Radiohead never really ceases to surprise. Every time a new album surfaces, über-fans spend inordinate amounts of time dissecting each and every part of the album. Countless articles surface looking at what it is that makes the band so intriguing. They went from being a band who makes good music to a band who makes good music with a sense of the mystique. Even their ninth album, released early this month after only a few days notice, was a bit of a surprise to most fans despite years of anticipation. The coverage that the band receives around album release times is always a little overwhelming. Seemingly every music website has articles, interpretations, speculations, critiques, analyses, and investigations on any facet about the band and its music. It’s easy to observe it all and perceive it as overzealous.
The attention they receive, while obsessive and slightly overrated, is not entirely undeserved. They truly do make some really great music, but I can’t read every little piece that comes through about them. The attention always seems, to me at least, diametrically opposed to the intimate nature the music actually possesses. To be honest, Radiohead is one of my favorite bands. But as of this month, I had not seriously listened to them in over a year. I don’t feel the need to listen to them regularly; they are the perfect band to set aside for a long while before coming back to savor. As always happens when one of my favorite artists is releasing an album (I’ll be doing it in about a month with my favorite band of all time), I like to do a dive into their past releases just to get in the mood for a new one. So, here I wanted to jot down some of my thoughts on each of their albums as I listen to them. If not for any reason but to remind myself of how fantastic this band is during the next long stretch between listens.
Pablo Honey (1993) - The first album may very well be the most different sounding of all of their albums, which makes it a little hard to classify. There is more guitar work and standard “rock” sound than any of their albums. It sounds more in tune with their British contemporaries, Blur, Oasis, and Pulp. It’s also hard to miss the clear influence of the Smiths, which is never a bad thing. Favorite song: “Creep”; how couldn’t it be? Their single-most recognizable song holds up incredibly well, despite the band’s unwillingness to acknowledge its existence.
The Bends (1995) - I know it is the favorite pastime of Radiohead fans to list, argue, reorder lists, and argue some more about which is the band’s best album. Usually, it’s easy to claim the can’t-pick-only-one defense, but since I started listening to them, The Bends has unwaveringly been my top choice. It signifies the transition from the standard alt-Britpop sound to their more modern qualities. And the opening four tracks is one of my favorite series of songs on any album. Favorite song: “Just”; really tough choice here. I easily could have said two or three others, but this song (and its accompanying video) is simply amazing.
OK Computer (1997) - However you feel about the music website, Pitchfork Media, there is a quote about OK Computer that I always remember when I listen to this album. “I don't listen to OK Computer that much anymore, and occasionally I get the idea in my head that it must be overrated. Then I put it on again and realize that it's even better than I remember. I find new things to appreciate every time I listen.” I really don’t think there is a better way to describe this album. It is an efficient album, perfectly blending the titular computerized digital sound with the astounding presence of acoustic guitars. Seriously, it is easy to forget just how much acoustic guitar there is in this album. Favorite song: “No Surprises” AND “Lucky”; I’m sorry, I just can’t give credit to one without the other. Both are so full of emotion and complex, and they play next to each other so well.
Kid A (2000) - Kid A is a weird one, an album that I think may be slightly divisive in the Radiohead-fan community. I’ve read hyperbolic statements that this is the their best album and the best album of the 2000s and the best album of all time. I’ve also seen comments that it is overrated. Personally, I fall somewhere in the middle. It’s not my favorite album by them, but it’s certainly not overrated. For a follow-up to something like OK Computer, this album permanently changes the musical direction of the band for (I believe) the remainder of their output. Side note: one of my favorite writers, Chuck Klosterman, has this fascinating piece about how he thinks Kid A predicted the events of September 11, 2001. Very highly recommended. Favorite song: “Everything In Its Right Place”; no question here, this is actually my favorite Radiohead song of any album. With the proper headphones, the opening notes of the studio version are actually perfect. Also worth checking out is the live version from their 2001 live album I Might Be Wrong. The counted lead-in to the opening notes gives me chills every single time.
Amnesiac (2001) - An album is unofficially known as Kid B, the songs from the same time period as the previous album that go hand-in-hand and might as well be considered the second half of a double album. Honestly, it is hard to separate the two in my head, as to which track goes with which album. But there are some differences as well. Amnesiac loses a tad of the overall electronic feel that Kid A had, and returns to some more conventional guitar-driven songs. This album, perhaps more than any of the others, has the feeling of more of a collection of songs than an album as a whole. Fortunately, it is a collection of good songs. Favorite song: “I Might Be Wrong”; one of the band’s heaviest songs and the closest thing they come to playing a blues song.
Hail to the Thief (2003) - I’ve caught a lot of flack for thinking this is the band’s weakest album. It’s not that I think it’s bad by any stretch, but I do think it gets a little lost in its intended message at times, making it feel somewhat disjointed. Even looking at the tracklisting, there are quite a few songs that I simply cannot recall. That said, the highlights are very high. The opener is great, “Myxomatosis” hits so hard, and I always fall for the slow, plodding nature of “A Punch Up at a Wedding.” There are some really standout songs, to be sure, but I still rank it as my ninth favorite album. Favorite song: “There There”; from the way the drums work together to open the track to the guitar creeping its way in, this song is an excellent mid-album track.
In Rainbows (2007) - For awhile, I ruined this album for myself. The band released under a pay-what-you-want plan that meant you could download the tracks for $0, if you chose. I did choose this, as I had other things to buy when I was in high school. I ‘bought’ the album and listened to it for the first time late on the night I got it. For whatever reason, it was not a good first experience. I thought it was the end of the band, and I did not find myself returning to it for a few months. I think I was just too tired that first night. In any case, I’m glad I did eventually return though. Something came together for me, and I heard what I’d been missing. It is probably their finest album of the second half of their career. Favorite song: “House of Cards”; this was the one song that stuck with me from the very first time I heard it to the most recent. Close second is “Bodysnatchers,” tonally completely opposite, with a chord progression resembling an Iron Maiden song.
The King of Limbs (2011) - For me, this was the most anticipated Radiohead release. In college, I was surrounded by like-minded friends, all eagerly awaiting this album. From its announcement, it was the topic of discussion, and we could not wait to get a hold of the tracks to hear them. I was snatching up every bit of news I could get. My favorite rumor of the time, was that this was going to be the surprise first half of a two-part double album, a concept I’d still like to believe. In the end, the payoff was worth it. I listened on repeat when it was finally released. Although it has not proven to be the longest lasting album, slipping away somewhat into forgotten territory, at the time, I could not be happier with the album after all the time I had dedicated to waiting for it. Favorite song: “Separator”; I’m tempted to cheat again and use the last TWO songs, but I won’t. Seeing the second-to-last song was a great experience live, but the final song, “Separator” is a really strong album closer.
