Marc-Uwe Kling returns with a new version of his brilliant song, with even better lyrics – which he proceeds to sing to an audience which is, as my friend Julian put it, visibly not amused. Ah, the joys of telling middle-class pseudo-progressive Germany the truth about the consequences of its actions.
Yes, the song and video are in German, so if you don’t speak that particular language, you won’t be able to enjoy this masterpiece. Don’t be sad, though; except for this and the original-language version of Gothic I and II, you’re not missing much. Goethe is overrated, Schiller couldn’t write to save his life, and most of the rest is better when translated anyway.
Is it any wonder I want to get out of this country? Rootkits on my computer, idiots in the government, hypocrites in the audience… and the weather still sucks.
At least they make good RPGs.
P.S. When I say that Gothic II is better art than the complete works of Goethe, I mean it. I hope some German art critic reads this and dies.
You know, despite it being influenced way too much by JRPGs, and despite having some truly idiotic features (such as the system for saving, the lack of choices or detail in the main storyline, and the NPCs), I was enjoying Fable: The Lost Chapters , which Verena gave me as a present. It was quite a bit of fun, especially for someone as starved for a decent RPG as myself. (Most of the recent ones I’ve played were pretty, but boring.)
Until, that is, I started the game up this morning and saw that my profile and all its savegames were gone. Poof. Just like that. And no Mr. Game Designer, I’m not replaying the huge and mind-numbingly boring intro, nor am I redoing all those unbelievably annoying and tedious NPC quests again.
In other words, I’m out of gaming material. Again.
Peter David has an intelligent and eloquent post about the Christian family that let their young daughter die of diabetes because they thought God would save her. It is profoundly depressing to see how deluded people can be (and I’m not referring to their religiosity per se; read David’s post). It is also a strong reminder of how little many Christians know about their own Bible.
The title is a reference to a Babylon 5 episode about the same topic (not written by Peter David). I was immediately reminded of it, and of the fact that some people think the story is unrealistic. How unfortunate that it isn’t. But the thing is this: in the B5 episode, the parents are deeply affected by their child’s state. Death by diabetes is slow and horrible, yet Kara Neumann’s parents didn’t seem to be moved by that, arrogantly trusting that they were the Chosen Ones to whom God would exclusively reveal himself. There is only one word for this kind of behaviour: madness.
In the summer, most of the time it just rained. In January and February, we had days where it was so hot that you could go out in a T-shirt. (Not just one or two freak days, but quite a few.) And we’re talking about Germany here. We didn’t see an inch of snow the whole winter. Nothing. It rained sometimes, but often it was quite warm.
Now, in March, with all the trees in full bloom, it’s snowing. It has been snowing, again and again, for several days now.
And there are still people who claim there’s no such thing as climate change? Take a look around, people! The climate isn’t just changing, it’s completely fucked.
I wonder sometimes… when we have children, how will we explain summer to them? Or winter? Hell, what about autumn? These things will no longer exist, not like they used to.
Arthur C. Clarke is dead. Literature has lost one of its greatest visionaries and humanity has lost one of its most dedicated and positive proponents. He will be missed.
The good thing, however, is that as long as we’re around – and by “we” I mean our entire species, the species that Clarke had hope for when so many other writers have nothing but fashionable misanthropy – his stories and his ideas will be with us. Forever.
(And if there is an afterlife, I will find him and kick his arse for dying before someone could make a Rama movie.)
Stephen Fry is not only one of my literary heroes (and someone I hugely admire in general), he’s also a blogger (or blessayist, as he delightfully puts it). And since he recently broke his arm and can’t blog all too well, he’s now posting podcasts (or Podgrams, as they are called on site). (Look, it’s another parenthesis. They were on sale today.)
Anyway, his most recent podgram is called Bored of the Dance , and is all about dancing. (Or possibly about not dancing.) It’s hilarious, eloquent, and deeply, profoundly true. (For me. )(Not for most people.)(That’s it.)(Go and listen to it.)(Here’s the link again.)(I don’t like pork.)(Chicken is good, though.)
I went into the cinema with the lowest expectations. The trailer showed us wooly mammoths building the pyramids and good white guys fighting evil Arab-dudes; not exactly a promising premise. So I was surprised to find that Roland Emmerich has finally made another good movie (the other one being Stargate ). Not brilliant, no. There are some scenes that could’ve been very touching, but the movie never quite takes off emotionally. Emmerich is competent, but not visionary, and the Zimmer/Badelt-knockoff music fares likewise: good, but not special. Which is still a whole lot better than most movies.
So, here are some thoughts:
The writing was mostly good. I’m sure some people will disagree, but the way it lived somewhere between folk tale and epic was really well done, especially in the narration; the only place where the writing fell down a little were Evolet’s scenes.
