32 years ago today, I was born in Vancouver General Hospital, after what I've been told was a long and painful labour. I was in no hurry, apparently. It's good to see some things haven't changed.
Birthdays are funny things.
They're so arbitrary, for one. If you think about it, we're 'always' aging. It's not as if all of a sudden on this one magical day your body gets 365 days' worth of wrinkles or loses 365 days' worth of hair (Curse you, Male Pattern Baldness!).
I think the main purpose of a birthday (aside from presents and cake, obviously) is personal reflection. When we're younger we tend to look ahead (ie. "Only five more years until I can legally drink!", "Only two more years until college!" etc.) but as we grow older the parabola warps and all of a sudden we find ourselves looking back more ("Man, I totally would've hit that if I were ten years younger" or "I once drank 18 beers in one night - if I tried that now, I'd literally die."). By the time you reach the end of the line, almost the entire process is spent looking back - I can't imagine one's 90th birthday is spent looking ahead to the 91st.
I tend to get maudlin as my birthday approaches. I don't handle growing older with particular aplomb, I'll admit that. I've been making jokes as of late regarding how I'm 'so old' and can 'feel the darkness approaching'. Some of that is just bullshit, certainly, but a lot of it was rooted in the very real fear that I'm now firmly entrenched in the middle third of my lifespan. Any illusions I had that I was still a 'young adult' have been thrown right out the window. I have a wife now. Bills, car insurance, I'm saving to buy a condo for cripe's sake. I can't just torch off half my paycheque at the arcade (though sometimes I'd love to). My life is changing ... and I don't handle change particularly well.
What seems like years ago now, I was stuck in a rut the size of the Marianas Trench. I was happy, I guess, but I didn't have much purpose. I was delivering pizzas for a living. Honest work, sure, but I'm pretty sure there's a picture of the Pizza Hut guy on Wikipedia on the page for 'Dead End Jobs'. I needed a jolt from a friend of mine, who told me to leave my McJob, get off my ass and come work with him. I did and because I was fortunate enough to have dominoes fall the right way, I've now got a good job that pays reasonably well, with people I like. Never underestimate the potential value of job satisfaction.
A few weeks ago, I needed another kick in the pants - but the aforementioned friend has now moved halfway across the country (*sob*), so I had to do it myself (Don't ask *how* I managed to kick myself in the ass - I'm fairly certain I pulled something and I don't want to talk about it). I had ballooned a bit and weighed more than I had ever weighed before, I loped around the apartment like a three-toed sloth, I was grumpy and almost completely inactive. The closest I came to exercise was picking my SixAxis controller off the entertainment center. I wasn't happy. So I decided to make a change. I promptly (and without warning - so much so that I shocked my wife when I announced it) cut out soda and fast food and started playing basketball again. My thought process was thus: My main issue with 'exercise' was that it too often felt like work. Why would I want to do that on my time off? But if you're playing a sport (like basketball, say, or tennis), you're getting exercise, it's fun, plus you can bet on all sorts of different things (Everything Is More Fun When You Gamble). So far the results have been both obvious (I'm a little slimmer and have more energy) and *not* so obvious (I have more money in my pocket - seriously, who knew I was spending so much on Coca-Cola?). Originally, I thought it might mark the onset of an early-midlife crisis, this weird obsession to pick up a basketball again. In truth, however, my birthday was used as a rallying point. I wanted to do some maintenance before the calendar rolled over. Like a New Year's Resolution, but hopefully not with the same outcome (abandoned by February - or in my case, September).
I think it's safe to say that my life at 32 isn't what I envisioned it to be when I was twenty or even twenty-five. That's not to say that's a bad thing. I have a decent job, a wife, a novel on-the-go, two cats and a savings account (with money in it and everything!).
32 is a tough number to get a handle on. It's divisible by four, which is notoriously bad luck in Chinese culture, but it's also divisible by eight, which is tremendously *good* luck in that same culture. It's an even number, but since it doesn't have a '0' on the end, it somehow feels less milestone-y (is that a word? Well it is now.).
They say you're only as old as you feel. Well, today I feel 32. And I guess I'm all right with that.
What I'm Reading: Batman - Hush
What I'm Playing: Infamous 2 for PS3
Monday, 1 August 2011
Tuesday, 26 July 2011
Crazy, Stupid, Love
Crazy, Stupid, Love is unique in the realm of romantic comedies in that it doesn’t open with a meet-cute, or ‘wacky hijinks’ – it opens, in fact, with a break-up, as 44-year old Cal (Steve Carell) splits with his wife of 27 years (Julianne Moore). There’s a particularly funny and heart-wrenching scene where she admits that she cheated on him and he – unable to stomach the idea – essentially dives out of a moving car just so he doesn’t have to listen to her anymore. It’s difficult and painful, yet also funny – a lot like life. And the entire film plays out along much the same lines. It’s a very honest, sweet, at-times sexy and thoroughly mature romantic comedy. It’s also one of the best films of the summer so far.
The idea of ‘growing up’ is a central theme in the film, so it makes sense that Steve Carell (who has played an over-grown man-child before in The 40-Year Old Virgin, and an emotionally-crippled, middle-aged man in Dan in Real Life) is the lead in what may be his most mature role to date. Thanks to the superb ensemble cast, though, he’s not asked to ‘drive’ the film so much as to simply steer it. His character may be the emotional heart of the story, but in many ways, Ryan Gosling’s womanizing cad, Jacob, may be the hero. Bottom line, this kid can act. He’s been nominated for the quirky, indie dramas Half-Nelson and Lars and the Real Girl, and probably should have been for the steamy Blue Valentine, but this film stretches him a little bit. He’s allowed to relax a bit, have some fun, and even crack a smile. Who knew that his comedic timing was so strong? His character, Jacob, takes Cal under his wing when he sees Cal struggling with his divorce in the bar while trolling for women. The resulting montage as Jacob attempts to remake Cal in his image is both hilarious and thoughtful and a real jumping off point for the story as a whole. Other strong notches in the cast include the always-dependable Julianne Moore, Emma Stone, who is quickly becoming one of my favourite young actresses (and not just because her flaming red hair makes her smoking hot), and former Academy Award winner, Marisa Tomei (who’s made something of a comeback of late as a second-banana in these films – it seems Hollywood is realizing she works best in small doses).