A Moon Shaped Pool (2016) - Now, this year, as I said, I was not following the rumor mill as closely as I had for the last release. I had a general idea of which songs to expect, but beyond that, I knew nothing else. I figured there would be a ramp up of anticipation online, and I would have time to consume the band and get in the mood for a new album. Not so. Announced and released in what seemed like a weekend, I was totally unprepared for it. Even after it was available for purchase, I was not ready for it. I still wanted to work my way into it, because as I said, I like to listen to the band’s previous albums first. Since high school, I never dreamed that a Radiohead album could come out and I would not listen to it immediately on the day it was available. So, what’s the consensus? I have to give it more time to see where it truly settles compared to the rest of the albums. Initially, I would say it’s a better-than-average Radiohead album--which is to say that it is better than I feel about a lot of new releases. Favorite song? I can’t quite tell yet. Time will tell what song or stretch of songs holds up for me.
* * *
Along with each of their albums, I listened to the corresponding B-sides and unreleased tracks from each era. These can be found on the special collector’s editions of the first six albums. There is some suggestion that these were made against the wishes of the band by the owning record label as a way to turn more of a profit. Regardless, these collections are some of the finest released packages for fans of the band. One disc is the original album, another is bonus tracks, and a third is a DVD with music videos and live performances from the album’s release. They are ranked with the re-released first four Pavement albums, in terms of valuable supplementary content.
At any rate, in addition to the core albums, there some bonus tracks which should really be considered. The Bends-era, “Maquiladora,” almost feels like a math rock track at times, showcasing modern genius, Jonny Greenwood’s guitar work. “Talk Show Host,” also from The Bends was featured in Baz Luhrmann’s film adaptation, Romeo + Juliet, and it is one of the coolest parts of the movie. The haunting “Amazing Sounds of Orgy” from Amnesiac has had a resurgence as a live song lately. “I Am Citizen Insane,” which lends its name to a great online database of everything Radiohead-related, should have been on Hail to the Thief.
Probably, the fandom surrounding Radiohead has ballooned to be something greater than the band itself. Even as a fan of the band, it is easy to see the sheer number of online posts and discussions and become a bit jaded. I want to be both critical and defensive of Radiohead adoration, and it’s hard to have it both ways. In the end, though, I am happy that the band has had such a truly outstanding career.
There was a lot of goofy speculation that this is their last album based on vague lyrics in the newest album, which I find preposterous. I did, however, elect to think of this as a retrospective because I do actually think this could be Radiohead’s last album. It would be fitting if they called an end to a really excellent span, and honestly, I would love it if they closed on a good note. Overrated or not, I really don’t think they have put out a bad album. On the other hand, they could announce a free triple album next week. Nothing they do would surprise me anymore. I’ve been listening to Radiohead for quite awhile now, and I’ve enjoyed my time doing it.
Thursday, May 26, 2016
Thursday, April 28, 2016
Sports Related Aneurysms
As a fan, sports often take us to the edge of our seats. When your favorite team is down by two points or a goal, and this is a must-win game to advance in the playoffs, then yes, it might be better just to close your eyes.
Now that we are in the thick of both the NBA and NHL playoffs, there is no shortage of stressful moments. Players are unfortunately being injured; teams are constantly facing elimination. And it all adds up to stomach ulcers and tears if we lose. There’s a reason sports fans refer to their team as “we.” The feeling of identification we have with our guys is important. Their highs are our highs, just as their lows can be our painful lows.
Often in the high stress situations, one player becomes the focus of attention--to the point where success or failure can depend on this one person. Over the course of many stressful moments in sports, I have tried to determine some of the more common pressure points. What are the most tense positions in sports? Or perhaps more accurately, who has the most potentially aggravating?
Now, I can only speculate on the stress of athletes themselves. I logged 5 career points in high school basketball (including some AAU play), and I batted somewhere around .212 in baseball. Needless to say, I was not called upon often in stressful situations. But I am more than qualified to talk about the impact on the fans, with over 20 years of experience, predominantly with teams from Detroit, which I think earns me some bonus points.
ANYWAY, here is a list of some of what I consider the most terrifying positions in sports, in no particular order. If any of these positions cause near as much strain as we feel, then I can’t help but feel for them. Unless they play for the other team.
The Placekicker - I’ll start with an easy one. Although the field goal is only worth three points, it’s hard to imagine a more isolated task in football than kicking one. For a sport in which there are so many players on the field at one time, and the action occurs within about three seconds for each play, kicking is about the only time where no one else is watching anything. So much so, that the strategy known as “icing the kicker” involves taking timeouts only to increase the pressure of the moment. Regardless of the point value, I bet you can think of a few games your team has won or lost from a FG off the top of your head. After the fact, of course, the replay can decide that the snap was bad or the holder mishandled it, but in the moment, a missed kick is one person’s fault. And that can be all that matters.
The Putter - Here I am referring not to the golf club, but to the role of the golfer, the final and sometimes most difficult task of each hole. Experience has taught me that almost nothing is more elating on a golf course than watching a putt fall from fifteen or twenty feet out. Imagine how much that feeling would be multiplied if sinking that putt meant winning a major. Imagine also how crushing a missed putt would be. Just ask Doug Sanders or Scott Hoch. I also know from experience that there is no one more critical of your golf game than yourself when you are having a bad day. Just consider the amount of self-induced pressure when lining up a makeable putt. Which direction will it break? How hard should I hit it? Is there anything in the path? These and a thousand other questions are racing through a Tour golfer’s mind and the minds of the two hundred people crowded around the green staring at them. That kind of pressure would be unbelievable, and very well may be the most intense on this list.
The Free Throw Shooter - Possibly the most obvious example of stress in sports. All eyes are on one player as they take a shot. Pretty straightforward. Everyone likes to complain about free throws and how easy they are, usually with the witty comment, “They’re called free throws!” But free throws are not that automatic. Percentages made can range from the amazing (Steph Curry, 90.7%) to the atrocious (my Pistons’ Andre Drummond, 35.5%), but most are somewhere in the middle. Still, on average, players are going to miss one out of every four or five shots. Compound all the screaming and yelling at a player when they are at the line, and it’s a wonder they don’t miss more shots. Foul shots at the end of the game are especially stressful, of course, because they can decide the result. As fouls start to fly in the last 40 seconds of a game, half the people in the arena are hoping a player will miss the shot to keep it a one-point game, the other half are wishing the opposite to expand the lead. Simply making free throws--worth a measly one point--can be more than enough to win a game.
The Shootout Goalie - A shootout is to hockey as one-on-one is to basketball. Both the goalie and the shooter have exactly one goal in mind, and that goal is in direct opposition of the other. The skater has a lot of time to think about the strategy for scoring a goal. The goalie can only react to the play. I would like to know what goes through a goalie’s mind in the seconds leading up to a shot. Should they expect the fake? Or the backhand? Or is that too predictable? There’s a lot of time to second-guess yourself as a goalie. I can’t even stand to watch shootouts; it’s just too much for me. I also don’t like the shootout because it reduces everything that’s happened over the last 65 minutes down to just six shots that take about two minutes to complete. It feels anticlimactic and a bit like the rest of the game was wasted, but that’s neither here nor there.
