain and shallow, the poster girl for the flapper era of the 1920s. I've always gotten the feel from Fitzgerald, through his writing, that he was both critical of the world around him and also entirely at home and at peace with it. It's tough not to pick up on the criticism, given the way his stories seem to unfold, but there's an undeniable sense - probably from that lyrical way of writing - that he also admires his characters and their actions. Are these stories then self-critical in nature? Is Fitzgerald recognizing the follies of the Jazz Age while also giving into his vices and embracing it? Or am I misinterpreting something somewhere in there?

This post is running long now, and I still haven't hit on a few things I wanted to get to. But since I've done very little to sell the idea that I enjoyed reading this book - and truly, I did - I should end this by posting a few of my favorite excerpts. You be the judge.

Everywhere we go and move on and change, something's lost - something's left behind. You can't ever quite repeat anything. 

She was incomprehensible, for, in her, soul and spirit were one - the beauty of her body was the essence of her soul. 

It is in the twenties that the actual momentum of life begins to slacken, and it is a simple soul indeed to whom as many things are as significant and meaningful at thirty as at ten years before. 

Experience is not worth the getting. It's not a thing that happens pleasantly to a passive you - it's a wall that an active you runs up against. 

And that taught me you can't have anything, you can't have anything at all. Because desire just cheats you. It's like a sunbeam skipping here and there about a room. It stops and gilds some inconsequential object, and we poor fools try to grasp it - but when we do the sunbeam moves on to something else, and you've got the inconsequential part, but the glitter that made you want it is gone. 

First one gives off his best picture, the bright and finished product mended with bluff and falsehood and humor. Then more details are required and one paints a second portrait, and third - before long the best lines cancel out - and the secret is exposed at last; the planes of the picture have intermingled and given us away, and though we paint and paint we can no longer sell a picture. We must be satisfied with hoping such fatuous accounts of ourselves as we make to our wives and children and business associates are accepted as true. 

He wanted to appear suddenly to her in novel and heroic colors. He wanted to stir her from that casualness she showed toward everything except herself. 

She had conceded vaguely to herself that all men who had ever been in love with her were her friends. 

[The lifespan of every woman's beauty is] the interval between two significant glances in a mundane mirror. 

I want to just be lazy and I want some of the people around me to be doing things, because that makes me feel comfortable and safe - and I want some of them to be doing nothing at all, because they can be graceful and companionable for me.

Anyway, that was The Beautiful and Damned, the F. Scott Fitzgerald book with a name that sounds like a shitty pop-punk emo album title.

God of War: Ghost of Sparta

After five installments of God of War, there's not much for me to say about my most recently-played entry- Ghost of Sparta. The gameplay is almost exactly the same as every other game in the series, except for the magic and weapons that change in each game. If you've played any other God of War game, you know what you're going to get here. We see Kratos lament the abduction and possible death of his brother Demios as a child (he had a brother?), and after Kratos becomes a god (this one fits in right between God of War and God of War 2) he sets out on a journey to find out Demios' fate and hopefully rescue him from the afterlife somehow. Along the way we sort of get a bunch of levels that don't feel all that connected- Ghost of Sparta seems like a grab-bag of ideas that didn't make it into the previous games, but were worth pursuing anyway. Most of them worked- sure it didn't make much sense for King Midas to show up randomly, but chasing after him and finding random items turned to solid gold in his wake is probably what I'll remember most about the game. Also of note was the fire-meter, where Kratos can temporarily light his Chains of Olympus on fire to do extra damage and break shield and armor. Then there's a little more on Kratos being worshipped by Spartans- we see him merciful to those who obey him, and there's a even a quick part of the game where Kratos walks through Sparta, smugly basking in the glory its citizens give him, and unable to kill anyone. They even give you a spear and shield combo that felt like a wink at 300. Hmm, now that I think of it, maybe Ghost of Sparta did switch up the God of War formula more than any other game in the series, but at this point it's too little of a change too late. Not that that's a bad thing- Ghost of Sparta is still a very fun game that I'd recommend to any fans of the series. I'll play God of War: Ascension eventually, but probably no time soon.

The Sopranos: Season Two

The Sopranos was a show whose first season I found very easy to just jump right into and enjoy, and here in just its second season the show is really making a strong push as one of the greatest of all time. All I need is the next 4 (or 5, sort of ) seasons to come close to the lofty heights of the first two. After the major events that all went down in the first finale, Tony begins the season by just trying to pick up the pieces and return things to normal- eventually Dr. Melfi returns, and the already strained relationship between her and Tony gets even more complicated as to her disgust, she starts developing strong feelings for him. We see Tony's wife and kids more caught up in the mob life than ever before, unable to remain blissfully ignorant of how the man of the house affords them their lifestyle, and struggling with whether to be proud or ashamed of their powerful mob-boss father. I felt like the other mob members became more well-defined characters as well- Big Pussy and his questionable loyalty; Paulie Walnuts, haunted by those he's murdered; and maybe my MVP of the season, Christopher, who can be psychotic and the member most eager to move up the ranks, but at the same time we can see a very human side of him that hangs onto some normal dreams and aspirations outside of the mob. All of this culminates in a finale that must be the best episode so far, where Tony spend half of the episode wandering through fever dreams and coming to unfortunate and brutal conclusions. All in all this was a stellar season, and I'll be checking out season 3 very soon.

Dragon Quest V: Hand of the Heavenly Bride

To quote Bud Light's dumb catchphrase, "here we go!" The first three Dragon Quest games ranged from not-so-good to decent, but after skipping ahead to one of the most acclaimed entries in the series, I can see what the hype is about. Dragon Quest V has all the trappings of a classic top-down RPG straight out of the 16-bit days, and its DS remake made for an all-around very enjoyable role-playing experience. There's still a few odd choices that I assume will stick around throughout the Dragon Quest series like silent protagonists and first-person view in battle, but in every other way this is a huge step up from the first three games. First off, there's some unique storytelling elements- the game is divided into three parts as you control the protagonist at three different times in his life- starting with a fast-paced journey through the world as a little kid with your father in search of a 'legendary hero', then again 15 years later, and finally a third long after that. It wasn't quite Chrono Trigger where you get to hop around through time and change the past, but it was pretty cool to see the changes in the world as time passes. Also along the way, you get married to a woman of your choosing, who then joins in with your party. Sure, something like that is old hat at this point, but for 1992 when the game first came out that's an impressive level of customization. Speaking of which, Dragon Quest V also basically set the table for the Pokemon franchise that would come out five years later- for most of the game you only have one or two set members in a 4-man party, so some monsters will randomly request to join your party. By endgame they're usually not viable main-party members, but it's another cool level of customization- any non-boss enemy can join the team, so many people play the game in a 'catch-em-all' style. Other than that, it's classic RPG trappings all the way. The grind-y nature of the previous games has been toned down, and there's no ridiculous quests that require use of a walk-through- Dragon Quest V is a no-bullshit game. Also of note- this is one of the few RPGs that I felt really encouraged experimenting with magic spells. Usually when I play an RPG I'm going all-out on the offensive, but buff and defense spells in Dragon Quest V actually felt effective and worth using. I was really hoping that things would improve after the Loto Trilogy (the lightly-connected first three Dragon Quest games) with the Zenithia Trilogy (4-6, even more lightly connected apparently), and it looks like this is so. I'll step back and play Dragon Quest IV: Chapters of the Chosen sometime in the next few months.