Also ‘growing up’ is the screenwriter himself, Dan Fogelman, whose best-known works to this point were animated features (including the original Cars, Bolt and last year’s Tangled). The writing is consistently strong throughout and the exchanges that the characters share are believable and funny without making you roll your eyes. There’s a scene halfway through the film where Cal stands outside, despondent, in a downpour and mutters half-heartedly, “Hmmph. Such a cliché.” Indeed, the Romantic Comedy has been around for a long time and its conventions are seemingly written in stone, yet this film manages to wisely tiptoe around them. The few instances where the film does give in, the characters themselves will take notice reminding us all with a nudge and a wink. The humour is smart and engaging without being crass (there’s one joke regarding teenage masturbation, but it’s handled in a cute and delicate manner) which makes it seem almost like a throwback in this, the age of the ‘gross-out’ comedy (that Carell himself helped start with The 40-Year Old Virgin some six years ago).
At its heart, the film is a simple, multi-generational love story, but unlike other films of its ilk (Playing By Heart, for instance, or even Love Actually – though the latter is still a very decent film), it doesn’t seem to suffer from having too many characters. The story weaves them in and out constantly and we never forget about anyone. Just when it seems like we’ve been spending too much time with Cal, we’ll cut to the sweet subplot with his smart-but-not-quite-too-smart-to-be-believable 13-year old son. Directors Glenn Ficarra and John Requa (whose previous directing experience was the uneven 2009 Jim Carrey / Ewan McGregor vehicle, I Love You Phillip Morris) do a great job of deftly switching between the leads and keeping the story moving.
The end of the film isn’t perfect. Everything doesn’t magically return to its original state. This isn’t the Brady Bunch. These characters grow and change before our eyes, and as they grow up, they discover that love – like life – is awkward and messy and even painful at times, but it also can be beautiful. The same can be said of the film itself. Crazy, Stupid, Love is a romantic comedy for grown-ups. More than that, it’s a great film and one of the best films of the year so far.
Geek Score: 9 out of 10 bacon strips
What I’m Reading: Autumn: The City by David Moody
What I’m Playing: Infamous 2 for PS3
The idea of ‘growing up’ is a central theme in the film, so it makes sense that Steve Carell (who has played an over-grown man-child before in The 40-Year Old Virgin, and an emotionally-crippled, middle-aged man in Dan in Real Life) is the lead in what may be his most mature role to date. Thanks to the superb ensemble cast, though, he’s not asked to ‘drive’ the film so much as to simply steer it. His character may be the emotional heart of the story, but in many ways, Ryan Gosling’s womanizing cad, Jacob, may be the hero. Bottom line, this kid can act. He’s been nominated for the quirky, indie dramas Half-Nelson and Lars and the Real Girl, and probably should have been for the steamy Blue Valentine, but this film stretches him a little bit. He’s allowed to relax a bit, have some fun, and even crack a smile. Who knew that his comedic timing was so strong? His character, Jacob, takes Cal under his wing when he sees Cal struggling with his divorce in the bar while trolling for women. The resulting montage as Jacob attempts to remake Cal in his image is both hilarious and thoughtful and a real jumping off point for the story as a whole. Other strong notches in the cast include the always-dependable Julianne Moore, Emma Stone, who is quickly becoming one of my favourite young actresses (and not just because her flaming red hair makes her smoking hot), and former Academy Award winner, Marisa Tomei (who’s made something of a comeback of late as a second-banana in these films – it seems Hollywood is realizing she works best in small doses).
Also ‘growing up’ is the screenwriter himself, Dan Fogelman, whose best-known works to this point were animated features (including the original Cars, Bolt and last year’s Tangled). The writing is consistently strong throughout and the exchanges that the characters share are believable and funny without making you roll your eyes. There’s a scene halfway through the film where Cal stands outside, despondent, in a downpour and mutters half-heartedly, “Hmmph. Such a cliché.” Indeed, the Romantic Comedy has been around for a long time and its conventions are seemingly written in stone, yet this film manages to wisely tiptoe around them. The few instances where the film does give in, the characters themselves will take notice reminding us all with a nudge and a wink. The humour is smart and engaging without being crass (there’s one joke regarding teenage masturbation, but it’s handled in a cute and delicate manner) which makes it seem almost like a throwback in this, the age of the ‘gross-out’ comedy (that Carell himself helped start with The 40-Year Old Virgin some six years ago).
At its heart, the film is a simple, multi-generational love story, but unlike other films of its ilk (Playing By Heart, for instance, or even Love Actually – though the latter is still a very decent film), it doesn’t seem to suffer from having too many characters. The story weaves them in and out constantly and we never forget about anyone. Just when it seems like we’ve been spending too much time with Cal, we’ll cut to the sweet subplot with his smart-but-not-quite-too-smart-to-be-believable 13-year old son. Directors Glenn Ficarra and John Requa (whose previous directing experience was the uneven 2009 Jim Carrey / Ewan McGregor vehicle, I Love You Phillip Morris) do a great job of deftly switching between the leads and keeping the story moving.
The end of the film isn’t perfect. Everything doesn’t magically return to its original state. This isn’t the Brady Bunch. These characters grow and change before our eyes, and as they grow up, they discover that love – like life – is awkward and messy and even painful at times, but it also can be beautiful. The same can be said of the film itself. Crazy, Stupid, Love is a romantic comedy for grown-ups. More than that, it’s a great film and one of the best films of the year so far.
Geek Score: 9 out of 10 bacon strips
What I’m Reading: Autumn: The City by David Moody
What I’m Playing: Infamous 2 for PS3
Thursday, 21 July 2011
Captain America: The First Avenger
Prior to attending the special advance pre-screening (through Scene! It pays to be a member! (tm)) there was a real fear on my part that I would have to dismiss Captain America as American chest-thumping, jingoistic treacle - thankfully, some smart screenwriting decisions and strong performances from the leads makes it one of the better films of the summer and one of the best comic book adaptations of recent memory.