The Closer - I saved this for last because a closer can be one of two people. A good closer can save a winning baseball game or he can be the single most aggravating part of a pitching staff. Closers, if you don’t know, are specific pitchers who enter at the start of the ninth inning with their team leading, ostensibly collect three outs, and save the game for their team. It sounds easy enough. But it isn’t always.
This is different from some of the other entries on this last because the stress of a closer’s final inning is not limited to just a moment, but rather a drawn-out series of minutes where every pitch could change the outcome of the game. And unlike the other athletes listed here, the entire stadium’s focus is not solely on the pitcher, but also on the batter--an equally stressful position--who could groove a hit in the gap or a home run into the stands.
Every baseball fan, without fail, has watched their closing pitcher give up a walk and a hit and, before they know it, their team has lost. And in that moment, it can feel like losing a World Series. There’s not many harder moments to endure than watching your team lead for a majority of the game only to throw it away in the final inning. It’s easy to blame the pitcher, but it’s not always fair.1
* * *
After looking at this list, some commonalities emerge. For one, they are of relatively lesser value than other aspects of their sports. By this, I mean literally one free throw is worth far less than a three-point shooter with a hot hand, or a putt is 15 feet compared to a 250 yard drive. Comparatively, it is easy to discount the little parts of games, but they truly do add up. The saying, “Free throws win games,” is not wrong. Secondly, most involve a stoppage of play, which adds to the anxiety levels. When play stops, all eyes are on the person responsible for the next action, such as the field goal kicker, and the ensuing result.
Finally, the people on this list are rarely the type of player you would categorize as the “star” of the team. Starting pitchers are in occasional stressful situations like a third inning jam or a no-hitter in the ninth inning. Quarterbacks might be under pressure to complete a pass to continue the last drive. But the typical face of the organization is not under such situational stress. This gives those on this list more of a heroic quality. Or it could set someone up for infamous failure. Either way, moments of stress in sports can become the stuff of legends.
1 Permit me a brief discourse on Detroit Tigers’ closers. No one likes going through those stressful ninth innings, but the Tigers always seem to have a guy who does it. We went through a decade of Todd Jones (actually nicknamed the “Rollercoaster” because his outings were so up and down), Fernando Rodney, Jose Valverde, and Joe Nathan, where winning never felt like an absolute guarantee. To be sure, these guys mostly got results, each with at least one 30+ season. But I just don't understand why we have to worry so much going into the final inning. For me, it's almost like a Red Wings shootout. So my question is, how many other teams experience this with closers? 20%? Half? It can't be only happening to us. I know Cleveland has had their ups and downs in the 9th inning, for example. It just seems like, anecdotally, other closers are more or less a sure thing. There are reasons to expect this, I guess. We're inheriting closers who are more experienced (read: older), so they may be coming out of their prime. Also closing is really tough. I just remember when Joe Nathan would come out with Minnesota years ago: If we got to him, it felt like an anomaly, not the other way around.↩
Wednesday, March 30, 2016
Writings from Solaris
High quality science fiction is not always easy to find. On occasion, I will pick up a book that looks intriguing, only to find that it includes the same tropes in all other sci-fi stories. It must be hard to generate innovative science fiction that doesn’t rely on the same story pitting humans against aliens, or something like that1. Films and video games have the same problem--as if humans fighting aliens is the only concept left to explore in the scope of science fiction2.
Eventually, you have to look to classic science fiction to fulfill this need for original stories. After some recommendation, I came across the brief, but impactful novel by Stanislaw Lem, Solaris. It was really an astounding read, set around a confounding planet that has futuristic scientists of Earth baffled, featuring an astronaut more or less trapped in orbit of the planet. Described as a philosophical science fiction novel, the reader experiences similar emotions to the astronaut--at times, he is comfortable with his surroundings despite only having studied and read about it; at other times, he is horrified with the effects the planet is having on himself and his fellow scientists.
Solaris (1961 novel) The novel is about an astronaut and psychologist named Kelvin who is sent to a distant planet after some disturbing and unclear messages are transmitted about bizarre happenings on the surrounding space station. It becomes apparent quickly, however, that the story is not about the characters, but the planet itself. Even after being studied for generations, very little is known about the planet. Specialized scientists, called Solarists, have come to the general agreement that the planet is not an object, but more of a conscious being. Being mostly liquid or plasma, the planet appears to respond to external influences, namely the attempts of the scientists to establish contact. Throughout the events, the planet does not come across as hostile; it is merely reactionary.
What the novel does well, among other things, is by giving a fair amount of description to the science surrounding the planet. The science does not feel invented or self-serving to the story. Instead it feels like the branch of study has been established and evolved over generations. The descriptions of the capabilities of the planet are feasible and realistic.
Shortly after arriving to the space station, Kelvin begins receiving a visitor from his past, who it becomes clear, is a creation by the planet based on his consciousness. The other scientists on the ship are dealing with similar apparitions; it has driven one man to suicide. The book chronicles how Kelvin along with his visitor grow together. It approaches a natural point where the two are questioning their own humanity, obviously a conundrum for a human and his apparition.
After finishing the novel, I knew I wanted to track down both film adaptations to see how they compared.
Solaris (1972 film) This is an excellent rendition of the original source material. Directed by the Russian visionary, Andrei Tarkovsky, the film is as much an art film as it is science fiction. It is long (almost three hours) and very sparse, with several scenes of Kelvin, solitary, taking in his natural surroundings. Garnering a Criterion Collection release, there are very few shots wasted, including a striking sequence where a car drives into Tokyo with the sound effects of a shuttle taking off. Interestingly, the author of the novel, Stanislaw Lem, was not pleased with the outcome of the film, as it took too many liberties from the novel. Tarkovsky plays with the effect of having little to no sound at times to demonstrate the isolation Kelvin sometimes feels both on Earth and on the space station. The film definitely does not rely on special effects (this was five years before Star Wars innovated upon flashy effects), but the depictions of the planet are no less striking. And while I do not want to give too much away, I will say the ending, the slow pan-out, must be seen to be believed.
Solaris (2002 film) The 2002 remake of the earlier film is not as good, though it is far from disappointing. It does accomplish much of the original message of the book, but there are some details added that detract from the story. Reported, James Cameron had wanted to make a new version of the film for some time, and he was able to produce it with the direction of Steven Soderbergh. Together these two filmmaking icons obviously brought their own styles to the story. The external shots of the planet are breathtaking--expect nothing less from a Cameron production. My issues with the film concern the extended sequences of George Clooney’s reminiscence of his time on Earth. Much shorter than the 1972 film, this version uses a lot of valuable screen time away from the space station. There was also an added twist to the story that seemed more akin to the modern, generic sci-fi tropes I mentioned earlier. It did little to add to the suspense and certainly was not necessary here. And the ending, while it attempted to recapture the classic film, personally did not have the same striking success.