That '70s Show: Season 7

That's a wrap on the seventh season.

How familiar was I with the season's various episodes?

Not at all. After six seasons where I'd already seen almost every episode, it was like a switch flipped here, and I don't think I'd seen a single episode from Season 7 before.

Were there any key ways in which this season was different from previous seasons?

This really felt like the season where everyone in the cast was ready to move on. Donna was suddenly a blonde, perhaps due to some other role Laura Prepon had taken at the time. (I'm too lazy to check.) Kelso had a short haircut, and looked a whole lot like modern day Ashton Kutcher. And Mila Kunis? I can't put my finger on it, but this was absolutely the season where Mila Kunis was suddenly no longer "that cute Russian chick from That '70s Show" and instead became "holy shit, Mila Kunis!"

Any particular highlights or lowlights worth singling out?

So apparently Hyde's father is a black guy. This was a little funny, but also more than a little eye-roll-induing. "Hmm, the show's been a hit for six years, but it needs more black people..." When Hyde's half-sister, also black, was introduced s a love interest for Kelso, it was almost too much to handle. (That sounds... racist. I'm not suggesting black characters had no place on That '70s Show. Just that to introduce them as Hyde's family was kind of a weak choice.) Highlights? None, really, but the show is so damn consistent at this point that you could argue the whole run was a highlight. Which of course defeats the purpose of using the word "highlight." If I have to pick one arc, I'll go with Kelso and Fez moving in together. Hijinks ensued, my friends!

Final thoughts on anything else relating to the season or series as a whole?

Topher Grace is gone after this season and Ashton Kutcher barely sticks around. Josh Myers also joins the cast as a series regular. In other words, the eighth season is kind of a bastardized, stripped-down version of That '70s Show, so this is pretty much curtains for the original cast. It was a good run!

One more season, guys. One more season.

Batman: Arkham Asylum

What a fucked up Batman story. Absolutely brilliant. But completely fucked up. 

First off, I have to say that it's unlike any other comic book I've read so far. To start, we have Dave McKean providing all the art work. Now, for all my Dark Tower readers out there, if you purchased King's books that had illustrations in them - like I did - you'll be aware of McKean's work. He provided the art for Wizard & Glass. If you failed to catch a glimpse of what his style is, check it out: 

Before there was this very different interpretation of the Dark Tower...

...there was this very different interpretation of Batman and company.

As you can see from his rendition of the Joker, above all else, McKean's style invokes a sense of fear. And that's what this story is all about. Fear. Terror. Paranoia. Especially for Batman. And these illustrations pair perfectly for the strange, bizarre story only a genius like Grant Morrison could have only pulled from the dark recesses of his mind. 

The plot is fairly simple - and short. Gordan calls Batman in. They've just got a call from the Joker who's been imprisoned at Arkham Asylum where he and the rest of the inmates have broken free and now run the joint. They have hostages, but they'll let them all go free on one condition: If Batman turns himself into the asylum. (This is similar to plot of the video game with the same name, but the two diverge from here on out.) We find out that even though these hostages (the staff from the asylum) are free to go, most stay refusing to relinquish control of the place to these madmen. It's through these professionals that we learn about the villains of Gotham in a much different sense. The Joker, for instance, is labeled not being insane, but actually super-sane. Apparently they speculate that all of his senses are far more powerful than the average person - almost to the point that he can catch glimpses at 4th dimension. With all this information saturating his brain, it makes sense that the Joker has no definite personality. Hence why he waivers between being a practical joker and a homicidal maniac from one second to the next. 

Or they explore, Two-Face. In an effort to get him not to see the world in absolutes (as he bases all of his decisions on the 50-50 outcome of a coin toss) the staff has weened him to six-sided die, then onto a 42-card pack of tarot cards. He's now so boggled with trying to make decision that when first introduced to him, it's pointed out that he's defecated in the middle of floor because he's so hopeless in even making up his mind of the most fundamental of decisions. 

These are all fascinating insights on characters that have been told and re-told again. But never like what's in this story. 

The story basically sends Batman on this crazy hide-and-seek game where the inmates chase him all over the asylum till we learn the true reason why all maniacs were released in the first place. There's also a second plot line. It follows Mr. Arkham when he first established the asylum decades earlier and the demons (and bats) that haunt his dreams and tragic life.

This is a horror comic book with an intelligent story that probes into the characters' minds rather than focusing all of its time on brutal fights - not that there's anything wrong with that. This is just unexpected and unlike most anything out there. If anyone has the time or the curiosity  give it a read, like I said, it's short... even for a graphic novel. But that doesn't mean it isn't intriguing as fuck. Even haunting. The most fun you'll have as the story and art makes you feel like you're going a little insane yourself. 

"Let the feast of fools begin!"

Curb Your Enthusiasm: Season Two

There's not much to say about Curb Your Enthusiasm's second season that I didn't say about its first, and in that post I really didn't say much at all! I guess the only thing that's changed is there's now some light continuity from episode to episode. It still feels like the natural continuation of the Seinfeld formula, as we have a successful comedy writer living out his pseudo-retirement years, being a curmudgeon all the time and not understanding social cues most of the time. It's very funny, and even though whether you're supposed to sympathize with or hate this semi-fictional representation of Larry David changes wildly from minute to minute, it's consistent in its laughs. While I can't put this up as one of the all time greats quite yet, it's a damn good comedy and I give a hearty recommendation to anyone interested.

Eastbound & Down: The Complete Third Season

Yes, I watched half of this season of TV at Steve's house over a 2-hour period. So what? I watched the other half on my own. I still can blog this. Anyway, this show was SO good during it's first season. The second season was so horrible that it took me this long to see the third. Anyway, I am very glad I saw this season. No, it wasn't as good as the first and it probably could have done away with at least one episode (and that's saying something when there were only 8 episodes to begin with), but it did make me laugh out loud a lot more than most shows. Kenny Powers might be the most ridiculous character ever on TV and it was great getting to spend some more time with him. There are rumbling of a 4th season. I'm not sure why, but I'm sure I will check it out. I hope it airs before I lose my free HBO service.

The Sopranos: The Complete First Season

I steered clear of this show for a long time due to my aversion to all things gangster/mafia. I hated Goodfellas, Donnie Brasco and I've yet to be able to sit through the entirety of The Godfather.  I felt cheated by every black rapper on MTV Cribs when I finally saw Scarface. This show works for me because it's not just some show glorifying the mafia. It really delves deep into how the life of a Mafioso affects Tony Soprano and his family. The first episode caught me off guard when it began with Tony Soprano seeing a shrink. However, what I was originally scared was some lame plot device spawned one of the more interesting characters in the show. Pretty much every character is interesting in some respect and I'm looking forward to spending 5 more seasons with 'em.

