Book-to-film adaptations are always a point of contention. Very rarely are book enthusiasts fully satisfied with these film adaptations, mainly due to constant studio mismanagement and lack of awareness for just what makes these stories so beloved. “Dune” is a book that explores the ideas of standing up to a totalitarian society and dares to criticize the way the world is with a surrealist sci-fi backdrop. When the eighties rolled around, the stigma behind sci-fi movies was incredibly elated. Gone were the basic eye-candy sets and monsters of the earlier eras, now gleaming in intrinsic subtlety that had made up most mainstream cinema of the time. With all that said, getting a hold of “Eraserhead” director, David Lynch, to create a grandiose film adaptation of this fan-favorite novel may have been an odd pairing. Lynch is no stranger to the unexplained oddities of imagination, but he wasn’t exactly someone that could be associated with a studio production. The film, Dune, is something of a muddled mess that speaks for the bizarre melding of these two drastically different forces. Nowadays, Dune is remembered as a underrated cult classic, but its release back in 1984 met with a harsh criticism that most likely influenced Lynch’s following works. I went into this film with little knowledge of the book or any of the perceived criticisms that it amassed over the years; I thought it was decent but stood out amongst the legendary director’s works. Now that I am reading the book in preparation for the upcoming remake, and after watching all of Lynch’s films, I had to revisit this one, and it made all the difference. Without hesitation, this is David Lynch’s Dune.
Set in a very far-off future, Dune places its focus on a young man by the name of Paul Atreides (Kyle MacLachlan) who is training to follow in the footsteps of his father, Duke Leto (Jurgen Prochnow). They live alongside Paul’s mother, Lady Jessica (Francesca Annis) on the planet Caladan, one that is war with several over planets over the ownership of powerful “spice” from a desert planet. This spice strengthens the people of these planets, but is excessively harnessed by the giant, puss-filled Baron Harkonnen (Kenneth McMillan) who orders an assassination of the Atreides family, especially that of Paul, who is believed to be a hero spoken of in prophecies that will harness the spice and bring an end to the ruthless control of the Baron. After landing on the spice planet, the assassination almost goes ahead, but Paul and Jessica manage to escape and take refuge in the dunes that surround the temple. While there, they meet the other outcasts, one of which is a woman that Paul had dreamed of and becomes his beloved. Meanwhile, Jessica bares a second child that is given immense powers from the liquid that her mother consumes to become a “Bene Gesserit”, a type of truthsayer that can manipulate others with mere words. Paul’s power grows as he becomes more of the leader that he is destined to become. He teaches the “fremen” of the desert of how to fight using word-powered weaponry, to tame the vicious sand-worms that protect the spice and to lead a revolt against the Harkonnen Baron.
If this plot sounds far too convoluted for you to understand, watching the actual film does not help matters. Most of my plot synopsis was only strengthened by the sheer fact that I am currently reading the book and is far more comprehensive due to its extensive nature. This is the film’s greatest drawback. Lynch is not a man of fleshed out exposition, preferring to let audiences put the pieces together themselves, this movie suffers with a need to both please the director himself and also the studio that needs to make it more accessible. There isn’t much time to linger on a moment or truly absorb what we have witnessed, it moves briskly and is over-stuffed with internal monologue that is too loyal to the source material. So much time is spent creating an extensive world, but we aren’t given much explanation outside of the footnotes of the central plot. Paul’s character feels far too bland, aged up to a young adult from the fifteen year-old that had to journey through a coming-of-age story. There’s no real progression outside of him simply adjusting to his destiny, no thought to how it could really effect his psyche. Jessica is poorly pushed to the background, lacking the fiery spirit she has in the book. Other characters, like the underutilized Gurney, are just there for small moments, quickly forgotten about until the plot feels the need for some emotional weight. The villainous Baron is so repugnant, but far too comical to really feel like a genuine threat. Aside from all this, the film just feels like a slideshow of all the major moments, as if to be ticking off the checklist of iconic moments. But where the film falters in its characters and story, there is something to be admired in the absurdity of the world.
Lynch has slowly become one of my favorite auteur directors, but never one that really outshines the more prolific auteurs like the Coens or Scorsese. What Lynch does best is creating a world of pure insanity with just enough of a comprehensive plot that it keeps you engaged to the very end, often reveling in subtleties that will never give you a concrete answer. Dune may not live up to the narrative, but the way it utilizes Lynch’s eye for the strange is furiously evident. The looks of each world that we see is distinct from one another, creating a sense of other-worldliness that you would never see in any other film of the like. The impressive prosthetic that adorns the Baron’s face is so visually revolting and the giant sandworms that sail through the desert speak to Lynch’s knack for obscene imagery. Aside from all this, the tone shifts about with reckless abandon, never cementing itself with the darkness of the world and instead giving time for the audience to enjoy the weirder visuals, layers of comedy digging their way in. There are moment of pure “Lynchism” that desperately want to barge their way in, but have to abide by the universal appeal that the studio so desperately wanted. There’s a moment where the ghastly Baron is just admiring the almost naked body of one of his henchman, played by Sting, and the shot just lingers for an uncomfortable amount of time. The acting can be terribly hammy at times, but it’s hard to make sense of how much is intentional and how much is just restricted by constant interference. It’s through these moments of oddity that you can begin to understand the reason this film has such a vocal fanbase today.
The legacy of this film is jarring. I have often seen this placed into many people’s favorite “so bad it’s good” film lists, and it is only upon the second watch that I finally understand that mentality. Lynch is terribly restricted, and he is trying his hardest to let everyone know that he wants to escape. There are only small moments when I can see this as a genuine Lynch film, where there are scenes of imposing shots of large structures, or the unearthly performances from its lead actors, but that studio interference is always over-powering it. There were many more instances upon this second watch where I was left in hysterics because of how harshly rushed certain moments played out. Reading the book has definitely given me an entirely new perspective on the film, and I’m not even close to the halfway point. Much of this incomprehensible, yet beautifully dumb, mess is easily explained in the book. I usually turn my head at those who hold the original book as a basis for criticizing a film adaptation, but the moments that were cherry-picked for this particular adaptation just don’t make sense without additional context. Everything around Jessica’s character and even that of Duke Leto are disregarded with little care; they’re far more compelling in the original novel. Gurney acts like a mentor figure to Paul, being a close friend, here, he used sparingly with a forcibly delivered moment of reunion and a laughably bad fight scene with questionable animation. There are many more issues I can highlight, not the least of which is the amazing dinner scene that fleshed out each planet, but I don’t have enough time to make a full comparison.
I am at odds with my mentality here. On one hand, the cynical film analyst hates how clumsy and poorly executed the story and character are, the new-founded book enthusiast in me wants to despise the terrible changes that were made to make this more condensed, the Lynch fan in me hates how little freedom he had and how it could have potentially been something psychologically challenging, but then there’s that side of me that has a biased soft spot for eighties schlock. This film is a poorly constructed mess, but it’s entertaining beyond anything. The risk-taking stigma of seventies cinema had passed and it was time for the absolute cheese that was the eighties, and even Lynch would fall victim to this. In the grand scheme of the amazing line-up of Lynch’s movies, this is like an ugly wart that refuses to leave public consciousness. Whether film appreciators like it or not, besides Twin Peaks, this is probably his most infamous piece of work. It’s full of plot holes, substance-less characters, terrible acting, great looking sets and costume designs, a brilliant and imposing score and it just makes for a wonderful highlight of how a major studio can completely ruin a director’s vision. I am far more excited to see Denis Villeneuve’s re-imagining of this prolific novel, but it could never hope to match the entertaining merry-go-round of garbage that Lynch’s version is. Check it out, or don’t…but you probably should.
