For the sake of this review, I can ignore the fact that Tom Cruise doesn’t sound the slightest bit German, and focus on the rooms. The politicians, generals and assorted ranking Germans who spent “Valkyrie” plotting the assassination of Adolf Hitler and the overthrow of the SS speak more than they act. They gather in nice places with nice rooms and discuss the details of their plans. The rooms are complete with nice curtains, chandeliers, mahogany tables, and other fine décor. In most movies about the Nazis, there are three planes of action. One is the fancy rooms in which the upper echelons of the Nazi order meet while planning murder, the second is the streets of German cities or the concentration camps where hopeless Jews are evicted, tortured and killed, and the third is sometimes the frontlines of World War II. “Valkyrie” jettisons the latter two planes entirely, and transforms the first. The rebels, the good guys, don’t mean in dusty, hidden tunnels or in remote locations. Their plans are formed in the same types of rooms where atrocities were also planned out, right in the middle of Nazi power bases.
I suspect “Valkyrie” will draw it’s share of criticism. At first glance, the film seems to sidestep the fact that, at the time, Nazis were killing Jews, Gypsies, the disabled, political dissenters and others in record numbers. The concentration camps are never even mentioned, and we see only one character-establishing battle scene. The film isn’t about those elements of the story. It is about important people within the German army who realized that Hitler was destroying Germany, and resolved to stop that for the sake of their country.
Their leader is Colonel Claus von Stauffenberg (Cruise), who is severely wounded in Africa. He returns home lacking his right hand, fingers from his left, and one eye. In the opening minutes, Cruise does indeed seem an ill fit for the part; once he returns to Germany, his mutilation makes him more believable. His appearance is one we would normally find easily attributable to a villain, and this makes his role as a hero of the story that much more poignant.
Von Stauffenberg is far from alone: a lot of people would like to see Hitler dead. Major-General Henning von Tresckow (Kenneth Branagh) makes a failed attempt to blow up his Furher’s plane, and is later transferred to the front, leaving von Stauffenberg in control of the conspiracy. General Freidrich Olbricht (Bill Nighy) believes in the cause, but is often hesitant to act on the plans; he always demands proof that things are going correctly, although you’d think a General would know that nothing ever goes the way you plan it. Also among the conspirators are Dr. Carl Goerdeler (Kevin McNally), a politician intended to govern in the new regime. Terence Stamp sees a turn as Ludwig Beck, a retired general whose loyalties were never to anything but Germany.
The plan, on its face, is simple: Stauffenberg gets Hitler (played by David Bamber) to sign off on changes to the contingency plan known as Valkyrie. The plan was created to protect Hitler in Berlin in case the allies got that far, but the rewritten plan will make it easier for the plotters to take over Berlin, in the guise of stopping the coup. Stauffenberg visits Hitler at his Bavarian residence, Berghof. Here, Hitler and his top advisorsare set off in a circle at one end of a huge room; sunlight streams through a large window, but the Nazis are largely in shadow. Hitler himself is a small presence, seeming more like a Grandfather in the early stages of arthritis than the powerful speaker seen in German newsreels of the time. After the changes are approved, Stauffenberg will plant a bomb at a strategy meeting, killing Hitler and ushering in the important part of the plan.
Those who know this story (I was one) not only already know the plotters fail, but know some of the details behind that failure. The plan is to get both Himmler and Hitler; when Himmler does not show up to the meeting that is initially targeted, approval isn’t given, and after some tense worrying Stauffenberg escapes with the explosive. At the second attempt, on July 20, 1944, things go wrong: the meeting is moved to an outdoor hut where the bomb will not have the same effect, and it is placed behind the leg of a table opposite Hitler. In real life, the cushioning of that leg saved Hitler’s life; Stauffenberg, however, believes he is dead, and proceeds with his coup in Berlin.