Anyway, I hope my contributions in May are much higher than my contributions in April. Hopefully I will be done with my exams in 2 weeks and then my only excuse will be the new job.

While Mortals Sleep

I was feeling very bittersweet when I finished reading the fourteenth and final Kurt Vonnegut novel on my backlog last December, happy to have experienced my favorite author's works in their entirety but glum that there was nothing left. Then I remembered all of those short stories he wrote, and just got pumped to check those out. After all, long before I loved Vonnegut the novelist, I appreciated Vonnegut the short story author. "Harrison Bergeron" and "2BR02B" have long been favorites of mine, so with several full collections of more short stories waiting for me, I could possibly be headed for some of Vonnegut's best stuff yet. Right?

This was not some of Vonnegut's best stuff. While Mortals Sleep contains sixteen previously unpublished short stories written by Vonnegut in the 1950s. That's a double red flag, right off the bat. For one thing, "previously unpublished" means that each of these stories was either deemed unfit for publication by magazine editors at the time or unfit for attempted publication by Vonnegut himself. For another, if these stories were written in the 1950s it meant they were written by a very young Kurt Vonnegut - the one who wrote Player Piano, my least favorite of his novels by far.

The good news is that While Mortals Sleep was an all around more enjoyable read than Player Piano. The bad news is that this wasn't by a large margin. The thing with all short story collections is that they can be wildly inconsistent in tone or message, and they can also be wildly inconsistent in quality. There is no unifying theme to the stories collected posthumously into While Mortals Sleep, aside perhaps from that ever-present Vonnegut theme of humanism, and the stories ranged from utterly forgettable to enjoyable but still fairly forgettable. Most of all, my issue with 1950s Vonnegut, both here and in Player Piano, is that he hasn't quite found his distinctive voice yet. That weird but wonderful blend of absurdity, tragedy, and optimism isn't present here. While the aforementioned "Harrion Bergeron" and "2BR02B" take place in imaginative future societies with inventive features, and while his novels would ultimately deal with - repeatedly - the end of the world, space travel, time travel, and other fantastical elements, every story here takes place in a much "smaller" setting. The protagonists here are phone operators and sales clerks, not eccentric billionaires or prisoners of war. The settings here are ordinary places in mid-century America, not other planets or post-apocalyptic New York City.

None of these were bad stories. At worst, they were a bit boring, but none made me regret obtaining this short story collection. Of course, if the next Vonnegut short story collection I read isn't more entertaining, I will be disappointed. Time will tell. For now, I really can't recommend this book to anyone but hardcore Vonnegut fans - so, of the people reading this, basically Sweeney and no one else.

Bottle Rocket

Perhaps in order to best appreciate Wes Anderson, it would be wise to circle back to the very beginning. Back in 1996, before the man had honed his recognizable style, before Luke or Owen Wilson had ever appeared in anything else, Bottle Rocket launched the careers of all three. The movie and the lead performances had an amateurish feel to them which I actually kind of appreciated. The three Wes Anderson movies I've seen from the 2000s were precariously shot and impeccably polished, so it was a nice change of pace to see something just a little raw from the guy.

As far as the movie itself goes, it was pretty standard stuff - which made it quite different form anything else I've sen Wes Anderson do, of course. Two friends - Luke Wilson the straight man of sorts, and Owen Wilson the wacky wild card - go off on a spree of small time robberies and heists for no readily apparent reason. Luke falls in love with a hotel cleaning lady and Owen gets in a bit over his head on his "75-year plan." There's not much else to say, and this really wasn't a very unique movie at all. But it was simple and fun all the same, and perhaps more importantly it was a Wes Anderson movie that felt nothing at all like a Wes Anderson movie.

I swear though, I don't dislike Wes Anderson movies. Hell, I liked The Life Aquatic, widely considered the most offensively "Wes Anderson" movie Wes Anderson has ever made.

Wes Anderson.

The Royal Tenenbaums

Two months ago I spent far too many paragraphs here on an internal debate over whether or not I liked The Darjeeling Limited. My conclusion, or lack thereof, was that I liked it, disliked it, didn't like it, and didn't dislike it. At any rate, here's another Wes Anderson movie that's left me unable to give any real definitive reactions. The characters, their quirks, and the bizarrely specific bits of history given on each of them were entertaining and endearing, but the movie itself didn't seem quite as good as I've been expecting it to be for close to ten years now. Once again, I'm not sure why.

Instead of being negative and overwrought though, let me focus on one aspect of the movie I really emphatically and unequivocally loved: the introduction. In the first six minutes of the film, Anderson provides us a rich and vibrant picture of an eccentric family with three child prodigies. It felt like a Salinger short story from the get-go and it set the table for a potentially outstanding and unforgettable movie about the melancholy decline of a dysfunctional family of oddball elitists. Check it out for yourself and see if you agree:

The thing is, the hundred minutes that followed just weren't quite on that same level. There were some great performances, great scenes, and great jokes, but not since Pixar's Up have I seen a movie start out so promising only to fade immediately into something not nearly as good. Still good - don't get me wrong - but a minor letdown compared to the way it began.

I'm far from done with Wes Anderson, though. I've still got his first movie, his breakout hit, and his recent magnum opus in my backlog. Stay tuned.

Batman: Dark Victory

The last of what is in my comic collection for the time being - just ordered some more from Amazon. Another Loeb and Sale Batman story that follows up their terrific piece of work, The Long Halloween. Picking up where Halloween leaves off, this story follows what remains of the Gotham's crime families and Batman's concern to cure Harvey Dent's insanity that is his Two-Face identity. 

Things basically get kicked off when there's a massive break-in at Arkham Asylum freeing not just Two-Face, but every other major villain. After this happens, a series of murders occur  during every major holiday. It follows the same plot device as The Long Halloween only instead of mobsters being murdered, it's cops. You're led to believe that it might be Two-Face carrying out these murders, but the story keeps throwing twists and turns your way you're never quite sure what to expect. Also, as can be guessed from the cover, this story arc introduces a young Dick Grayson as Robin. He really doesn't appear till the second half of the book, never-the-less, it ends as a Robin story.

I really enjoy Jeph Loeb's writing in these past two Batman stories I've read. On top of that, I've already ordered another Loeb Batman comic, Hush, that I should receive by next week sometime. He's written a ton of material (plus he's head of Marvel's television development) so there's a lot of work he contributes towards. Not that I intend to get to everything he's touched, he's just got a lot of experience in this field. Plus he wrote Teen Wolf and Commando... So, that's awesome. One side note: Loeb grew up Weston and actually went to high school with my dad and his siblings. Small world. 

Anywho, excited to devour even more of his work in the coming days. For others out there interested in getting into some Batman comics, these two stories (The Long Halloween and Dark Victory) are highly recommended. 

