Red Dead Redemption

[The reader is warned that the following piece makes plot points, particularly the ending, explicit. Don’t read if you wish the avoid spoilers.]

The ‘western’ landscape is a melancholic one. That’s the lingering impression of Rockstar Games’ latest foray in the genre: Red Dead Redemption. As Ashtar Command’s moving track “Dead Man’s Gun” partners the credits one realises they have been taken on an emotional journey; one that only digs deeper the further you progress, that ditches the usual explosiveness of the final missions of Grand Theft Auto IV and San Andreas for one of poignant resonance. Rockstar Games have always been ‘bold’ with their products. But this is a different kind of daring than that exhibited in their biting satire and audacious courting of controversy; this is a daring located in the very process of storytelling. They reveal that beneath the lewd humour, colourful characters and ludicrous situations – all still present – lies the capacity to convey an affecting narrative.

Grand Theft Auto IV indicated that Rockstar Games had a maturity in storytelling, producing the closest thing to a ‘character study’ yet in their body-of-work. Red Dead Redemption offers a worthy, at times superior, continuation. The main narrative is familiar territory for fans of Grand Theft Auto: an ex-criminal attempting to escape from the past only to be drawn back into it involuntarily, inescapably. Obvious from the game’s title is the theme of redemption; what’s not immediately apparent is how that theme actually transplants itself to be felt by the gamer. Like Niko Bellic in Grand Theft Auto IV, Marsten must hunt down figures from his past. Along the way a host of characters manipulate and use Marsten, dangling that carrot in front of him to get what they want without returning the favour. One particular mission struck me; in Mexico, Marsten is enlisted to help quell a rebellion by the government with the promise of aid in his quest resultantly. After completing this mission, having killed all the peasants and burnt their houses (manually), a cut-scene portrays several Mexican soldiers taking away the now widowed wives. Their fate that you, the gamer, cemented is one of rape and probably murder. The sense of outrage at this image rocked me; I hoped against everything that I’d have a chance to make up for this. In a way Red Dead Redemption provoked within me the longing for redemption, crafting empathy for the John Marsten character rarely achieved, for me, in a video game.



This same interactivity that shifts the gamer’s sensibility is repeated in Red Dead Redemption’s conclusion. Without hyperbole, it’s the most evocative stretch of gameplay I’ve encountered. What seemed mere novel distractions during the course of the game (horse-breaking, herding cattle, hunting etc.) transform into powerful storytelling devices once Marsten has fulfilled his enforced obligation in bringing his former gang cronies to justice. With wife and son released safely, the Marsten family return to their ranch. You get to take part in rebuilding the property, the missions concurrently focusing on John forging a bond with his son. This is what you were fighting for throughout the game, to reunite John with his family, and you get to take active part in it. Teaching the son how to hunt and herd cattle; it’s a lovely set of missions. But it’s also unsettling. This can’t be the end of the game; it’s too anti-climatic. It’s not the end of the game and, soon enough, those same government agents that blackmailed Marsten reappear. Storming the Marsten ranch with a ridiculous amount of soldiers, the inevitable fate is overbearing. The tragic ending - I won’t say in what way it’s ‘tragic’ – is becoming of the genre, recalling similar themes in Eastwood’s masterpiece Unforgiven and McCarthy’s equally bleak neo-Western No Country for Old Men. And therein lies Rockstar Games’ ‘boldness’, forgoing the ‘happy ending’ for an end result that’s both moving and faithful to the greatest interpretations of the genre.

The sheer beauty of Red Dead Redemption’s world cannot be left unsaid. Rockstar Games have an impeccable gift in crafting areas rich with character and variation. Grand Theft Auto IV achieved this impression with the cityscape; not a building design seemed copied-and-pasted, each region had a distinct ‘look’ which subsequently fragmented into several recognisable areas or districts. Their attention to detail is amazing and seemingly ushers in a Joycean view wherein certain locations, from mundane street corners to parks and factories, acquire meaning / significance through experiences had in-game. Driving down most streets yield some sort of memory that enhances the distinctiveness of each area. This leaves the empty, mere functionalist design of GTA clones a la Saints Row rather lacklustre in comparison; it’s simply impossible for that same phenomenon to occur in a game where every building, every street, looked the same.