Probably the most powerful message from any of the versions is that the scientists are disrupting a planet that they truly do not understand. The planet is so incomprehensible that its “motives” could be almost anything. It could be trying to establish benevolent contact by providing an image of loved ones; or it could be attempting to drive the scientists to madness, and thus away from continually studying it. Again, while there is never a sense of hostility from the planet, there is almost always a sense of unease. We know there is something wrong with the “visitors” but, like Kelvin, we feel strangely comfortable with it. The dangers in the story do not feel as if they are caused by the environment, but rather at a psychological level. And all three tellings of the story capture this sense, in different ways. Essentially, however you go about this story, in whichever order, it is an enjoyable and thought-provoking experience.
1 This is not to say this type of story always fails. War of the Worlds is a classic novel, and Aliens is one of my favorite movies.↩
2 Substitute dragons and orcs for aliens, and the same holds true for fantasy. Simply having epic wars of mythical beings is not the key to quality fantasy. Finding good fantasy is often difficult, as well.↩
Eventually, you have to look to classic science fiction to fulfill this need for original stories. After some recommendation, I came across the brief, but impactful novel by Stanislaw Lem, Solaris. It was really an astounding read, set around a confounding planet that has futuristic scientists of Earth baffled, featuring an astronaut more or less trapped in orbit of the planet. Described as a philosophical science fiction novel, the reader experiences similar emotions to the astronaut--at times, he is comfortable with his surroundings despite only having studied and read about it; at other times, he is horrified with the effects the planet is having on himself and his fellow scientists.
Solaris (1961 novel) The novel is about an astronaut and psychologist named Kelvin who is sent to a distant planet after some disturbing and unclear messages are transmitted about bizarre happenings on the surrounding space station. It becomes apparent quickly, however, that the story is not about the characters, but the planet itself. Even after being studied for generations, very little is known about the planet. Specialized scientists, called Solarists, have come to the general agreement that the planet is not an object, but more of a conscious being. Being mostly liquid or plasma, the planet appears to respond to external influences, namely the attempts of the scientists to establish contact. Throughout the events, the planet does not come across as hostile; it is merely reactionary.
What the novel does well, among other things, is by giving a fair amount of description to the science surrounding the planet. The science does not feel invented or self-serving to the story. Instead it feels like the branch of study has been established and evolved over generations. The descriptions of the capabilities of the planet are feasible and realistic.
Shortly after arriving to the space station, Kelvin begins receiving a visitor from his past, who it becomes clear, is a creation by the planet based on his consciousness. The other scientists on the ship are dealing with similar apparitions; it has driven one man to suicide. The book chronicles how Kelvin along with his visitor grow together. It approaches a natural point where the two are questioning their own humanity, obviously a conundrum for a human and his apparition.
After finishing the novel, I knew I wanted to track down both film adaptations to see how they compared.
Solaris (1972 film) This is an excellent rendition of the original source material. Directed by the Russian visionary, Andrei Tarkovsky, the film is as much an art film as it is science fiction. It is long (almost three hours) and very sparse, with several scenes of Kelvin, solitary, taking in his natural surroundings. Garnering a Criterion Collection release, there are very few shots wasted, including a striking sequence where a car drives into Tokyo with the sound effects of a shuttle taking off. Interestingly, the author of the novel, Stanislaw Lem, was not pleased with the outcome of the film, as it took too many liberties from the novel. Tarkovsky plays with the effect of having little to no sound at times to demonstrate the isolation Kelvin sometimes feels both on Earth and on the space station. The film definitely does not rely on special effects (this was five years before Star Wars innovated upon flashy effects), but the depictions of the planet are no less striking. And while I do not want to give too much away, I will say the ending, the slow pan-out, must be seen to be believed.
Solaris (2002 film) The 2002 remake of the earlier film is not as good, though it is far from disappointing. It does accomplish much of the original message of the book, but there are some details added that detract from the story. Reported, James Cameron had wanted to make a new version of the film for some time, and he was able to produce it with the direction of Steven Soderbergh. Together these two filmmaking icons obviously brought their own styles to the story. The external shots of the planet are breathtaking--expect nothing less from a Cameron production. My issues with the film concern the extended sequences of George Clooney’s reminiscence of his time on Earth. Much shorter than the 1972 film, this version uses a lot of valuable screen time away from the space station. There was also an added twist to the story that seemed more akin to the modern, generic sci-fi tropes I mentioned earlier. It did little to add to the suspense and certainly was not necessary here. And the ending, while it attempted to recapture the classic film, personally did not have the same striking success.
* * *
Probably the most powerful message from any of the versions is that the scientists are disrupting a planet that they truly do not understand. The planet is so incomprehensible that its “motives” could be almost anything. It could be trying to establish benevolent contact by providing an image of loved ones; or it could be attempting to drive the scientists to madness, and thus away from continually studying it. Again, while there is never a sense of hostility from the planet, there is almost always a sense of unease. We know there is something wrong with the “visitors” but, like Kelvin, we feel strangely comfortable with it. The dangers in the story do not feel as if they are caused by the environment, but rather at a psychological level. And all three tellings of the story capture this sense, in different ways. Essentially, however you go about this story, in whichever order, it is an enjoyable and thought-provoking experience.
1 This is not to say this type of story always fails. War of the Worlds is a classic novel, and Aliens is one of my favorite movies.↩
2 Substitute dragons and orcs for aliens, and the same holds true for fantasy. Simply having epic wars of mythical beings is not the key to quality fantasy. Finding good fantasy is often difficult, as well.↩
Wednesday, February 24, 2016
The Slowest Month for Sports
Now that the Super Bowl is over, we are left with a fairly dismal month in the world of sports. There is something a little empty feeling about not having football every weekend--college or professional. The NHL and the NBA are just far enough from their playoffs that teams are not quite being eliminated or saved on a nightly basis. The excruciatingly long time of the MLB preseason is slowly beginning. Even college basketball is in a bit of a lull, before the excitement of March.
Of course, all this changes very quickly. In one month’s time, we have hockey and basketball teams fighting for that last playoff spot. The NCAA basketball tournament is a blinding display of constantly exciting games. The Masters and WrestleMania are approaching. Baseball teams are beginning to take shape and resemble what they will be on Opening Day. Basically, we have an exciting month and half of sports, but first we have to wade through the drudgeries of February.
So, now would be a good time to look ahead to the future season(s) of your teams, an opportunity which I will take now. Apologies to most people, but this will be a Detroit-centric discussion. You’ll have to indulge me. They are in rough order based on their upcoming championship opportunities. Let’s get started!
WrestleMania To make the month of February even worse, we had to say goodbye to Daniel Bryan, a wrestler that you could not help but like. There was not a dry eye in Seattle on the night he announced his retirement. Otherwise, it’s the best time of the year to be a fan of professional wrestling. I like the look of the matchups for Fastlane coming up later this month, but I am dreading the possibility of Dean Ambrose turning heel.
