American Horror Story - Disappointingly conventional television

A few weeks ago I wrote a post praising FX's American Horror Story for is unique and bold take on serialised television based on its pilot episode. Since writing that piece, however, I have completed the remainder of the series and unfortunately must report that the success of the pilot is not mirrored in subsequent episodes.

American Horror Story isn't a complete disaster, but it does shoot itself in the foot quite spectacularly. The most glaring error made by the show is that, beginning with episode two, it starts to humanise its spirits and ghouls. A large number of the twelve episodes open with a flashback which depicts the way in which a previous occupant of the house came to their grizzly end. These flashbacks serve one of two purposes, they either add a new spook to terrorise the house's current occupants or explain the existence of an already present ghost. This makes sense in terms of the way serial dramas traditionally flesh out a large number of characters in order to fill many hours of screen time. However in this case the show fails to understand one of the key aspects of horror: we fear what we do not understand. The second we know that one of the ghosts is merely a poor former occupant who was tragically murdered, they lose their scare factor. They are not necessarily malevolent, just tragic characters stuck in limbo. After the pilot episode American Horror Story rapidly loses its brilliant sense of the surreal and steadily slips into the conventional.

The other way the show trips up is by introducing a "rule" about halfway through the series. The rule is, if a spirit is terrorising you, all you need to do is close your eyes and tell it to "go away" and it will disappear. Yep that's right, every single ounce of threat that was left in our increasingly humanised spirits is instantly destroyed by uttering two words. Sure it serves as one of the ways to rationalise why this family would continue living in such a (literal?) hell hole, but it comes at too costly a price. As an audience we simply do not feel as though our protagonists are in any form of danger. The tension is sucked from the show and suddenly it all becomes a bit dull.

The combined effect of these developments is that as the season progresses its ability to frighten diminishes. That's not to say it's all bad. There are some dramatic arcs that are compelling and work to hook you in, and there are even a few plot developments late in the series that are quite impressive. However, as a whole, it's just not enough. It is disappointing to see a show that premiered feeling genuinely bold and actually frightening devolve into such a scare-free affair.

The Clone Wars - Star Wars done right

OK, so this post is going to expose my inner nerd.

This week Simon Pegg announced on his Twitter feed that he will be voicing the character of Dengar in upcoming episodes of The Clone Wars animated series. I had never watched the program having written it off as nothing more than a cheap cash in aimed at selling new toys to young children. Hell, the three prequel films were cartoony enough, why would I want to subject myself to something that would surely fall even further into silly slap-stick comedy and kids exclaiming "yippee!"? But Simon Pegg was willing to be involved? OK, maybe it's not that bad? In fact Pegg even tweeted that he chose to star in The Clone Wars as it is "making Star Wars cool again, twenty minutes at a time."

That was all the endorsement I needed. I dived in. Admittedly the first episode didn't inspire much confidence. It featured Yoda and a bunch of clone troopers facing off against a platoon of droids. Nothing atrocious, but I was in no way blown away. However episode two really impressed me. It featured a nail-biting rescue sequence set amongst the debris of a destroyed spaceship. A small escape pod desperately attempting to remain unnoticed by a droid ship that was making it's way through the wreckage, slaughtering any survivors. Yep, killing survivors. Sure it wasn't in any way graphic (though we do see dead bodies) but what is important is that it lead to a palpable sense of danger for our protagonists. Something sorely lacking in the prequels.

My point is, The Clone Wars seems to understand what Lucas clearly forgot when making the prequel trilogy. Suspense is everything. Sure, The Clone Wars is a cartoon aimed at quite a young demographic, but it still understands how to build tension and create drama. If you can overlook the hammy writing and sometimes clunky voice acting, there is a great little show to be found here. Stylistically beautiful and narratively captivating. Perhaps Simon Pegg was right, The Clone Wars really is making Star Wars cool again, twenty minutes at a time.

Rant: Source Code - Frustratingly overrated

This post contains major plot spoilers for Source Code.