In the spirit of Batman, I bring you this College Humor parody... Badman.

Harvey Dent... Can he be trusted?

The League: Season 3

Well. So much for doubting my last post would be my last post of Marathon Monday. Little did I know as I was posting about the third season of Eastbound & Down that five miles away the largest act of terrorism on American soil since 9/11 had just taken place. Kind of puts things in perspective. But after an afternoon, evening, and night fraught with tension, confusion, and sadness, the blog goes on. I'm still bothered, upset, angry, shocked - the whole gambit, really - but feeling sorry for the victims and their families is a passive activity (a passivity?); while I can't just put yesterday's tragedy out of my mind, it doesn't do me or anyone else any good to just dwell on it. And that's where simple shit like watching TV comes in. Not as some magical cure-all that offers an escape, but simply as a basic every day activity. Normalcy. And I don't mean that in some "slow-healing recovery process" type of way as much as I just mean, hey, watching DVDs late at night is just something I do, and I'm glad yesterday's events didn't scathe me or my loved ones enough to interrupt that for more than a day. Not because this is what matters, of course; quite the opposite. I'm glad because this doesn't matter, at all, and the fact that I can do it means I was lucky enough, blessed enough, not to be directly affected. If my sister, who was working at the finish line yesterday, was in a hospital tonight recovering from leg amputations, I certainly wouldn't be updating a blog about an FX comedy, is all I'm trying to say here.

Soapbox rant over. I guess it's kind of silly to talk about the third season of The League now. It's just as well; the second season received what must be my shortest post to date, so maybe this just isn't a show that needs much analysis or reflection on this blog. Here are some abbreviated thoughts on it, whatever they're worth. It's a funny show. It benefits from a quick-thinking cast capable of great ad-libbed lines. There is great guest star casting. Some episodes are funnier than others. The show is at its weakest when it tries to introduce new or uncommon phrases or concepts to the audience. Overall it is a pretty solid show, but ti comes with the same ceiling associated with every other cable comedy series that always goes for laughs and never anything more. At this point the show has very little if anything to do with fantasy football.

Good night everyone! Stay safe.

Eastbound & Down: Season 3

Happy Marathon Monday, y'all. With work off today, and all kinds of house-cleaning and toilet-fixing accomplished yesterday, I've got little else to do but log. This is my second post of the day already, and I doubt it'll be my last.

Eastbound & Down came out of nowhere in 2010 to wow and impress me. My roommates and I watched it every week over its abbreviated six-week run, and it truly felt like one of the best shows on TV for a time there. The second season was anything but. I understand why the show decided to reinvent itself what with being the second act in a three act redemption story for Kenny Powers, but it was just far too different from the first season for me to really enjoy it. The third season? Act three. The conclusion. Better than the dark, strange, Mexican second season, but still not quite as good as the first one. Kenny has settled in nicely on the Myrtle Beach Mermen, a fictional minor league affiliate of the Texas Rangers. He lives it up with his teammate and best friend Shane, struggles to raise his infant son, and feuds with a promising young Russian prospect. All in all, it was a solid season. It ran a bit long at eight episodes, and we spent some time that felt very unnecessary with Kenny's parents in the middle there, but the season played out much better on DVD in a marathon session than it did one week at a time on TV. But isn't that so often the case?

In a surprise move - trust me, given the way this season ends, it's a total surprise - HBO renewed Eastbound & Down for a fourth season a year ago. I have no idea when it will air - probably this fall at the earliest, and possibly next spring - but prior to re-watching this third season on DVD, I had no interest. Now? I have interest. A good deal of interest.

Beyond Good and Evil

I should have known things weren't going to go well between Beyond Good and Evil and me from the start, when it turned out to not be a first-person shooter like I had blindly assumed it was. I knew it was about some conspiracy in the future or something and I would be running around with a camera taking pictures (it's right there on the cover!) but I guess I assumed the first-person camera view meant I'd be attacking in first person as well. Nope. Beyond Good and Evil is a third-person action game, and despite the critical acclaim, it just never quite worked for me. It reminded me of Kameo in that it tried to do a lot of things, but did none of them really all that well aside from maybe building a cool environment and having some great voice acting. The game's divided up into 4 big levels and a central city, and I guess I can point out a few more things the game did well- traveling around on a hoverboat was pretty fun, and the bright colors and interesting music choices (lyrics in Spanish and Bulgarian!) made the overworld a pretty fun, unique experience in gaming. But the levels. Oh boy, those levels. Think of everything people didn't like about the central temples in the DS Zelda games, and it's there. Mostly just constant forced stealth, I guess. It's boring, frustrating as all hell, and really has only been pulled off well in the Metal Gear series, and even then only because those games are so insane. I can see why Beyond Good and Evil would work for some people, but it just didn't work at all for me. I usually post games I love on the blog, and it can be boring to read and write post after post about how great every game is, but the silver lining of playing one I don't like like Beyond Good and Evil (also, there's no traversing beyond 'good and evil', morality is pretty clear-cut here) is I get to give out the rare "Skip It!" Sweeney seal of disapproval.

Ristar

Hey now! That was actually kind of fun. Ristar is a quick little fourteen-level platformer made by the same team that made the early Sonic games - hence its inclusion in the Sonic Mega Collection - but thankfully it plays nothing like those. Ristar is a star-dude with stretchy arms; these stretchy arms inform just about every aspect of gameplay, allowing you to move, to attack, and to collect items. Check out some YouTube clips for a better idea. It was a nice conclusion to a compilation disc which had grown stale quickly, and more than that it was just a nice 16-bit game form the '90s. Bright colors, great music, just an all around fun and kind of challenging experience. You could do a lot worse on the Sega Genesis.

The Wire: Season Two

I was prepared for The Wire's second season to be even more underwhelming than its first, and for the most part it was. No one seemed to like this season, and really from the first episode I just couldn't latch on to any storyline of dockworkers and drug smuggling and enjoy it for a while. Again, the series had realism, but people turn to tv for escapism, and there was nothing all that interesting here, aside from a few brief scenes catching up with the drug dealers of season one. Talking with Stan, he seemed to remember those being the best scenes of the season by far, which had me thinking that I probably didn't need to pay any more attention to most of season two. Just get through it and reap the benefits when season three comes! Fortunately the benefits came a little early as the last three episodes of this season flipped a switch and the show finally became compelling television! Suddenly I was invested in the fates of the Sobotka family and whether the police would be able to put The Greek behind bars for his crimes. I'll put the series on hold for a little while as there's just so much out there to watch, but I'm excited to see what happens when The Wire really gets good.