The story revolves around Steve Rogers (Chris Evans), an undersized, underweight asthmatic who wants, more than anything, to join the US Army and help out during World War 2. Of course, he flunks his physical. So he lies on his questionnaire and tries again. And again. And again. Finally, at his fifth such attempt, a scientist sees something in Steve that leads him to believe he'd be a perfect fit for his new super-soldier experiment. Of course, Steve accepts, the experiment is a success and he becomes Captain America - super soldier extraordinaire. They touch briefly on the character's comic origin (Captain America as a character was essentially created as pseudo-propaganda during war-time) by having him perform at USO troupes and functions across the states selling war-bonds. But while the character's name itself is 'Captain America', the screenwriters wisely fleshed out his platoon by featuring, in no particular order, a Canadian sharpshooter, two Frenchmen, an attractive, female British agent (guess what happens there?) and a gruff, surly, southern Colonel (played with delicious, scenery-chewing camp by Tommy Lee Jones). The main villain in the film is Red Skull (Hugo Weaving), a Nazi version of the super-soldier phenomenon that is bent on world domination (standard comic-book villain stuff - not necessarily befitting the 14th Greatest Comic Book Villain of All-Time according to IGN, but it's a minor gripe really)
If you have any knowledge of comic books, you probably know who Captain America is. He's probably Marvel's top draw that *hadn't* been made into a feature film to this point and he's front and center in a number of major events such as Civil War, Secret Invasion and Marvel Zombies. That said, the movie version strays a bit from canon (seems like every time I review a comic book movie lately I have to say that) but not in any way that will lead the nerds to raise their pitchforks and burn Hollywood to the ground. The changes they make are more for narrative purposes and the sake of continuity in the franchise as well as creating a sense of community among the Marvel universe, so in some ways it actually works out for the best (I know, I know, blasphemy, etc. - I'll turn in my Geek badge and credentials).
One thing that Marvel Studios seems to understand that DC's fledgling film studio has yet to truly grok is how to humanize their characters. Sure, they're superheroes, but they have heart and real motivations driving them. For instance, nobody outside of comic book fandom really knew or cared about Iron Man prior to the 2008 feature film, but Tony Stark had a soul and the audience really rooted for the character and a connection was formed. $300 million later a studio was funded and a franchise model was born. Thor's coffee scene is one such example - a scene that could have easily ended up on the cutting room floor, but because it didn't, it helped to try and 'humanize' a character who by his very nature is completely inhuman. Likewise, Captain America features a couple of scenes that another director might have thrown away, but Joe Johnston (who also directed the underrated Hidalgo with Viggo Mortensen - check it out) found a way to fit in and the film is better for it. Johnston has a certain amount of fun with the source material, but still manages to take it seriously.
Somewhere along the line, Marvel Studios decided to hire people who can *act* - a novel concept in comic-book action films. Chris Evans was the best part of two very bad comic book films in Fox's disastrous Fantastic Four series as the Human Torch, but he really gets a chance to shine here with the film on his (extremely broad) shoulders. He's a likable lead that audiences can root for. The aforementioned Tommy Lee Jones looks like he's having the most fun he's had since Men in Black II came out almost a decade ago. Finally, Hugo Weaving's Red Skull is suitably menacing (his German accent is harsh and abrupt - almost like he copied his speech mannerisms from watching Hitler's speeches) providing a worthwhile foil for the heroes.
The special effects suffer at times from issues with overt CGI and the post-production 3D isa blatant cashgrab completely unnecessary but nothing is so jarring as to prevent your suspension of disbelief. The film's pacing moves along well and the two-hour runtime feels brisk (unlike Green Lantern's 1 hr 45 minutes that feels almost twice that) and when it's all over you'll be left wanting to see more. And thankfully, the wait won't be too long - next up on the docket for Marvel is the ambitious Avengers (featuring Captain America, Thor, Hulk, Iron Man, et al.) next year. While they don't quite have a Pixar-esque winning streak just yet, they're punching above their weight, so I'm definitely looking forward to that one. Along with The Dark Knight Rises (have you seen the teaser? OMGasm), 2012 could be a great year for comic book movies.
Captain America combines an above-average script with great lead performances and sprinkles in good directing with brisk pacing. It's a film that pays homage to the source material, yet isn't afraid to write its own chapter in canon. It's a very worthwhile summer action film and one of the better comic book movies released of late.
Geek Score: 8 out of 10 bacon strips
What I'm Reading: Sweet Tooth vol. 3
What I'm Playing: Infamous 2 on PS3
The story revolves around Steve Rogers (Chris Evans), an undersized, underweight asthmatic who wants, more than anything, to join the US Army and help out during World War 2. Of course, he flunks his physical. So he lies on his questionnaire and tries again. And again. And again. Finally, at his fifth such attempt, a scientist sees something in Steve that leads him to believe he'd be a perfect fit for his new super-soldier experiment. Of course, Steve accepts, the experiment is a success and he becomes Captain America - super soldier extraordinaire. They touch briefly on the character's comic origin (Captain America as a character was essentially created as pseudo-propaganda during war-time) by having him perform at USO troupes and functions across the states selling war-bonds. But while the character's name itself is 'Captain America', the screenwriters wisely fleshed out his platoon by featuring, in no particular order, a Canadian sharpshooter, two Frenchmen, an attractive, female British agent (guess what happens there?) and a gruff, surly, southern Colonel (played with delicious, scenery-chewing camp by Tommy Lee Jones). The main villain in the film is Red Skull (Hugo Weaving), a Nazi version of the super-soldier phenomenon that is bent on world domination (standard comic-book villain stuff - not necessarily befitting the 14th Greatest Comic Book Villain of All-Time according to IGN, but it's a minor gripe really)
If you have any knowledge of comic books, you probably know who Captain America is. He's probably Marvel's top draw that *hadn't* been made into a feature film to this point and he's front and center in a number of major events such as Civil War, Secret Invasion and Marvel Zombies. That said, the movie version strays a bit from canon (seems like every time I review a comic book movie lately I have to say that) but not in any way that will lead the nerds to raise their pitchforks and burn Hollywood to the ground. The changes they make are more for narrative purposes and the sake of continuity in the franchise as well as creating a sense of community among the Marvel universe, so in some ways it actually works out for the best (I know, I know, blasphemy, etc. - I'll turn in my Geek badge and credentials).
One thing that Marvel Studios seems to understand that DC's fledgling film studio has yet to truly grok is how to humanize their characters. Sure, they're superheroes, but they have heart and real motivations driving them. For instance, nobody outside of comic book fandom really knew or cared about Iron Man prior to the 2008 feature film, but Tony Stark had a soul and the audience really rooted for the character and a connection was formed. $300 million later a studio was funded and a franchise model was born. Thor's coffee scene is one such example - a scene that could have easily ended up on the cutting room floor, but because it didn't, it helped to try and 'humanize' a character who by his very nature is completely inhuman. Likewise, Captain America features a couple of scenes that another director might have thrown away, but Joe Johnston (who also directed the underrated Hidalgo with Viggo Mortensen - check it out) found a way to fit in and the film is better for it. Johnston has a certain amount of fun with the source material, but still manages to take it seriously.
