I listened to this album sometime last year actually, and didn't think very much of it. Some of the songs are pretty good, and a lot of the instrumentation is pretty subtle and effective. But much of it seemed...unnecessarily dark? I'm not someone who thinks that music should always make you feel good or anything (although when I was in college and didn't listen to music that often, I remember saying something along those lines), but I couldn't quite figure out what the point of this music was - it was moody without being very atmospheric.
Then this week, I decided to give Fugazi another shot, and listened to an earlier album, Red Medicine. This album was fun, creative, and a blast to listen to. It was still nerv-y and anxious, like the best post-punk, but it sounded like the band was having a lot more fun and wanted you to have fun too. Then I read up about the group's background in hardcore D.C. punk, and got a better idea of where they were coming from. With that knowledge, I decided to re-listen to The Argument, fully prepared to revise my opinion. But I didn't - I don't hate this music, but it still doesn't do much for me.
So why did I choose to talk about this album, instead of the one I liked? Well, good question, I guess.
It just bothers me when I fully respect the talent and craft of a bunch of musicians, but for whatever weird contextual reason can't quite get into their work. The Argument isn't really that far from Joy Division's stuff, which I love. For whatever reason, I can't listen to The Argument without wanting it to sound more like Red Medicine. I hate that.
Friday, May 30, 2014
Thursday, May 29, 2014
Hard Games - Part 2
If my last post succeeded in encouraging you to move outside your gaming comfort zone, here are some tips on how to approach tough games. What follows applies mostly to action games.*
1. Find the right game for your skill level.
Pointlessly debating what constitutes a truly difficult game is one of the pernicious ways that even well-intentioned game players fail to welcome newcomers. The truth is that most games will be hard to certain people, and that's unavoidable. I've read many game critics say that Super Mario Bros was expertly crafted to be fun and inviting, but to my wife, who didn't grow up with a controller in her hand, it can be extremely frustrating to beat the first level.
So find that game that's right for you. If you think it's hard, then don't let anyone tell you you're a wuss. If you're feeling unskilled, and you want to get some perspective, then read forums about shoot-em-ups, where no matter what obscure, brutally difficult Japanese game someone brings up, there's always someone who's beaten it on one credit and doesn't understand what the big deal is. Ah well.
2. Make a commitment.
Games are long, and they've got lots of stuff in them. So decide early on how much you want to do. If it's a real toughie, then there might be plenty of satisfaction in just beating the game. Or maybe the challenge is in the bonus levels.
An important question to ask yourself early on is how much online help you want to allow yourself. Certainly, it's a bit artificial to isolate yourself from all help, especially since most modern games are designed to support a community of active players. But be careful. While it's true that knowing tips about a game like Castlevania doesn't make it that much easier, there were exceptions. I certainly would've preferred to find out the trick about using holy water on the Grim Reaper on my own. (However, without knowing that trick I might've given up, so who knows.)
In any case, once you've set your main goal, really commit yourself to playing the game until you accomplish it. Try to play it a little bit every day, if you can. Most importantly:
3. Manage your expectations.
I can't stress this one enough. While an overarching goal is important, giving yourself timed goals is a recipe for disaster.
An example may be necessary. When I was playing Contra, most days I found myself making a little bit more progress in the game than the day before. However, there'd be days when I wouldn't make any at all, and it would be hard to justify picking up the controller at all. But without even realizing it, I was always getting better at the game, and when I did finally beat the game I could be sure that luck didn't have anything to do with it.
So the trick is being really easy to please. If I laid out for myself a plan, say to beat one level a day, or even to get farther today than yesterday, frustration would quickly mount. And whenever you find yourself really getting flustered, it's time to turn the console off.
Well that's it. Last tip: don't forget to have fun!
*Of course some of the more obtuse adventure games from the 90's (Sierra Online being the primary offender) can be just as or more difficult as action games, at least if you want to avoid online help. Perhaps one day I'll write a version of this post for adventure games, but for now I'll just say that even having played many, many adventure games over the years, I still get hopelessly stuck from time to time. That feeling's the worst.