Sonic 3D Blast

I'll give Sonic 3D Blast this much - it did something new with a franchise that was growing old and stale really fast for me. This wasn't a side-scrolling fast-paced platformer, but a fast-paced isometric platformer instead. And boy, did it handle like shit. On the one hand, I give credit to Sega for taking a risk here, drastically altering the gameplay in its most famous series. After all, Super Mario 64 had come out a few months prior, changing platformers forever. This wasn't really a full-fledged 3D game, of course; just one where Sonic can move in four cardinal directions on the ground instead of just two. But levels were repetitive fetch quests, design felt horribly uninspired, and this was just overall a pretty bad game. I'm not sure if this was supposed to be Sega's answer to Super Mario 64 or not, but it feels several years older, clunkier, and more dated. But hey - no more Sonic in the backlog. Finally. One more game remains on this compilation disc, and my hope is to be done with it soon enough.

Sonic & Knuckles

Gameplay here was exactly identical to that in Sonic the Hedgehog 3, right down to the design of the level titles. When I looked into this, I found that Sonic 3 and Sonic & Knuckles were originally intended to be one game, but that scheduling delays and space constraints led to an eventual split. Hey, fine. Whatever. It's not like the third game was substantially different from the first two anyway. In Sonic & Knuckles I got to play as - yep, you guessed it - Knuckles. You'd be surprised how non-different that was. Hey, at least these games are relatively quick and easy. I expect to finish Sonic 3D Blast before the weekend ends. Will that game be different? We'll see.

Sonic the Hedgehog 3

It's been three and a half years (wow!) since I played through the first two Sonic the Hedgehog games. When I took a break before returning to the series, I figured I'd eventually want to do so. But here I was, three and a half years later, still not really feeling the urge to play more Sonic the Hedgehog. I suppose there's a very limited appeal to the era of 16-bit platforming. Anyway, I learned my lesson with those two Mega Man compilations: better to just grit your teeth and knock off a ton of games in a row than let a compilation grow entrenched in one's backlog. And while there were something like fifteen or more Mega Man games for me to play through, I've got only Sonic & Knuckles and Sonic 3D Blast remaining on this Sonic Mega Collection compilation. Well, and Ristar, but that's something completely different. I think. Regardless, I'm left without much else to say about Sonic the Hedgehog 3, as it was a game I played purely out of backlog duty and not whatsoever out of desire. Maybe I can bang out another game or two this long weekend. Time will tell.

Sputnik Sweetheart

After reading two Murakami novels a couple years ago (The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle and Norweigian Wood), I admitted that the guy was very quickly climbing the list of my favorite authors, but I didn't get around to reading a third book until just recently. My choice was one of Dee's favorites: Sputnik Sweetheart, and it certainly lived up to the lofty expectations set by the first two. Combining the strange dream-like reality of Wind-up Bird with the brutal heartbreak of Norweigian Wood, Murakami delivers another downer of a book that had me enthralled anyway. Yet again the story here is character, character, character, as the first half of the book is spent developing the unrequited love between a young straight-laced teacher and his best friend, an aspiring writer living off of her parents. She doesn't love him back, but also doesn't feel an attraction to anyone until meeting an older woman who offers her a job as an assistant. The two leave on a cross-country business trip, leaving the protagonist on his own, until a bizarre series of events lead the man to seek out the two women, at which point the plot really starts to kick into high gear. I don't think I enjoyed this quite as much as Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, which is still probably the book I've liked the most since I started logging, but there are a lot of similarities between the two. This does leave me a little concerned for the rest of his books- he's covering the same theme in different ways, and I'd be interested in seeing him tackle something else besides loneliness and the end of relationships- he did this with student protests in Norweigian Wood and Japanese war crimes in Wind-Up Bird Chronicle but both of those took a backseat to the love story that drove each book. Still though, that's a concern for later- I've loved the first three books of Murakami's that I've read, so I guess I'll keep on chugging.

Jurassic Park

It's been twenty years since Jurassic Park was first released to theaters, and I just thought it was high time I read the novel that inspired the iconic film. In short, I loved it. It played out a lot like the film did, but had a few more characters and a few more scenes. Those characters also had more depth, and the surviving group at the end of the book was slightly different from the one at the end of the movie. Because I'd seen the movie half a dozen times - and most recently less than a week ago - I had a good idea about the way the plot would unfold. That didn't prevent me from enjoying the suspense and the terror associated with the catastrophic breakdown of a dinosaur park. One scene in particular, left out of the movie, gave me goosebumps. Many scenes in tandem kept me awake late one night in bed, half afraid that velociraptors were silently watching me, or that a tyrannosaurus's head would smash through my window at any second. All things considered, a great modern-day Frankenstein tale about the follies of creating and attempting to control dangerous monsters. I look forward to reading more Michael Crichton books, and in particular The Lost World. But not yet. Not yet.

Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb

Have I missed something? This is a film that people everywhere seem to unanimously love. For me, it was... alright. 

The next stop on the Kubrick-kick I'm going on right now is the all too famous Dr. Strangelove. I did see this film once in high school, but I fell asleep while it was playing only remembering brief moments in the story. However, I can now say that I've seen this film from beginning to end and (like most of Kubrick's films) I can understand why this stands as a classic. Why it earned a spot in the National Film Registry at the Library of Congress. Still, I wasn't nuts about it. 

Now, each time I've walked away from a Kubrick film, I find myself liking it more and more over time. Perhaps this will happen with Dr. Strangelove. Perhaps not. The big thing I find fascinating about Kubrick films - the thing that only dawns on me days, even weeks, after I've finished watching it - is the sudden realization of amazing visuals, symbology, or metaphors that I missed in plain sight. Clearly, his work on The Shining is abundant with them (as explained in that fascinating documentary), but I feel like this film was somewhat dry on this hidden subtext. It's a brilliant satire focusing on Cold War, our heated relationship with Russia, and what amounts from mutually assured destruction. Was there anything else other than that, though? I'm serious here. I know there has to be. That I must, clearly, be missing something. People write dissertations analyzing this film and its take on war and global politics. 

Here are some elements of the film I'm lost on. Maybe someone can elaborate on them and explain if there's anything missing here.

- Although an iconic image, Major "King" Kong riding the bomb down like he's in a rodeo, what was necessary about this scene? I saw it kind of as a satirical method to demonstrate our love for war and destruction, but I could see there being something more that I'm missing.

- Was there point to that gag about breaking into the soda machine ("You'll have to answer to the Coca-Cola corporation") for coins to make the phone call to the president other than stating how big and powerful corporations are?

- What's the point of Stangelove's character? Why is he the title of the movie (other than it being an awesome name)? The US having their lead scientific advisor being a Nazi is interesting/fucked up, but is there anything else hidden to that character?

- What was the significance of Strangelove's final line: "Mein Fuerher! I can walk!"

- Are we left to conclude that the Russian ambassador blows up the war room in the very last scene?

- Are the credits (all the nukes going off) with the song "We'll meet again" suppose to express the irony that humans destroyed themselves with no possible way of returning?

- Why did Kubrick choose to shoot this in black in white when Spartacus which came out years earlier was in color (I think)? Could be a production issue with no hidden meaning. But, maybe not.

These are just some moments in the film that I thought brought up cool points, but couldn't find a way of unpacking them any deeper than from their surface level. This bothers me only because I imagine Kubrick as this filmmaker who's all about building a movie with layers on top of layers. I just don't see that here. 