Somewhere along the line, Marvel Studios decided to hire people who can *act* - a novel concept in comic-book action films. Chris Evans was the best part of two very bad comic book films in Fox's disastrous Fantastic Four series as the Human Torch, but he really gets a chance to shine here with the film on his (extremely broad) shoulders. He's a likable lead that audiences can root for. The aforementioned Tommy Lee Jones looks like he's having the most fun he's had since Men in Black II came out almost a decade ago. Finally, Hugo Weaving's Red Skull is suitably menacing (his German accent is harsh and abrupt - almost like he copied his speech mannerisms from watching Hitler's speeches) providing a worthwhile foil for the heroes.
The special effects suffer at times from issues with overt CGI and the post-production 3D is
Captain America combines an above-average script with great lead performances and sprinkles in good directing with brisk pacing. It's a film that pays homage to the source material, yet isn't afraid to write its own chapter in canon. It's a very worthwhile summer action film and one of the better comic book movies released of late.
Geek Score: 8 out of 10 bacon strips
What I'm Reading: Sweet Tooth vol. 3
What I'm Playing: Infamous 2 on PS3
Tuesday, 5 July 2011
Green Lantern
Let me get this out of the way right now – Green Lantern is not a bad film. In fact, I actually enjoyed it a little bit. Technically-speaking, however, it’s not really a *good* film, either – there are issues with the pacing and plotting and those creepy coloured-lenses that Ryan Reynolds wears when he’s getting his Green on are truly disturbing. But as a comic book origin story, it succeeds, at least partly, thanks to its lead actor and some dazzling special effects.
In Green Lantern, Ryan Reynolds plays Hal Jordan, the ‘first’ human Green Lantern (There’s since been three more, but that may be too much nerd for you to handle right now, so I won’t go into it), test pilot, daredevil and all-around cocky sonuvabitch who is gifted a power ring that enables him to join an interstellar police force known as the Green Lanterns. If this sounds slightly convoluted, that’s because it is – but in all seriousness, the film stays remarkably true to the comic, at least in terms of the origin story. Reynolds plays Jordan with just the right amount of smarm and cocksure bombast mixed with just a tinge of regret, enabling everyone who was terrified he might be ill-suited for the role, or overplay it to the point of caricature to breathe just a bit easier.
The power ring that he wears enables him to do literally ‘anything’ he can think up (which has always been a point of contention among comic literati – it smacks of deus ex machina, honestly, but we’re not here to critique the comic, we’re critiquing the film, so I digress..) which ensures a few money special FX shots. One shot wherein he throws a tanker truck at a foe and then creates an antiaircraft gun out of energy and blasts said tanker truck – turning it, essentially, into a very large grenade – stands out as my favourite, but there are several worth noting. At least you can see where they spent the reported $200 million.
The plot, such as it is, is more than a little meandering – you start with Hal showing off during a flight exercise, then insert the requisite fight with the potential significant other (Blake Lively, in a role she will likely do her best to downplay if she ever gets to accept alifetime achievement award), then Hal finds the ring and things pick up a little bit. Once he becomes a full-fledged Green Lantern (complete with ‘hilarious’ training montage!) the story focuses a little bit but it seems unsure as to what to do with the secondary characters. Familiar (to fans of the comic, at any rate) faces like Kilowog and Sinestro are given cameo roles at best. Especially disappointing is how they fail to really recognize the Hal Jordan / Sinestro dynamic (one of the best in the books). What should be a dynamic and somewhat ... er.. ‘complicated’ relationship is boiled down to about three minutes of on-screen interaction. Part of this is done for the sake of pacing, I’m sure (as it is, the film clocks in at only two hours, yet seems rather plodding but when your main villain is as nondescript and relatively blasé as Parallax, there’s only so much you can do), but a little background information on the other Lanterns would've helped flesh things out immensely.
Still, as an origin story (and let’s be honest here – that’s what this film is, the first in what WB is hoping against hope to become another sturdy franchise) it defines the character and provides enough ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ to make it a passable use of 2 hours. The issues that the film does have are not irreparable, which gives me hope if the sequel is greenlit. There's a lot more to this character than they show in this film and I'd like to see them get the chance to show it.
If you’re a fan of the comics, you will see more than enough nods and winks (stay past the first part of the credits, specifically) to keep you on your toes and you will likely leave (relatively) satisfied. If you haven’t read a Green Lantern comic, though, buyer beware.
Geek Score: 6 out of 10 Bacon Strips
What I'm Playing: Infamous for PS3
What I'm Reading: Batman: Arkham City
In Green Lantern, Ryan Reynolds plays Hal Jordan, the ‘first’ human Green Lantern (There’s since been three more, but that may be too much nerd for you to handle right now, so I won’t go into it), test pilot, daredevil and all-around cocky sonuvabitch who is gifted a power ring that enables him to join an interstellar police force known as the Green Lanterns. If this sounds slightly convoluted, that’s because it is – but in all seriousness, the film stays remarkably true to the comic, at least in terms of the origin story. Reynolds plays Jordan with just the right amount of smarm and cocksure bombast mixed with just a tinge of regret, enabling everyone who was terrified he might be ill-suited for the role, or overplay it to the point of caricature to breathe just a bit easier.
The power ring that he wears enables him to do literally ‘anything’ he can think up (which has always been a point of contention among comic literati – it smacks of deus ex machina, honestly, but we’re not here to critique the comic, we’re critiquing the film, so I digress..) which ensures a few money special FX shots. One shot wherein he throws a tanker truck at a foe and then creates an antiaircraft gun out of energy and blasts said tanker truck – turning it, essentially, into a very large grenade – stands out as my favourite, but there are several worth noting. At least you can see where they spent the reported $200 million.
The plot, such as it is, is more than a little meandering – you start with Hal showing off during a flight exercise, then insert the requisite fight with the potential significant other (Blake Lively, in a role she will likely do her best to downplay if she ever gets to accept alifetime achievement award), then Hal finds the ring and things pick up a little bit. Once he becomes a full-fledged Green Lantern (complete with ‘hilarious’ training montage!) the story focuses a little bit but it seems unsure as to what to do with the secondary characters. Familiar (to fans of the comic, at any rate) faces like Kilowog and Sinestro are given cameo roles at best. Especially disappointing is how they fail to really recognize the Hal Jordan / Sinestro dynamic (one of the best in the books). What should be a dynamic and somewhat ... er.. ‘complicated’ relationship is boiled down to about three minutes of on-screen interaction. Part of this is done for the sake of pacing, I’m sure (as it is, the film clocks in at only two hours, yet seems rather plodding but when your main villain is as nondescript and relatively blasé as Parallax, there’s only so much you can do), but a little background information on the other Lanterns would've helped flesh things out immensely.