Side note: I pronounce it “Doon” because my friend once thought I was talking about the movie “Juno” for like two minutes, completely confused, just cause he misheard me.
Far back in 2019, I did a review of Tim Burton’s “Ed Wood”, a film I deeply admired for many reasons, but one that stood above almost everything else was how much care and intent went into paying tribute to the B-movies of the earlier days of cinema. Mars Attacks is a very different kind of film from that, but with much of the same intent behind it. Sci-Fi movies had exploded onto the scene in the 1950’s, and many directors were quick to market off of this growing success. Elaborate set designs and costumes, coupled with over-the-top, if half-baked, acting creating a real sense of corniness that remains cemented in mainstream cinema today. Obviously, this wildly fascinating genre managed to draw in the attention of acclaimed director, Tim Burton. Ed Wood may have been his first obvious translation of this B-movie gratification, but there are many apparent signs of this within some of his earliest films. Mars Attacks is by far the most direct Burton has ever gone, because it’s more than a simple tribute, it’s a B-movie made for a (then) modern world. Managing to rope in all these celebrities he had amassed over the years, Burton casts these seasoned actors in some of the most terribly, yet purposely, written dialogue and story-telling brought to a mainstream movie. Often misinterpreted as a genuine attempt at making a serious Sci-Fi movie, this is Tim Burton’s Mars Attacks.
This wildly self-aware story places its focus on a myriad of characters that are only found connected through the visitation of these alien creatures. At first, it’s unknown what exactly the aliens are doing, and seem peaceful, but quickly turn to a murderous rampage, killing the many people within the vicinity of their televised arrival. Left to take charge, the president (Jack Nicholson) is left with very little option but to formulate some sort of plan to combat the invaders’ destructive path. The aliens also try to infiltrate the White House through the use of a terribly constructed woman that seduces the press secretary (Martin Short.) Amongst the political planning, others are left at the torment of these alien invaders: a pipe-smoking professor (Pierce Brosnan) is left headless aboard a martian ship with a reporter (Sarah Jessica Parker), who has had her head reattached to the body of a dog. On the ground, a struggling casino worker (Jim Brown), is thrown into a leadership role as he must venture across the destructed city, all in a plan to rescue his entrapped family. Joining him on this terrifying journey is Richie (Lukas Haas), who has lost both his brother and parents to the monstrous martians. These interlinked stories all converge into a massive showdown with the murderous creatures.
If the plot seems a little scattered, this is because it very much is. To imply there is even a plot to this film would be disingenuous. It feels more than a little clear that Burton was going for a more “style-over-substance” approach, something that is incredibly prevalent in the B-movies of the fifties. The characters are given very little time for fleshing out, essentially being mere targets for the alien destruction. I’ve seen that the plot is often viewed as a major flaw for many of the critics, but I can’t help but feel as though this is purely from a place of misinterpretation. I am not implying that all the criticism is unearned, but to even take the plot into consideration is to view this film in a vastly different way from how it was intended to be viewed. The characters are more attraction pieces; ones with very little depth and are more there to keep the movie going, enforced by the myriad of A-list actors. I neglected to mention the likes of Glenn Close, Michael J. Fox and Natalie Portman, who all deliver performances with very little direction, but that is, again, the main point. Schmaltzy and terribly wooden, there shouldn’t really even be a point of discussion, especially when Burton had already established himself as a competent director at this point. All of this amateurish direction is one hundred percent intentional, and it feels rather strong. It bathes in the cheesy fifties-fueled nostalgia that Burton clearly had a love for.
Burton’s style has been rather iconic over the years for its mixing of Gothic imagery with eccentric characters, and while that style is certainly there, it’s a tad more understated in comparison. The characters do feel rather over-the-top, but this is mostly in service to the love-letter motivation. Burton’s artistic style is geared differently in this film. The martians that have long become infamous for their somewhat terrifying designs and vaguely resemble Burton’s previous monsters. The aliens are mostly shown in CGI form, slightly contradicting that B-movie tribute, but manage to add an actual horror element to the film. These B-movies of the classic age were not just simple Sci-Fi adventures, there was always a sense of sheer terror that could be drawn from the designs of the creatures. I do honestly believe that the Martians do bring the film down. If Burton really wanted to pay tribute to these iconic creatures, these martians should have remained practical. Some of the other CGI elements also look terribly outdated and, once again, contradict the overall feel that Burton is trying to go for. The effects of the disembodied heads look downright awful, but I suppose it does retroactively speak for the cheapness of these classic films. Whatever the case, the set designs more than make up for that missing element. The sets look like actual sets, cheap and plastic looking, with obvious signs of imperfection. “Cheap” is no more fitting a word to describe the way these classic films looked, adding that “B” aspect.
Mars Attacks is a bizarre film to recommend to the average viewer. It feels almost experimental, perhaps it could have thrived in a more independent environment, but Burton was already gearing down a path of studio obligation. It just feels so strange to see a film that takes major risks with its intent from a major studio. I went into this movie hearing mixed opinions, most seeming to dislike it. Having no knowledge of that attributed approach, I managed to catch on rather early to what Burton was trying to achieve. Knowing how self-aware the film was trying to be, I left any reservations behind and simply wrapped myself in the absurdity of the world that had formed. I have very little exposure to these types of films that Burton loves so much, but it’s easy to see how much they influenced his style in the coming years. Chocked full of self-awareness and far more intelligent than it’s given credit for, Mars Attacks has slowly become one of my favorites from this director that I have grown to despise. His earlier works through the eighties and nineties are brimming with creativity and distinction that makes his later and mostly terrible films overshadow that genuine talent he once had. I’m not saying this film is to the same level of quality as something like Beetlejuice or Ed Wood, but it does feel rather unique. If you want something truly bizarre, why not check it out.
It’s the mid nineties, the console landscape was left with just Nintendo and Sega being the only dominant manufacturers, but then, Sony enters the fray with the prolific Playstation. I, like many late-nineties children, had a Playstation above the graphic-powered Nintendo 64 or the forgotten bastard child that was the Saturn. I didn’t know a single kid that didn’t own this system and its incredible library of disc-based games. And its centerfold was a platformer title that dared to challenge both Mario and Sonic for its mascot status: Crash Bandicoot. This colorful game starring an obscure marsupial was infamous for being one of the first 3D platformers, pre-dating Mario 64 by a bit. This system spawned two sequels and two spin-offs and, of course, I had the pleasure of owning…one of these games. Crash Bandicoot may have shined on this system more than any, but I was unfortunately not exposed to the spiky-haired, jeans-wearing bandicoot until after the series had departed from Sony. No, it was the much maligned GameCube/PS2/Xbox era that was the reason I even became a fan of the series to begin with. Usually, I like to drop mentions of my future games focuses within the articles I write, but instead, after playing through the somewhat-recent Crash Bandicoot 4, it got me reminiscing about my history with the series and the long period of absolute silence. So grab a cup of Wumpa juice and alow me to N.Trance you with my anecdotes about a neglected orange tornado. Crash Bandicoot.