On the other side of the fence - a less critically abrasive side - I want to commend the performances in the film. Obviously, Peter Sellers is fantastic. Playing up three characters (Strangelove, the US president, and Lionel Mandrake) who are a very, very different from one another; all outstanding, highly entertaining, deliveries. However, I was also blown away by George C. Scott's performance as General Buck Turgidson. Oh, man... he is amazing. His enthusiasm to go ahead with the bombing on Russia. His cavilere attitude when he guesses how that only millions of Americans would die when fighting a war with Russia. It's excellent. 

That's all I got on this guy for the time being. I would like to add a bit more on how this film felt much less stylized than his other ones, but maybe Kubrick hadn't hit that stride in his career yet - his next film to be made is 2001 which changes everything. I've yet to watch the majority of his films that predate this one (Lolita, Paths of Glory, even Spartacus deserves another watch), but I'll be getting on that soon enough.

Collision Course

Oh Leno-san when

will you learn to trust Pat and

solve the case as friends.

Superman: Whatever Happened to the Man of Tomorrow?

Another comic book down. This time, it's not Batman, it's Superman. 

Growing up, the only comic books I ever collected/read was for The Death of Superman story arc. In a nutshell, it sucked. It was suppose to be another end story for the man of steel, and with a name that bold it got kids in the 90's very excited... but it was all a sham. What do I mean, sham? I'll let Max Landis (a very successful screenwriter of our generation) give the low-down on how DC fucked with its readers with this particular Superman story arc.

Now before this end-tale of Superman, DC made the book I have here, Whatever Happened to the Man of Tomorrow? Reading their introduction, in the mid-80's DC wanted to wrap up many of their superhero stories - they had introduced a plethora of similar heroes that existed in different dimensions and/or time periods. Shit was confusing. Heroes and villains would frequently cross over and interact, but all of this just made the entire DC universe immensely impossible to understand. So, the execs decided it was time to start with a clean slate, meaning we're going to end it all and reboot the franchise. To do that, they brought on one of the most famous writers of all time, Alan Moore (Watchmen, V for Vendetta, From Hell, The Killing Joke), and had him close this chapter on Superman.

It was OK. Nothing incredible, but interesting. (Frankly, from Moore I would have expected something better, but I take what I can get.) Basically, it's around a decade in the "future" since Superman was last seen. A reporter comes to the house of Lois Lane to do an interview on the disappearance of Superman all those years ago. The story arc occurs as one giant flashback. 

Now, what I like about this tale is that shit gets serious. People die, both villains and heroes, in rapid fire succession - and nobody comes back unlike what happens in the 90's with the DC's other attempt to end Superman. It's riveting. The big villain(s) - not unlike what I read in my previous post on Batman: The Dark Knight Strikes Again is the Luthor and Brainiac team-up. Only this time, Brainiac is a little machine that has mounted himself on Luthor's head and gets complete control over all his facilities. Them, along with a slew of other villains, attack Metropolis. Although Superman is able to a fair job at saving everyone, his alter-ego, Clark Kent, is revealed. With this out in the open, he takes everyone close to him (mostly people from his paper plus his Smallville high school crush, Lana Lang) to his Fortress of Solitude for protection. Next thing you know, Luthor/Brainiac sets up some forcefield that prevents the Justice League's interference as they mount an attack on the place. 

One thing. Let me just point out this one panel where the Justice League is trying to break down the forcefield. Would you look and Batman and Robin. They're whacking the barrier with fucking sticks! Seriously? One of comic's most brilliant hero's solution is to bang a stick against sophisticated, futuristic forcefield. Sorry. I know it's insignificant, but it's often the little shit that can really bother me. Plus it's Batman. He would know better. Anyways... Moving on!

Like I stated early. The story was alright. At least it ends with Superman's disappearance of which he'll never return from (at least not in this series). In this deluxe edition I got, there were two other Superman comics written by Moore that are independent from this story. One where Superman is poisoned by some alien life-form and is saved by Swamp Thing, and another where he's (sort-of) poisoned once again to be trapped in a mental stupor believing where Krypton was never destroyed allowing his villain to imprison him a perfect fantasy world. Both we're not that good. I'm honestly not even sure what they were included. Maybe because they're written by Moore. Seems like just page fillers though. 

In the end, even though parts were enjoyable, I'm going to say this is the worst thing I've read by Moore so far. To be fair, the bar is set high in comparison to his other work. The one thing that really creeped me out was the final panel.

Lois has finished her interview and is heading off to bed with her new husband. At first look I thought this guy is winking like he's about to boink her. SPOILER: They make it clear that he's suppose to be Superman in hiding. (They introduce their child who crushes a lump of coal into a diamond earlier in the page.) Still, it's creepy. Not the last image audiences want to see of Superman. Winking at them with a porn-style mustache. Yech...

Bastion

Now listen up kid;

Caelondia might be gone,

but you can save it.

House: Season 8

Time for the postmortem on House, a show that, paradoxically, I never once "loved" but also never once fell behind by more than a year and a half. If you've read the blog for a while, you'll know I'm typically not a fan of procedural dramas, and House is basically the one and only lone exception. Its characters were just interesting enough, and its week-to-week formula just variable enough, for me to grow as invested in it as I did. You can read my recaps of the fifth, sixth, and seventh seasons somewhere on this blog, about three, two, and one year ago, respectively. So, how did it all end?

Eh. There were things to like about this eighth and final season of House. Cuddy is gone, so Foreman, House's old employee, steps into the role of dean of medicine. This subversion of their power dynamic was at least interesting. Sadly this is basically all Foreman got to do all season. Amber Tamblyn's character is gone after one season, and she's been replaced by two more fairly meaningless female doctors in Charlyne Yi (the quirky Asian one!) and Odette Annable (who? exactly!) Chase and Taub return to round out House's crew, and Wilson - the show's only sympathetic character - is back for one more year of the involuntary burden of being House's only friend. But other than this slight casting tweak - the fourth in five seasons or so - is House any different? Nah. And neither is non-italicized House, its main character. Or anybody else. One of the show's most repeated sentiments over the years is that people never really change. By addressing this belief, the show managed to retain its tried and true formula for eight whole years with a few tweaks here and there. So, kudos. This lack of character development isn't necessarily a bad thing; The Sopranos had the same cynical opinion, and is one of my favorite shows of all time. But while that show was beautifully crafted and full of examples of people trying to change but slipping naturally back into their vices and bad tendencies, House attempts nothing of the sort. House has been to rehab and to prison, but he can't shake his Vicodin addiction and he can't hold down a relationship and he's a total asshole to his colleagues and patients alike. Hugh Laurie pulls the role off where it would have failed horribly in most other hands, with just enough charisma and humor to keep you from completely hating the smarmy and stubborn egomaniac.