Lately I have been catching up on the Slate Spoiler Special podcasts, going through the backlog of episodes and listening to opinions on older films which where either controversial or - at least in my eyes - overrated. Today I listened to their take on Duncan Jones' sophomore effort Source Code.

I distinctly remember seeing this film upon its theatrical release. I had been anticipating it for some time as I was a huge fan of Jones' previous film Moon. On the day it opened I rushed to the cinema with my girlfriend at the time and a group of work colleagues. Upon exiting the film I distinctly remember being the only person in the group who didn't like it. They all seemed completely satisfied with everything the film presented. Hell, one of my friends even claimed it may be one of the best films he had ever seen. I was dumbfounded. Had we seen the same film? Because the Source Code I saw was full of plot holes and huge inconsistencies within its own internal logic.

To make things worse on the train ride home I tried to explain the issues I had with the film to my girlfriend. She loved the film and after I attempted to argue my case things got a little heated and she claimed that I just didn't "get" it as I didn't understand quantum theory and the concept of branching realities (now I don't pretend to be an expert on such matters but I sure as hell have enough of an understanding to "get" the plot of a Hollywood film!). Needless to say that was not at all the problem with the film and she is indeed now my ex-girlfriend.

I found this series of events infuriating, and the myriad of positive reviews the film seemed to receive only exacerbated my frustration. Eventually I chose to forget the film. I moved on and simply refrained from recommending the film to any friends or colleagues. Until today, when I decided to listen to the Spoiler Special for the film. And boy was I pleased to hear them tear the film apart.

The Slate guys had the exact same issues with the film I did. Namely that the internal logic simply does not make sense. Basically for those who are unfamiliar with the film, a bomb destroys a packed train and the authorities are trying to figure out who the bomber is before he destroys a new target. An army Sargent named Colter is then given access to a program named Source Code which allows him to inhabit the body of one of the passengers on the train for a period of eight minutes before the bomb is detonated. Repeatedly Source Code tells its audience that when Colter is on board the train for these eight minutes - in which he must identify the bomber - that it is not time travel. Essentially the logic that the film lays out is that after death the brain is still active for eight minutes, so the military has recovered a passenger that was on board the train and are (somehow) able to give the consciousness of Colter access to that eight minutes of memory in order to try and figure out who the bomber is.

So there is essentially no time travel taking place. All Sgt Colter is doing is repeatedly reliving the last eight minutes of a dead man's memory. Now this alone proves problematic as when Colter is reliving this memory he is inexplicably able to visit places that Sean, the bomb victim, could never have seen. He interacts with other passengers and generally gleans new information that could never have been found in the memory of his "host". This may seem nitpicky, but it just goes to underline the inherent flaws in the reality presented by Source Code.

Then on top of all this, at the film's end, Colter is able to stop the bombing and for some unknown reason exist within Sean's body after the eight minutes has expired. What the fuck?! Suddenly the film completely changes tack and suggests that Colter has indeed traveled back in time and is now existing in a alternate reality where the bombing never happened. Though bizarrely he still inhabits the body of Sean, which begs the question, what happened to poor Sean's consciousness if his body is now being controlled by Colter??

These questions infuriated me. How could Jones, the man responsible for the subtle and intelligent Moon, have left such glaring holes in the logic of this film? It is actually quite incredible how many inconsistencies emerge in Source Code's second half. Frustrating doesn't begin to describe it. Particularly as the beginning of the film holds so much promise. Perhaps I should write it off to studio interference? Or maybe Moon was just a fluke? I guess I'll just have to wait for his next effort before I can make a call. Though in the mean time I might just re-listen to the Spoiler Special podcast. There was something supremely cathartic about finally hearing someone who shares my opinion of the film.

The Artist - Silence as gimmick

This post contains plot spoilers for The Artist.

A  few nights ago The Artist cleaned up the this years Academy Awards ceremony. Hardly a surprise as the majority of the press had it pegged as the favourite. And it's easy to see why. It's an undeniably charming little film. It's central story of an silent film actor's fall from grace thanks to the introduction of the "talkie" into Hollywood is endearing, and the romantic subplot that develops is crowd-pleasingly sweet.