That we know how this all has to end doesn’t diminish the suspense in the slightest. Cruise never establishes himself as Stauffenberg perfectly, but this might be partially due to Christopher McQuarrie and Nathan Alexander’s script. His motivations for doing these things are never made entirely clear; the film doesn’t let us into Stauffenberg’s soul. Only one revealing moment is truly given him: he wants the world to know that not all Germans were like Hitler. He refuses to have his family name drug through blood for a party he does not support. Pride? Perhaps.
However, the conspiracy itself is gripping; the plotters actually begin their takeover of Berlin, complete with arrests, believing Hitler to be dead. Since much of the film is told with words and paperwork, the action is in the plans and heads of the people at the coup’s center; I suspect I could count the number of gunshots in the film in my head.
As a thriller, it fares well and actually owes much to our foreknowledge of the outcome. Bryan Singer, whose films I don’t always enjoy, directs the action in such a way that we find ourselves focused on details. Only here, the details we focused on could have changed history. What if they’d kept the meeting that day in the bunker at Wolf’s Lair? What if the bomb hadn’t been placed so far from Hitler? Or what if Stauffenberg has been allowed to go through with it all at the first meeting? What if General Friedrich Fromm (Tom Wilkinson) head of the Reserve Army, had been fully complicit in the scheme, instead of sitting on the sidelines (it didn’t do him much good; he was also executed)?
These what ifs are at the heart of the film. But another element in the film’s success is the rebels themselves. We have a certain preconceived notion of the rebel character; dirty clothes, bumps and bruises, hiding in the woods. The upcoming “Defiance” will present the resistance to the Nazis from that more archetypal viewpoint. The conspirators in “Valkyrie” wear suits, sign papers and still have homes. Does the fact that they also cared about escaping with their lives make them any less heroic? Perhaps if von Stauffenberg had been willing to sacrifice himself to kill Hitler, might things have then been different? Of course, putting what’s right before duty always takes a heroic effort; anyone who has done it can tell you that. But the movie’s narrow focus on the conspiracy and the effects of it allows us to ask our own questions about these things, rather than have them forced on us by the filmmakers. That may be it’s most important victory.
Friday, January 2, 2009
Movie Review: Doubt
John Patrick Shanley’s “Doubt” presents us with two people, one driven by to do what she does by what she is, and the other moved to be what he is by what he does. But then, perhaps their actions are simply driven by their basic natures, and their choice of profession is incidental. I don’t really know for sure, I guess; the movie’s title is appropriate.
The first, and arguably most compelling, figure is Sister Aloysius Beauvier (Meryl Streep). She certainly is not the most likeable figure; as Principle, she rules over her Catholic church and school like a dictator. She is universally hated by the students, and the other nuns regard her with silence. When we are introduced to the church itself, it seems to have taken on her shade. It lacks the sunlight and glimmering artifacts of most film churches. It is not a gloomy place, it simply lacks the extra light.
The other figure is her superior, Father Flynn (Phillip Seymour Hoffman), is much the opposite. Jovial and outgoing, Father Flynn claims as his only mission the desire to help people. It is 1964, and the school has its first black student (Joseph Foster). Father Flynn reaches out to him, and Sister Beauvier interprets the gesture as a very different kind of reaching. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. “Doubt” is less about plot points and more about behaviors.
Sister Beauvier is the sort of person who depends on her convictions as the fuel that keeps her going. That Father Flynn has done something wrong is corroborated by no evidence and no witnesses. The only proof that the Sister has is her own conviction, which is unlikely to be born of righteousness. Father Flynn wishes to modernize their Church; included in these proposals are such radical measures as singing secular Christmas songs. The Sister has only her traditional view of the Church to keep her going. Streep plays her so precisely that she does not come across as the villain precisely because she is not motivated by anything she seems to recognize in herself. Her nature drives her, spurred on perhaps by the gradual dissolution of the world she knows and fits in. Father Flynn’s willingness to move forward, to her, is not a sign of strength; it is an expression of attack upon her world.