Anyway, what else is there to say? The series' peak, for me, was the WGA strike-shortened fourth season, which played out like a reality TV show for ten episodes or so (House eliminates potential team members one by one until he's found three people he's satisfied with) and ended with the best pair of episodes the show has ever done. Other highlights include the first season's "Three Stories," in which the explanation for House's limp and most of his unhappiness is revealed, and the season finales of Seasons 5 and 6. The Season 7 finale? Potentially a series low point. The series finale? Over-the-top as hell, but adequate. I'm left in a good place with House now, satisfied by its closing montage and content to extrapolate future life stories for all of the characters I cared about.

So, farewell, House. You were never the greatest show on TV, but you were certainly worth your eight-year run.

God of War: Chains of Olympus

Thanks to Stan for letting me borrow the God of War Origins Collection, now I can finally play the God of War games that came out on the PSP without actually having to buy a whole new handheld. First up was Chains of Olympus, a prequel that sees Kratos back when he was a lackey of the gods, carrying out the tasks requested of him when the gods didn't feel like taking care of it themselves. In terms of gameplay, I didn't feel like anything was sacraficed except game length; this felt exactly like God of War always has, and being remastered in HD meant the game looked just as good as the first two God of War games to me. Kratos still solves giant puzzles, gains and upgrades awesome powers, and fights gods. The introduction had some pretty hilarious moments, including an achievement for walking across the only balance beam in the game, as well as a surprise enemy who beats down the first door you try to open. only to be immediately eaten by an even larger enemy who tears down the whole wall in front of you. Small moments like this had me thinking the rest of the game would cleverly subvert expectations, but the rest of the plot of the game didn't make much sense to me. First off, the world is plunged into darkness and sleep by some god of dreams named Morpheus, and as a former student of the classics I've never heard of this guy. But I was willing to suspend my disbelief! Morpheus has apparently caused Apollo to cause his sun-chariot to crash into Earth, and it's up to Kratos to find Apollo somewhere within his temple to defeat Morpheus. But wait, why did I get an achievement stating that I beat Morpheus before I even got to the temple? Was that weird fog I walked through actually somehow a god? Then when I ran through his temple/chariot, I never actually found Apollo or made reference to him, but instead brought his marble steeds to life. So what happened to Apollo then? Or Morpheus? Eventually the steeds get the chariot moving and dump Kratos off in Hell, a common setting in the God of War games. And then the final boss is... Persophone? Huh? I didn't even spoil it because, who cares? In a series where the plot usually boils down to "Kratos hates and is willing to kill everyone" why were there so many false-starts? At least the little subplot with Kratos trying to save his daughter was consistent. Anyway as I said before the gameplay itself is just as good as the rest of the God of War games, and I still give Chains of Olympus a high recommendation. It might not have made much sense, but I had a lot of fun with it.

The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time 3D

There's still plenty of critically acclaimed games out there I have yet to play, but put me in the camp that considers The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time to be the best game ever made. I didn't get to play it as a kid (no N64!) but eventually got to play through a significant chunk of it when I was at school, only for the game to remain unfinished as schoolwork piled up. Finally at the ripe old age of 26 have I been able to experience the whole game, and I really loved every minute of it, thanks to Webber, who let me borrow his copy of the 3DS version. Where to start? The levels? They're fantastic. From the Great Deku Tree to Ganon's Castle, I wouldn't change a thing. The decision to make the levels fit into the world around them rather than be a random series of underground rooms made for some interesting objective-based temples- destroy the viruses plaguing Jabbu Jabbu's belly! Climb to the top of a hollowed-out mountain in search of the legendary hammer, then whack down the platform you needed at ground level! I also have to address one complaint Marissa had in her post- yes, just one. She hated this game almost entirely for the reasons I loved it, but one thing felt factually wrong. In the Shadow Temple (where Bongo Bongo is indeed a major pain to beat), you can totally make a shortcut by moving a block out of the way just before you get on the boat. It's not quite as big a time-saver as you'll find in other temples, but it's there, with easy access to fairies and everything. Webber also posted about the 3DS version of this game, and seemed to be a big fan, but Kyle made a bit of guest commentary in his comment and didn't seem too pleased with the game. What gives? This seems to be the go-to 'greatest game' for lots of people and hardly makes waves when it's addressed as such, yet here on the Back-Blog we've had two very positive reviews as well as two very negative ones. Marissa called it frustrating while Kyle called it boring and easy; to me, only the last complaint of its ease holds any water. But when you're backlogging, you're rarely looking for a challenge, merely a game that can keep you excited and interested throughout its run. Ocarina of Time 3D handled this perfectly for me. Before I finish off this post, I just have to address how iconic the music in this game is. I'm a person who barely pays attention to the background music in games and sometimes just mutes it to use my own instead, but it's striking how many memorable tunes there are in the game. It certainly helps that most of them can be played on the ocarina (Zelda's Lullaby? Saria's Song? Prelude of Light?) But the adventure music of running around Hyrule and Hyrule Field is very easy to recall. My personal favorite is the southwern-flavored Gerudo Desert music- who would have thought mariachi music could work so well in a basic fantasy setting? If anyone on the Blog hasn't played through Ocarina of Time yet, do so. It is awesome.

Radiant Historia

Two months ago, I put the fortieth and final hour into Final Fantasy IX, the oldest game in my backlog by a number of years. Not only was the game a blast, but the act of vanquishing a game I'd had for half of my lifetime was a true triumph, as far as the backlog's challenges go. Today, I've just completed another forty-hour JRPG that I had a lot of fun playing, and yet that same triumphant feeling is almost entirely lacking. This makes sense; while Final Fantasy IX had been in my backlog for well over a decade, Radiant Historia barely spent a hundred days there. So while in the case of the former I was thrilled to overcome a true milestone, the latter left me feeling little more than, "oh, great, back to where I was three months ago."

This is just an observation. It isn't meant to criticize the game itself or the accomplishment of beating it. (New or not, it was one of just three games in my backlog projected to take forty or more hours. Huge!) I first had interest in Radiant Historia after reading Brian's glowing review right here on Back-Blogged. In fact, he described the key components of the game - the parallel timelines, the time traveling, the grid-based combo-heavy combat system - so well that I'll link to his article right here in the interest of saving time and being lazy.

One area where I'd have to disagree with Brian is his claim that this Chrono Trigger clone challenges Chrono Trigger. While the similarities are abundant and obvious - seven playable characters, spatial relevance in combat, time travel - I can't go that far on the praise. Whether I simply liked this game less than he did, liked Chrono Trigger more than he did, or some combination of the two, I can't say. Frankly this game just didn't have nearly as many memorable scenes or characters or moments as that one did. The characters are diverse and endearing here, but they're all cut from a similar cloth compared to Chrono Trigger's gallant talking frog-man, futuristic fighting robot, dorky inventor, et al.

Of course, Chrono Trigger is an absurdly high bar to shoot for, and for all this game's comparable "shortcomings" I can't help but imagine the comparison is a disservice in some ways. After all, Radiant Historia is very much its own game with its own charms and shouldn't be thought of as an attempt to recreate Chrono Trigger on an Atlus budget. In short, if Chrono Trigger gets five stars, this game gets four. And that's something!

