Where We've Been

Evening, gang.


If you're reading this, it's most likely Halloween where you are. I dig. I hope you're having as mega of a day as I am. I spent the previous day recapping the Saturday night hijinks, packing some boxes while watching spooky movies and opening a bottle of Cabernet to enjoy another Treehouse of Horror. Not bad, I have to say. My apartment has no kids, so no trick or treaters for me, to my dismay. I would have fun passing out candy. I would have fun with wine until I pass out, too, but that's not really a Halloween thing. I digress. This year I was a bull, my better half was a matador. Here's me:

Nice, right? Best of all - pretty darn cheap. Total cost? Five bones for the horns. All else was mine. Okay the leg warmers on my arms as hooves were courtesy of my better half. 


So I've written up and down about Spooky Month. I loved it. It gave me a chance to indulge in my spooky side and share some awesome Halloweenish things with the wider world. There are, however, some things that slipped through the cracks. These are the posts I wrote prior to Spooky Month that would have been totally appropriate to cut and paste if I had been short on time and creativity. In no particular order, you should check out:


The Thing and I - a genuinely creepy Treehouse of Horror installment, all set at night in a storm.
Silent Hill 2 - the most terrifying game I've ever played. An emotional trip, to say the least. HD collections for PS3 and 360 due out in January.
Cloverfield - A modern Gojira, my favorite monster movie. It's a crazy post-modern take on terrorist events.
Zombies Ate My Neighbors - An underrated gem for the SNes. A love letter to B Movie madness.
Crimson - Beautifully dark album from the Alkaline Trio. Lush and pulsing punk music to set the mood.
MST3K - The best way to enjoy old B Movies. Snark galore. Laughs abound. Legendary.
Old Boy - Not a horror movie, per se. Still a dark, twisted trip to the most tormented depths of humanity. Yeah.
Silent Hill - My love for a flawed, but well-intentioned cinematic adaptation of the video game series.
You Were Always On My Mind - Getting severely caught off guard by a creepy soundtrack.
Grabbed by the Ghoulies - A forgotten gem from Rare. Super fun and full of simple frights!
Maniac Mansion - One of the first great haunted house games. Packed with point-and-click antics.
House of Leaves - Watch a book eat itself like a snake swallowing its own tail.
World War Z - The definitive record of humanity's war on zombie-kind. A sprawling, epic tome.
I Hear You Calling - A great video by the band Gob with homages to Thriller.

So that about sums it up. It's been a month of scares and jumps, noises in the vents and things lurking around the corner. Hit up the Spooky label on the side bar for more goodness. Otherwise, come November 1st it's back to business as usual here. I've had a blast this past month. Hopefully you have too. I'll try to do more large scale themes in the future. Christmas Conundrum, perhaps?

Northwest Passage

Let's go for a walk in the woods, shall we?


As I've made it abundantly clear in past posts, there is a great deal of culture from the 90s that I adore. While I have shown great admiration for music and cartoons from my formative years, there are occasionally cultural blank spots that need to be filled in. There have also been a fair number of posts here about Lost and Silent Hill. The common influence both of my long-standing favorites share is rooted back at the beginning of the 90s, in today's Spooky Month subject matter - Twin Peaks.

I was too young to have experienced the pop culture zeitgeist of Twin Peaks when it first aired. David Lynch's groundbreaking multi-genre show was notorious for quite a few good reasons, among them the surreal imagery and whodunit that ran central to the short lived series. From what my history books and parents have told me, it was one of the first water-cooler shows, something everyone was discussing the next day. It was popular and remarkable enough that I was able to pick up hints and shadows of the bizarre series in other forms. As it permeated the pop-culture lexicon, it laid the groundwork for some of my most-loved things, like the previously mentioned cult show Lost and the extremely Twin Peaks influenced Silent Hill series. It was only fitting then, that I trace the roots of these things back to the source. So when I was unable to sleep in the weeks approaching my wedding this past summer, I passed the nights by devouring the TV legend.

