Thursday, 11 May 2017

Alien: Covenant Review

The Alien series is on balance, as much about creation as it is about destruction. Prometheus attempted to steer the narrative away from genre archetypes that previous films relied on, instead focusing on Scott’s pet topic of man’s origin. The result of the attempt to square the history of the franchise against this new direction means that the overarching narrative has now reached MCU levels of baffling, with its twisted self-referential story, and a repetition of certain formulaic elements.

Alien: Covenant falls foul of these issues, ultimately robbing itself of any purpose as it is simply a stepping stone for a larger story. The film opens with Weyland (Guy Pearce) having a portentous conversation about mankind and their legacy with his uncanny artificial son (Michael Fassbender). We then skip forward to see a later android model, Walter (also Fassbender), attempting to correct a failure that threatens the lives of the cryogenically frozen colonists on the titular ship.

The disaster takes out the ship’s captain, who is also the husband of this film’s female centrepiece, Daniels. Katherine Waterston handles the central role well, largely playing up to the role created by Weaver’s Ripley - one of the many elements of previous films that are needlessly referenced. The crew are littered with famous faces like Danny McBride’s Tennessee and Billy Crudup’s Oram who both cause friction as their respective camaraderie and faith clash with their responsibilities, ostensibly justifying the rash decisions various members make later on.

Scott’s handling of pacing is tight, and the framing often beautiful as the planet's lush, harsh scenery lends a more feral slant to proceedings. The action that commences at planet fall is a heady mix of dread, gleeful body horror and abrupt violence. A cloaked stranger eventually rescues the crew and leads them to a desolate ruin which is a mix of the hellscapes of Bosch and the ruins of Pompeii, littered with allusions to DorĂ©'s art for Paradise Lost.

It’s clear that these classical references are not just skin deep, with a meeting between synthetic brothers allowing Michael Fassbender to dip his toe into some delightful thespian onanism over the meaning of existence. David teaches Walter how to play the flute (coming dangerously close to Bacall’s famous “you know how to whistle, don’t you Steve?”) and the pair batter through a bevy of aphorisms and other ostentatious literary quotations.

There's no doubt that these sequences are the best the film has to offer outside of its inventive body horror, and exploring the motivations and the character of David are the real guts of the film. The film's original title of Paradise Lost comes into play not only with evocation of that famous artwork, but also in David's close ties to Lucifer. The sequence between Weyland and David sets up the android as instantly frustrated with his master's inferiority and his implied subservience, and a flashback that shows David arriving in the Engineer ship and bombing them with the weaponised virus ends with a shot of him looking every bit the part of the angel cast out of heaven.

It's clear from the trajectory of Prometheus and Covenant that David is Scott's main focus, and his interest in the character shows. Plenty of time is spent exploring how he has been entertaining himself for the past decade, and its clear that he is enacting the role of the renaissance man, sketching his surroundings and cataloguing the planet like Da Vinci. His explorations extend further than simple cataloguing however, and he uses the rich Eden of the Engineer's planet to continue his experiments with the xenomorph virus, ultimately attempting to create the purest lifeform he can, in the hopes of taming it and surpassing his creators aspiration.

As with Prometheus, the theme of the fall of man is mused on heavily, with the planet acting as a spoiled Eden, ruined by a single infraction. Walter suggests to David that one note out of order can send a whole symphony crashing down, and it’s a line that lingers in the mind long after the film. Does it fully justify some of the baffling decisions made by members of the crew or is it just a reference that’s specific to android’s battle of wits?

Scott makes it hard to tell as so much of Covenant is retreading old ground. A tense and well choreographed action sequence between Daniels and the Alien (the real deal this time, not the Neomorphs of act one) subverts the conventions by being set in broad daylight, on top of a speeding mining platform to great effect.  A final act twist involving the identical androids is rendered moot by its inevitability, and an inability to do anything more interesting in the last few moments than repeat the same finale that the rest of the series has traded on for over 30 years.

There's definitely a greater desire to play with the DNA of the series on show here in places, but Scott is slowing this evolution down by resting on a handful of the same formulaic elements. By the time the film ends, it never really feels like it has accomplished anything beyond a few stand out thrills, and some piece moving that sees David returned to the flock.

Now that the Alien itself has been defanged through its constant overuse, and the ability to suspend disbelief at yet another crew of corporate bodies being devoured by the horrors of birth and capitalism is feeling besieged, the series needs to pull something special out of its kit to reinvigorate itself, lest it succumb to the same hubris that consumed Weyland.