I was not immune to it's charms either. For the most part it is a delightful piece of cinema. I was completely along for the ride, that was, until the end. The climax of the film sees our hero George Valentin finally agree to do a new film which sees him tap dancing away in a musical number. Ok, that's a nice way to end the film.  Over the course of the plot we have followed  George as he stubbornly refuses to embrace the introduction of sound into film. His pride is his downfall, and we watch on as he gradually slips into poverty. But in the end our protagonist finally overcomes his crippling self pride and finds a "talkie" he is willing to participate in. Everybody wins.

That is until the sound continues after the musical number is complete and inexplicably we hear George speak, his words emerging in a thick French accent. Turns out he wasn't a stubborn actor who refused to embrace a new technology. He just couldn't speak fluent English. Turns out that the studio executives didn't write him off as a has-been, they just needed someone who spoke English for their talkies. The "twist" also plays as cutesy. Suddenly giving the world diagetic sound as our hero charmingly speaks his lines in a thick accent. Isn't that adorable?

No. It undermines the entire narrative of the film. And not only that, it turns what at first seemed like a loving devotion and respect to the silent roots of cinema into nothing more than a set up for a cute punchline. As a result the film comes off, not as sincere, but as gimmicky. Admitedly this revel is somewhat forshadowed by a dream seuqence in which George (and inexplicably the audience) begins to hear the sound of his glass as he places it down on the table. This monment is indeed cringeworthy, but as it has little ramification it can be easily overlooked. The finale however, damages the film as a whole. The Artist is still a fun film, I still enjoyed myself. Hell, I'm even keen to see it again. I just wish Michel Hazanavicius had been more in love with silent cinema, and less in love with making The Artist cute and clever, because it was both those things to begin with. It didn't need a gimmick. 

American Horror Story - Surprisingly bold television

I started watching the recent FX series American Horror Story this week. I've always been a bit of a horror fan and upon hearing relatively good reviews I figured that it would be a fun way to fill the hole left by the first season of the excellent Downton Abbey.

I wasn't disappointed. At least not with the first episode. American Horror Story is a strange beast indeed. Not at all what I expected. The series pilot is a giddy exercise in excess. The episode opens with a flashback to the 1970s in which a preteen handicapped girl eerily tells two young redheaded twin boys that they will die in the creepy house they are about to enter in order to retrieve their wayward baseball. Surely a prime time TV show wouldn't kill two young children in its opening sequence. Right?

Wrong. They die. Brutally.

And that's just the beginning. We are then treated to a deliciously disturbing opening title sequence, very reminiscent of Fincher's Se7en, except here tinged with hints of the supernatural. Following the titles the show hits the ground running and over the remaining forty minutes we are relentlessly assaulted with a barrage of creepy imagery, some more successful than others, but the show screams forward at such a pace that there is barely a chance to think about what you have just witnessed before the next ghoulish image is splashed across the screen.

And this is what I loved about the pilot. There is simply so much craziness thrown at the audience that the show begins to take on a surreal, Lynchian atmosphere. American Horror Story presents a world that is spatially and temporally fractured. Nothing seems to fit, you are never sure how much time is passing. It's full of jump cuts, crash zooms and off kilter camera angles. Yes it's brash and silly. But if you roll with it you will be rewarded with one of the loopiest, most fun television pilots I've seen in years.

The downside however is that I have since watched the next four or five episodes and the giddy insanity doesn't quite hold up. American Horror Story has begun to morph into a more conventional television serial. That's not to say there isn't any fun to be had, there is. It just lacks the crazy surrealism of the pilot. The spooky creatures are becoming fleshed out characters, which unfortunately also renders them less frightening. The jarring, choppy structure too has begun to fade into a more conventional passage of time which again lessens the show's creepiness.

Having said that I do plan to keep watching. American Horror Story is a bold and unique show. It's certainly not afraid to go places most shows would never dream of going. Admittedly the strategy of the creators seems to be to throw as many scares at the audience as possible and assume at least some will stick. But luckily, some usually do. And I for one am keen to know where this show will go and what it will become.

Plus I need to know what's up with the weird haunted leather gimp suit.