Immediately I was struck by the atmosphere and distinct personality of the series, the clearly identifiable Lynch hallmarks of surreal images, whipsaw mood changes and the undercurrent of the strange and abnormal. It was also immediately apparent that I was hooked on the series, chewing through the episodes as fast as I could, but savoring them in the understanding that it would only be two short seasons of this weird and wonderful show. I confess, I loved everything about it, even when the quality dipped (as the common reputation holds) in the second season. The first season, though - unparalleled. 

Everything about the show was amazing to my tastes - it felt like the series had been made just for me, only to lie in wait while the stars slowly aligned to bring me to Twin Peaks. I love the dreary, cool atmosphere of the Northwestern setting, having lived there in my late teens. Angelo Badalamenti's noir and jazz based score added to the ambiance in an undeniable way. The absolutely quirky and uniquely drawn characters in their soap-opera parodies and grim circumstances. It was all a strange and enthralling mix that I immediately was hooked on. The iconic images of Lynch's dreamworlds only drew me deeper to the odd, short lived tale. It was exhilarating to see things that had made such impressions on culture for the first time, the scenes feeling at once alive and alien yet somehow familiar, a sense of "Oh, this is what that meant" coming over me more than once.

It's no wonder this amazing series is such a legend in popular culture - it set the bar higher than its imitators could hope to clear. Others have come close, but watching this show at night in the quiet dark while waiting to fall asleep...man, what a memorable week. The common thread running through some of my favorite things suddenly stood much clearer to me, having been lain bare by tracing it back to the source. If you want to relive an exciting time in TV history it's available on Netflix or from kind friends on DVD. It's eerie, spooky stuff that's perfect drama for this time of year. Makes me want a cup of dark coffee and a slice of pie, too, come to think of it. 

Corridors

Hello! 

Welcome to day two of Book Worm Week! 

After looking at such a dense and heady text as Murakami's Windup Bird Chronicle yesterday, what would you say to switching gears completely, to something like a total inversion of that experience? Instead of an emotionally driven tale of a lonely man's search for identity in the world while dealing with dream-obsessed psychic prostitutes in a doorstop of a novel, how about a pop-culture influencing, quick read that almost makes a game out of the reading experience - would that pique your interest? Good, because today we're looking at House of Leaves, by Mark Z. Danielewski.

 Published back around the turn of the millennium, House of Leaves could be the very definition of a post-modern book, one that is just as much about the book itself as it is about what happens both in and on the page. On the surface (which is a statement, in and of itself) the plot is as follows: a young man working at an LA tattoo parlor named Johnny Truant is told about a vacant apartment for rent, whose previous tenant was a blind old man named Zampano. In the old man's belongings they find a book the man apparently dictated, the subject of which was a film called The Navidson Record. As Truant begins to edit and assemble a workable copy of the book from the scraps and fragments left by Zampano, the tale of The Navidson Record takes over. The Navidson record was a (possibly) fictional movie the documented a family whose home suddenly gains a large closet it hadn't previously held. The patriarch of the family, (fictional) famed photographer Will Navidson, begins an obsessive quest to document the exact measurements of the house, finding it to be exactly 1/4 inch larger on the inside than the outside. This discrepancy begins to consume him, and when there appears a doorway on the living room wall which opens into a corridor that exists seemingly in hammer space, he begins to explore it. 

So to recap - a book about a book about a movie about a strange and impossible labyrinth. 

As I stated at the beginning of the post, the book is a poster child for the modern non-book, a work with multiple levels of interpretation and meta-contextually that becomes a winding, inescapable journey into the author's mind. In a cheeky move, the book itself is 1/4 inch larger than the cover, the pages jutting out intentionally. The text inside changes fonts, sizes and formats, depending both on the narrating character and the context of the action. Passages of prose are broken up by poems, which are footnoted; these footnotes often contain there own footnotes, at times telling entirely capsular stories of their own. As the reader reaches the point of Navidson exploring the labyrinth in his home, the text shifts and twists around the page, reflecting the alien nature of the story and the sub-protagonist's perspective. It's fascinating but at times it makes it either impossibly off putting or entirely engrossing. When fleeing sounds in the darkness in the labyrinth, the text becomes small, claustrophobic blocks, forcing the reader to rapidly flip pages to keep up, as though running along side the action. When lost miles beneath the house, the text circles back around in isolated boxes that are upside down in other chapters, highlighting the impossible physics and skewing the reader's sense of perspective. Text changes color at times randomly, other times quite intentionally for specific phrases and words.