The Masters All eyes will, of course, be on the young sensation, Jordan Spieth. Number one in the world and defending his crisp Green Jacket from last year’s Masters, I can’t wait to see what he does this year. At 22 and with two majors already, he also has the tantalizing chance to pursue Jack Nicklaus’ record 18 championships. I feel like he could add one or two more in 2016. The player I’ve been most impressed with early this season has been Brandt Snedeker. With one win and three top-3 placings so far, he’s been consistently showing up at or near the top of the field. Unfortunately, I have concerns about Rory McIlroy. He’s only missing the Masters to complete the set of majors, but he dealt with an injury and a slow 2015 following wins in the 2014 British Open and PGA Championship.
Detroit Red Wings The Red Wings have been in the NHL playoffs every year since 1991. I worry about this streak every single year, to some degree. After some trepidation, I’m more and more confident this team will make the playoffs this year. Dylan Larkin has a viable shot at winning Rookie-of-the-Year, and Petr Mrazek has a terrific record of 21 wins in 37 games with a Goals Against Average under 2. Despite the extremely tight Eastern Conference standings, even a .500 record should be enough to secure a spot in the playoffs.
Detroit Pistons As confident as I am about the Red Wings, I’m cooling on the Pistons. Losing the best offensive player on the team in Kentavious Caldwell-Pope has been a huge blow, as the team has dropped 4 of the 5 games he’s missed. There are solid players to cover the holes he has left, but they’re falling just a bit short of late. Andre Drummond is clinging to the most rebounds in the league, but even he has slipped a bit. A bright spot? It’s not going to take much more than 45 wins to get a spot in the East, which is quite doable. Another bright spot? KC-P is expected to be back this month.
Detroit Tigers This is probably the team I am most excited about this year (read: every year). The baseball offseason is always the longest, isn’t it? And spring practices and training is so torturously long leading up to the regular season. In any case, I went from being lukewarm on the team this year to all in after the trade securing Justin Upton. He improved an average to below-average outfield and added yet another dangerous bat to the lineup. The sometimes dismal bullpen shed some dead weight, and added a closer who might not murder fans out of stress each and every night (although I’ve thought that every year for a decade now). I recognize that my optimism is a result of fandom, but I think the Tigers have a legitimate shot of contending for the Central, and possibly the American League.
Detroit Lions As usual, I have no idea what to expect from this team next year. It’s too early to tell with the combine and the draft right around the corner. I will say that so far this offseason has not been altogether positive, seemingly losing more players than we’ve gained, most notably future HOFer Calvin Johnson. The already-lacking offense will take a hit, but the Lions will likely be drafting a defender with their 16th pick. At this point, we have to wait and see how the draft shakes out for any further speculation.
Of course, all this changes very quickly. In one month’s time, we have hockey and basketball teams fighting for that last playoff spot. The NCAA basketball tournament is a blinding display of constantly exciting games. The Masters and WrestleMania are approaching. Baseball teams are beginning to take shape and resemble what they will be on Opening Day. Basically, we have an exciting month and half of sports, but first we have to wade through the drudgeries of February.
So, now would be a good time to look ahead to the future season(s) of your teams, an opportunity which I will take now. Apologies to most people, but this will be a Detroit-centric discussion. You’ll have to indulge me. They are in rough order based on their upcoming championship opportunities. Let’s get started!
* * *
Dayton Flyers men’s basketball This team is good. Having been in and out of the top-25 rankings (19th at the highest, heretofore), they are finally starting to play well with a bit more national attention. They are winning games they are supposed to win, and in most cases, by an notable margin. Their losses have not been pretty, but at least they’ve been few. Barring a major collapse, they should garner at least an 8-seed in the tournament. I’m just hoping to eventually get out of the black hole of the Atlantic 10. After top-tier teams abandoned the conference, Dayton’s wins have been much less impressive. I, for one, would like to go through a few games in the tournament without being called the “Cinderella team.”WrestleMania To make the month of February even worse, we had to say goodbye to Daniel Bryan, a wrestler that you could not help but like. There was not a dry eye in Seattle on the night he announced his retirement. Otherwise, it’s the best time of the year to be a fan of professional wrestling. I like the look of the matchups for Fastlane coming up later this month, but I am dreading the possibility of Dean Ambrose turning heel.
The Masters All eyes will, of course, be on the young sensation, Jordan Spieth. Number one in the world and defending his crisp Green Jacket from last year’s Masters, I can’t wait to see what he does this year. At 22 and with two majors already, he also has the tantalizing chance to pursue Jack Nicklaus’ record 18 championships. I feel like he could add one or two more in 2016. The player I’ve been most impressed with early this season has been Brandt Snedeker. With one win and three top-3 placings so far, he’s been consistently showing up at or near the top of the field. Unfortunately, I have concerns about Rory McIlroy. He’s only missing the Masters to complete the set of majors, but he dealt with an injury and a slow 2015 following wins in the 2014 British Open and PGA Championship.
Detroit Red Wings The Red Wings have been in the NHL playoffs every year since 1991. I worry about this streak every single year, to some degree. After some trepidation, I’m more and more confident this team will make the playoffs this year. Dylan Larkin has a viable shot at winning Rookie-of-the-Year, and Petr Mrazek has a terrific record of 21 wins in 37 games with a Goals Against Average under 2. Despite the extremely tight Eastern Conference standings, even a .500 record should be enough to secure a spot in the playoffs.
Detroit Pistons As confident as I am about the Red Wings, I’m cooling on the Pistons. Losing the best offensive player on the team in Kentavious Caldwell-Pope has been a huge blow, as the team has dropped 4 of the 5 games he’s missed. There are solid players to cover the holes he has left, but they’re falling just a bit short of late. Andre Drummond is clinging to the most rebounds in the league, but even he has slipped a bit. A bright spot? It’s not going to take much more than 45 wins to get a spot in the East, which is quite doable. Another bright spot? KC-P is expected to be back this month.
Detroit Tigers This is probably the team I am most excited about this year (read: every year). The baseball offseason is always the longest, isn’t it? And spring practices and training is so torturously long leading up to the regular season. In any case, I went from being lukewarm on the team this year to all in after the trade securing Justin Upton. He improved an average to below-average outfield and added yet another dangerous bat to the lineup. The sometimes dismal bullpen shed some dead weight, and added a closer who might not murder fans out of stress each and every night (although I’ve thought that every year for a decade now). I recognize that my optimism is a result of fandom, but I think the Tigers have a legitimate shot of contending for the Central, and possibly the American League.
Detroit Lions As usual, I have no idea what to expect from this team next year. It’s too early to tell with the combine and the draft right around the corner. I will say that so far this offseason has not been altogether positive, seemingly losing more players than we’ve gained, most notably future HOFer Calvin Johnson. The already-lacking offense will take a hit, but the Lions will likely be drafting a defender with their 16th pick. At this point, we have to wait and see how the draft shakes out for any further speculation.
* * *
Again, if you’re not a fan of any of these teams, I can’t believe you made it this far. Instead, I encourage you to reflect on your own teams and sports, and try to get through this dull month in good spirits. Cheers!