Serving mostly as an observer to these events is Sister James (Amy Adams). Whose version she believes I will not say. What is important to know is the importance of her role. It was important enough for Adams to receive equal billing with Streep and Hoffman, which is a lot for even really good actors to live up to. She is not innocent or very naïve, which is refreshing for such a role. She is simply a great believer in the fundamental goodness of mankind. You might argue that this is a foolish belief to have, but Adams embodies it well in Sister James; it does not seem to be forced on the story. Consider that she is not meant to be delivering a high-powered performance, and you realize how well she actually pulls off that very thing, but in a quieter, more understated way. She is as much Oscar Bait as the others.
That many of the questions in the film do not come full circle is appropriate to the story. The film observes characters who are acting in ways they either must act, or feel they must act. What precisely is in their pasts is not the idea the film wants to convey. What it wants to convey is precisely stated in the title, and it does the job as masterfully as any film I’ve seen. That there are questions which remain questions is a credit to the soul of the film, and Shanley’s faithfulness in reproducing this for a larger audience than the original play is the sort of thing I applaud in a film.
I also applaud the cinematography by Roger Deakins. Nearly the entire film takes place within the church and school grounds, building such a persuasive world out of ordinary locations that we never notice. When Father Flynn and Sister Beauvier do come to open conflict (in a scene whose dialogue I will have to study on DVD), it feels less like individual actions and more like the weight of their confinement finally driving them to speak their minds. The conversations between Flynn and Beauvier are weighted by the place, while those between Flynn and Sister James are labored but not held down by it. Conversations acted out sometimes feel imposed, but not these. They feel natural and free of the writer’s voice, and among other things, a great film is made out of them.
The first, and arguably most compelling, figure is Sister Aloysius Beauvier (Meryl Streep). She certainly is not the most likeable figure; as Principle, she rules over her Catholic church and school like a dictator. She is universally hated by the students, and the other nuns regard her with silence. When we are introduced to the church itself, it seems to have taken on her shade. It lacks the sunlight and glimmering artifacts of most film churches. It is not a gloomy place, it simply lacks the extra light.
The other figure is her superior, Father Flynn (Phillip Seymour Hoffman), is much the opposite. Jovial and outgoing, Father Flynn claims as his only mission the desire to help people. It is 1964, and the school has its first black student (Joseph Foster). Father Flynn reaches out to him, and Sister Beauvier interprets the gesture as a very different kind of reaching. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. “Doubt” is less about plot points and more about behaviors.
Sister Beauvier is the sort of person who depends on her convictions as the fuel that keeps her going. That Father Flynn has done something wrong is corroborated by no evidence and no witnesses. The only proof that the Sister has is her own conviction, which is unlikely to be born of righteousness. Father Flynn wishes to modernize their Church; included in these proposals are such radical measures as singing secular Christmas songs. The Sister has only her traditional view of the Church to keep her going. Streep plays her so precisely that she does not come across as the villain precisely because she is not motivated by anything she seems to recognize in herself. Her nature drives her, spurred on perhaps by the gradual dissolution of the world she knows and fits in. Father Flynn’s willingness to move forward, to her, is not a sign of strength; it is an expression of attack upon her world.
Serving mostly as an observer to these events is Sister James (Amy Adams). Whose version she believes I will not say. What is important to know is the importance of her role. It was important enough for Adams to receive equal billing with Streep and Hoffman, which is a lot for even really good actors to live up to. She is not innocent or very naïve, which is refreshing for such a role. She is simply a great believer in the fundamental goodness of mankind. You might argue that this is a foolish belief to have, but Adams embodies it well in Sister James; it does not seem to be forced on the story. Consider that she is not meant to be delivering a high-powered performance, and you realize how well she actually pulls off that very thing, but in a quieter, more understated way. She is as much Oscar Bait as the others.
That many of the questions in the film do not come full circle is appropriate to the story. The film observes characters who are acting in ways they either must act, or feel they must act. What precisely is in their pasts is not the idea the film wants to convey. What it wants to convey is precisely stated in the title, and it does the job as masterfully as any film I’ve seen. That there are questions which remain questions is a credit to the soul of the film, and Shanley’s faithfulness in reproducing this for a larger audience than the original play is the sort of thing I applaud in a film.