What are you looking at, Fuzzhead?
The Playstation was the first console I truly owned myself, handed down to me by my older cousin. I had a myriad of various titles, but none of which were any of the Crash titles that had blessed the system. In time, however, I would eventually own Crash Bandicoot 3. Crash 3 is often considered to be best game in the trilogy, and in general, but with later experiences I would consider Crash 2 to be the superior game. Even still, this would be my first exposure to the franchise. The concept of travelling to different time periods as you ran, jumped and spun into various enemies and boxes felt oddly gratifying. The game was challenging, but also had a comfortable progression that a five year-old child could easily grasp. There was variety in the form of the vehicular levels and Coco-led auto-running segments. Already I could feel a great admiration for just this one game, it was a platformer I had played before the more anchored fate of Sonic. But this time spent with the game wouldn’t last long as my PS1 would break down not long after (I doubt this game killed it.) Unaware of how popular this series was beforehand, and the troubled future it would have, I didn’t realize how hooked on the entire thing I would become.
Many franchises go through their dark periods. I’ve spoken about Sonic in the past, a franchise that has arguably never escaped that dark period, but Crash really hit this era hard. That being said, it was the period I got to grow up with, so the nostalgia goggles are in full force. Having a Gameboy Advance, I was able to get my hands on two major titles for that system: Crash Bandicoot N-Tranced and Crash Bandicoot Fusion. The former game was literally the second Crash title I had played, so it was fitting that it borrowed heavily from Crash Bandicoot 3. The game was a fun 2D translation what had worked so well with the previous titles, and also introduced me to a personal favorite character: Crunch, the forgotten child of the Bandicoot family. Crash Fusion should have been a monumental game, as it crossed Crash over with Playstation mascot, Spyro, for the first time ever. What we got from this game was a dull party game with a lackluster story. Despite the mundane nature of the game, I still enjoyed it, taking it with me on holidays and randomly stumbling on the dance minigame that rarely booted up when turning on the system. I was always confused on why the full title of N-Tranced was preceded with “Crash Bandicoot 2”, even then I knew this wasn’t the real second game, but I later learned of the original GBA game, Huge Adventure. People often glance over the GBA Crash games, but the first two, at least, are genuinely fun and faithful translations of the 3D titles. You’d be hard-pressed to find them now, but there’s some authentic gold in there.
Between those two Crash games that I was able to grow up with, was a game I will violently defend to the grave. The Wrath of Cortex was the first time Crash had jumped to multiple platforms outside of the Playstation family. Developed by Traveler’s Tales, a company which is known most for the Lego games, it was essentially just a Crash Bandicoot 3 clone with different levels and a story. The real introduction to the character of Crunch, the game focused around him joining the maniacal villain, Neo Cortex, in a plan to eradicate the bandicoot. As lazy as this game comes across, I still really enjoy it. Many look down on the game for being a lackluster attempt at trying to imitate what came before it, but the level design and additional gameplay styles really drew me in. What is most jarring is that I almost didn’t buy this game when I saw it. My original plan was to beg my mum to buy me the Prisoner of Azkaban game after enjoying the Chamber of Secrets game so much. From the corner of my eye, I saw Wrath of Cortex sitting on a shelf facing me and I made the decision to beg her for this one instead. Nostalgia a wonderful thing, but it certainly skews one’s opinion. I like Wrath of Cortex a lot. It could never hold a candle to the PS1 titles, but I will always treasure this game with childlike abandon. Prisoner of Azkaban ended up being rather mediocre.
In the dark ocean of my intellect swims a magnificent whale of a plan!
Being a Crash Bandicoot fan during the 2000’s was not easy. While it was no Sonic when it came to the quality of the games, this series was almost entirely overlooked by anyone other than hardcore fans. I wanted to dedicate myself to every little nook and cranny that was drilled deep within the the cracks of the series. The first natural progression was to seek out the original trilogy. I had become a fan of Naughty Dog, now more infamous for Uncharted and The Last of Us, their start came from the infamous trilogy. Luckily for me, all three titles, as well as the racing spin-off, were available on the PS3’s marketplace. Many complained about how the N.Sane trilogy ramped up the difficulty of the original titles, but people forget just how hard these were. The first Crash can be painful at times, really pushing you with it’s methodical platforming and incredibly slow pacing. The save system was terrible, only getting to save if you managed to complete a bonus round (which were more difficult than the actual levels), or by doing a 100% run on each level. Never have I been as frustrated as when I lost all those hard-earned fifty-plus lives on a single level, losing about five levels of progress, and then aggressively placing down my controller and turning the system off. Crash 2 and 3 were a lot stronger, feeling more fluid and with a fair curve in difficulty. Team Racing was a fantastic Mario Kart clone that even excelled in certain areas. To play all these games for the first time felt like I finally solidify my progression to “Crash Bandicoot fan.”
I managed to come across a triple disc set for the PS2 that contained Nitro Kart, Twinsanity and Tag Team Racing. As much as Wrath of Cortex was a blatant copy of Crash 3, Nitro Kart was a blatant copy of Team Racing, ironic as it was already a blatant copy of Mario Kart. Nitro Kart was great, but it lived in the shadow of it’s much stronger older brother. Twinsanity is often considered one of the shining lights in this era of darkness. As unfinished as it was, it was a nice change of structure for the franchise, with some excellent writing that made me admire Cortex more and more, and a wonderfully goofy acapella soundtrack that I can hum in a moments notice. Tag Team Racing (confusing and manipulative title, I know) was an odd step in a admirable attempt at trying to merge open world platforming with rather hectic racing mechanics. I spent more time in the hub world than in the main attraction, so that probably says all you need to know. All three of these games felt like stand-outs above the criticisms that people had for the series. Whenever I see people shun this era of Crash games, I really can’t agree with this general sense of disparaging. That being said, this era certainly ended at a nitro-filled wall. The era of “edge” had claimed another victim.
In 2007, Sierra would take over the reigns of the franchise. Crash of the Titans was an attempt at rebooting the series, redesigning the characters with truly bizarre and ugly choices, not the least of which was the tattooed Crash. I only really owned the DS version of the game, but I did manage to borrow a copy of the Wii version from a friend. Now a bland and clunky beat-em up with a detestable art-style, it was only indicative of the modernized re-designs that many gaming mascots were going through. This game killed my spirit, it had very little semblance of the franchise that I had defended and just felt lackluster as its own thing. It was followed by a sequel, but I stayed away from playing it, purely on the basis that it was using the same exact mechanics. The cutscenes were fun and unique, but I couldn’t stomach the idea of continuing that game-style. The DS party game, Crash Boom Bang (a successor to Crash Bash) was the crowning jewel of garbage that the series had become. All three of these games had followed each other in quick succession and basically sent this series to a seemingly-permanent grave. We would have to endure years of absolutely no new games, and a plethora of rumored titles that never saw the light of day. But then…hope came from a single announcement.
Woah!!