Thursday, 8 December 2016

Hyper Light Drifter Review

The opening scenes of Hyper Light Drifter are straight from the playbook of the early days of Anime on Western shores; Incomprehensible scenes of foreboding prophecy accompany a blast of light and disintegrating titans before a hint of story is teased: a white crystal just out of reach; encroaching inky tendrils; an devilish obsidian presence. An undisclosed amount of time later your charmingly animated avatar wakes up in a pastel world and staggers around with a distorted cough, hacking up pools of lurid blood. Where Hyper Light Drifter and those Anime broadcasts part ways is that the former is a complete and supposedly focused artefact, whilst the latter were often confusingly repackaged or unfinished articles. The reason their stories so often felt loose and disconnected were because they literally were, either through the lack of a second series or the mistranslation of script issues.

Tuesday, 29 November 2016

100 Really Great Games That I Love For Various Reasons

A forum I post on proposed a thread where we list our top 100 games. There were no rules, or restrictions, it was just a free for all where we could mix quality with nostalgia. I decided to write a few descriptions why for each game, because it seemed like a fun thing to do, but partly because I really like Tevis Thompson's Game Review Drabbles anddoing something similar felt like a fairly creative challenge. I don't care if I have avoided "the best" in a series, I have not played every game in existence, and to be honest that isn't what this list is about.

Monday, 21 December 2015

The Musical Counterpoint of Final Fantasy VII

This year, the Final Fantasy VII remake was announced as a real, actually going to happen thing, and lo, did the people rejoice. I decided to play it for the first time in well over a decade, to see if it lived up in any way to my lofty childhood/teenage memories. It was, in all honesty, a mixed bag. In short it was easier than I remembered, more tonally disparate than I was able to understand as a youngster, and wonkier in many other ways: those hideous mini game mechanics made my head shudder. The one thing that anchored it to my grand memories was the story - not its characters - and the counterpoint that the superlative music formed to that.

Before I carry on, I’ll point out that I’m working off Michel Chion’s idea of musical counterpoint - the notion that earlier film theorists rather wrong headedly adapted the word ‘counterpoint’ when they actually meant ‘dissonant harmony’. For Chion, the former term arranges music in parallel with the visual, the latter represents the juxtaposition between image and sound. Nobuo Uematsu’s virtuoso score form such a unique and deep counterpoint to the themes and visuals in FFVII, that it ensures it will forever stand the test of time. It works so well in fact, that I think the all the missals of praise directed towards the relevance and poignancy of the game can almost be entirely laid to rest at the feet of these compositions.

Wednesday, 23 September 2015

The Ambition of Absence in MGSV: The Phantom Pain

This entire post is a spoiler, as it analyses themes and concepts in MGSV that hinge upon a pivotal moment that will not be apparent to players who have not cleared all of the missions in the main story. Please proceed with caution.

Update: This article is also available as a video on youtube, if you'd prefer to digest it that way.

Wednesday, 24 December 2014

A Top 5

The Best of The Year(s)
We've all got the internet so all of our opinions are now Objective Fact, fuelled by hubris and recorded forever - a moment’s subjectivity crystalised in data for as long as Google pay their bills - remaining long after we've even forgotten why we arbitrarily decided to quantify things by year of release. I can't even remember what I did in July, so why bother? Future civilisations will hire cyber-archaeologists to pick over the sediment of the net and try and figure out why we were so obsessed with listing things in order, and they’ll teach nascent beings the ways of their forebearers, strange meaty things that had to interface with the internet through physical terminals, desperate to leave an edifying comment about each year: “Really, 2014 was a great year for film…”

That’s all inevitable. It shall come to pass. But until then, we’re stuck with listing things to make us feel like we have some worth, some meaning when weighed against the monolithic indifference of the universe, heat death, the inexorable march of time, etc

In celebration, here is a list of the five best things I did this year. They aren't even constrained by punitive concepts such as "dates". Instead, here is my clawing on the cave walls of the digital world. One day they’ll all mean nothing, but in the moment they really spoke to me.

Saturday, 12 July 2014

Infinite Jest and The Sopranos: Annular and Eliptical

There are spoilers ahead, but i'll key you in to the knowledge that I knew all of these spoilers before undertaking any of the Fmega-works, and it didn't hamper my enjoyment of either of them, perhaps that's the point i'm trying to make in the end, about how these stories work, and what they mean to me.

That said, pertinent plot details of Infinite Jest, The Sopranos and Gravity's Rainbow are discussed.