1. Find the right game for your skill level.
Pointlessly debating what constitutes a truly difficult game is one of the pernicious ways that even well-intentioned game players fail to welcome newcomers. The truth is that most games will be hard to certain people, and that's unavoidable. I've read many game critics say that Super Mario Bros was expertly crafted to be fun and inviting, but to my wife, who didn't grow up with a controller in her hand, it can be extremely frustrating to beat the first level.
So find that game that's right for you. If you think it's hard, then don't let anyone tell you you're a wuss. If you're feeling unskilled, and you want to get some perspective, then read forums about shoot-em-ups, where no matter what obscure, brutally difficult Japanese game someone brings up, there's always someone who's beaten it on one credit and doesn't understand what the big deal is. Ah well.
2. Make a commitment.
Games are long, and they've got lots of stuff in them. So decide early on how much you want to do. If it's a real toughie, then there might be plenty of satisfaction in just beating the game. Or maybe the challenge is in the bonus levels.
An important question to ask yourself early on is how much online help you want to allow yourself. Certainly, it's a bit artificial to isolate yourself from all help, especially since most modern games are designed to support a community of active players. But be careful. While it's true that knowing tips about a game like Castlevania doesn't make it that much easier, there were exceptions. I certainly would've preferred to find out the trick about using holy water on the Grim Reaper on my own. (However, without knowing that trick I might've given up, so who knows.)
In any case, once you've set your main goal, really commit yourself to playing the game until you accomplish it. Try to play it a little bit every day, if you can. Most importantly:
3. Manage your expectations.
I can't stress this one enough. While an overarching goal is important, giving yourself timed goals is a recipe for disaster.
An example may be necessary. When I was playing Contra, most days I found myself making a little bit more progress in the game than the day before. However, there'd be days when I wouldn't make any at all, and it would be hard to justify picking up the controller at all. But without even realizing it, I was always getting better at the game, and when I did finally beat the game I could be sure that luck didn't have anything to do with it.
So the trick is being really easy to please. If I laid out for myself a plan, say to beat one level a day, or even to get farther today than yesterday, frustration would quickly mount. And whenever you find yourself really getting flustered, it's time to turn the console off.
Well that's it. Last tip: don't forget to have fun!
*Of course some of the more obtuse adventure games from the 90's (Sierra Online being the primary offender) can be just as or more difficult as action games, at least if you want to avoid online help. Perhaps one day I'll write a version of this post for adventure games, but for now I'll just say that even having played many, many adventure games over the years, I still get hopelessly stuck from time to time. That feeling's the worst.
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
Hard Games - Part 1
So I'm in the middle of Demon's Souls at the moment. When the game came out in 2009, it was lauded for being a fairly difficult game, at a time when hard games were not in vogue. Even today there are plenty of crushingly-difficult retro-inspired platformers, but nothing with the high production values of the Souls series.
Why does this matter? When I was a kid, games were expected to be tough, and for that reason I didn't beat very many of them. I finished a small minority of the Sega Genesis games I owned - only the easiest of the bunch, like Lion King or Home Alone 2. I was not a kid who persevered in the face of defeat, and I hated seeing Game Over screens. Adventure games on the PC promised a way to see more story content than those old platformers anyway. Certainly, they could be even harder, but with a walkthrough at hand, there was nothing stopping me. I love adventure games and JRPGs to this day, and I have to admit that a big part of the appeal is that outright failure is pretty rare.
Without realizing it, though, something had stuck with me about those old Genesis games. On a whim, I replayed Aladdin, an old favorite, while visiting my parent's house several years ago. This game isn't known for difficulty, but I still remember feeling shock and elation when I beat it on the first try, on hard mode no less. That feeling is extremely addictive. After buying a NES after college, I quickly conquered the early Mario and Sonic games, before tackling a few games that (in my mind, at least) constitute my greatest gaming-related achievements.