Thursday, January 28, 2016
On David Bowie
Losing David Bowie was tough. Just a cursory browse of the Internet in the days following the king of glam rock’s passing revealed this. So many rumors of his death and false obituaries over the past decade had made this seem like an impossibility. There was an outpouring of people expressing how difficult it is to lose him or how lucky we were to live through his creative output. Even now, weeks after his death, I can turn to a music website and see a new retrospective about his career. And you know what, regardless of how many I’ve already seen, I’ll probably read it. He truly was an incredible artist.
Because of all the existing eulogies, there’s nothing I can say that hasn’t already been said. Like most people, I spent the last few weeks consuming Bowie albums. The diversity from album to album is just astounding. Two albums from the same decade may not even sound like they were from the same person. Luckily for future generations of listeners, each iteration of Bowie has been influential on a different generation of artists, from grunge to electronic to punk and so on. What other artists have this same distinction? Sounding wholly different over their life, while still maintaining the quality of his music? That’s the bewildering part about David Bowie: his reinventions rarely sounded like missteps.
Take, for example, his 1971 album, Hunky Dory. This was an album, that could very nearly be considered folk rock, in a way that probably shaped part of Dylan’s Blood on the Tracks, especially after he called Dylan by name in one of the songs on the album. At the same time, it heralded some powerful anthem rock songs. In fact, few of his albums could be considered more diverse than this one. The very next year, he puts out Ziggy Stardust. As a space rock epic dripping with glam rock theatricality, it could not be more different from his previous album. This is one example of many where Bowie was simply light-years ahead of his time. Are we sure he was human?
The song, “Under Pressure,” is particularly special. When, in the history of music, have two more eccentric AND popular musicians performed together? The question is rhetorical; the answer is never. Queen’s Freddie Mercury--possibly the single most exciting performer ever--working with David Bowie is a musical team we will likely never see matched. Two icons in their showmanship as well as their sexuality, performing near the height of their careers. I can honestly not think of another combination of artists that would have been so impactful together1. It is tragic that they never performed the song live together.
Bowie continued to surprise right up to his death. With his new album, Blackstar, he again sounded like a different person. I freely admit that the album as a whole will take some getting used to for me; I didn’t immediately take to it as others have. As with his earlier albums, it takes several listens to get accustomed to the sound he demonstrates. But there are certainly some individual tracks which stand out and highlight Bowie’s prowess as a songwriter.
It is interesting to mourn the loss of a person you have never met2. Not wrong, of course, just a little absurd. Such is the personal nature of music that some musicians really do command that sense that you actually know the person. In this way, the death of musicians--especially those with long and full careers--can feel particularly shocking. Michael Jackson stunned the world a few years ago; more recently, Lou Reed had a similar effect on a lot of people, myself included3. It is only fitting that David Bowie, who had the capability to be shocking in his life, could shock people with his death. Take care, Starman.
1 I’m not speaking hyperbolically here; the closest I can come is Jay-Z and Kanye working together, and even that doesn’t have the same level of importance.↩
2 Bowie’s death was also days before losing Alan Rickman. It’s been a hard month.↩
3 Lemmy died a month ago, and I just read that Glenn Frey passed away this week. Motörhead and Eagles fans can certainly relate.↩
Because of all the existing eulogies, there’s nothing I can say that hasn’t already been said. Like most people, I spent the last few weeks consuming Bowie albums. The diversity from album to album is just astounding. Two albums from the same decade may not even sound like they were from the same person. Luckily for future generations of listeners, each iteration of Bowie has been influential on a different generation of artists, from grunge to electronic to punk and so on. What other artists have this same distinction? Sounding wholly different over their life, while still maintaining the quality of his music? That’s the bewildering part about David Bowie: his reinventions rarely sounded like missteps.
Take, for example, his 1971 album, Hunky Dory. This was an album, that could very nearly be considered folk rock, in a way that probably shaped part of Dylan’s Blood on the Tracks, especially after he called Dylan by name in one of the songs on the album. At the same time, it heralded some powerful anthem rock songs. In fact, few of his albums could be considered more diverse than this one. The very next year, he puts out Ziggy Stardust. As a space rock epic dripping with glam rock theatricality, it could not be more different from his previous album. This is one example of many where Bowie was simply light-years ahead of his time. Are we sure he was human?
The song, “Under Pressure,” is particularly special. When, in the history of music, have two more eccentric AND popular musicians performed together? The question is rhetorical; the answer is never. Queen’s Freddie Mercury--possibly the single most exciting performer ever--working with David Bowie is a musical team we will likely never see matched. Two icons in their showmanship as well as their sexuality, performing near the height of their careers. I can honestly not think of another combination of artists that would have been so impactful together1. It is tragic that they never performed the song live together.
Bowie continued to surprise right up to his death. With his new album, Blackstar, he again sounded like a different person. I freely admit that the album as a whole will take some getting used to for me; I didn’t immediately take to it as others have. As with his earlier albums, it takes several listens to get accustomed to the sound he demonstrates. But there are certainly some individual tracks which stand out and highlight Bowie’s prowess as a songwriter.
It is interesting to mourn the loss of a person you have never met2. Not wrong, of course, just a little absurd. Such is the personal nature of music that some musicians really do command that sense that you actually know the person. In this way, the death of musicians--especially those with long and full careers--can feel particularly shocking. Michael Jackson stunned the world a few years ago; more recently, Lou Reed had a similar effect on a lot of people, myself included3. It is only fitting that David Bowie, who had the capability to be shocking in his life, could shock people with his death. Take care, Starman.
1 I’m not speaking hyperbolically here; the closest I can come is Jay-Z and Kanye working together, and even that doesn’t have the same level of importance.↩
2 Bowie’s death was also days before losing Alan Rickman. It’s been a hard month.↩
3 Lemmy died a month ago, and I just read that Glenn Frey passed away this week. Motörhead and Eagles fans can certainly relate.↩
Tuesday, December 15, 2015
As Solid as Ever
There is a pantheon of franchises in the world of video games that can only be considered iconic. In a world of popular culture where we are seemingly obsessed with series1, consumers are always looking forward to the next entry in the set. With video games, players are always eager to try the new Mario or Zelda or Final Fantasy or Halo. The consistency for these games have endeared them in video game history.
In any type of popular media, franchises are significant, and they deserve to be. There is a reason a series becomes popular and remains relevant. Part of what make game franchises important is that they are somewhat genre-defining. They initially popularize the genre, and then tweak and improve it with each iteration. The two-dimensional, side-scrolling platformer does not exist as it is today without the first Super Mario Bros. StarCraft shaped the way we know real-time strategies. Together, Metroid and Castlevania literally named a certain style of games, “metroidvania.” Basically any genre of video game can be traced to one or two franchises that are still pervasive today. Such games may not have invented the genre, but they propelled them into popularity enough that they can continue making games in the series today. This is what Metal Gear Solid did for the stealth game.
To tell the truth, before this fall, I had never really played through any stealth game properly, much less a Metal Gear game. I couldn’t play Thief, and I barely made it out of the training level of Splinter Cell. I even had issues with some parts of Dishonored, a stealth-lite game. I just couldn’t get the hang of it. I’m not patient enough to plan out events and bide my time in a video game, and when something goes wrong, I don’t like to painstakingly retrace my steps to get back to the same point. Needless to say, I thought I was in for more of the same when I bought the complete collection of Metal Gear Solid games.