Unfortunately Evolet not only sounded too modern, she looked too modern, too. Casting someone with more normal (and therefore more interesting, more specific) looks would’ve been a big plus. The generic nature of the love interest kind of harms a story that is all about a man trying to save said love interest.
The effects were pretty good. It’s strange. Everyone went all orgasmic about the effects in Independence Day , which were terrible (yes, even at the time) and yet when it comes to this movie, where the effects are actually quite good, people complain.
The landscapes were fantastic. Utterly ridiculous in how close they were together, but truly beautiful.
The cinematography was also competent. Certainly much better than all the crappy shakycam bullshit Peter Jackson pulled in The Lord of the Rings . Quite often I did wish for close-ups when the camera was far away and for wider shots when they were using close-ups, but except for the scenes in the jungle it all looked pretty good, and you could actually see stuff, which is always a plus.
Unless it was night. Can somebody please forbid day-for-night shoots? Or explain to filmmakers that nights aren’t completely blue? You can use darkness as a visual tool, you know.
Cliff Curtis is a god. What a wonderful actor. He was stunning in Sunshine (one of my favourite movies of all time), and here he is clearly the strongest presence in the film.
A couple of scenes were truly hilarious – intentionally so. I don’t want to spoil anything, but I do want to say that those scenes were really well-written and clever, and the acting was perfect.
Some people (idiots, we call them) are bound to complain about the film’s message of universal cooperation. They’d much rather be told that all humans are inherently evil and we will keep on bashing in each other’s heads for eternity because that’s just how it is, no sense trying to change anything, besides, being a misanthropic nihilist is totally in these days, maybe that way you can also get chicks. But the scenes with people of different tribes/races working together, becoming friends, were beautiful and touching – more touching than the love story, actually.
All in all – a good and entertaining way of spending some time. It won’t change your life, but it’s not forgettable, either.
I was really looking forward to this one. I mean, how could I not want to see a movie about a giant monster rampaging through a city, shot by someone actually experiencing the event? I love monster movies. I love cool, “experimental” (I can’t come to terms with the term) ideas. I still think The Blair Witch Project was an amazing movie. And yet, Cloverfield , proceeding from the same basic concept (a horror you can barely see, documented by the actual characters) is almost a complete failure.
And yet the concept is so good! Underneath the monster story there is actually a love story, and as the movie develops we realize that’s what’s it’s actually all about. That is good. In fact, it’s fantastic. One of my favourite movies of all time, The Village, is very much like that (and totally underrated precisely because people go in to watch a horror movie and can’t take the genre shift).
So why doesn’t Cloverfield work for me? Here’s a whole bunch of reasons.
Most of the characters are idiots, especially the guy with the camera. At the very long party scene in the beginning, almost nobody is likeable. And Hud (camera dude), is a total moron with the emotional and moral complexity of a pre-schooler. It’s very hard to care for people so superficial that they might as well be made out of paper. Only Michael Stahl-David as Rob Hawkins, the man trying to get to his ex-girlfriend, is an interesting character.
The behaviour of the characters, especially Hud, is completely unrealistic. Hud spends most of his time annoying the fuck out of the other characters (and the audience) by pointing his camera at them and asking how they feel. While this could be played as a reaction to his fear, it just comes across as annoying. It’s not the actor’s fault – it’s the writing. Would Hud really be behaving like that after the girl he’s supposedly in love with exploded? (More on that later.)
Nobody has any meaningful conversations. They either run around or just get annoyed by Hud. They talk about what to do, but never about what’s going on. It’s just like an episode of Lost. I mean, there’s a GIANT MONSTER out there, doesn’t anybody wonder about what it is? Only Hud says anything about the subject at all, and as always the others just ignore him. Besides, what he says is mostly played for laughs. (Come to think of it, this is a *lot* like Lost.)
The camerawork is completely unrealistic. Even the most inexperienced amateur can use a digital camera more sensibly. I’m fine with all the shaking when they’re running away, but Hud can’t even film the party that opens the film without making it look like a war movie.
The city doesn’t look real. I think it’s mostly the lighting, which often is too professional; it all feels too slick, which in turn conflicts with the crappy camerawork. What the film needed was essentially a Dogme approach and look. I hate Dogme’s guts, but here it would’ve been appropriate. The film should look rough.
There is no proper introduction to the characters. The entire beginning of the movie is too chaotic not only for us to become attached to anyone, but also to be able to tell them apart in a meaningful way. Sure, once a bunch of them have been killed off – with barely any reactions from the others, apart from Rob – it’s fairly easy to tell them apart, but this still means that the all the deaths in the beginning have no impact.
Irrational behaviour, again. Why does Marlena, the girl Hud’s got the hots for, join the group in its attempt to rescue Rob’s beloved? She doesn’t know any of them, in fact she seems to find Hud quite annoying. There is NO reason for her to do this, other than for the script wanting it. I really don’t understand why this was written as it was; it would be so easy to do it any other way.