There are really two "flavors" of difficult games, which I will lazily call the Castlevania model and the Contra model.
The first and third Castlevania games have some of the hardest single moments I've ever encountered - in particular, the crushingly difficult bosses. The saving grace is that the game uses a checkpoint system with infinite continues, so that one needs to make that perfect execution only once. For that reason, there's always the feeling of slow, but inevitable progress, no matter how hard each level is. Beating those games is a great achievement, for sure, but it never felt impossible. (The first game on NES, unfortunately, didn't allow you to turn the system off without restarting, but that's due solely to regional hardware differences. I recommend the Game Boy Advance port.) This checkpoint-based model is easily the most popular today, with games like Super Meat Boy, where level playthroughs can take just a few seconds.
The individual moments in Contra are never as hard as those in Castlevania. The bosses can be tough, but they usually have recognizable patterns. The real challenge of Contra is that you have to beat the whole thing with a limited number of lives and continues. As a result, the game requires you to develop traits that are not often required in today's "angry nerd" gaming culture.
Making it most of the way through the game, only to succumb to a random and easily avoidable bullet is incredibly frustrating, if you don't learn to be patient and manage your expectations. There would be days I would play Contra and not make one whit of new progress. But surely and steadily I was getting better at the game. It's easy to discount the extraordinary sense of accomplishment I felt when I finally beat Contra as rather vacuous, but it seems clear to me that I had become a better person in the process.
This model of game is usually seen as a relic of the arcade era, but it's received something of a comeback recently with the resurgence of rogue-likes like Spelunky. Even when the levels are randomly generated, there's still plenty to be learned and memorized.
Next time I'll post a few tips for playing hard games.
Why does this matter? When I was a kid, games were expected to be tough, and for that reason I didn't beat very many of them. I finished a small minority of the Sega Genesis games I owned - only the easiest of the bunch, like Lion King or Home Alone 2. I was not a kid who persevered in the face of defeat, and I hated seeing Game Over screens. Adventure games on the PC promised a way to see more story content than those old platformers anyway. Certainly, they could be even harder, but with a walkthrough at hand, there was nothing stopping me. I love adventure games and JRPGs to this day, and I have to admit that a big part of the appeal is that outright failure is pretty rare.
Without realizing it, though, something had stuck with me about those old Genesis games. On a whim, I replayed Aladdin, an old favorite, while visiting my parent's house several years ago. This game isn't known for difficulty, but I still remember feeling shock and elation when I beat it on the first try, on hard mode no less. That feeling is extremely addictive. After buying a NES after college, I quickly conquered the early Mario and Sonic games, before tackling a few games that (in my mind, at least) constitute my greatest gaming-related achievements.
There are really two "flavors" of difficult games, which I will lazily call the Castlevania model and the Contra model.
The first and third Castlevania games have some of the hardest single moments I've ever encountered - in particular, the crushingly difficult bosses. The saving grace is that the game uses a checkpoint system with infinite continues, so that one needs to make that perfect execution only once. For that reason, there's always the feeling of slow, but inevitable progress, no matter how hard each level is. Beating those games is a great achievement, for sure, but it never felt impossible. (The first game on NES, unfortunately, didn't allow you to turn the system off without restarting, but that's due solely to regional hardware differences. I recommend the Game Boy Advance port.) This checkpoint-based model is easily the most popular today, with games like Super Meat Boy, where level playthroughs can take just a few seconds.
The individual moments in Contra are never as hard as those in Castlevania. The bosses can be tough, but they usually have recognizable patterns. The real challenge of Contra is that you have to beat the whole thing with a limited number of lives and continues. As a result, the game requires you to develop traits that are not often required in today's "angry nerd" gaming culture.
Making it most of the way through the game, only to succumb to a random and easily avoidable bullet is incredibly frustrating, if you don't learn to be patient and manage your expectations. There would be days I would play Contra and not make one whit of new progress. But surely and steadily I was getting better at the game. It's easy to discount the extraordinary sense of accomplishment I felt when I finally beat Contra as rather vacuous, but it seems clear to me that I had become a better person in the process.