I also applaud the cinematography by Roger Deakins. Nearly the entire film takes place within the church and school grounds, building such a persuasive world out of ordinary locations that we never notice. When Father Flynn and Sister Beauvier do come to open conflict (in a scene whose dialogue I will have to study on DVD), it feels less like individual actions and more like the weight of their confinement finally driving them to speak their minds. The conversations between Flynn and Beauvier are weighted by the place, while those between Flynn and Sister James are labored but not held down by it. Conversations acted out sometimes feel imposed, but not these. They feel natural and free of the writer’s voice, and among other things, a great film is made out of them.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
On The Road
So Adam, a friend of mine who is in fact absolutely evil in every way, shape and form, suggests to me, months ago, that I need to read Jack Kerouac's classic book about seeing America. He says it'll make me want to pack up everything and throw it on a train or something and just go, go, wherever it happens to take me, as long as I'm out and traveling. He knows this, because at some point familiarity becomes indistinguishable from mind-reading, and he is fully aware that if I had my way I would do that anyway.
In fact, it's my opinion that people are naturally nomadic, and that settling down in one place takes an act of sheer will because we're supposed to be up and seeing and moving and doing and experiencing.
At any rate, I go out and buy On The Road, but I wait to read it. This was a big, big mistake, because I waited until the middle of the Iowa winter, when my natural wanderlust is already at a yearly high. Fair warning to anyone who has the same inclinations as me; DO NOT READ "ON THE ROAD". It will take your desire to hit the road, and ratchet it up to 1,000.
Of course, this is all somewhat of an exercise in nostalgia. The road Kerouac describes takes you through an America that is long gone. The year is 1947, I think, and the post-war U.S. is filled with opportunities to hitchhike, and places a resourceful person can find to stay, so that when Sal (Jack's proxy) reaches California, he has spent less than a hundred bucks. Today, provided you manage to find anyone willing to pick up hitchhikers on the interstate, you're still going to run a very different road.
Connections are a wonderful thing, and thanks to cell phones, the interstate and the internet, more people are connected to more places. But the price of that is Kerouac's America, because division creates difference, and when the division disappears so, slowly, do the differences. The onset of suburbia has made most places the same as the last place. There are small towns that don't fit the idea of suburbia, sure, and for my money those are the places worth visiting. But even in 1947 America was still discovering itself. Now that it has found more or less an answer and settled down, it's a much more cohesive place, but one with a lot less going on for someone who wants to hit the road.
What Kerouac's book still gives us is nonetheless more powerful than nostalgia. He doesn't paint America in wonderful rainbow colors all of the time; we get to see first hand what a type of life lived by so many (and glorified in a lot of works) was like while actually being lived. Even if we can't live it any longer, it is still a valuable service.
In fact, it's my opinion that people are naturally nomadic, and that settling down in one place takes an act of sheer will because we're supposed to be up and seeing and moving and doing and experiencing.
At any rate, I go out and buy On The Road, but I wait to read it. This was a big, big mistake, because I waited until the middle of the Iowa winter, when my natural wanderlust is already at a yearly high. Fair warning to anyone who has the same inclinations as me; DO NOT READ "ON THE ROAD". It will take your desire to hit the road, and ratchet it up to 1,000.
Of course, this is all somewhat of an exercise in nostalgia. The road Kerouac describes takes you through an America that is long gone. The year is 1947, I think, and the post-war U.S. is filled with opportunities to hitchhike, and places a resourceful person can find to stay, so that when Sal (Jack's proxy) reaches California, he has spent less than a hundred bucks. Today, provided you manage to find anyone willing to pick up hitchhikers on the interstate, you're still going to run a very different road.
Connections are a wonderful thing, and thanks to cell phones, the interstate and the internet, more people are connected to more places. But the price of that is Kerouac's America, because division creates difference, and when the division disappears so, slowly, do the differences. The onset of suburbia has made most places the same as the last place. There are small towns that don't fit the idea of suburbia, sure, and for my money those are the places worth visiting. But even in 1947 America was still discovering itself. Now that it has found more or less an answer and settled down, it's a much more cohesive place, but one with a lot less going on for someone who wants to hit the road.