Still, as an origin story (and let’s be honest here – that’s what this film is, the first in what WB is hoping against hope to become another sturdy franchise) it defines the character and provides enough ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ to make it a passable use of 2 hours. The issues that the film does have are not irreparable, which gives me hope if the sequel is greenlit. There's a lot more to this character than they show in this film and I'd like to see them get the chance to show it.
If you’re a fan of the comics, you will see more than enough nods and winks (stay past the first part of the credits, specifically) to keep you on your toes and you will likely leave (relatively) satisfied. If you haven’t read a Green Lantern comic, though, buyer beware.
Geek Score: 6 out of 10 Bacon Strips
What I'm Playing: Infamous for PS3
What I'm Reading: Batman: Arkham City
Tuesday, 21 June 2011
Remembering The Vancouver Canucks
I remember the Vancouver Canucks.
I remember 8 o’clock bedtimes that were artificially extended because Mom would let me listen to the radio as I go to sleep. The radio was always tuned in to CKNW980. Other children had lullabyes – I was sung to sleep by Jim Robson.
I remember Petri Skriko and Tony Tanti scoring gorgeous goals and giving up just as many going back the other way because of an infuriating refusal to backcheck.
I remember Stan Smyl steaming down the off wing.
I remember Pavel Bure, flying as only he could – when he stepped on the gas he was unlike any player the Canucks ever had (or likely ever will).
I remember Trevor Linden. Of course I remember Trev. - the native Albertan who adopted this city as his own. The stoic leader, the classy gentleman, the man who would give his all playing with two broken legs and a broken arm if he had to.
I remember Kirk McLean and The Save vs. Robert Reichel in ’94. I remember him single-handedly stealing game 1 against the Rangers.
I remember Nathan Lafayette. I’ll remember that ‘ping’, as clear and audible today as when it happened. I’ll remember that sound for the rest of my life.
I remember the ‘94 team coming home to an heroes’ welcome, even though they lost - as it should be.
I remember Mark Messier and the hope that his signing signalled along with the ruin that followed shortly thereafter.
I remember Mike Keenan trading Trevor Linden and Kirk McLean and feeling like I had been punched in the stomach.
I remember a flashy young Swede named Markus Naslund finally getting the chance to shine.
I remember Todd Bertuzzi – the good and the bad. The beast of a man who could hold off defenders with one hand while weaving magic with the other and the villain who momentarily lost his mind and broke a man’s neck because a game had gotten out of hand.
I remember Dan Cloutier. … But I try my best to forget him.
I remember Roberto Luongo taking the entire team on his broad shoulders and lifting the club to the most improbable division title in team history in his first year here. I remember the unrealistic expectations that that initial success placed on him to the point where he is now routinely criticized – fairly or unfairly – if he can’t singlehandedly win a game any longer.
I remember the Sedins’ coming out party after the lockout, as they finally got the chance to display their deft passes and otherworldly playmaking ability without someone hooking them to the ice.
I remember Anson Carter’s 36 goals. Chances are he still does, too.
I remember the Blackhawks. I really, really hate the Blackhawks.
I remember the greatest regular season this team has ever had.
I remember every one of Ryan Kesler’s 41 goals as ‘stone hands’ became one of the most unlikely 40-goal men in history through tireless hard work and dedication.
I remember a glorious stretch before Christmas and stretching into the new year where the team Just. Couldn’t. Lose. I remember 17 straight games without a regulation loss.
I remember the most goals for and fewest goals allowed – both firsts for the team.
I remember a power play that when it was working was absolutely sublime – gorgeous passes and lightning-quick puck movement that made the Canucks seem more like the Harlem Globetrotters.
I remember nearly fainting when I found out that the Canucks drew the Blackhawks in the first round.
I remember The Save version 2.0 when Luongo stuffed Patrick Sharp in overtime of game 7.
I remember Alex Burrows’ half-clapper, top-cheddar.
I remember we played the Predators in the second round, but absolutely nothing else about that series. Carrie Underwood’s husband plays for them, right?
I remember Ryan Kesler scoring on one leg and willing the West-clinching game into overtime.
I remember Juice and The Stanchion and the ugliest series-winning goal you will ever see.
I remember going up 2-0 in the Finals and thinking, “My God, they might actually win.”
I remember Aaron Rome’s hit on Nathan Horton.
I remember the Bruins dictating the play for 4 of the next 5 games and watching in disbelief as they skated off with the Cup in our own building.
I remember being bitter for a while and then looking at the injured list and realizing it was a miracle they even got that far. They nearly had to dress Nolan Baumgartner in game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals. That’s roughly the equivalent of having your arm blown off by a mortar and sticking a Band-Aid on the stump.
I remember Danny and Hank’s season-ending interviews as the cadre of reporters gave them every, single chance to blame something – injuries, poor officiating, Luongo’s goaltending, ANYTHING – for the loss (because you know the Canucks are a bunch of whiners who do nothing but complain – the media says so, therefore it must be true) and Danny and Hank steadfastly refused to take the bait. “We lost this series because we didn’t score. It’s on us.” And I remember at that time thinking that we are so lucky to have these two on our team. They have more strength of character and moral fiber in their pinky fingers than Dan Tencer (Inside Sports Radio) or Mike Milbury (worst general manager in league history, HNIC/NHL on NBC talking-head) have in their entire bodies.
Sure, it didn’t have the ending we wanted, but I know one thing – years from now, after the disbelief and bitterness has faded into the background, I’ll look back on this season and smile. I’ll remember that this season was the most fun I’ve ever had watching hockey.
I’ll remember the 2010-2011 Vancouver Canucks with pride.
Go Canucks Go.
I remember 8 o’clock bedtimes that were artificially extended because Mom would let me listen to the radio as I go to sleep. The radio was always tuned in to CKNW980. Other children had lullabyes – I was sung to sleep by Jim Robson.
I remember Petri Skriko and Tony Tanti scoring gorgeous goals and giving up just as many going back the other way because of an infuriating refusal to backcheck.
I remember Stan Smyl steaming down the off wing.
I remember Pavel Bure, flying as only he could – when he stepped on the gas he was unlike any player the Canucks ever had (or likely ever will).
I remember Trevor Linden. Of course I remember Trev. - the native Albertan who adopted this city as his own. The stoic leader, the classy gentleman, the man who would give his all playing with two broken legs and a broken arm if he had to.
I remember Kirk McLean and The Save vs. Robert Reichel in ’94. I remember him single-handedly stealing game 1 against the Rangers.
I remember Nathan Lafayette. I’ll remember that ‘ping’, as clear and audible today as when it happened. I’ll remember that sound for the rest of my life.