The Adventures of Tintin - Cinematic fun

I've been hearing and reading quite a bit of negative feedback for the new film The Adventures of Tintin, particularly from US viewers. For some this may be expected. After all Tintin is not a name very familiar outside of Europe. However after having seen the film I find this lack of support for the film in the States surprising. I loved the film for a number of reasons, and none of them had anything to do with prior knowledge of the Tintin name. Sure I'd heard of Tintin before, I think I read a comic or two in primary school, but I would in no way consider myself a fan of the series. Yet the film still worked for me. And here is why:

Unbridled Creativity - This is Steven Spielberg's first foray into animation. And you can feel it... in a good way. It's like suddenly he has pulled out all the stops, anything is possible. Swooping cameras, beautifully unique (and even surreal) scene transitions, exciting, death defying chaotic action. It's all there in spades. You can just feel how much fun Spielberg is having in every frame of this film. He is like a gleeful kid getting to play in an amazing new toy box with amazing new possibilities. And it's infectious.

Darker Tone - Ok, so this is no Munich, but it certainly features a tone darker than I was expecting. People get shot. People die. Hell, there is even blood! This film is, in many ways, more violent than Spielberg's previous outing, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, was. And while I'm in no way trying to suggest that violence alone makes a film good, in an adventure film such as this, the threat of violence is what raises the stakes and generates the excitement. It's thrilling when there is a legitimate threat that your lead character may be maimed (lets be honest, we all know Tintin won't actually die).

More Indy than Indy - Expanding on that last point, this film in many ways really does feel like Spielberg is atoning for Crystal Skull. Now it is an animated film based on a children's comic. It's no Temple of Doom. But it is exciting. It's action packed. And most importantly it's fun. The plot may not quite be up to Raiders standards either, but once the initial contrivance that sparks the adventure has passed there is a rollicking good time to be had.

Captain Haddock - In many ways this film is the story of captain Haddock. And that's a good thing as he is amazing. He provides both the comic relief and the pathos. He is the heart of the film and I'm convinced that one of the key reasons (if not the key reason) why he works is Andy Serkis. The man is a genius.

The most important thing about The Adventures of Tintin however is that it's fun. It is a gleeful ride of a film, both narritively and stylistically. And you don't need to be a Tintin fan to love that. 

The traveling gamer

So I am currently travelling. I have been so for over 6 months now. And while travelling I have been listening to many gaming podcasts. This is great for keeping up with current discussions and news, however the the downside is that it really is making me miss gaming.

I've been trying to do a little gaming when I can, mainly on my iPhone. I recently picked up Ghost Trick for iOS which is amazing, and I'm still somewhat addicted to Tiny Tower. But I still long for my 360. I'm dying to sink my teeth into Batman: Arkham City, Dark Souls and Skyrim. I want to plant myself on a comfy couch and get lost in a game for hours on end.

Then I had a revelation. I got back from a 9 day trek in the Himalayas with an injured knee and ankle and was confined to my hotel room. Before long I got through Ghost Trick and was out of new podcasts to listen to. Then I remembered that I had my DS buried deep in my backpack which I had not yet played during my travels. I dug it out and looked at the cartridges I had with me. To my delight there was The Legend of Zelda: Phantom Hourglass sitting snug in it's little pouch. Back in 2007 I started the game but gave up due to the repetition. But it is a different story now. I didn't have a pile of games I need to play. I  didn't have a job I need to go to. I literally had nothing but time. Hell, a little repetition sounded like a good thing.

I boot the game up and start fresh. And you know what, this may be the most enjoyable experience I've had with a Zelda title. The key to this is that I didn't rush. I didn't feel like I just needed to smash through the core story line. I took my time. I explored. I spoke to the townsfolk. I hunted for treasure. I explored new islands. And I loved it. I finished the game last night and am a little sad that it's over. It's a valuable lesson I've learned. I need to take my time. It may be hard when I have a huge backlog of titles leering at me. But what's the point of blasting through a game if I don't enjoy it?

When I do finally get my 360 and my comfy couch I'm totally sinking 100+ hours into Skyrim.