This one’s a biggie: monster design! The monster sucks. We barely get to see it, which I suppose is part of the idea; but given that it’s almost as big as a skyscraper, even the worst cameraman should be able to get a decent shot of it. But that’s not design, that’s presentation. The design is the real problem. It’s boring. Dull. Featureless. A big grey blob with legs and bendy arm-thingies. What’s the deal with all the sloppy CGI these days? The thing had no presence, no weight. No decent textures, either. Everyone complains about George Lucas but nobody knows how to do CGI half as well as Lucas and his brilliant people.
What about the monster’s origin and purpose? No, it doesn’t have to be explained in the actual movie, but the people making the movie need to have some concept of what it is, to lend its behaviour some consistency. I didn’t get that impression at all here. I mean, sure, the monster’s only purpose can be destruction – but even then it has to do this in a specific way, and to have reasons for what it does that are reflected in its behaviour. Take The Mist, a brilliantly underrated movie with some truly terrifying creatures. There you get a real sense that the creozoids are part of some ecosystem, that they have reasons for behaving as they do. In Cloverfield, the monster feels like nothing more than a cinematic device.
Yeah, I have even more to say about the monster. Considering the fact that they wanted it to be really dangerous and scary, it’s pretty bloody useless. I mean, what does it do? It’s this big ugly blob that walks around and crushes a few buildings – not that many, actually. It doesn’t do anything cool. It doesn’t feel unstoppable. In fact, it’s not quite clear why it’s so hard to take out; again, a cinematic device rather than realism.
The other powerful weapon the monster has is that it drops mini-monsters, spidery crab-thingies about a metre or so in size, that run around and eat people. Now these could be scary, but they have the same problems as their mommy: they’re badly designed, inconsistent, and pointless. In one scene, the characters are attacked by a fairly large group of these beasties, and manage to do some serious damage to the monsters before getting away. In another scene, they beat one of these creatures to death quite easily. If you can easily beat them to death with a stick they must be pretty wimpy, right? But the army, with soldiers and machine guns and tanks, can’t deal with them at all and just gets butchered. WTF?
Also, what are the mini-monsters meant to do? In one scene, Hud’s love interest is bitten by one of them, and a little while later she starts bleeding from her eyes, until a soldier takes her to a place behind a strategically lit tent, where she EXPLODES. Hud doesn’t seem to care much, and after filming all this he doesn’t really seem to think about it much, either. That’s dumb enough, but the question I have is WHY DID SHE EXPLODE? It’s not like something came out of her, Alien-style (or at least we didn’t see anything anywhere in the movie). It’s so… gratuitous. And none of the other main characters explode, even though they are hurt by the creatures. The impression we get is of the writer sitting there, thinking to himself “Wouldn’t it be totally freaky if she like…. exploded? That’s it, she’ll totally explode! Awesome!” So it just happens, completely out of any meaningful context. I suppose this could be a species of monster that has evolved over the millennia just to have that one cool scene… but that’s stretching credibility a little, isn’t it?
The movie does nothing with the handheld camera concept except use it as an excuse for being sloppy. And there is so much that you could do! I mean, think about it: what we have is a first-person movie. So what about all the tricks a writer can use with that kind of perspective? How about a scene in which the characters are suddenly attacked by beasties, there’s a cut, we see them running, they escape, the on-camera characters talk for a while… then the guy behind the camera says something and we suddenly realize that it’s someone else! (Obviously, you would then have to talk about the other character’s death. Cloverfield kinda forgets this stuff sometimes.) Or have them use the camera for something other than recording – looking around corners, zooming in to see what’s going on further ahead, that kind of thing.
The camera is used twice in such a way, though. At one point, the characters have decided to use a subway tunnel to get where they’re going. (There’s a brilliantly ridiculous scene where they are overtaken by fleeing rats, and their reaction is basically “Hmm, fleeing rats. Do you think that might indicate something bad is happening at the other end of the tunnel?” “Nah.”) Since they can’t see anything, they turn on the camera’s light, which is bright enough for everyone to be able to see. Now there may be cameras with lights that strong, and I’m sure that in the future this wouldn’t be a big deal, but with the technology we currently have the movie should’ve ended five minutes after that with a “battery low” symbol. In a slightly better sequence, the characters turn on the camera’s night vision mode, only to discover a bunch of beasties right on top of them. While conceptually cool, the scene also feels terribly forced.
All in all, Cloverfield suffers from not being properly thought out, and from not taking advantage of its concept at all. What’s really depressing, though, is that Diary of the Dead will be compared to this movie, and will not be appreciated – despite the fact that Romero’s work has always been funny, intellectually challenging and well-made.