 To be candid, though, I found this to be simultaneously inspired logic yet it absolutely withdrew me from the reading experience. I found myself wistfully thinking, at times, how nice it would have been to simply have the straight text of The Navidson Film in a standard book format - the idea of inner-space being more extensive than outer-space was fascinating and (I felt) at times fumbled by Danielewski. What could have made for a disturbing and haunting tale becomes, instead, a case of 'look how clever I am' exercises in an author's debut work. It felt like at times the book would reach out and slap me if it had hands, just to defy the typical reading experience.

 I say all this, yet I still have read the book more than once. I can bag on the post-modern theatrics that Danielewski foists upon the reader and yet I still adore the central concept on display. This no doubt has ties to my love of the Silent Hill series, which has often featured long and winding passages that don't exist in reality yet force the player through them in effectively disorienting sequences. As much as I love the adventure of the characters getting lost somewhere in the walls of the house, it is, at it's heart, a book about a married couple clutching each other's hands as their relationship stumbles. I didn't realize it until my second read through (with some internet-assisted hand-holding) that the book has just as much of a focus on the characters as it does the house itself. Johnny Truant's crumbling mind and Will Navidson's obsessions fuel the plot developments in such a deft and sly manner that it adds another layer to an already massively choreographed work - you don't notice it as you read about a 'haunted house' but it's the character's you're becoming unknowingly invested in, not the labyrinth. 

It's divisive, it's notorious, it's over a decade old and still post-modern. House of Leaves is strange and wonderful journey that is fundamentally unlike anything else I've ever read. I would highly suggest you track down a copy and see what you find. Book Worm Week continues tomorrow with another abrupt change in style - stay tuned! 

Mindful Things

Word.


Like, a few of 'em.


That's all I've got for you today. The heatwave, short as it was, finally broke and those of us in the Middle West are coasting nicely back into comfortable temps where death is not a constant threat. It no longer fees like the fires of Hell blowing against your face when you step outside. Yesterday I wrote a bit about Portishead and how the heat reminded me of listening to them last summer. I got to thinking about what else had that kind of thing going for it, that same recollection and similar feel, and it hit me. 


Last summer when my better half was out of town on a business trip I spent my nights working through an unusual video game  doing so because I was afforded some uninterrupted time on the widescreen TV. That game? A re-imagining of the original Silent Hill for the Wii, subtitled Shattered Memories. The game is a slightly tweaked and twisted take on the original experience, with some novel concepts. Among some of these changes were setting the otherworldly parts in a frozen, icy landscape and removing all of the combat from the game, which had really been ancillary in past versions anyway. Most intriguing was the idea that the game would be psychologically profiling you as you played it, altering the game-play to respond to what it interpreted from your choices and behavior. It was an interesting experience, one that was quite unlike any other game I'd played before. I was torn on removing the combat - the game became more of a post-modern adventure but lost some of the danger, which I'm sure was the opposite of the intentions of the creative team. As always, what really hooked me was the sound.

There's a moment in the game in which the protagonist's car plunges off of a bridge into the partially frozen river below. Yes, you of course make it out at that point in the game, seeing that you're only halfway through. It was a tense moment, regardless. I fumbled around with the Wii's mediocre motion controls, frantically hitting the door locks and windows, trying to remind myself its only a game, when I accidentally hit the radio. In a beautiful moment of scoring, the radio starting blaring Akira Yamaoka's version of the Country Western standard 'You Were Always On My Mind', complete with amazingly haunting vocals by series mainstay Mary Elizabeth McGlynn. It was right at the chorus, the moment when this version is bubbling through some churning synthesizers as Mcglynn moans the title. 


The effect was serene and haunting, the best moment of the game for me.

I absolutely adore this version of the song. To be honest, the C&W versions are not my thing. This take on the standard, though - wow. McGlynn's gorgeous, breathy voice has been an integral part of the soundtracks to the games thus far. To be honest I'm a little ashamed I went this long without acknowledging her contributions, as some of the best tracks are due to her involvement. Check out the song and try to see what I experienced - it's dark and I've had some wine. I'm completely wrapped up in this psychological game, headphones on in front of a massive TV. An hour into the session, the car crashes and I'm fumbling in the dark, trying to hit the locks. Then, out of nowhere, but in a very real, believable moment, I hear this.