Room 237

In my previous post on Eyes Wide Shut I talked about this documentary focusing on Kubrick's possible hidden messages in The Shining. It's still not available on DVD yet, but you can rent it on iTunes. Regardless if this isn't actually in my back-log, it's so fucking intriguing I just have to post on this. 

This documentary breaks The Shining and its messages down into nine parts, and I really don't know where to start on this. I feel as though I could talk forever on these subject matters. Debate on them endlessly as I'm sure the commentators of this documentary do on a regular basis. I'll just focus on the most likely theory to be true, the least likely theory, and the one that's the most entertaining to me.

First is the idea that The Shining is a message about the genocide of the Native Americans as the colonists moved across this country. This seems completely believable to me and there are plenty of signs to indicate that Kubrick truly intended this message to connect to audiences. The hotel is filled with Native American artwork and paintings and tapestries. There's also a specific reference to Calumet Baking Power in the kitchen's pantry.

Calumet is a Native American peace pipe. In this scene, the Calumet symbolizes Danny's trust with the caretaker Dick. It's shown again when Jack Torrance gets locked in the pantry after going crazy and makes a pact with the demons to let him out only in that scene all of the Calumet canisters are off kilter indicating a flawed treaty. 

There's also some mention to the movie being a connection to WWII and the Holocaust. This one is a little harder for me to buy, but possible. The number 42 is thrown around a bit which is indicative to 1942 when (as the commentators in the documentary claim) the Holocaust began. Plus Jack uses a German typewriter - typewriter could indicate power having the ability to make lists, possibly making list for those entering concentration camps. This seems like a bit of a stretch, but there could be something to it. There's also this photo that ends the movie:

As the haunting photo that shows Jack immortalized in the hotels old 1920's party as it fades into a close-up of him. During the fade, if you freeze it, it's suppose to look like Jack Torrance is actually Hitler. Think this is grasping at straws. Cool theory, though, but I straddle on the fence at this Holocaust allegory.

The next theory that I really don't believe is that this movie was Kubrick's attempt to confess that he filmed the moon landing. Note: It's not that we never landed on the moon, just that the footage we have is faked. This theory mostly involves the room 237. In the novel it's 217. Kubrick claims they changed it because the hotel they filmed had a 217 and didn't want to scare people from staying in it. Commentators in the documentary say this is false. If you call the hotel, they'll explain no such room exists. So they claim 237 is the name of the soundstage the moon landing was filmed on, plus the distance from the Earth to the moon was 237,000 miles (the was the supposed number used at the time before more accurate lasers calculated it to be closer 239,000 miles). Then when Danny checks out the room, he's wearing an Apollo 11 sweater. And, the key to room 237 is spelled out as "ROOM No 237". The documentary speculates that "o" on number is meant to be ignored and and when rearranging the letters you can spell MOON ROOM. 

First, I don't buy that the moon landing footage is fake. So I'm looking to poke holes in these theories. All-in-all, it just seems people are reading too much into these clues. It's a really fascinating theory, but I just struggle to believe it.

Finally, the most fascinating point the documentary makes is that the film was designed to play forwards and backwards at the same time. You can actually overlay the film playing in both directions and see some fascinating imagery. First there's the opening/ending:

The title is that of the photo where Jack is frozen for all time, trapped with all the demons in the hotel. In this frame, it's almost like a postcard inviting the viewers to stay with the ghouls  and ghosts of the hotel. 

Then we have Dick warning Danny of the horrors of the hotel while you have Jack first going crazy as he chases Wendy up the staircase before she strikes him with the baseball bat. Cool imagery. Note: The knives placed to look like their about to strike Danny. 

The two store room scenes link up exactly. When Danny and Wendy are introduced to the room overlays when Jack becomes imprisoned there by Wendy after falling into complete madness. 

The scene where Jack is in the blood-red bathroom talking to Grady (the former caretaker who chopped up his family) when he converts him to kill his family, their mouths are perfectly  encapsulated in the TV that Wendy and Danny are watch. Note: What's on TV is called The Summer of '42. Another nod to the reoccurring numer of the Holocaust. 

Then there's the typewriter mixing with the labyrinth. Both scenes, either when Jacks working or when Wendy discovers that whole "No work and no play..." repetition is overlaid with the maze garden. Great symbolism of the typewriting being Jack's window as he gets lost in his madness.

They go on and on. This intrigues me so much I want to watch this whole overlaying thing for myself. Hopefully I can find this online somewhere.

To wrap up, I'm left with this one final thought: Could Stanley Kubrick really be that much of a genius to have intentionally planned all of these messages in his film? (Still plenty I haven't mentioned.) I think only partly. I don't disagree that he's a genius. A true master filmmaker. But I believe that this documentary more displays man's ability to find truth wherever they want. The room key symbolizing the MOON ROOM seems like a huge leap on logic to me. And to think that Kubrick intentionally planned for this movie to play forwards and backwards with one another... I mean, If he really sat down and tried to do that, I think it would make him literally go mad - not unlike Jack Torrance. I think he's a perfectionist with the camera. Always made sure shots lined up, so when played on top of one another, we'll see things fall in place in interesting positions. However, of all the myths buried in this film, I think there might be some truth to the allegories of the demise of the Native Americans. Maybe even the Holocaust. All the other imagery, the labyrinth, the power of the typewriter, the knives above Danny, various others, are intended to subconsciously invoke fear or confusion that play in concert with the haunting storyline.

One truly fascinating element that Kubrick achieved was filming the layout of the hotel. There's all these mistakes in its construction that makes it impossible for some rooms to exist. And Kubrick does all the long, continuous shots to help lead the audience around only to make them feel lost and confused. Trapped even. It's a brilliant technique that makes you feel uncomfortable that these characters are already in a world that lacks logic and normal physics. Reminiscence of the horror I felt reading House of Leaves and that strange corridor that constantly changed to the point that story's characters would spend days there lost in darkness. 

My only beef with Kubrick's genius in this film, and I know I've been rambling on for a bit here  so I'll wrap up, is that bear scene. If people remember, at the end when Wendy begins to see the hotel in all of its madness, she sees man in a bear suit giving oral to some other guy.

This makes sense in the book as King tells the story of Jack going crazy and dancing in a ballroom where all these demon are being depraved. Although it's been a while since I've read it, there might have been something directly related to a man in a bear suit. It's just weird that Kubrick would include this seeing as he departed greatly from King's novel to begin with. I mean, the labyrinth isn't even involved in the book. Plus Kubrick made many indications that he wanted nothing to do with King's original work. Even fought to keep him away from the script. So, no clue why this scene was included. And the documentary makes no mention of it.

Still, this documentary is fascinating and definitely makes me rethink my stance on Kubrick films. I may never love them in the sense of how I love Star Wars or Evil Dead, but I'm certainly going to give all of his movies another watch. Even if intentional or not, I'm excited to think I might find some new hidden messages in connection to some far off shit.