Why did I make such a purchase if I was fairly certain that I would not enjoy myself? The long answer is that the newest entry to the series (The Phantom Pain2) had just come out and was receiving rave reviews for being more accessible than previous games as well as just being incredibly bizarre. There was also the possibility of this being the final game in the series. This, coupled with the long time between releases in the series, meant that the zeitgeist for Metal Gear games was palpable. I wanted to experience the fascinating series that people seem to either love or hate, and I wanted to start at the beginning. The short answer is I’m just not smart with money.
In any case, I purchased the collection knowing full well that I might just hate it. I figured I would turn it on, not be able to make it out of the first zone and never try it again. Then a few years later, I would try one of the later games to see if that was any better. And that’s okay, I still had to see what the game was like. I wanted to see what all the buzz was about and be able to tell myself that at least I tried it, and I had at least a passing, academic understanding of it. I could never have guessed how wrong I would be.
I downloaded 1998’s Metal Gear Solid and sat down to play, essentially going in blind. I knew some characters’ names, but that was really about it. Immediately, the opening cutscenes began to draw me in. It’s difficult to explain, but the opening sequence seems both ludicrous and believable at the same time. It’s done with a level of self-seriousness that is really hard not to like. It’s hard to be so stupid and so deep at the same time. This is not supposed to sound like criticism; the opening sequence (and any of the ensuing cutscenes) is highly amusing. The game’s not dumb, just extremely ridiculous.
I expected to have some issues with the controls. The game is old, so the movements are a bit unrefined. It was definitely jarring at first to use the directional pad for movement3 and to press Circle to start4. But it did not take me long at all to grow accustomed to the obscure movements. It got to the point that when I used a thumbstick to play another game, it felt strange.
To some extent, I also expected to be stymied by the game’s puzzles. With older games, there is commonly a less-is-more approach to instruction as to what to do or where to go. And I have the unfortunate tendency to get easily frustrated when I cannot figure out the next step. For whatever reason, though, I had no issues. The game provides references to call that provide numerous helpful hints. In this way, it is impossible to be stuck for too long in one area. Longer fights against major enemies also provided enough of a challenge without being impossible.
Finally, I fully accepted the gimmicks of the game that I could only characterize as ‘zany,’ even if I was already somewhat aware of them. The best examples of these comes in one longer sequence against a certain character (I’ll speak delicately, even though you must know the tricks by now). Without giving too much away, in the scene, a character reads the player’s thoughts, the TV screen goes black, and the controller moves of its own accord. I was all in.
It’s weird to speak so highly about a game that was released so long ago. I have come to learn what many other players already knew: Metal Gear Solid is a sublime game. Beyond appreciating the significance as one of the most popular games on the original Playstation, I legitimately enjoyed every minute I spent with it. There are only a handful of times I can recall feeling better about a game throughout the entirety of it. I can’t wait to move on with the rest of the series.5
1 Of the top ten grossing films of 2015, seven are parts of a multi-film franchise and one is a remake.↩
2 Interestingly, this pushes Star Wars: Episode One further down the list of things that begin with “The Phantom…” behind The Phantom Tollbooth and every form of the The Phantom of the Opera.↩
3 You may have known, the original Playstation controller did not have thumbsticks.↩
4 You may have known, traditionally Japanese games use Circle instead of the Cross or “X” that we’re used to.↩
5 Upon finishing the first game, I immediately played through the short prologue to the newest game, 2014’s Ground Zeroes. I liked it, and I noticed some of the elements derivative of the first game, but it did not capture me in the same way the original did. Not enough to discourage me from the whole series, though.↩
In any type of popular media, franchises are significant, and they deserve to be. There is a reason a series becomes popular and remains relevant. Part of what make game franchises important is that they are somewhat genre-defining. They initially popularize the genre, and then tweak and improve it with each iteration. The two-dimensional, side-scrolling platformer does not exist as it is today without the first Super Mario Bros. StarCraft shaped the way we know real-time strategies. Together, Metroid and Castlevania literally named a certain style of games, “metroidvania.” Basically any genre of video game can be traced to one or two franchises that are still pervasive today. Such games may not have invented the genre, but they propelled them into popularity enough that they can continue making games in the series today. This is what Metal Gear Solid did for the stealth game.
To tell the truth, before this fall, I had never really played through any stealth game properly, much less a Metal Gear game. I couldn’t play Thief, and I barely made it out of the training level of Splinter Cell. I even had issues with some parts of Dishonored, a stealth-lite game. I just couldn’t get the hang of it. I’m not patient enough to plan out events and bide my time in a video game, and when something goes wrong, I don’t like to painstakingly retrace my steps to get back to the same point. Needless to say, I thought I was in for more of the same when I bought the complete collection of Metal Gear Solid games.
Why did I make such a purchase if I was fairly certain that I would not enjoy myself? The long answer is that the newest entry to the series (The Phantom Pain2) had just come out and was receiving rave reviews for being more accessible than previous games as well as just being incredibly bizarre. There was also the possibility of this being the final game in the series. This, coupled with the long time between releases in the series, meant that the zeitgeist for Metal Gear games was palpable. I wanted to experience the fascinating series that people seem to either love or hate, and I wanted to start at the beginning. The short answer is I’m just not smart with money.
In any case, I purchased the collection knowing full well that I might just hate it. I figured I would turn it on, not be able to make it out of the first zone and never try it again. Then a few years later, I would try one of the later games to see if that was any better. And that’s okay, I still had to see what the game was like. I wanted to see what all the buzz was about and be able to tell myself that at least I tried it, and I had at least a passing, academic understanding of it. I could never have guessed how wrong I would be.
I downloaded 1998’s Metal Gear Solid and sat down to play, essentially going in blind. I knew some characters’ names, but that was really about it. Immediately, the opening cutscenes began to draw me in. It’s difficult to explain, but the opening sequence seems both ludicrous and believable at the same time. It’s done with a level of self-seriousness that is really hard not to like. It’s hard to be so stupid and so deep at the same time. This is not supposed to sound like criticism; the opening sequence (and any of the ensuing cutscenes) is highly amusing. The game’s not dumb, just extremely ridiculous.
I expected to have some issues with the controls. The game is old, so the movements are a bit unrefined. It was definitely jarring at first to use the directional pad for movement3 and to press Circle to start4. But it did not take me long at all to grow accustomed to the obscure movements. It got to the point that when I used a thumbstick to play another game, it felt strange.
To some extent, I also expected to be stymied by the game’s puzzles. With older games, there is commonly a less-is-more approach to instruction as to what to do or where to go. And I have the unfortunate tendency to get easily frustrated when I cannot figure out the next step. For whatever reason, though, I had no issues. The game provides references to call that provide numerous helpful hints. In this way, it is impossible to be stuck for too long in one area. Longer fights against major enemies also provided enough of a challenge without being impossible.