It's something that will stick with me for a long time, something I'd cite for the long-contested "Can games be considered art?" debate that rages today.

Movie Week Memoriam

Ladies and gentlemen, here we have it!


The sad yet poignant end to Movie Week. 


I've just arrived home from the premier screening of the locally made, insanely funny Wasted On The Young and I have to say - it is funnier than I could have ever hoped. I mean there were times I felt I should stifle myself, lest I ruin someone else's good time. I howled out loud, along with the rest of the sold out theater. Hell, the 9 pm show was sold out, too. I would love nothing more than to give a thorough recapping of the lovable indie film fresh from Paperback Productions, but do to my intimate involvement with the movie, objectivity is almost non-existent. That being said, I absolutely adored the scenes I wasn't in, relishing the performances of my friends and neighbors. It was also an amazing curiosity to see a motion picture shot entirely on VHS - the aesthetic was both unique and enjoyable. If you're interested, head over to the site and buy it for a single dollar. That's less than a sandwich! I won't say anymore at this point, to avoid accusations of shilling. What I will do, instead, is compile every post thus far on the subject of movies. See, I mostly just write about them, not act in them. So here goes:


Brick - a phenomenal, understated, modern day noir flick set in a CA high-school, starring the amazing Joseph Levitt.
Monsters - a quiet, evocative film on a shoestring budget about societal implications of aliens in Mexico. Awesome.
Cloverfield - the flipside to Monsters, wherein a Cthulian-esque monstrosity attacks NY. Very post-9/11.
Fan Edits - a look at the fascinating world of fan edits and how they change our perceptions.
Spirited Away - one of my favorite movies, ever. A beautiful, heartfelt tale of growing up. And ghosts!
The Matrix Trilogy - the groundbreaking series that looks even more impressive in hi-definition. A must see.
Moon - a moving but lonely and ultimately heartbreakingly human science fiction movie. Duncan Jones is a genius.
Mystery Team - the Derrick Comedy debut feature, an absurd take on Encyclopedia Brown, starring Donald Glover.
The Ride - the shorth film that accompanied 30 Seconds To Mars' single 'Kings & Queens. Heavy and gorgeous.
Inception - a look at how music shapes the experience of this phenomenal thriller. Heady, intelligent stuff.
MST3K - the absolute best of the worst. Manos, Hobgoblins, This Planet Earth. You name it. Yikes.
Akira - an examination of how scene and setting impacted my perspective of the Japanese breakout hit.
Terminator - some of the smartest science fiction movies ever, even if the continuity and quality tapers off.
Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs - surprisingly smart and funny, a great under rated and recent movie.
Oldboy - harrowing stuff, but some of the most original film-making I'd seen in years. Watch it with the kids! (Don't)
Wasted On The Young - Minneapolis-made movie makes moves. I'm so proud of everyone involved.
Pleasantville - see Tobey Maguire and Reese Witherspoon before they were stars. It's a charming 90s movie.
Silent Hill - an uneven, but enjoyable horror flick I love more for the soundtrack than anything.
Chasing Amy - Kevin Smith's best work, an honest and moving look at relationships, with plenty of dick jokes, to boot.


There we are, kids. Quite a few, so feel free to peruse and see what you find. I plan on doing more on movies later, but I ought to get back to what I do best. In the future though, I'd like to branch out more, do more themes. Maybe books? Games? Lord knows the web is full of guys like myself writing about video games. Something more obscure....perhaps comedy? Who knows. Hey, I'm open to suggestions - drop a line and let me know what you think! 

Radio Static

Man, these things keep getting later and later.


Hope your weekend was as good as mine, a mix of extreme productivity and quantifiable unwinding. Movie Week continues, but not for long. Tonight, a short look back at an under rated but curious example of the game-to-screen phenomenon. 