What Kerouac's book still gives us is nonetheless more powerful than nostalgia. He doesn't paint America in wonderful rainbow colors all of the time; we get to see first hand what a type of life lived by so many (and glorified in a lot of works) was like while actually being lived. Even if we can't live it any longer, it is still a valuable service.
A little mind changing
OK. So. This was supposed to be all about video games.
Only one problem; my interest in gaming comes and goes like the wind these days. I think I thought that by writing about them, my interest in actual playing them could be returned to previous levels, and this was not the case.
I still have absolutely no intention of telling a bunch of strangers on the web about every bad day I have, because that's entirely pointless. I've been reading a ton instead, so maybe I'll just talk about that. Who knows?
Only one problem; my interest in gaming comes and goes like the wind these days. I think I thought that by writing about them, my interest in actual playing them could be returned to previous levels, and this was not the case.
I still have absolutely no intention of telling a bunch of strangers on the web about every bad day I have, because that's entirely pointless. I've been reading a ton instead, so maybe I'll just talk about that. Who knows?
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Dead Pixels 5: The Way They Were
Raise your hands, or varied appendages, if you kind of sort of think games used to be better. I don't mean better technologically; after experiencing Bioshock and Gears of War I doubt anyone could return to the original Doom with a straight face. I think what I mean is more creative.
If you're only recently new to gaming, you may not even know what I'm talking about here. But there was a time in gaming when you could take the most insane, possibly acid-induced plotline, mix it with characters straight out of a fever dream, and have a hit for the ages. To cite the most obvious example, I seriously doubt anyone could get away today with a game starring an overweight plumber stomping on living mushrooms. But there were others. Jump for joy if you remember, say, The Adventures of Lolo, in which your fearsome powers included block-pushing and turning enemies into eggs. Congrats, you recall a day when gaming was one big trip.
Anymore, those types of games would be relegated to DLC or handhelds. They don't possess the major component that makes for a hot seller now: guns. Guns and more guns.
This isn't to say I don't like guns. I do, at least in a virtual sense. It just bothers me that every original game that hopes to be a major hit absolutely must have them. Yes, many games that fit that mold really are great. Bioshock took my breath away, and the Ratchet and Clank series blends classic gaming with modern gunplay in a way that is consistently entertaining and hilarious (penguin gun=best thing ever).
There are exceptions to this rule, sure. Assassin's Creed flew off shelves lacking a single firearm. Of course, many people sold it back when they realized they had to be patient and planning and not kill something every five seconds. But that's beside the point. The point is, Altair is the exception to the rule. Take a look at the major hits of the last handful of years: Gears of War. Call of Duty. Halo. Half-Life. Resistance. Killzone. Resident Evil. And of course, perennial video game scapegoat Grand Theft Auto.
A lot of these games have a lot more to them than violence. Resident Evil 4 and Grand Theft Auto IV have a hallowed place in my personal collection. But the thrust of my gist is, it's the violence that draws people in. Witness the number of used copies of Grand Theft Auto IV you find, sold by people who found out they had to actually endure a story and characters instead of just kill people.
Whether I agree or not, it is honestly not too much of a shock that gaming gets such a black eye in the general press. Sales drive development, and as long as gems like Banjo-Kazooie: Nuts & Bolts and Zack and Wiki endure dismal sales while even the blandest new bloodfest shooters fly off shelves, gaming will not break the reputation of being a blood-drenched adolescent power fantasy.
If you're only recently new to gaming, you may not even know what I'm talking about here. But there was a time in gaming when you could take the most insane, possibly acid-induced plotline, mix it with characters straight out of a fever dream, and have a hit for the ages. To cite the most obvious example, I seriously doubt anyone could get away today with a game starring an overweight plumber stomping on living mushrooms. But there were others. Jump for joy if you remember, say, The Adventures of Lolo, in which your fearsome powers included block-pushing and turning enemies into eggs. Congrats, you recall a day when gaming was one big trip.
