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Πέμπτη 11 Απριλίου 2013

Next vacation, how about a nice hotel?

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For some 30 years now, small clusters of movie teenagers have made the journey to various cabins in various woods. The return ratio for such trips is one surviving, bloodied, traumatized, hospitalized teenager for every 10 dead friends left behind. And the ratio of entertaining, original movies about attractive young people and the hideous monsters that stalk them is about the same. For every clever remake or freshly twisted spin, there are innumerable gore fests with nothing original to say.



Hello, "Evil Dead," 2013 edition.



This isn't a strict remake of Sam Raimi's hugely influential 1981 horror classic, but it does include the basic framework and some visual nods to the original. On its own, it's an irredeemable, sadistic torture chamber reveling in the bloody, cringe-inducing deaths of some of the stupidest people ever to spend a rainy night in a remote cabin in the woods.



Shiloh Fernandez is the dull and dimwitted David, who returns to the family's old cabin along with his new girlfriend, Natalie (Elizabeth Blackmore); his former childhood friends Eric (Lou Taylor Pucci) and Olivia (Jessica Lucas), and his little sister, Mia (Jane Levy). Even before we learn Mia's trying to kick smack, we know this kid has problems because she's got a bit of a goth look going, she believes in the spirit world, and she likes to sketch.



Like most cabins in the woods, this cabin in the woods seems to be miles away from any other cabins or any signs of life. Gee, the family must have had a blast there, especially with Mom battling insanity, and Dad — well, we never hear about Dad.



Within a few hours, the dog finds a blood-covered trap door leading to a basement filled with strung-up cat carcasses and a book of evil curses. Soon after that, Mia starts having visions and speaking in a demonic voice. Yet these morons stay put. (When they finally do try to leave, there's a conveniently biblical-style rainstorm flooding the exit road.)



Olivia's a registered nurse, but she doesn't seem smart enough to know how to register for Google Plus. Eric, who for some reason is groomed and dressed as if he'd just come back from a Kurt Cobain look-alike contest, opens a book that says "leave this book alone" and starts reciting a chant that should never be recited. Geez, whose idea was it to invite Eric on this trip?



Enter the she-bitch from hell, who's possessing Mia and intent on offing everyone in sight in the most disgusting, prolonged manner possible. Cue the ominous score, the cheap scares and the increasingly moronic behavior by David and his dunderheaded friends. The gore factor goes all the way to 11, with admittedly impressive makeup and special effects. Over the course of a rainy night that seems like it'll never end, we're treated to multiple scenes of projectile vomiting, dozens of nail-gun shots penetrating flesh and bone, black ooze and blood everywhere, dismemberment and stabbings. All shown in excruciating detail.



Save for a few darkly funny one-liners, there's almost no wicked humor here, and there's certainly nothing original about the plot. The actors do a pretty fair job of conveying terror, but the characters they're playing are such one-dimensional idiots, you begin rooting for the demonic she-bitch from hell to take 'em out.



I love horror films that truly shock, scare and provoke. But after 30 years of this stuff, I'm bored to death and sick to death of movies that seem to have one goal: How can we gross out the audience by torturing nearly every major character in the movie?

Παρασκευή 5 Απριλίου 2013

The Time Roger Ebert Dismissed Video Games and What Happened Next


Thumbs up for video games!Acknowledgment of Roger Ebert’s passing today
isn’t reserved to film buffs. His death is being noted by the
video game
press
, thanks to some comments by the movie critic that
inspired defensiveness among gamers but also introspection within
the industry.


Ebert famously (among gamers anyway) declared “Video games can
never be art,” subsequently explaining and defending his position
in a
blog post
at the Chicago Sun-Times in 2010. He
grappled with the always elusive definition of art and what has
become these days an elusive definition of what constitutes a
“game.” He concluded:



Why are gamers so intensely concerned, anyway, that games be
defined as art? Bobby Fischer, Michael Jordan and Dick Butkus never
said they thought their games were an art form. Nor did Shi Hua
Chen, winner of the $500,000 World Series of Mah Jong in 2009. Why
aren't gamers content to play their games and simply enjoy
themselves? They have my blessing, not that they care.


Do they require validation? In defending their gaming against
parents, spouses, children, partners, co-workers or other critics,
do they want to be able to look up from the screen and explain,
"I'm studying a great form of art?" Then let them say it, if it
makes them happy.



His attitude didn’t resolve the debate. That one blog post
garnered nearly 5,000 comments. A couple months later he
addressed the matter again
, admitting that it was unfair of him
to judge a medium in part because he personally was not interested
in engaging in it. He preferred books and movies. He didn’t want to
play video games.


And yet, despite his lack of interest in the medium, the medium
was still very interested in his thoughts. Ebert’s comments

inspired a session
at the annual Game Developers Conference in
2011. “Are video games art?” and “Can video games be art?”
are topics endlessly debated among gaming enthusiasts and
creators.



Ebert ultimately, accidentally, symbolized the engagement gap
between Baby Boomers and younger generations in the role of video
games in culture. It’s a fascinating rift because, really, Baby
Boomers invented video games. But very few early video
games ever aspired to anything as fancy as being “art.” Until the
development of the adventure game genre they hardly even had what
could be called a story.


Ebert could be excused for his ignorance of what has come since
then in much the same way as a young millennial could be oblivious
to the role of Motown on the development of the popular music we
still listen to today. The expansion of video games from a hobby to
a subculture to simply part of our culture — like every other
form of entertainment — happened through Generation X and is now
being passed along to subsequent generations. Baby Boomers just
weren’t culturally connected to it. Ebert couldn’t include video
games as art because video games didn’t include him and thus it
inspires no connection. It’s nobody’s fault. Definitions of art are
not timeless and rigid. Ebert himself acknowledged it and struggled
to come up with a definition that would explain why video games
should be omitted, but not other artistic endeavors, like
music.


What’s happening now is that the children who grew up on video
games are now the ones running the industry and have a cultural
interest in creating a lasting legacy. Ebert’s observations were a
challenge to them, whether he realized it or not. Generation X is
defined in part by video games. Games have as much meaning to many
of them as rock music and Motown did for Baby Boomers. The
defensiveness and insistence of gamers and the gaming industry
about elevating this culture into an art form may well be
subconsciously based on the knowledge that games are what Gen. X
will be primarily remembered for years down the line.