I've written a fair deal about my love for Silent Hill, particularly the second installment of the game series. The first post I ever wrote was on how much I love the work of the series' composer, Akira Yamaoka. Imagine, then, my delight when I heard several years ago that there were plans to adapt the games into a film. I was, of course, skeptical about the process, as anyone who has seen video game-based movies like Super Mario Brothers, Double Dragon, Street Fighter and Mortal Kombat can attest, the results are never strong. My fears were dissuaded by the professed admiration of Christopher Gans, a French director who swore up and down that the movie was a labor of love and a dream project of his. So, expectations hovering in the middle, I went to see the big screen adaption of Silent Hill when it was released in theaters.


It was...okay.


I really wanted to love the movie. There were parts of it that absolutely nailed the tone and mood of the surreal-yet-disturbing game series. Other elements were less cohesive or just not that strong. It was, in short, an uneven affair that shone brightly at times but faltered when it came to sticking the ending. Part of the problem, obviously, comes in the translation from game to cinema - games are solitary, intensely personal experiences, whereas a major motion picture is seen in a theater full of people without your hands guiding the experience. Where I had played these games alone in the dark, tensely feeling my way through the dread and abandoned corridors, here was a movie played in a theater in which seemingly disparate elements were forced into an unconfused whole.

There are definitely parts of the film that work, in particular the first half of the movie. In it, we see a great deal of imagery and themes central to the games, without just copying them wholesale. The pervasive fog, the flickering radios, the uncanny movement of things in the mist - some of it plays out as ideally as a film version of Silent Hill could do. In particular, the music and score for these establishing scenes are fantastic, basically amounting to a pseudo-greatest hits of the game's music. Yamaoka's influence on the series is felt strongly here and it works to great effect. The script is not a stand-out element, but the cast does a solid job in handling insane material, making the impossible somewhat believable. It's only as the movie progresses that we lose sight of where we started. While the games excelled at atmosphere and ambient dread there was also a fair degree (okay a hell of a lot of) graphic violence and disturbing images. The film, unfortunately, forgets or confuses the emphasis, switching out effective scene-settings for gore and viscera. By the end of the movie we've strayed straight into a torture film, watching characters suffer seemingly out of obligation rather than plot necessity.

Silent Hill is far from a perfect movie, but it still holds its own, if just for that opening 35 or forty minutes. If I ever wanted to explain the series to someone and have them experience it without them playing it I would have them watch the begging of this movie. Just not the last leg - too brutal, even for me at times. Still, glad to have as strong an adaptation as this. We'll see what happens with the sequel, due next year. As long as they use Akira Yamaoka's music, I'm in.

A Quiet Town

I'm taking a gamble here and assuming I can fit in an entire entry in the usual style on a Friday evening. Maybe I'm too optimistic for my own productivity, or maybe I just think I can fit it in before my friends in the excellent hip hop duo Mnemosyne hit the stage tonight. Either way, I'm diving in head first.

I've previously written about my love for the music of Akira Yamaoka. Today I wanted to write a bit about how I became familiar with his work. The method in question is one of my favorite things of all time, but one that I am always a bit hesitant to really throw myself behind in a public spectrum due to the off putting nature of it. The love I speak of is Silent Hill 2. I realize how silly it sounds to say its the sequel that does it for me, but the fact that this game is the second entry in what would become a long running franchise is almost irrelevant due to its stand-alone nature.

But I digress.

Let me start over. 

Silent Hill was a sleeper hit on the Playstation, released in the late 90s. There's not a great deal that you need to know about it for this article except : 1) its a psychological horror-based videogame 2) the distinct visual style is critical to the appeal and essence of the game 3) it is set in a town called Silent Hill, in which there is something very...wrong. Really, that is all one would need to know to be able to jump into SH2 and not feel like you were missing a crucial part of the story; the designers and directors did a fantastic job for creating a unique and independently strong game related only in setting and tone. That the game is rooted in psychological horror is also integral - its purpose is to disturb instead of scare, to unnerve rather than make you jump.

The protagonist of the game, James Sunderland, receives a letter in the mail from his wife Mary that says she is waiting for him in Silent Hill, in their "special place". Two problems lie within his receiving this letter - he can't recall what specifically that place would be and, most importantly, his wife is deceased. "Right," you may say with incredulity, "So what's the trick, she faked him out, or its a trap or something?" Very genre savvy of you, but no, it is no spoiler to say she is dead. No more. Corporeal yet unliving. It is the first indication that something is very wrong in the game, either with the town or perhaps our protagonist. What follows is a disturbing adventure into the depths of a man's psyche, searching frantically for a past that eludes him at every turn. 