Anymore, those types of games would be relegated to DLC or handhelds. They don't possess the major component that makes for a hot seller now: guns. Guns and more guns.
This isn't to say I don't like guns. I do, at least in a virtual sense. It just bothers me that every original game that hopes to be a major hit absolutely must have them. Yes, many games that fit that mold really are great. Bioshock took my breath away, and the Ratchet and Clank series blends classic gaming with modern gunplay in a way that is consistently entertaining and hilarious (penguin gun=best thing ever).
There are exceptions to this rule, sure. Assassin's Creed flew off shelves lacking a single firearm. Of course, many people sold it back when they realized they had to be patient and planning and not kill something every five seconds. But that's beside the point. The point is, Altair is the exception to the rule. Take a look at the major hits of the last handful of years: Gears of War. Call of Duty. Halo. Half-Life. Resistance. Killzone. Resident Evil. And of course, perennial video game scapegoat Grand Theft Auto.
A lot of these games have a lot more to them than violence. Resident Evil 4 and Grand Theft Auto IV have a hallowed place in my personal collection. But the thrust of my gist is, it's the violence that draws people in. Witness the number of used copies of Grand Theft Auto IV you find, sold by people who found out they had to actually endure a story and characters instead of just kill people.
Whether I agree or not, it is honestly not too much of a shock that gaming gets such a black eye in the general press. Sales drive development, and as long as gems like Banjo-Kazooie: Nuts & Bolts and Zack and Wiki endure dismal sales while even the blandest new bloodfest shooters fly off shelves, gaming will not break the reputation of being a blood-drenched adolescent power fantasy.
Dead Pixels 4: The Greatest Thing Ever
I am currently in possession of a Game Boy Advance cart featuring, among other things, a Legend of Zelda version of the original Super Mario Bros. Yes, there are other things on the cart, including even a few games that have not been modded, but really, what else do you need? The fireballs are swords, the Goombas are Octoroks, and Bowser, of course, is Ganon. It just occured to me to check if two-player mode lets you use Zelda. Remember, don't be a second-playa hater.
There's also a Sonic version of the game. I imagine that had to be more difficult to create, having to make Sonic sprites up from scratch and all, but it's not nearly as exciting...Bowser isn't even Robotnik, it's just some random bot. Still..."Good Job Sonic! Sonic got a Chaos Emerald!" will now have new meaning for me.
I'll have to remember to explore the rest of this package before I get over my recent illness. I have a feeling it won't be nearly as entertaining off medication.
There's also a Sonic version of the game. I imagine that had to be more difficult to create, having to make Sonic sprites up from scratch and all, but it's not nearly as exciting...Bowser isn't even Robotnik, it's just some random bot. Still..."Good Job Sonic! Sonic got a Chaos Emerald!" will now have new meaning for me.
I'll have to remember to explore the rest of this package before I get over my recent illness. I have a feeling it won't be nearly as entertaining off medication.
Friday, December 5, 2008
Dead Pixels 3: A Prince Among Men
12-06-08
The dry period in gaming has already begun. The Hot Christmas Titles have rolled out and are in stores, and we've entered a period in which few worthy new releases are due us, which is actually sort of a godsend. The industry decided November was the perfect time to roll out every single triple-A title in their arsenal, and they spewed forth from the land of silicon as from a broken dam, thus giving us all a chance to go completely broke.
That's not to say we're not getting any good games between now and the actual official goshdarn holiday itself. There's some stuff.
The other day I got my grabby little hands on Prince of Persia. It immediately confirmed something I've suspected since Assassin's Creed, a suspicion enhanced by Far Cry 2 and now soldified. Ubi Soft has almost no interest in pumping out traditional action titles. There's no doubt Prince is inspired heavily by Altair, but it also strikes a new path. Not everything on this new path works perfectly, but whatever you end up thinking of it you'll be unable to deny that Ubi Soft is charting a new direction for action-platformers.