The last Crash game had released in 2008, and the series had no hope of returning. Activision, a company I have always had a great resentment of for their money-grubbing approach, were now in control of the franchise. I made my peace with the idea that Crash had just faded away into the minds of millennials everywhere. Hope would come soon with more and more evidence to support a possible revival. Sony had been dropping many hints and callbacks to bandicoot with wild abandon, but no concrete evidence to say that he was coming back in full. Uncharted 4 had a segment where Nate played the original Crash Bandicoot, giving everyone the impression that Sony may have retained the rights. Then it came to an E3 event, and the announcement of a remastered trilogy had arrived. I was ecstatic! I didn’t care that these were technically not new games, Crash was coming back…with Activision still at the helm, dammit! The excitement was still there, however and I rushed straight to the Game store to buy an early copy of the game. (I got a shirt and a TNT mug.)
The N. Sane trilogy seems to have sparked a trend of classic game re-releases. Not really a remaster, rather three full on remakes of these beloved games, the N. Sane trilogy did far more good for the franchise than there ever had been in that five-year slump. Improving many of the issues I had with the original trilogy (especially Crash 1), the visuals where given some amazing and faithful re-creations, the soundtrack was wonderfully remixed. This was truly a love-letter to the fans that had waited so long. I may not have the exact nostalgia that many other Crash fans have for this trilogy, but to be part of this fanbase that united together in an exasperated sigh of relief, that was more special than any of the other series of talked about. When the Team Racing remake came out, there was this real sense that Crash had really made a return to world of gaming. Seeing newcomers to the franchise was super rewarding and held this idea that the franchise could keep going with a revitalization of the platforming genre. Even seeing memes, the likes of the Dark Souls comparisons or the “Woah!!” explosion, feels elevating, like the series has once again become cemented into pop-culture. To be a Crash fan now is truly spectacular.
Crash Bandicoot 4 was a welcome surprise. Obviously ignoring the games that came between Crash 3 and the N. Sane trilogy, it was slightly disappointing to see them disregard the actual good that came from this era. Was the game good enough to hold the eponymous title of ‘Crash 4’, sure. Having recently beaten the game, there is a sense of both trying to please the fans, while also trying to introduce new concepts. The various masks and gameplay styles all feel rather solid and I do enjoy getting a classic-style Crash game in 2021, but it feels as though the developers had doubled down on the difficulty that was certainly there in the originals. There are genuine moments of overdoing the more challenging aspects, and I felt as though a newcomer to the series may feel more of a struggle. I don’t mean to say that I am that skilled at the series, but I feel like I only did as well as I could because I was familiar with how these games play out. The 3D platformer has struggled to stay alive. Unless it’s a Mario game, these games tend to be pushed to far from what is prevalent. This feels too reliant on everyone to just understand how these games work. I often use my younger brother as a basis for whether this would appeal to kids of today, and I can’t possibly imagine him finding this as appealing as I, a 26 year-old man, could. Whatever the case, I did really enjoy my time with this, and I only hope they continue on this path, just with some attention placed on newer audiences. It’s great to finally be in an era where Crash is back in this mainstream N.Gin.
Side note: Slipper Climb cost me 57 lives and all the emotional stability I had left in myself. N. Sane Trilogy made that shit easier you cowards!!
Good movies based on video games are almost entirely, if not entirely, non-existent. I largely chalk this up to older generations not understanding the rich depth of video games, shilling out a corporate product that they expect to sell millions purely on the devotion of hardcore fans. These films are progressing into something more palatable in these recent years, most likely due to the writers being within the target audience that the film is aimed at. To the side of these direct adaptations, there comes a slew of movies that are set in fictional video game worlds, something akin to Wreck-it Ralph or Ready Player One. Free Guy is the latest film in this sub-genre of samey “games-to-life” big-budget festivals of mindless action, adding nothing particularly unique. As someone who treats games with more than a little impassioned dedication, I’m always rather skeptical when a film like this comes out. Amongst all the predictable narrative structure and “hip-with-the-kids” gaming lingo, is there something more to this? I certainly wanted to find more, but I found myself struggling to punctuate the more positive aspects when the mundane and predictable ones overpower it at mindless abandon. At the center is the leading man in Ryan Reynolds, who, in all honesty, has never truly excelled in my eyes above his anchored down identity of Deadpool. The only thing that kept me optimistic was generally positive response from viewers all across the board. I’m all for something mindlessly fun, but that fun can be quickly sapped away with a by-the-numbers approach. Probably not giving much hope for a positive review here, this is Shawn Levy’s Free Guy.
Ryan Reynolds stars as a video game NPC (non-playable character) named Guy. Guy works as a banker and is good friends with his security friend, Buddy (Lil Rel Howery), living a mundane life where everything is scripted and is totally unaware of his false life. In this world full of chaotic destruction, we learn it’s an online game that is lead by a money-hungry and eccentric developer by name of Antoine (Taika Waititi), who is planning to abandon the game’s coding in favor of starting new in almost identical sequel. This seedy approach is in the hindrance of the original developer, Keys (Joe Keery) and his ex-partner, Millie (Jodie Comer.) Millie is deadset on taking down Antoine’s plan within the game, while Keys is left torn between staying loyal to his friend and keeping his watchful eye over the world he has created. The two worlds clash when Guy encounters Millie’s avatar and falls in love with her. During a scuffle with a player, Guy manages to kill him and take his sunglasses, this gives him access to all the perks and stats of the players. Chasing down Millie, who is unaware of his NPC status, he learns how to level up and becomes infamous amongst the players, all of whom believe him to be one of them. Guy and Millie are now set on uncovering the evidence of the original game that she and Keys had created buried within the coding of the game, and Guy slowly comes to learn of his real identity.
One word remained prevalent within my mind during this entire ordeal of a movie: bland. There is certainly a ton of fun that comes from the concepts and visuals, but it’s terribly bogged down by its predictability. Every trope you can think of with this concept is repeated to a tee. I like the idea of an NPC gaining a certain sentience, but there’s not much outside of Guy’s character besides just letting Reynolds run around and do the one type of acting he does in every single film he’s ever done. The point of the character is that he is supposed to be lovably earnest, but it’s hard to look past what is just another skin for Reynolds to dish out his overdone acting style. We watch this progressive realization of the world around him with full knowledge of what is going on. Even the elements that are left vague are incredibly predictable and mitigate the more jovial moments. Everytime we exit into the real world, we are subject to some of most irritating characters, written with an abundant transparency that left me pining for the game world again. Guy may be the main character, but so much more time is dedicated to these insufferably bland and tropish side characters. There’s a “will they, won’t they” romance that lacks any real chemistry and goes down the exact avenue you expect. I was looking forward to watching Taika Waititi improvising his heart out, but his character is the most infuriatingly obnoxious dolt, with Waititi feeling so uncomfortable with the material he does have to work with. Without a single character I could find sense of likability or connection with, I was feeling lost in relying on the pretty visuals to keep me entertained, you can certainly make the point that this was the intention, but any film, mindless or not, needs some kind of personable weight to guide you through the chaos.