I remember the ‘94 team coming home to an heroes’ welcome, even though they lost - as it should be.
I remember Mark Messier and the hope that his signing signalled along with the ruin that followed shortly thereafter.
I remember Mike Keenan trading Trevor Linden and Kirk McLean and feeling like I had been punched in the stomach.
I remember a flashy young Swede named Markus Naslund finally getting the chance to shine.
I remember Todd Bertuzzi – the good and the bad. The beast of a man who could hold off defenders with one hand while weaving magic with the other and the villain who momentarily lost his mind and broke a man’s neck because a game had gotten out of hand.
I remember Dan Cloutier. … But I try my best to forget him.
I remember Roberto Luongo taking the entire team on his broad shoulders and lifting the club to the most improbable division title in team history in his first year here. I remember the unrealistic expectations that that initial success placed on him to the point where he is now routinely criticized – fairly or unfairly – if he can’t singlehandedly win a game any longer.
I remember the Sedins’ coming out party after the lockout, as they finally got the chance to display their deft passes and otherworldly playmaking ability without someone hooking them to the ice.
I remember Anson Carter’s 36 goals. Chances are he still does, too.
I remember the Blackhawks. I really, really hate the Blackhawks.
I remember the greatest regular season this team has ever had.
I remember every one of Ryan Kesler’s 41 goals as ‘stone hands’ became one of the most unlikely 40-goal men in history through tireless hard work and dedication.
I remember a glorious stretch before Christmas and stretching into the new year where the team Just. Couldn’t. Lose. I remember 17 straight games without a regulation loss.
I remember the most goals for and fewest goals allowed – both firsts for the team.
I remember a power play that when it was working was absolutely sublime – gorgeous passes and lightning-quick puck movement that made the Canucks seem more like the Harlem Globetrotters.
I remember nearly fainting when I found out that the Canucks drew the Blackhawks in the first round.
I remember The Save version 2.0 when Luongo stuffed Patrick Sharp in overtime of game 7.
I remember Alex Burrows’ half-clapper, top-cheddar.
I remember we played the Predators in the second round, but absolutely nothing else about that series. Carrie Underwood’s husband plays for them, right?
I remember Ryan Kesler scoring on one leg and willing the West-clinching game into overtime.
I remember Juice and The Stanchion and the ugliest series-winning goal you will ever see.
I remember going up 2-0 in the Finals and thinking, “My God, they might actually win.”
I remember Aaron Rome’s hit on Nathan Horton.
I remember the Bruins dictating the play for 4 of the next 5 games and watching in disbelief as they skated off with the Cup in our own building.
I remember being bitter for a while and then looking at the injured list and realizing it was a miracle they even got that far. They nearly had to dress Nolan Baumgartner in game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals. That’s roughly the equivalent of having your arm blown off by a mortar and sticking a Band-Aid on the stump.
I remember Danny and Hank’s season-ending interviews as the cadre of reporters gave them every, single chance to blame something – injuries, poor officiating, Luongo’s goaltending, ANYTHING – for the loss (because you know the Canucks are a bunch of whiners who do nothing but complain – the media says so, therefore it must be true) and Danny and Hank steadfastly refused to take the bait. “We lost this series because we didn’t score. It’s on us.” And I remember at that time thinking that we are so lucky to have these two on our team. They have more strength of character and moral fiber in their pinky fingers than Dan Tencer (Inside Sports Radio) or Mike Milbury (worst general manager in league history, HNIC/NHL on NBC talking-head) have in their entire bodies.
Sure, it didn’t have the ending we wanted, but I know one thing – years from now, after the disbelief and bitterness has faded into the background, I’ll look back on this season and smile. I’ll remember that this season was the most fun I’ve ever had watching hockey.
I’ll remember the 2010-2011 Vancouver Canucks with pride.
Go Canucks Go.
Saturday, 18 June 2011
Super 8
Super 8's marketing campaign is purposefully vague. The ads showed various things flying through the air, cars missing engines, dogs disappearing and one of the craziest train wrecks ever filmed, but they never give an actual 'hint' as to what the story may be about. Whether this ends up hurting or harming one of the best films of the year in the long term remains to be seen, but this film deserves to be viewed by as many people as possible. It's a throwback adventure film in the vein of '80s stalwarts such as Goonies or ET that manages to tap nostalgia, yet still keeping itself very grounded - essentially, it's a Spielberg film that isn't directed by Spielberg (though he did produce it).
Set in the '80s (imagine that) in small-town USA, the film focuses on a group of friends who are trying to shoot a low-budget zombie movie on cheap, super-8 film-stock (hence the title). While on-location for a scene, they witness a spectacular accident when a military train derails. Soon after, it becomes apparent that 'something' was on that train and it has since escaped. Things (and people) start disappearing. Weird electrical brown-outs start occurring. And, of course, the sour-faced military roll into town and start pushing the locals around (including the irrepressible Kyle Chandler as the widower-father of the main character - and a deputy for the town's police force).
The young group of friends who serve as the main characters of the film (despite the fact that Kyle Chandler gets top billing in the credits) have a real camaraderie that shines through and helps us root for them. They bicker and banter, they swear at each other and they really do a great job of creating a solid, emotional connection with the audience. Watching them sit around a booth in a local diner talking about their plans for their movie, you really get the sense that you 'know' these characters. This shouldn't be a surprise, since director JJ Abrams is a well-known proponent of strong character development. In particular, young Joel Courtney, who plays Joe Lamb (the de-facto 'hero' of the film) immediately invites immediate comparison to a wide-eyed Henry Thomas (as Elliott from ET).
The story has just enough twists and turns to prevent it from being completely predictable, but given that it's an adventure film at its heart - not the mystery film that the ad campaign would have you believe - the film can be forgiven for taking you by the hand a little bit. Ultimately, while it may seem strange to call a monster movie a 'character-driven' film, Super 8 succeeds largely because of its characters, rather than in spite of them. Sure, the special effects are pretty and there are some nice explosions (I watched it in an UltraAVX theatre and was blown away - literally - by some scenes) but by investing in these characters, you appreciate them more and it makes the (slightly-saccharine, admittedly) ending that much more palatable.
Super 8 is mint and reminds us why we love summer movies. It's a fun adventure film with heart to spare, a solid stable of characters and some great special effects that belie its relatively small budget. It also may be the best film you see this summer. I recommend it wholeheartedly and without prejudice.
Geek Score: 9 out of 10 bacon strips.
PS: Don't leave as soon as the credits start rolling. Have a little patience. You won't be disappointed.