This model of game is usually seen as a relic of the arcade era, but it's received something of a comeback recently with the resurgence of rogue-likes like Spelunky. Even when the levels are randomly generated, there's still plenty to be learned and memorized.
Next time I'll post a few tips for playing hard games.
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
A Fish Called Wanda (Charles Crichton, 1988)
A Fish Called Wanda is certainly a very funny movie, but why? Well, I've never been a big fan of dissecting comedies, but if I'm going to keep this blog going at such a high rate, then it seems like I'd better get used to it. So here are just a few reasons why this movie really does it for me:
1) It has a surprisingly strong plot for a farce. In fact, as a heist movie, it's not really all that different in spirit than Reservoir Dogs or even Fargo. Why does this matter? Well, a cogent narrative gives all of the ludicrous characters some sort of motive. I love Monty Python sketches as much as the next person, but by the end of Wanda I was laughing much harder than I was in Holy Grail, which feels less than the sum of its parts.
2) It has excellent one-on-one dynamics. If you look at the movie scene-by-scene, all of the best moments occur with exactly two of the four main characters, and the developing relationships give the movie quite a bit of character. The fact that John Cleese gets to behave very differently around Kevin Kline than around Jamie Lee Curtis is a great part of the fun of the movie. (And as good as Kline is in the movie, I do think that Cleese makes the whole thing work. In fact, I think this is Cleese's only great role outside of Monty Python). The only pairing that isn't really explored (outside of one very funny scene) is Cleese and Michael Palin - ironic, considering their history.
3) It's grounded (see part 1), yet much of the humor feels particularly unsafe for a movie of its era. Of course I'm referring to the various pet murdering, but also the fact that Jamie Lee Curtis gets to play such a wonderfully unrepentant seductress. I suppose she does settle down with Cleese in the end, but the ludicrous final title cards take the edge off of that a little bit by making fun of our desire for a happy ending.
1) It has a surprisingly strong plot for a farce. In fact, as a heist movie, it's not really all that different in spirit than Reservoir Dogs or even Fargo. Why does this matter? Well, a cogent narrative gives all of the ludicrous characters some sort of motive. I love Monty Python sketches as much as the next person, but by the end of Wanda I was laughing much harder than I was in Holy Grail, which feels less than the sum of its parts.
2) It has excellent one-on-one dynamics. If you look at the movie scene-by-scene, all of the best moments occur with exactly two of the four main characters, and the developing relationships give the movie quite a bit of character. The fact that John Cleese gets to behave very differently around Kevin Kline than around Jamie Lee Curtis is a great part of the fun of the movie. (And as good as Kline is in the movie, I do think that Cleese makes the whole thing work. In fact, I think this is Cleese's only great role outside of Monty Python). The only pairing that isn't really explored (outside of one very funny scene) is Cleese and Michael Palin - ironic, considering their history.
3) It's grounded (see part 1), yet much of the humor feels particularly unsafe for a movie of its era. Of course I'm referring to the various pet murdering, but also the fact that Jamie Lee Curtis gets to play such a wonderfully unrepentant seductress. I suppose she does settle down with Cleese in the end, but the ludicrous final title cards take the edge off of that a little bit by making fun of our desire for a happy ending.
Friday, May 23, 2014
Tokyo Twilight (Yasujiro Ozu, 1957)
Ozu is known for quiet films, where great emotion lingers just below the surface of Japanese politeness and pleasantries. Tokyo Twilight starts out in this vein, but the problems here are too big to stay hidden for long. The story centers on a banker Shukichi and his two daughters. The eldest daughter Takako has fled home from an abusive husband with her infant daughter. Meanwhile, the youngest, Akiko, is spending all of her time in mahjong parlors, while claiming to be studying English shorthand. (I'm very curious why this would be a topic of study, but can't find much information on the subject.) It turns out that the new owner of one of these mahjong parlors is the women's mother, who abandoned the family years ago.