There was certainly much potential imprinted into small moments within the film. The humor is never feels terrible, but it rarely ever exceeded above a slight chuckle. I got a good kick out of the more muscular version of Guy turning up late into the film (was heavily advertised) and his unfinished programming, and there was the odd belly laugh that came from Buddy’s character. I was also caught off guard by the small moments of references like Guy using Mega Man’s mega buster or a moment that I won’t spoil that takes full advantage of Disney’s buyout of Fox. These jokes are just overshadowed by the routine-like structure of Reynolds’ presence. I will stand by the idea that Reynolds just does not have any range outside of “lovable goofball” and it wares thin incredibly quick. Joining up with this surface-level humor is some of the most patronizing writing I’ve had endure with a video game world film. This film feels like a board room of studio executives gathered round and discussed all the things kids love these days. Youtubers are forcibly slotted into this film with very little reason other than ‘kids love these people, so who cares what they really contribute.’ Seeing people Ninja or Jacksepticeye or Pokimane was nothing short of cringe-inducing, and not simply from my indifference towards these people. I can take the odd Fortnite dance or modern slang term, but then we see things like “teabagging” and using the word “noob” as if these are things kids still say. But the worst of dialogue comes from Waititi, who does nothing more than slur out random references and awful improvisation. It’s discouraging because I love Waititi’s other works. With very little to enjoy with this film, my mind wandered towards similar movies, and its then that I found myself defending a movie I previously despised.
This film is an amalgamation of Ready Player One and my favorite Jim Carrey movie, The Truman Show. I despised Ready Player One, but Free Guy made me appreciate how much the former doubled down on the insanity. Ready Player One understands how to take this ginormous videogame crossover concept and just rides with its ludicrous nature to the point where the story’s issues feel so much less. There are very similar story beats between the two, but Ready Player One keeps the focus on the main stars, Free Guy places too much focus on uninteresting characters and plot points while making the actual gaming elements feel like a backdrop. The Truman Show comparisons come from the fact that Guy, and by extension the other NPCs, is not aware of his orchestrated existence. His realization is so quickly glanced over that you forget there was even a moment where he was in doubt. It imitates both these films but lacks any unique direction that it feels pointless. Not all the videogame elements are poorly done, I still got a kick out of the attention to detail and how closely it resembles the way online games are structured, and there was a fair share of clever moments with the way the NPCs behave, but these are only small nuggets within an uninteresting pot of laziness.
The general reaction to this film has certainly been favorable, so I know that I am in a vocal minority here. Cynicism aside, I do enjoy the concept of a videogame side-character gaining self-awareness and becoming a hero in his own right. The segment dedicated to Guy using his power-ups for the first time gave me a kick of excitement, but it only lasts for a moment. The special effects are wonderful to watch, and there’s nothing particularly bad about the casts’ acting. The film just reeks of monotonous and repetitive narrative beats, refusing to even try to do something creative with the concept. I still laughed at a number of the jokes, but it feels so small compared to the tedium of mostly everything else. I desperately wanted to enjoy this film as much as everybody else, but I couldn’t past the idea that this was written by a team of studio executives that are trying to delve into the mind of somebody who thinks videogames are the most essential part of society. I certainly love investing much of my free time into playing games, but even I have to step back and say: ‘you guys are taking this way too seriously.’ Perhaps I am being too cynical, but I just couldn’t find anything of worth, even on an entertainment level. Most people seem to like it though, so you may just find something I couldn’t. If you’re looking for some mindless and base-level fun, then I guess you could check it out. I imagine I’m going to forget this in a couple days.
To your average casual gamer, perhaps that title intimidates you, leaving you feeling insignificant in the face of more experience competitive fighting game enthusiasts. There was a place in time where fighting games dominated arcades, defining much of the 90’s with its encompassing appeal of fighting a random stranger within the confines of a large, mechanical box. This decade mostly went past me, due to the sheer reality that I was born in the mid-nineties. That being said, I did find myself drawn to this world of incessant punching and kicking that some would describe as merely mashing together buttons with the hopes that something may connect. This deep fascination with this somewhat polarizing genre shaped itself more within my teenage years, but there were sparse moments of childhood violence that could easily serve to replace any feeling of anger I may have had (not that I was aggressive, I was a little wimp.) Though my interests in these fighting games may be limited to simply the more iconic franchises, these games are ones that I have poured far more time into than even most length-driven titles. From learning the competitive ins-and-outs of Street Fighter to the simple joy of juggling opponents in Tekken, fighting games have made up a large sum of my favorite gaming titles. Allow me to down, forward, down-forward my way into a door back to my earliest memories in the realm of gaming and wave-dash forward in time to that mild obsession.
Here comes a new challenger!
To talk about my first experience with the most iconic fighting game in history, we have go further back than I ever have within the confines of these little articles I write. A young lad of only four years old, my gaming experiences were rather baron. I didn’t have that older sibling to pass down second-hand games; I was the elder sibling. I did have older cousins, but it was actually through my sister’s dad that I was able to really experience my first games. He owned a SNES and allowed me to keep it for a short time. Amongst the likes of Super Mario World and Donkey Kong Country, there was the ever-enticing, Street Fighter II. Playing with my older cousin, many weekends were spent trading punches through that giant square tube we called a TV, typically picking the stranger-looking characters (Blanka and Dhalsim) and learning the ins and outs of the mechanics of the game. Being barely considered a proper child at the time, my abilities at playing something as mildly complex as this was too much for me to comprehend, but that take away from the sheer enjoyment of playing a type of game that I had never experienced before. Memories of this game are much vaguer due to my age, and the little time left with the ownership of that wonderful system, but it did give me the early fascination of a particular franchise that has remained close to me even today.
The early 2000’s were a particularly rough era for Capcom’s esteemed franchise. 2D fighters were seen as obsolete in the faces of the more prevalent 3D titles of Virtua Fighter and, of course, Tekken. With all this said, Street Fighter only really continued to live through re-releases of earlier titles and no sign of a new title in sight. One of these re-releases was the Gameboy Advance’s Super Street Fighter II Turbo Revival (not the most ridiculous title for these expansion, I assure you.) Though fighting games have always been better played with another person, I knew no-one else who owned the game, nor did I own the link cable that people really only used to trade Pokemon. I was left to play the game on my own, and I was totally happy with that. I was dead-set on completing the arcade mode with it’s roster of seventeen characters, picking up on the special moves like the Hadoken and Shoryuken through pure mistake, and learning which characters were my favorites (Ken and Balrog.) It had been some time since I had played the original game, so it was like a terribly early example of nostalgia overtaking my perception. It was also through this game that I grew to appreciate the bare-bones lore of the franchise. Fighting games at this time weren’t particularly known for having very deep of intrinsic stories, but there was always simple charm to learning the characters’ backstories and their motivations for being in this tournament. Arcade endings are something that I view as necessary for any fighting game, regardless of how shallow those endings are. It acts as a nice little reward for all those repeated losses to the computer that I had to overcome…Tiger! Tiger! Tiger!
During my pre-teen years, I spent much time familiarizing myself with various, super-iconic game franchises, even if I wasn’t strictly playing these titles. Learning more about the sheer magnitude of the legacy that Street Fighter had left behind had me yearning for a new game, one that could bring this series back from its unofficial grave. I would soon realize that Street Fighter IV was right around the corner. The excitement of a new Street Fighter game coming out, one with a style reminiscent of the classic Street Fighter II, and with some beautiful cel-shading that made it stand out from its contemporaries, was more than a little blood-pumping. The excitement boiled down to Christmas day of 2008, were was finally able to play the game. I was taken by the idea that this was like a 2.5D recreation of the game that I adored as a child, even with its much larger legacy left behind, as I found new admiration for the characters I missed from the Alpha titles, like Sakura and Dan, as well as the fascinating newcomers like Abel and C. Viper. (Abel became one of my mains.) The new “ultra combo” system became a task to learn, but I managed to memorize it better than any of the subjects that I was studying at school (priorities!) The crudely-animated arcade openings and ending were nice evolution of the static images/ sprite work of precious titles and helped to give voices to these move-shouting muscle-folk. I was so obsessed with the game, but I was also slightly embarrassed at the fact that it was often associated with the “chav” culture that plagued my school. I just wanted to re-visit a franchise of my childhood; it just so happened to be the very game that attracted a rougher casual community.
