Hitting the stores in October is this nice-looking behind the scenes film takes a look at Johnson’s 2008 world tour with an accompanying CD of live music. All of the proceeds from the tour and this film project are being donated to Kokua Hawaii Foundation and the Johnson Ohana Family trust, which continues to distribute endowment’s to Jack’s favorite environmental charities…
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From Warner Bros.
In the wake of Transformers 2 achieving almost complete critical fallout yet still earning buckets of cash, an uncomfortable reality about action films is becoming apparent. So long as the CGI and action is entertaining, viewers are willing to dismiss a lack of proper characterization, plotting, or coherence. Where could an audience of young viewers developed such a preference for action despite suffering through a terrible plot?
After watching the second Matrix movie in theaters a friend of mine commented that the movie seemed to wish it was a video game. That got a laugh since the action sequences all take place in a virtual reality, but he persisted in the point. The incoherent plot, the wooden acting, the unnecessary fight sequences, they were all things one expects to be in a video game. Many of these motifs aren’t intentional in games, but because of their current high action nature they aren’t huge problems either. When all your audience wants to see is explosions and fighting, usually because they’re the ones doing it, you can get away with slacking in a lot of areas. You might even go so far as to argue that it helps encourage wanton destruction and mayhem if the player never really connects with the characters. Yet in a film, where we are always going to be passive observers to the thrills, action can only carry us so far. If all one is doing is watching explosions and CGI, it gets to a certain point where you wonder why you don’t just play the more enaging video game. The tension, the sense of danger, all of the things a movie must carefully orchestrate to create can easily be found in a video game. Even a bad one, really. A review for Gears of War 2 made this comment about the action blockbuster, “Hollywood, your days are numbered.”
Part of this problem is just the simple difficulty of depicting a coherent CGI world. Stanley Kubrick once said, “If it can be written, or thought, it can be filmed.” Thanks to affordable special effects that statement is now quite literally true. Movie goers have seen dinosaurs walking across the jungle, aliens invading a major city, and anything else that can possibly be imagined. The problem is that none of this is happening in front of the actor. A Slate article on how filming for CGI affects filming points out that essentially two movies must be created. It explains, “During the live-action part, the star often works on a so-called limbo set, aptly named because the actor is in a sort of limbo stage, standing, for example, in an empty room, wearing a green spandex jumpsuit, and mouthing lines of dialogue—which will later be filled in at a looping session—[all this] while holding imaginary objects and reacting to imaginary dangers.” Afterwards a team of technicians will go in and build the rest of the movie around these scenes. Ian McKellan once described the Balrog in The Fellowship of the Ring as a tennis ball on a stick. Ewan McGregor commented numerous times on the difficulty of working on a set where you have nothing else to go on except green walls and the person standing next to you. The few success stories with CGI in movies work around the problem. Peter Jackson had Andy Serkis stand in as Gollum and work the other actors so they could get a feel for the character. Sam Raimi did the Spiderman films by only using CGI for action scenes. The edge that the video game can assert over film is that their entire world is CGI. The characters, the world, and the player’s avatar are all a part of one aesthetic whole. Even the moments where the depiction doesn’t make sense are at least consistent about it. If there is bad acting in a video game it is not just a blip because of awkward CGI work, it is the standard of how the world works.
Yet it’s not like anything happening on a movie set is particularly real to begin with. A column at MSN Movies UK points out, “Real filmmaking” is a slippery concept anyway, because everything on celluloid is false, from the moonlight streaming into Rick Blaine’s office to the rustle of Rocky’s boxer shorts. King Kong is a fake gorilla whether he is made of plasticene or pixels.” It goes on to point out success stories with CGI like Sin City, filmed under similar conditions to the Star Wars prequels, yet far superior. In the hands of a capable film maker with a good script, CGI is just another tool in their movie making box. The issue of game envy only comes up when a film decides to rely on its CGI action scenes instead of the medium’s other strengths. The problem being, if we are not going to be watching interesting people interact then we may as well be doing it ourselves. The Dark Knight succeeds because Heath Ledger and company deliver great performances, not because the action sequences are anything new or amazing. An elaborate ten minute fight sequence featuring crumbling buildings and kung-fu may have its tiny moments, but it is hard to not make the same observation my friend did about The Matrix sequel. They already have video games where I can smash an entire skyscraper, why would I want to watch someone else essentially play a game in front of me?