What I'm Playing: Infamous for PS3
What I'm Reading: Marvel Zombies vol. 2
Set in the '80s (imagine that) in small-town USA, the film focuses on a group of friends who are trying to shoot a low-budget zombie movie on cheap, super-8 film-stock (hence the title). While on-location for a scene, they witness a spectacular accident when a military train derails. Soon after, it becomes apparent that 'something' was on that train and it has since escaped. Things (and people) start disappearing. Weird electrical brown-outs start occurring. And, of course, the sour-faced military roll into town and start pushing the locals around (including the irrepressible Kyle Chandler as the widower-father of the main character - and a deputy for the town's police force).
The young group of friends who serve as the main characters of the film (despite the fact that Kyle Chandler gets top billing in the credits) have a real camaraderie that shines through and helps us root for them. They bicker and banter, they swear at each other and they really do a great job of creating a solid, emotional connection with the audience. Watching them sit around a booth in a local diner talking about their plans for their movie, you really get the sense that you 'know' these characters. This shouldn't be a surprise, since director JJ Abrams is a well-known proponent of strong character development. In particular, young Joel Courtney, who plays Joe Lamb (the de-facto 'hero' of the film) immediately invites immediate comparison to a wide-eyed Henry Thomas (as Elliott from ET).
The story has just enough twists and turns to prevent it from being completely predictable, but given that it's an adventure film at its heart - not the mystery film that the ad campaign would have you believe - the film can be forgiven for taking you by the hand a little bit. Ultimately, while it may seem strange to call a monster movie a 'character-driven' film, Super 8 succeeds largely because of its characters, rather than in spite of them. Sure, the special effects are pretty and there are some nice explosions (I watched it in an UltraAVX theatre and was blown away - literally - by some scenes) but by investing in these characters, you appreciate them more and it makes the (slightly-saccharine, admittedly) ending that much more palatable.
Super 8 is mint and reminds us why we love summer movies. It's a fun adventure film with heart to spare, a solid stable of characters and some great special effects that belie its relatively small budget. It also may be the best film you see this summer. I recommend it wholeheartedly and without prejudice.
PS: Don't leave as soon as the credits start rolling. Have a little patience. You won't be disappointed.
What I'm Playing: Infamous for PS3
What I'm Reading: Marvel Zombies vol. 2
Saturday, 11 June 2011
LA Noire
LA Noire has a lot going for it - A well-written, twisting, film-noir story, tremendous voice acting, revolutionary motion capture and outstanding developer-pedigree, to list a few - but a few minor hiccups and details prevent this very good game from being truly great.
LA Noire tells the story of Cole Phelps, war hero and ex-marine who rises through the ranks of the LAPD in post-war (1947) Los Angeles. As expected in a film noir, Phelps is... not exactly a perfect hero. His story is told through a combination of in-engine cinematics and 'flashback' sequences which retell his history during the war. Phelps is played (and I use that term literally - the game's motion capture and digitization are truly revolutionary, so the character in-game is an almost eerie likeness of the actor himself) by Aaron Staton, best known as Ken Cosgrove on AMC's sublime period drama, Mad Men.
As Phelps, the player works his way through the LAPD (cutting his teeth on the Traffic desk first, before moving up to higher-profile desks such as Homicide or Vice) by solving a series of cases. Game play, such as it is, involves mostly moving from one location to another, gathering 'evidence', and questioning suspects (or 'Persons of Interest', in cop-parlance), with just a bit of driving and shooting thrown in for variety (it IS a Rockstar game, after all). The evidence-gathering can be a bit tedious - it plays out like a modern-day adventure game 'pixel-hunt' where you walk around a crime scene, and pick up various and sundry items, turn them over in Cole's hands and wait for him to either notice something important or mention that it's not relevant to the case. Sometimes this can be relatively intuitive (noticing the shoe-size of a given suspect can help you eliminate them from questioning if the size doesn't match bootprints at the murder scene, for instance) and sometimes they can seem illogical and completely unhelpful (you would think that finding a can of flammable gas at an arson suspect's home would be useful, but apparently not).
The real meat of the game (and, indeed, the part that's gotten the game the most press prior to release), is the 'interview' process as you talk to witnesses and suspects and try and discern whether they're telling you the truth or not. By watching the (again, outstanding) motion capture of the character's faces, you can see various facial tics, swallows or blinks which - like poker tells - tend to belie what the individual is telling you. You may then either accept what they're telling you as the truth, 'doubt' it, or outright accuse them of lying (the latter response requires you to have acquired a piece of evidence to prove them as a liar, or else the POI will clam up and be completely unhelpful for the remainder of the interview). Responding correctly will open up new avenues as the character reveals different leads or clues that you would otherwise miss out on if you answer poorly. This is harder than it looks as some characters (a seedy land developer played by Fringe's own Walter Bishop, John Noble, comes immediately to mind) are downright tough to read, with the only hitch to give anything away being the slight flutter of the carotid artery to indicate a slightly-elevated heart rate (yes, the motion capture is THAT good). This is great stuff, in theory, but the main problem here is that there's no punishment for being absolutely horrid at interviewing - seriously, you can blow every question and then the game will create some deus ex machina (either Phelp's partner making a comment, an especially-helpful phone call or even stumbling across the suspect completely by accident) that will fill you in on just where you need to go next. Sure, it keeps the plot moving forward, but it comes across as hollow. The only real impetus for you to try to answer all the questions correctly is the end-of-case 'score' that the game gives you based on your performance (and the achievement points that come with them).
Essentially, most cases boil down like this - proceed to location A, find all the clues, talk to all the people, then proceed to location B, repeat, head to location C, find suspect, chase suspect (because they ALWAYS run - either in a vehicle or on-foot), arrest suspect, then try to get a confession in the interview room. If you fail to get a confession, though, don't worry, because something else will inevitably come up which will ensure that the 'guilty' party either ends up on a slab or in the hoosegow. I personally found this frustrating because it makes what they advertise as a truly open-world detective game feel almost oppressively linear. You can't arrest or shoot the wrong suspect because the story won't let you. I'm all for narrative continuity, but a little leeway would have been nice, is all I'm saying.
Thankfully, for a game that banks so heavily on its story, at least it's a good one. At the risk of spoiling anything, I'll just say that LA Noire takes a page out of classic noir films (you can even choose to play the game in black-and-white - a real nice touch, imho) complete with femme fatales, crooked cops and plot twists galore. Even as the gameplay gets monotonous (and it *can* get monotonous, believe me - by the time you've driven to your thirtieth dilapidated hotel and dug around in a suspect's trash looking for a gum-wrapper with an address written on it, your mind may start to wander) the story will keep you interested in pressing through to the next case.