Street Fighter IV created a new surge of excitement for fighting games, that included a more in-depth delve into the very series it spawned from. During this time, I searched out whatever copy of each major Street Fighter title I could. Of course, I would invest in the “Super” expansion to this very game (an even greater improvement) and managed to own a copy of the Capcom Classic Collection on PSP, which had a copy of the very first Street Fighter game. The first Street Fighter is rather abysmal in the grand scheme of the franchise…that’s it, there’s no redeemable aspect to this game in my eyes. It is still fascinating to look back on, but it isn’t worth anyone’s time. During my days where I was on a huge PS2-game-buying binge, I managed to find both a copy of Street Fighter EX3 and an anthology consisting of the Alpha titles. EX3 became quickly forgotten about, while I still admire the Alpha games, particularly Alpha 2, to this day. It took some time, but I did eventually buy the digital version of Street Fighter III; unnoticed by the casual gamer, but beloved within the competitive community. Before I knew it, I was able to call myself a hardcore fan of the franchise. I even learned of the competitive scene behind III and IV, not being particularly skilled myself, but well-informed on the whole thing. I still tote Street Fighter as my “go-to fighting game,” even with the franchise taking another dip in popularity after the chaotic release of Street Fighter V. Though as great as this franchise is, it offers very little in the vain of the more popular 3D style…Do you guys remember Street Fighter X Tekken?
Get ready for the next battle!
My history with Tekken is rather contained in comparison to these other fighting games that I have fell into. Tekken always remained a background element to my overall fighting experiences, but I did have a friend that treated this series the same way I treated Street Fighter. Barely having dabbled in the world of 3D fighting, I did ask to borrow a copy of Tekken 6 (yes, that late into the franchise) and barely played much of it before handing it back. There was also an arcade version that sat in the Namco Arcade next-door to the cinema, so much time could be spent playing it before the movie ever started. I also very briefly played Tekken: Dark Resurrection through my friend’s copy, but again, this didn’t really leave much of an impact on me. No matter how hard I tried, Tekken was just not doing anything for me. This was until the announcement of what should have been a monumental crossover between these prolific franchise: Street Fighter X Tekken. As little interest as I may have had in the latter franchise, I was still excited at the prospect of this crossover. In this anticipation, I was finally encouraged to really go hog-wild on the franchise that had alluded me for so long. Playing my friend’s copies of Tekken 4 and Tag Tournament, I found myself much more engaged, and I ended up buying my own copies of said games within that week. All of this was for a game that was more than a little underwhelming. (I still enjoyed it though.)
Before I knew it, I had become a fan of the series. The flowing nature of the game felt so intrinsically fascinating, and I was obsessed with the more attentive lore that Namco had poured into these characters and universe. Tag Tournament was especially brilliant, employing excellent team-up mechanics and an impressive roster, where I became partial towards Law and Baek. I managed to find physical copies of both the original Tekken and Tekken 3: the former was the equivalent of being stuck on a bouncy castle where even the slightest touch of another person would send you flying to ground in immense pain, the latter was emblematic of what made the future games so fun, still feeling like one of the best games in the series. The very dated FMVs that made up the arcade endings have a rather ugly, and sometimes uncanny, charm to them that was indicative of most of the games that made up the PS1’s phenomenal library. By the time I had grown to love this franchise, we were nearing the release of the second Tag Tournament game. I was gifted Tag Tournament 2 on the same Christmas as the release of Playstation All-Stars Battle Royale (remember that game?!), of which Heihachi was a guest character. Tag 2 is, what I consider, to be the greatest game in the franchise. A roster that celebrated the history of the franchise to that point, the best game-feel of any 3D fighting title and plethora of self-aware arcade endings that captures the goofy nature of a game that can pit a giant Cthulhu creature against a boxing velociraptor.
Tekken has certainly geared down a peculiar direction with the latest entry, Tekken 7. Back in Tekken 3, the Japanese manga character, Gon, managed to make edge his way into the game, out-weirding the presence of playable bears, but Tekken 7 went far beyond how outlandish guest characters could get. Street Fighter’s Akuma (remnants of the forever-in-limbo Tekken X Street Fighter) was included in the base game, much to my excitement, followed by SNK’s Geese Howard. Things got strange with Final Fantasy XV’s Noctis and then absolutely bizarre when The Walking Dead’s Negan made his way in. I have always admired the prospect of guest character gaining a slot on a fighting roster, and the more outlandish they are, the more I can’t help but be drawn back. I have no interest in the Walking Dead, but Negan’s “WTF” status brought me back to the game after an underwhelming first-time experience. Even aside from all that, Tekken 7 is still one of the greatest current fighting games out there, taking full advantage of the Unreal Engine and an impressive roster of newcomers that managed to overtake my interest in some of the more known veterans. Tekken may be my favorite 3D fighting game, and it may have garnered a reputation for bizarre guest characters, but it certainly wasn’t my first. This may be Namco’s most heralded fighting game, but I preferred something with a little more soul. (Sorry.)
Two souls are fiercely entangled!
Long before guest characters became common place in fighting games, there was a series that absolutely reveled in the concept. Soul Calibur was one franchise that you would always hear about, but it seemed as though no-one was really playing it. I had heard vague stories of how the Legend of Zelda’s Link had appeared in the GameCube version of Soul Calibur II, that had me more than a little interested. By the time I was able to learn more about this, copies of the game were hard to come by, but early in high school, for a single day, booths were sit up in the school gym to raise money for charity. Besides Smash Bros. Melee being placed on a table in the corner, the PS2 version of Soul Calibur II was sitting on the opposite side. I briefly played it, but was confused at the fact that Tekken’s Heihachi appeared in place of the familiar Hylian hero. It is there I learned that each version game came with their own guest character; I was absolutely shocked. This encouraged me to start looking into the series and its upcoming entry, Soul Calibur IV…What a shock we were in for.
In the build-up to this game, the biggest question was what guest characters would be clashing blades with the fantasy cast that had been built up over the years. Teaming up with Lucasfilm, Soul Calibur IV would come packaged with the appearance of Star Wars characters. Darth Vader touted the PS3 version, while Yoda adorned the 360 version. Both had the secret apprentice from the upcoming, Star Wars: The Force Unleashed. As a young pre-teen with very little pre-tense of the franchise beforehand, but a great love of the Star Wars movies, I just had to own this latest entry. Another game that I was blessed with on Christmas day of 2008, much time was spent pouring all I could into learning the mechanics of this series I was unfamiliar with, and coming to the realization that Vader wasn’t all that good. I found mains in Maxi and Astaroth, and I spent considerable amounts of time within the character customization. The weapon-based combat was totally unfamiliar, but it was incredibly fun just learning the different play-styles. Soul Calibur IV may not be one of the more popular entries in the franchise, amongst fans, but I will always view it as the best in the series.