From The Dark Knight
There is also the simple fact that video games have so much progress left to make. Compare a game from 2000 to today, the progress the medium has made is astounding already. Although a few gems will always come along every year in film, it’s hard to not notice that everything is becoming increasingly formulaic when it comes to film. You can set your watch to the thirty minute rule in a blockbuster. Romantic comedies almost give away their entire stories from the trailers. One CNET column cynically writes, “There is very little drive for anyone to make a unique and extremely exciting movie anymore because producers know that many of us will go out and watch the garbage no matter how bad it is. On the other hand, video game developers—largely relegated to second-class by the Hollywood-types—have something to prove.” Whereas the traditional blockbuster film is struggling to find ways to improve an overused formula, the video game could be improved on almost all fronts.
From God of War 2
exciting speaks volumes. A video game’s action sequences can be longer and can occur more often because we, the player, are engaged with them instead of just watching repetitive fights. The fact that what we’re watching isn’t real doesn’t matter because knowing that doesn’t stop our engagement. The ability to get people to care about things that are not real is the bread and butter of the video game.
Someone on Metafilter had linked to Real USSR, which offers essays and photos of Soviet material culture. It seems like a useful resource in imagining what a postconsumer (or non-consumer) society might look like. The Soviets apparently failed in achieving a positive example of such a society; its citizens, at least in Western representations, were hungrier than their non-Communist counterparts for branded goods and the world of status consumption from which they were by and large excluded. Their seemingly dismal lack of consumer goods was possibly the best propaganda weapon for the U.S. during the Cold War: Dowdy, nondescript proles standing in lines outside gray, barren Soviet distribution centers would be contrasted with the glitz of shopping malls and the endless opportunities for self-aggrandizement. Who wants to work for a collective goal when we can enjoy a solipsistic reverie in which all causes begin and end with ourselves?
Consumerism in Western society, at any rate, is strongly associated with atomistic individualism, offering the illusion of transcending social reciprocity for a higher convenience, in which pleasure is served directly to us through various purchases in well-stocked retail outlets. Pleasure is presumed to be a matter of accumulation—is constructed to be that sort of thing, a matter of developing the richest self through consuming and mastering the greatest amount of stuff. In Soviet culture, consumerism must have meant something else entirely, carving out a space for subjectivity—for an alternate currency of information, about goods and what they might signify—in an authoritarian state premised on surveillance and information control.
Releasing: 13 October
03 Joy Fantastic ft. Daysoul
06 Fruit Touch
08 Acoustic Lady
09 Rising 5
10 Twistclip Loop
11 Just Decided ft. Oliver Daysoul
12 No One Could Ever
13 Velvet Peel
14 Tell Me What You Want From Me ft. Dam-Funk
16 Star Crackout
17 Allhot ft. Nadsroic
18 Black N Red
“Rising 5” [MP3]
All these years later, it is still a thrill ride. Waid crafted a truly endearing vehicle for Flash, six or so months or major storyarcs, and six or so months of fillers.
Issue 91, ‘Out of Time’ is one such filler issue. Effectively both coda to the ‘Trial of Wally West’ storyarc told over the four issues prior, and prologue to runaway hit, ‘Terminal Velocity’. ‘Out of Time’ fits in with another long-running creative project of Waid’s; the superhero neurosis of Wally West. In the watershed ‘Return of Barry Allen’, Waid established the Wally West character as an essay in superhero psychology. Wally’s powers were waning, we discover, because of an insecurity limiting his capacity to adopt the mantle of his mentor Barry Allen.
But after defeating the villainous Reverse-Flash, and excising the ghost of Barry Allen, could Waid still tap the psychological as source material for Wally’s story?
In ‘Out of Time’, Wally (overcome by an incapacity to save all lives) uses Johnny Quick’s speed formula to boost his already impressive superspeed. But the plan falls apart. The boost of superspeed means Wally’s frozen in time. Once time starts up, the lives of three helicopter pilots might be lost. Zen guru and speedster, Max Mercury, boosts his own speed to deliver a message to Wally: ‘Don’t be afraid, live in the moment’.
The real treat of course, is Mike Weiringo’s hyperreal cartoonish style. As Max Mercury slows down, colorist Gina Going uses the masking effect to illustrate his return to ordinary human speeds. But beyond the colors, it is the tilts and outcroppings that make this sequence what it is. With Wally catching the falling Max, then donning his mask Ringo illustrates how Max’s point has hit home. Ringo’s playful artwork reminds us of the ordinary heroism of facing our fears, and thriving.