Now this is not meant to sound negative - sure, the gameplay can seem a bit blase at times, but when the game's mechanics work in the manner the developers intended, it's a truly unique and exciting gaming experience. There's one case on the homicide desk where you have two legitimate suspects - you have evidence which points to both of them and you honestly cannot tell which one did the deed. So you haul them both into the station and then go back and forth between the interview rooms essentially playing them off each other. If you play your cards right, you get one to implicate the other and voila, you have your perp dead to rights. Unfortunately for Rockstar, there just isn't enough of these moments.
Still, taken as representative of where the adventure game genre (because it IS, at its heart, an adventure game, even though it's got driving and shooting - don't let anyone tell you otherwise) is headed, it has me genuinely excited for the future. LA Noire's tremendous story and revolutionary digital 'actors' makes it a very worthwhile play-through and I'm hopeful that Team Bondi gets the chance to make a proper sequel (maybe a little less linear, with a little more rope to hang yourself with) which could be absolutely gangbusters. Pardon the pun.
Geek Score: 8 out of 10 bacon strips
What I'm Playing: Infamous for PS3 (Have to finish it before I dive into the sequel)
What I'm Reading: Batman & Son
LA Noire tells the story of Cole Phelps, war hero and ex-marine who rises through the ranks of the LAPD in post-war (1947) Los Angeles. As expected in a film noir, Phelps is... not exactly a perfect hero. His story is told through a combination of in-engine cinematics and 'flashback' sequences which retell his history during the war. Phelps is played (and I use that term literally - the game's motion capture and digitization are truly revolutionary, so the character in-game is an almost eerie likeness of the actor himself) by Aaron Staton, best known as Ken Cosgrove on AMC's sublime period drama, Mad Men.
As Phelps, the player works his way through the LAPD (cutting his teeth on the Traffic desk first, before moving up to higher-profile desks such as Homicide or Vice) by solving a series of cases. Game play, such as it is, involves mostly moving from one location to another, gathering 'evidence', and questioning suspects (or 'Persons of Interest', in cop-parlance), with just a bit of driving and shooting thrown in for variety (it IS a Rockstar game, after all). The evidence-gathering can be a bit tedious - it plays out like a modern-day adventure game 'pixel-hunt' where you walk around a crime scene, and pick up various and sundry items, turn them over in Cole's hands and wait for him to either notice something important or mention that it's not relevant to the case. Sometimes this can be relatively intuitive (noticing the shoe-size of a given suspect can help you eliminate them from questioning if the size doesn't match bootprints at the murder scene, for instance) and sometimes they can seem illogical and completely unhelpful (you would think that finding a can of flammable gas at an arson suspect's home would be useful, but apparently not).
The real meat of the game (and, indeed, the part that's gotten the game the most press prior to release), is the 'interview' process as you talk to witnesses and suspects and try and discern whether they're telling you the truth or not. By watching the (again, outstanding) motion capture of the character's faces, you can see various facial tics, swallows or blinks which - like poker tells - tend to belie what the individual is telling you. You may then either accept what they're telling you as the truth, 'doubt' it, or outright accuse them of lying (the latter response requires you to have acquired a piece of evidence to prove them as a liar, or else the POI will clam up and be completely unhelpful for the remainder of the interview). Responding correctly will open up new avenues as the character reveals different leads or clues that you would otherwise miss out on if you answer poorly. This is harder than it looks as some characters (a seedy land developer played by Fringe's own Walter Bishop, John Noble, comes immediately to mind) are downright tough to read, with the only hitch to give anything away being the slight flutter of the carotid artery to indicate a slightly-elevated heart rate (yes, the motion capture is THAT good). This is great stuff, in theory, but the main problem here is that there's no punishment for being absolutely horrid at interviewing - seriously, you can blow every question and then the game will create some deus ex machina (either Phelp's partner making a comment, an especially-helpful phone call or even stumbling across the suspect completely by accident) that will fill you in on just where you need to go next. Sure, it keeps the plot moving forward, but it comes across as hollow. The only real impetus for you to try to answer all the questions correctly is the end-of-case 'score' that the game gives you based on your performance (and the achievement points that come with them).
Essentially, most cases boil down like this - proceed to location A, find all the clues, talk to all the people, then proceed to location B, repeat, head to location C, find suspect, chase suspect (because they ALWAYS run - either in a vehicle or on-foot), arrest suspect, then try to get a confession in the interview room. If you fail to get a confession, though, don't worry, because something else will inevitably come up which will ensure that the 'guilty' party either ends up on a slab or in the hoosegow. I personally found this frustrating because it makes what they advertise as a truly open-world detective game feel almost oppressively linear. You can't arrest or shoot the wrong suspect because the story won't let you. I'm all for narrative continuity, but a little leeway would have been nice, is all I'm saying.
Thankfully, for a game that banks so heavily on its story, at least it's a good one. At the risk of spoiling anything, I'll just say that LA Noire takes a page out of classic noir films (you can even choose to play the game in black-and-white - a real nice touch, imho) complete with femme fatales, crooked cops and plot twists galore. Even as the gameplay gets monotonous (and it *can* get monotonous, believe me - by the time you've driven to your thirtieth dilapidated hotel and dug around in a suspect's trash looking for a gum-wrapper with an address written on it, your mind may start to wander) the story will keep you interested in pressing through to the next case.
Now this is not meant to sound negative - sure, the gameplay can seem a bit blase at times, but when the game's mechanics work in the manner the developers intended, it's a truly unique and exciting gaming experience. There's one case on the homicide desk where you have two legitimate suspects - you have evidence which points to both of them and you honestly cannot tell which one did the deed. So you haul them both into the station and then go back and forth between the interview rooms essentially playing them off each other. If you play your cards right, you get one to implicate the other and voila, you have your perp dead to rights. Unfortunately for Rockstar, there just isn't enough of these moments.
Still, taken as representative of where the adventure game genre (because it IS, at its heart, an adventure game, even though it's got driving and shooting - don't let anyone tell you otherwise) is headed, it has me genuinely excited for the future. LA Noire's tremendous story and revolutionary digital 'actors' makes it a very worthwhile play-through and I'm hopeful that Team Bondi gets the chance to make a proper sequel (maybe a little less linear, with a little more rope to hang yourself with) which could be absolutely gangbusters. Pardon the pun.
Geek Score: 8 out of 10 bacon stripsWhat I'm Playing: Infamous for PS3 (Have to finish it before I dive into the sequel)
What I'm Reading: Batman & Son
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