I did venture into the plains of Soul Calibur further after this. I eventually did buy a copy of Soul Calibur II…the PS2 version, followed by the GameCube version, of which took me several weeks to find a copy. I went to effort of buying an entire Dreamcast alongside a copy of the original Soul Calibur (technically the second game after Soul Edge) and came across the PS2-exclusive Soul Calibur III. I was becoming obsessed with the franchise, enthralled in the lore and characters that built up this medieval setting. Strongly impressed with the uniqueness that came from the minds of the developers, there was something so much more enticing than what its sister series, Tekken, could ever hope to bring. I was greatly anticipating Soul Calibur V, but was let down by how little I cared for the overall experience. Putting aside my indifference towards Assassin’s Creed’s Ezio as the guest character, the game just felt hollow, and the trade-off of arcade endings for a rather bland story mode was too great a sacrifice. This lack of excitement pulled over into the much more acclaimed, Soul Calibur VI, essentially killing my love for the series. It’s still a franchise that I will always give full credit for its unique qualities, but it became difficult to want to go further once Tekken had become a mainstay within my fighting enthusiasm. But through all the degradation of interest for Soul Calibur, a more “loud-mouthed” franchise was being pulled in the opposite direction.
Test your might!
It’s taken the fighting game world by storm. Chances are, you’ve played all three of the more recent games because of its wide popularity. Mortal Kombat is a series that I would never have dedicated this much writing to if the series was still in the state that it was during the 2000’s. In a similar vein to my cherished Street Fighter, the 2000’s was a rough period for this prolific franchise. The series had adopted the 3D style that had dominated the time and the quality of the games took a sharp nose-dive. I had never really played the games of this era, so my opinions on it were non-existent. I owned a Midway collection for my PSP that had all three of the original titles from the nineties. But even with these universally-loved titles, I just didn’t care for them. Clunky and lacking in any real substance outside of its gory reputation, Mortal Kombat felt like a bootleg experience to me. I greatly respected the franchise, but there was nothing within in it that had me drawn to it like the other series I have mentioned. I recall trying to enter this franchise fandom through the latest game at the time: Mortal Kombat vs. DC Universe. This is obviously not the game you want to start with. A game that is so devoid of the things that made the original titles so popular, being the blood and gore or the play-stayle of the original trilogy, and felt more like Midway’s last attempts at keeping themselves afloat before they went bankrupt and bought by Warner Bros. themselves. Needless to say, I was not going to be sold on this franchise from this game alone.
Fate would take a different root with the release of the 2011 reboot, coequally known as Mortal Kombat 9. Deciding to buy it on a whim, I spent the day playing through the surprisingly fleshed-out story mode. MK vs. DC had a rather decent attempt at this, but it was MK9 that managed to prove that fighting games could have good stories (within a certain sense of disbelief.) The characters were fleshed out, there was some tight continuity and the game’s mechanics actually managed to blend well into the narrative. As a fan of fighting games, to see one treated with such intensive care was admirable. The game itself hearkened back to the glory days of the series, but felt more fluid and less stiff. The game was gorier than ever, and was done without any sense of remorse that it couldn’t help but tap into that primal need for excess. This remained rather consistent with the next two games, being far bloodier, and more story-focused. While the gameplay continued to improve with each entry, the stories seemed to take a hit, especially with MK 11 and its DLC expansion. Regardless, I really do enjoy these games. At the end of the day, I can forgive any issues I may have with the narrative, because the gameplay feels so strong. With no real attachment to the overall series, I look at these three games as being as far as I’ll go with this. The guest characters add a little bit of extra incentive. As a movie fan, seeing the likes of the Alien, Terminator and RoboCop turning up is like a treasure trove of eighties film nostalgia that I have despite the fact that I am in my late-twenties.
Gonna take you for a ride!
Fighting games will never fail to pique my interest, no matter how little knowledge I may have of the game. There were far too many to talk about in depth; the four franchises that I covered are may main four “go-tos.” There are plenty of other games that I will happily sit down and play if I need to waste a little time. I’ve talked in-depth about my love for Smash Bros. in a previous post, with Ultimate still being something I play every month, on-and-off. The VS. series of games has been a franchise I wave in and out of, with Ultimate Marvel vs. Capcom 3 being one of my favorite fighters out there (also speaking to my Marvel-dedicated mentality.) The Injustice games took the Mortal Kombat formula and melded it into something unique for DC fans to wet their appetite at, and even one I, a mere Marvel peasant, am jealous of the quality of. Even mild ventures like my brief experiences with the King of Fighters series or the very “out-of-my-element” choice of anime-led J-Stars Victory vs. have been fun to just sit down and delve into, purely based on my love of the genre.
Nowadays, casual gamers rarely ever touch a fighting game, due to the communities behind them being rather focused on competitive play, with very little interest in teaching others. I am not even remotely skilled at the fighting games that I enjoy. I can fare rather well in the main four that I mentioned, but I am nowhere near the level of competitive fighters. It’s a genre that I feel can still flourish within normal gaming society. Mortal Kombat and Injustice has done well to spread that wider appeal, but there is much to be said about that pride you take from learning the more complicated button movements of something like Street Fighter, or the insane combo-heavy focus of Tekken. The fighting genre remains one of my favorites, if not my favorite, and I will never not be excited to see what else comes from this fantastic genre. I’ll often go through periods where I just want to indulge in every fighting game I own, and then I just get confused as I start blending together button inputs that are taken from other games. Now that I’m done, it’s time to have a look at the wonderful things that come from the Smash Bros. community…nevermind.
Warner Bros. has firmly earned a reputation for their rather measly attempts at adapting DC’s iconic superhero stories into film. Far from the more beloved attempts with the 70’s Superman or the 80’s Batman, their more modern films have been rather lackluster. With the immense success of Marvel’s cinematic universe, Warner Bros. was quick to haphazardly try their hand at establishing a cinematic universe of their own, and they have a done a terrible job at doing just that. Aside from the mediocrity of Man of Steel or the utter bleakness of Batman V Superman, we had 2016’s biggest blunder in the form of David Ayer’s Suicide Squad. Though I initially enjoyed the the mindless inconsistency of the film, repeat viewings led to a progressive despising. Clearly trying to capture the unique personality of Marvel’s Guardians of the Galaxy, Suicide Squad was a cluttered mess of uninspired ideas and frequent studio interference. Time moved on and my memories of this film faded into the background, but when a new Suicide Squad film was announced with Guardians director, James Gunn, coming on board, I was suddenly enticed by this apparent franchise. With the original film being so adamant on imitating Gunn’s style, why not bring him on to do it himself. Amidst a firing (and later re-hiring) from Disney, Gunn was in a perfect position to just go all out. Completely unfiltered and given full control, I was ecstatic to see another attempt at this unusual choice of adaptation. Shocking to the Conor of five years ago, I’m excited to talk about James Gunn’s THE Suicide Squad.