Finally, I fully accepted the gimmicks of the game that I could only characterize as ‘zany,’ even if I was already somewhat aware of them. The best examples of these comes in one longer sequence against a certain character (I’ll speak delicately, even though you must know the tricks by now). Without giving too much away, in the scene, a character reads the player’s thoughts, the TV screen goes black, and the controller moves of its own accord. I was all in.
It’s weird to speak so highly about a game that was released so long ago. I have come to learn what many other players already knew: Metal Gear Solid is a sublime game. Beyond appreciating the significance as one of the most popular games on the original Playstation, I legitimately enjoyed every minute I spent with it. There are only a handful of times I can recall feeling better about a game throughout the entirety of it. I can’t wait to move on with the rest of the series.5
1 Of the top ten grossing films of 2015, seven are parts of a multi-film franchise and one is a remake.↩
2 Interestingly, this pushes Star Wars: Episode One further down the list of things that begin with “The Phantom…” behind The Phantom Tollbooth and every form of the The Phantom of the Opera.↩
3 You may have known, the original Playstation controller did not have thumbsticks.↩
4 You may have known, traditionally Japanese games use Circle instead of the Cross or “X” that we’re used to.↩
5 Upon finishing the first game, I immediately played through the short prologue to the newest game, 2014’s Ground Zeroes. I liked it, and I noticed some of the elements derivative of the first game, but it did not capture me in the same way the original did. Not enough to discourage me from the whole series, though.↩
Friday, November 27, 2015
What to Expect When You're Expecting
In the last year, I heard a story on NPR that made the argument that people tend to enjoy a story more when they already know the ending (the example used was “The Lottery” by Shirley Jackson, in which the ending is a complete reversal from the first part of the story). This baffled me completely. In an age where finding out the ending to a new movie or book is as easy as reading the Wikipedia summary, is it possible that people now find endings meaningless? I mean, you can hardly read an online review without seeing an obnoxious “SPOILERS!!!1!!” tag. But on the Internet, people are infuriated when they accidentally read about a twist. So the sides must be split.
The basis for the argument is that when we know what is coming, it makes the journey to get there more special. Sort of like when a suspenseful moment rises in a horror movie, there is no surprise, but the excitement is still heightened. Sort of. I find it hard to believe that knowing (<spoiler> “Vader is Luke’s father” </spoiler>) in 1980 would have made Empire more enjoyable. It’s called ruining the plot for a reason. But, hey, I guess times change.
I got to thinking about this claim and realized that it is not an easy thing to prove. You cannot experience the same movie twice, once knowing the ending and once not knowing, so you would have no way of comparing the two experiences. Two people--one who has not seen the film, another who has--cannot compare their experiences; one person might simply like the movie better. It is a qualitative judgement call, anyway. There really is no good way to compare how enjoyable some piece of entertainment is based solely on knowing or not knowing the ending. But still, the question bothered me. For me, the best way to go about looking at this is to simply ruin the ending to a movie, short story, or video game. Then, hopefully, I would have some better understanding of this absurd claim.
Needless to say: warning, spoilers ahead.
I found the perfect movie to test this hypothesis, and you are going to laugh at it. I realized that I was the last person on Earth in 2015 who had not seen The Sixth Sense. I know what you’re thinking: that movie came out 15 years ago, and everyone saw it. A few people might even swear they saw it with me, but I have no recollection of it. It was the movie that established M. Night Shymalan as the king of suspenseful twists, a title he promptly lost in the years to come. It was one of the most talked-about movies of the time. I just never got around to it. I’ve been busy.
Of course, it is impossible to get to this point, even having not seen the movie to know the iconic line, “I see dead people.” So, I surmised what this meant in the context of what I knew about the film, and then read through a plot summary of the whole film. Generally, I had the main points correct. All I needed to see now was the execution.
With the details fresh in mind, I watched through the movie and truly enjoyed myself. I picked up on subtle hints about Bruce Willis’s character, because I was acutely looking for them. The discreet hints were a little more obvious, but I appreciated them in the way you feel upon rewatching a movie. And still, the intense moments were no less intense because I knew what would happen. I was watching a movie for the second time without having seen it the first time.
In the end, I obviously can’t say whether or not I would have liked the movie better if I was going in blind. On the contrary, the first time I watched Memento, I went in without knowing a thing about it, and had to watch it again immediately after finishing it. So, maybe there are really no ways to ruin a well-made, suspenseful film. All I can say is that fifteen years later, The Sixth Sense still holds up as a fine movie. I would give it a belated positive review, but you’ve already seen it, probably more than once.
The basis for the argument is that when we know what is coming, it makes the journey to get there more special. Sort of like when a suspenseful moment rises in a horror movie, there is no surprise, but the excitement is still heightened. Sort of. I find it hard to believe that knowing (<spoiler> “Vader is Luke’s father” </spoiler>) in 1980 would have made Empire more enjoyable. It’s called ruining the plot for a reason. But, hey, I guess times change.
I got to thinking about this claim and realized that it is not an easy thing to prove. You cannot experience the same movie twice, once knowing the ending and once not knowing, so you would have no way of comparing the two experiences. Two people--one who has not seen the film, another who has--cannot compare their experiences; one person might simply like the movie better. It is a qualitative judgement call, anyway. There really is no good way to compare how enjoyable some piece of entertainment is based solely on knowing or not knowing the ending. But still, the question bothered me. For me, the best way to go about looking at this is to simply ruin the ending to a movie, short story, or video game. Then, hopefully, I would have some better understanding of this absurd claim.
Needless to say: warning, spoilers ahead.
* * *
I found the perfect movie to test this hypothesis, and you are going to laugh at it. I realized that I was the last person on Earth in 2015 who had not seen The Sixth Sense. I know what you’re thinking: that movie came out 15 years ago, and everyone saw it. A few people might even swear they saw it with me, but I have no recollection of it. It was the movie that established M. Night Shymalan as the king of suspenseful twists, a title he promptly lost in the years to come. It was one of the most talked-about movies of the time. I just never got around to it. I’ve been busy.
Of course, it is impossible to get to this point, even having not seen the movie to know the iconic line, “I see dead people.” So, I surmised what this meant in the context of what I knew about the film, and then read through a plot summary of the whole film. Generally, I had the main points correct. All I needed to see now was the execution.
With the details fresh in mind, I watched through the movie and truly enjoyed myself. I picked up on subtle hints about Bruce Willis’s character, because I was acutely looking for them. The discreet hints were a little more obvious, but I appreciated them in the way you feel upon rewatching a movie. And still, the intense moments were no less intense because I knew what would happen. I was watching a movie for the second time without having seen it the first time.
In the end, I obviously can’t say whether or not I would have liked the movie better if I was going in blind. On the contrary, the first time I watched Memento, I went in without knowing a thing about it, and had to watch it again immediately after finishing it. So, maybe there are really no ways to ruin a well-made, suspenseful film. All I can say is that fifteen years later, The Sixth Sense still holds up as a fine movie. I would give it a belated positive review, but you’ve already seen it, probably more than once.
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