The game was released for the Playstation 2 and Xbox in September of 2001 and stood as a benchmark for many years for how to tell a story and create a rich, motivated character for players to control. (The fact that I dove headlong into the game after the terrorist attacks is the subject for an entirely different post altogether.) To this day, its legacy is one of high acclaim and a shining example of how to tell a tale of interactive fiction. I find myself thinking and describing it not really under the term of 'videogame' in my mind but as a movie you have an element of control over. It's not a free-roaming piece of sandbox city, a la Grand Theft Auto but a linear tale of curiosity and morbidity that the player guides James through. What allows for such a bizarre story to be told, and what continues over from the original game, is the atmosphere, both literally and figuratively.

Allow me to veer off the intended path for a moment to explain something technical.

The hardware for the original Playstation, though impressive for the time, was not without its limitations. In order to render large, open areas intended for exploration the designers had to limit what would be rendered and presented on screen. Basically it boiled down to not being able to create as full and detailed world as possible without some restrictions on graphical quality. The design team for Silent Hill, realizing that their game would put a heavy strain on the hardware, decided to disguise the limitations by incorporating it into the aesthetic. In a clever twist on form versus function, they used the distance-limiting fog of the era's computing power as a way to set mood and ambience for a spooky feeling. What was initially a lack of visible distance became a pervasive and eerie fog the player had to contend with. This fog, while not strictly necessary for the PS2 hardware, was retained for the somber and otherworldly nature it afforded. 

Now, to get back on track.

The game, as I stated, is a disturbing tale of horror that guides you from a lookout over the town, through the town itself and into its depths, literally, as you search for your deceased wife, Mary. You descend onto a wooded path into town and when you arrive in town, it seems completely deserted. Unfortunately this turns out not to be the case, as James stumbles onto twisted and uncannily inhuman creatures that attack him and he is forced to defend himself. As he ventures through the empty town, quiet except for his footsteps, a feeling of unease comes over the player. Through the fog you can hear things moving, coming closer. Sometimes...things...swoop out of the darkness to attack. The game takes you through abandoned apartments, a dark hospital, through the historical society and into the depths of the towns old and decrepit prison beneath. It is a game not of bombast and jump scares but of dread and terror through perceived threats. 

The nature of James' marriage and how he dealt with his wife's passing is involved as well, to an amazingly insightful degree. His character is one of a mourning man who struggles with loss and memories that are fading away, to be obscured by justification and self-assertion. I don't want to go to far into the details but the revelations about motivations and the nature of deceit the first time I played the game were revelatory and to this day its held as a pinnacle of story telling in the videogame industry. All of this adds up to why I feel like the game is a 'game' only in the loosest sense, defined only by medium and not experience.

What little soundtrack there is, is haunting and absolutely beneficial to the experience. Yamaoka created music and soundscapes that only heighten already-pervasive moods, be they the eerie and somber stretches of exploring alone, or the unnerving horror of a rotted-out hotel with strange creature crawling out of the woodwork. Synthed percussion hum like a heartbeat, pianos drone in haunting tones. To boot, there are themes for each character, or motifs, like an opera. Take a listen here to one of my favorite pieces of the game, let alone some of my favorite incidental music ever.

While I could write for pages and pages about this game and the entire series on top of it, I need to put a pin in this post. I can feel the fact that I want to do a more in depth analysis on the game and some of the themes down the line, so I will let today's entry serve as an introduction, or perhaps an enticement. If you're a gamer and haven't experienced it, you're missing out and should spring for the five or ten dollars it would cost to pick up a used copy. If you're not a gamer (my condolences) then either have someone walk you through just a few minutes of it or risk taking a look at the movie adaptation, which was a mixed bag. I personally enjoyed it - it's about as good of an translation as you could do with Hollywood's abysmal track record for movies based on games.


Honestly, I feel that the game stands on its own as a phenomenal piece of interactive fiction that is sorely unappreciated, even within its own audience. If you can handle the horror, give it a look. I'm glad I did. Stay tuned for more on this amazing game.