Takako and Shukichi are played by Ozu veterans Setsuko Hara and Chishu Ryu. Ozu re-used the same cast members more frequently than Wes Anderson (who also shares a similar set design and choreographic aesthetic), and the biggest challenge of being an Ozu fan is in telling the different characters apart. It doesn't help, for example, that Hara plays a woman named Noriko in three consecutive films. Hara, one of the most beloved actresses of her era, is quite good in the film, but she mostly stays out of the spotlight.
It's the role of Akiko, played by the lesser-known Ineko Arima, that eventually steals the show. At first, her dead expression makes her appear to be just another disaffected adolescent, making the movie appear at first glance to be a Japanese take on Rebel Without a Cause (released just two years earlier), with pinball and street racing replaced with mahjong and pachinko. But she's hiding a shameful secret, and her self-hatred boils into some extremely intense scenes that go strongly against the Ozu stereotype.
Unfortunately, the overstated social message - in particular, an emphasis on the need for a two-parent family - probably keeps this from being a top-tier Ozu film. (I don't know enough about Ozu or Japanese society to know how important a message this was for him.) But it does have some wonderful scenes. My favorite character in this one is actually Shukichi, the father. The actor Chishu Ryu (who, astoundingly, appears in 52 out of 54 Ozu films), is famous for a mild, passive, demeanor that doesn't quite conceal the loss his characters feel. I can't think of a single American actor that compares - certainly, we have our share of stoic men, but usually there's some trace of violence in the impassivity.
The final scene is especially moving - Shukichi, having just faced a great tragedy, is preparing for another day at the office. Without any cause whatsoever, there's something optimistic about him. As he sets off, outlined against a bleak and wintry day, we are reminded, as we are constantly by Ozu, that the world always has simple pleasures for us if we're willing to look.
Takako and Shukichi are played by Ozu veterans Setsuko Hara and Chishu Ryu. Ozu re-used the same cast members more frequently than Wes Anderson (who also shares a similar set design and choreographic aesthetic), and the biggest challenge of being an Ozu fan is in telling the different characters apart. It doesn't help, for example, that Hara plays a woman named Noriko in three consecutive films. Hara, one of the most beloved actresses of her era, is quite good in the film, but she mostly stays out of the spotlight.
It's the role of Akiko, played by the lesser-known Ineko Arima, that eventually steals the show. At first, her dead expression makes her appear to be just another disaffected adolescent, making the movie appear at first glance to be a Japanese take on Rebel Without a Cause (released just two years earlier), with pinball and street racing replaced with mahjong and pachinko. But she's hiding a shameful secret, and her self-hatred boils into some extremely intense scenes that go strongly against the Ozu stereotype.
Unfortunately, the overstated social message - in particular, an emphasis on the need for a two-parent family - probably keeps this from being a top-tier Ozu film. (I don't know enough about Ozu or Japanese society to know how important a message this was for him.) But it does have some wonderful scenes. My favorite character in this one is actually Shukichi, the father. The actor Chishu Ryu (who, astoundingly, appears in 52 out of 54 Ozu films), is famous for a mild, passive, demeanor that doesn't quite conceal the loss his characters feel. I can't think of a single American actor that compares - certainly, we have our share of stoic men, but usually there's some trace of violence in the impassivity.
The final scene is especially moving - Shukichi, having just faced a great tragedy, is preparing for another day at the office. Without any cause whatsoever, there's something optimistic about him. As he sets off, outlined against a bleak and wintry day, we are reminded, as we are constantly by Ozu, that the world always has simple pleasures for us if we're willing to look.
Thursday, May 22, 2014
Wadjda (Haifaa al-Mansour, 2012)
Is it fair to criticize this movie? Not only is it the first feature film shot entirely in Saudi Arabia, by the first female Saudi director, and not only does it directly confront the travails that women face in a Sharia society, but it's also...quite good. There's no one I wouldn't recommend this movie to.