This is another in the recent trend of cannot-die-games. Every time you get in severe trouble, your new friend Elika will rescue you with her magic. Sure, bosses can heal during this time, but since you cannot die you just jump right back in the fray. This is going to seriously piss off the sort of gamer who thrives on proving he is better than his entire Xbox Live friends list. Ubi Soft has created a game in which being top dog isn't just not the top concern, it's not a concern, period. They are in this for the experience, and you're going to have to be too. The visuals, obviously the stand-out feature, are evocative of the sort of Persia we see in the old 1,001 tales stories. It's the sort of place I see on the backs of my eyelids when I dream, and for me personally is quite frankly a wish come true. I never could pinpoint where a lot of otherwise amazing fantasy game worlds let me down in the past, but Prince seemed to just sort of know, a knowledge he took and ran with. Imagine Hayao Miyazaki meets Rogue Galaxy and you're pretty much there.
The platforming is elegant, the combat is cinematic and reminiscent somewhat of God of War. Since you can't really die, action afficiondos are going to loathe it. Those who are tired of slogging through waves of enemies and dream of something more like playing an epic scene from a swashbuckler (like me) will be at home, snuggled in the warm sounds of ocean waves.
Elika, your AI-controlled partner, is quite an experience. She reminds me of the Princess in Ico, and if you didn't play that and have no idea what I'm talking about, for shame. That princess would find you the right piece to a puzzle and actually aid you in your escape from an evil tower; this one does pretty much the same thing. The difference, of course, is the difference that seven years of tech can make to visuals, not to mention a game's ability to tell a story through character. Being able to question Elika at any time is engrossing.
The dry period in gaming has already begun. The Hot Christmas Titles have rolled out and are in stores, and we've entered a period in which few worthy new releases are due us, which is actually sort of a godsend. The industry decided November was the perfect time to roll out every single triple-A title in their arsenal, and they spewed forth from the land of silicon as from a broken dam, thus giving us all a chance to go completely broke.
That's not to say we're not getting any good games between now and the actual official goshdarn holiday itself. There's some stuff.
The other day I got my grabby little hands on Prince of Persia. It immediately confirmed something I've suspected since Assassin's Creed, a suspicion enhanced by Far Cry 2 and now soldified. Ubi Soft has almost no interest in pumping out traditional action titles. There's no doubt Prince is inspired heavily by Altair, but it also strikes a new path. Not everything on this new path works perfectly, but whatever you end up thinking of it you'll be unable to deny that Ubi Soft is charting a new direction for action-platformers.
This is another in the recent trend of cannot-die-games. Every time you get in severe trouble, your new friend Elika will rescue you with her magic. Sure, bosses can heal during this time, but since you cannot die you just jump right back in the fray. This is going to seriously piss off the sort of gamer who thrives on proving he is better than his entire Xbox Live friends list. Ubi Soft has created a game in which being top dog isn't just not the top concern, it's not a concern, period. They are in this for the experience, and you're going to have to be too. The visuals, obviously the stand-out feature, are evocative of the sort of Persia we see in the old 1,001 tales stories. It's the sort of place I see on the backs of my eyelids when I dream, and for me personally is quite frankly a wish come true. I never could pinpoint where a lot of otherwise amazing fantasy game worlds let me down in the past, but Prince seemed to just sort of know, a knowledge he took and ran with. Imagine Hayao Miyazaki meets Rogue Galaxy and you're pretty much there.
The platforming is elegant, the combat is cinematic and reminiscent somewhat of God of War. Since you can't really die, action afficiondos are going to loathe it. Those who are tired of slogging through waves of enemies and dream of something more like playing an epic scene from a swashbuckler (like me) will be at home, snuggled in the warm sounds of ocean waves.
Elika, your AI-controlled partner, is quite an experience. She reminds me of the Princess in Ico, and if you didn't play that and have no idea what I'm talking about, for shame. That princess would find you the right piece to a puzzle and actually aid you in your escape from an evil tower; this one does pretty much the same thing. The difference, of course, is the difference that seven years of tech can make to visuals, not to mention a game's ability to tell a story through character. Being able to question Elika at any time is engrossing.
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