Acting as more of a soft reboot to the 2016 original, The Suicide Squad starts ahead in time with a group of criminals forced into completing a government mission for the morally-detached Amanda Waller (Viola Davis) who has implanted bombs in the heads of said criminals in case they decide to go rogue. Leading the team is marine, Rick Flag (Joel Kinnaman) who is accompanying the villains of which includes the iconic Harley Quinn (Margot Robbie.) Things go horribly wrong and Flag is captured, while Harley disappears. On the other side of this mission is another group of criminals. Led by a marine turned assassin who is dealing with a daughter that is going down the path of a common criminal, Bloodsport (Idris Elba) takes charge of Peacemaker (John Cena), an incredibly patriotic assassin that has no moral code, Ratcatcher 2 (Daniela Melchior), a criminal with a device that can control rats and follows in the footsteps of her father, Polka-Dot Man (David Dastmalchian), a bizarre villain that can throw deadly polka-dots and envisions everyone with the face of his abusive mother, and King Shark (Sylvester Stallone), a mutant shark with low intelligence that may be descended from a god. They are tasked with rescuing Flag and Harley, while also finding a villainous scientist in the form of Thinker (Peter Capaldi), who is conducting experiments on people for a giant starfish to enslave the world. Bizarre and utterly dumb, just like a comic book.
To say this film is even slightly better than the original 2016 film would be a severe understatement. Though not exactly hard to top, there was always this worry that the current film would also be an unfocused mess. What makes this stand far above the other is just how much it leans on that very idea. Gunn’s style has always been more focused on the sheer insanity of a single concept. Long before he directed the Guardians of the Galaxy films, Gunn was iconic within the world of exploitation cinema. We saw echoes of this within Guardians, but you still got the sense he was being held back by sticking to the formula of the Marvel movies. Warner Bros. gives Gunn full reign to just indulge in every idea he has, no matter how crass it appears. The plot is dumb and cluttered, but that’s exactly what makes it so enjoyable. The way the film opens gives you a sense of the tone, pure insanity and a subversion of expectations. Not having the watchful eye of Disney looming over Gunn the entire time allows for him to go absolutely nuts with how far he can take concepts. The humor can be rather juvenile in a way that feels natural. Much of the dialogue feels improvised, even when you sense that script edging its way in. The gore in the movie is unapologetic, though, pulled back at times as to not turn into a “Grindhouse” flick. To even complain about the sheer stupidity of the film would be to ignore the obvious intent. It isn’t trying to be anything deeper, and the more serious moments do not take away from this consistency.
Something that felt severely lacking in the previous film was the presence of even remotely interesting or likable characters. Robbie’s performance as Harley Quinn gave me a slight inkling of hope, but she felt wasted in a pool of writing mediocrity. This film utilizes its characters to far greater effect. Elba’s Bloodsport takes up the position of Will Smith’s Deadshot and is far more engaging. Smith always felt like a bland, all-to-familiar charm, but Elba is given a much greater edge; grittier and less focused on garnering sympathy. The relationship between the two characters and their respective daughters is far more stark, favoring a more spiteful dynamic over the more cliched obsessive-loving father who’s made some mistakes. These characters do tend to blend together sympathy with brash crudeness, but these moments of niceties never distract from the insanity around them. You can see how these two sides clash with Ratcatcher 2 and Peacemaker respectively: Ratchatcher is almost the odd one out, barely even a villain and more sentimental, while Peacemaker is far more delusional and willing to murder anyone in the name of patriotism. Add the colorful Polka-Dot Man and King Shark who play up the comedic relief and you get a cast of characters that add a different layer of likability to this ensemble of insanity.
One of the major criticisms that I found myself holding on throughout the movie is just how underutilized Harley felt. Harley clearly has to be shoe-horned into this film as she is the main selling point. The original film was very lacking in interesting characters, but Harley was the clear stand-out. She’s the only original member of the team that makes a full return, minus Rick Flag, and she just kind of prances around with not much to do. There is a slight detour in the plot when the team has to rescue her, but she doesn’t even need that, as evidenced in the film itself. My thought is that Warner Bros. didn’t feel confident enough in the idea of using unrecognizable characters to sell the film, or even just having Gunn as the director, so they forced Harley into the plot. All that being said, Harley simply walking around and merely observing everything was humorous, and there was never a point where they felt the need to force in some sort of women-empowering message into a film that doesn’t asked to be taken seriously, (see Birds of Prey for how not to do that.) Aside from this, the cast is so excellently utilized an expertly chosen that it leaves echoes of Gunn’s previous casting choices. I was especially surprised at how much I enjoyed Cena’s performance as Peacemaker, mainly due to how little I care for his acting in previous movies. Viola Davis returning as Amanda Waller was an exceptional stand-out, every little scene she is in, she manages to steal the show. By the end of the film, it’s hard not to find likability in every character, only re-enforced by the brilliant talent behind each one.
How much you enjoy the humor of the film is how much you are willing to except the juvenile tone. One of the few things that left me feeling apprehensive about the film, going in, was the quality of some of the dialogue. There are many jokes about “dicks” and repeated uses of profanity for the sake of having profanity; almost as if a child was shouting out random obscenities. It certainly adds to that looser tone, but not every joke lands. There are thousands of jokes a minute, clearly a case of throwing whatever they can at a wall, and there are some that just left me cringing. Some jokes also get dragged out or completely ignore the “rule of three.” But for every lackluster attempt, there were many others that more than stuck the landing. The opening is so abundantly self-aware that it left me in stitches, watching every character fall victim to that onslaught without any moment of pause was masterful in leaving its impression. The running joke that is the Polka-Dot Man never failed to make me laugh, with the club scene being such an uncomfortable, yet insanely obtuse, visual that will never leave my mind.
Something that always set Gunn apart from his Marvel co-directors was his astounding eye for visual presentation. Going in to this movie, I did not expect to find myself gushing at the cinematography as much as I did. A shot of the team walking through a rain-drenched parking area as the background fades into a white pool of nothingness, or perhaps a shot of Harley swimming through a watery goop of razor-toothed jellyfish were major standouts that came to my mind, but there are so many shots that turn this into a work of love, rather than some generic studio piece that will hire any director with a semi-decent reputation. The editing is slick, with creative scene transitions and fourth wall text that blends into the environments of the world. The movie literally has the Warner Bros. text spelled in the blood of a blown-up head. The music choices are perfectly “Gunn”, with classic rock songs that adorned the 70’s culture. If there’s anything that speak’s to Gunn’s reputation, it’s his distinct style. Had the studio repeated their history of constantly interfering with the projects, I doubt the film would have been nearly as good as what we got.
It’s genuinely difficult for me to find any more issues with this film. The humor is the key issue I have, and given that it’s primarily a comedy, this is what has held me back from giving it the full credit I wanted to give it. Putting aside what reservations I may have had with the humor, so much of the film is wonderfully entertaining and self-aware. I can forgive any of the plot issues or how predictable it can be at times, because it’s so creatively free. This is the film I wanted the original to be, and that is not to say that that’s the only reason I like it. The existence and terrible quality of the original certainly heightens the perception, but I do think there is some genuine gold within this film. The bias towards Gunn is inevitable, Guardians of the Galaxy 2 is my favorite film within the MCU, but I was still shocked at just how much more depravity he had to offer. I am not familiar with his earlier work, I can only go so far with exploitation cinema, so this was a welcome introduction to where his limits lie within a studio production. Even putting aside his previous works, Gunn clearly cares much for the source material, you get that sense with how much attention is given to the characters in just the use of the most obscure villains in DC’s line-up. Even separate from any pre-conceived notions from other superhero movies, this film just works as something that is incredibly fun and devoid of any major sentimentality. It knows what it is, and I genuinely love it for that. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I adore The Suicide Squad. This may be one of my favorite comic-book movies ever. Check it out.