However, at the risk of sounding incredibly heartless, there is something odd that's been bothering me about Wadjda, and that is that Wadjda is clearly intended for a Western audience. Certainly, the movie is enriched in Saudi culture, with all kinds of fascinating details and insights that lift the movie well above it's admittedly cookie-cutter plot. (One absurd joke comes when the main character skins her knee after falling from her bike and cries out "I'm bleeding!" Her mother with horror immediately assumes that her virginity has been compromised.) In fact, Wadjda goes out of its way to point out all of the things about Saudi society that Westerners find so bizarre, and certainly there's no question in the director's mind that her audience will immediately identify with the scrappy and resourceful girl at the heart of the movie, no matter how much she pushes against authority. One of the oddest things about Wadjda is that as transgressive as it is (as a woman, the director had to control outdoor scenes while hidden from sight in a van), the movie looks and feels like it could have been made in Europe with a resourceful set designer.
P.S. The classic movie about kids and bikes is the italian Bicycle Thieves from 1948, which the director claims as an influence. But I think the parallels are even more striking with 2011's The Kid with a Bike, also about childhood transgression.
However, at the risk of sounding incredibly heartless, there is something odd that's been bothering me about Wadjda, and that is that Wadjda is clearly intended for a Western audience. Certainly, the movie is enriched in Saudi culture, with all kinds of fascinating details and insights that lift the movie well above it's admittedly cookie-cutter plot. (One absurd joke comes when the main character skins her knee after falling from her bike and cries out "I'm bleeding!" Her mother with horror immediately assumes that her virginity has been compromised.) In fact, Wadjda goes out of its way to point out all of the things about Saudi society that Westerners find so bizarre, and certainly there's no question in the director's mind that her audience will immediately identify with the scrappy and resourceful girl at the heart of the movie, no matter how much she pushes against authority. One of the oddest things about Wadjda is that as transgressive as it is (as a woman, the director had to control outdoor scenes while hidden from sight in a van), the movie looks and feels like it could have been made in Europe with a resourceful set designer.
P.S. The classic movie about kids and bikes is the italian Bicycle Thieves from 1948, which the director claims as an influence. But I think the parallels are even more striking with 2011's The Kid with a Bike, also about childhood transgression.
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
To Be Kind (Swans, 2014)
What did we as a species do to deserve another two-hour dark and punishing album from Swans in just two years? Whatever it is, I hope we keep doing it.
The music itself in this one is just as good, and there are some really awesome tracks I can't wait to re-listen to. The obvious difference to my ears is that Gira's vocals sound much wilder and unconstrained in this one. If we take the title of The Seer literally, to be about some sort of dark future-telling cult, then To Be Kind sounds a bit like they've gotten into gyromancy.
I mentioned that The Seer seemed to be devoid of punk influences. Well, there are definitely shades of Public Image in this one, what with all of the Dadaist lyrics. Also, counter to the title, there are some especially cruel moments in this album. "I need loooove," yells Gira in "I'm Just a Little Boy," and we hear derisive laughter in response. In fact, "love" might be the most common word in To Be Kind, which makes me wonder whether John Lennon might actually be the most important influence here.
The music itself in this one is just as good, and there are some really awesome tracks I can't wait to re-listen to. The obvious difference to my ears is that Gira's vocals sound much wilder and unconstrained in this one. If we take the title of The Seer literally, to be about some sort of dark future-telling cult, then To Be Kind sounds a bit like they've gotten into gyromancy.
I mentioned that The Seer seemed to be devoid of punk influences. Well, there are definitely shades of Public Image in this one, what with all of the Dadaist lyrics. Also, counter to the title, there are some especially cruel moments in this album. "I need loooove," yells Gira in "I'm Just a Little Boy," and we hear derisive laughter in response. In fact, "love" might be the most common word in To Be Kind, which makes me wonder whether John Lennon might actually be the most important influence here.
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