Red Dead Redemption achieves this same effect, despite having less ‘landmarks’ to work with. Unlike Neversoft / Activison’s GUN, which felt unforgivably small in scope and void of life, Red Dead Redemption is expansive and brimming with inhabitants. Randomly generated events appear as you ride around, sustaining contact with humanity in what could’ve been a very lonely existence. Moreover the game offers a fully-fledged ecosystem that dominates the unsettled countryside. The excessive amount of species is astonishing – ranging from rabbits, raccoons and armadillos to bears, cougars and buffalo. Predators hunt smaller prey. Vultures gravitate towards corpses. Coyotes and wolves hunt in packs; cougars and bobcats go it solo. The dedication to research, especially exemplified in their realistic movements, is admirable and allows for a vibrant virtual world. Contributing to this is the variation in appearance each region contains. West Elizabeth has rolling plains, dense woodlands, snow-capped peaks and cobblestone streets; New Austin the standard cactus-riddled desert; Mexico is flatter, redder and dotted with smoother rock formations. With what may have felt a limited design scheme initially, Rockstar Games prove they are just as adept at constructing an interesting countryside as they are cityscapes.

Trialling Kafka

Despite articulating an unnerving account of a bureaucratic system ushering in totalitarianism, what’s initially striking about Kafka’s “The Trial” is just how damn funny it is.

“The woman waved her hand to K. down below and tried to show by shrugging her shoulders that she was an innocent party in the abduction, but there did not seem to be much regret in this gesture.” (Kafka 1994: 47)

The event described is actually rather horrible; a married woman being abducted under the orders of an examining magistrate. It’s one of many warnings Kafka delivers in relation to the abuse of bureaucratic power. However the image is invested with dark humour: a bandy-legged man running off with a woman over his shoulder, the abducted reacting with nothing but a shrug. The frank description, combined with the indifferent body language of both the abducted woman and Joseph K. (the protagonist), transforms something shocking into an unremarkable, even amusing, occurrence.

In my opinion this dark comedy presents, rather than obstructs, the most important message derived from Kafka’s “The Trial”. By laughing, chuckling or even suppressing a giggle we effectively reveal in ourselves the potential indifference that this bureaucratic totalitarianism instils in its oppressed denizens. I laughed at a woman being forced to submit to a state official’s desires; the capacity to accept bureaucratic dominance is in me. This function performed by the text may be absent for some. But for me it is all too clear what reading “The Trial”, my first encounter with Franz Kafka’s work, has exposed.

Frank Miller's Sin City - The Hard Goodbye

Miller's "Sin City - The Hard Goodbye". A gluttonous indulgance in style over substance. But isn't that the point? Marv, sadistic monstrosity and protagonist, commences a blood-soaked rampage for vengeance in honour of the one woman - a prostitute, naturally - who gave him a night of 'pleasure'. As the brute slaughters toward the horrible truth, we encounter instances of rampid corruption, depravity and lust that characterise the city's populous.

Hardly literature.
Hardly pretending to be.

"I'm staring at a goddess. She's telling me she wants me. She sounds like she means it. I'm not going to waste one more second wondering how it is I've gotten so lucky." (p.10)

A far reach from the rythmic eloquence of Chandler, Frank Miller nevertheless grabs the noir / hard-boiled genre and thrusts it into even grittier, ultraviolent territory. Whilst claims of re-inventing the genre may be exercises in hyperbolic praise "Sin City", at least here, does provide a fresh tangent. For the most part generic staples remain intact: the characteristic interplay between light / shadow; overbearing bleakness in the visualisation of setting and situation; inescapable doom of an ill-fated main character; the femme fatale(s), capable of navigating the darkness with their intellect and body etc. Everything just happens to be bolstered to gruffer, darker proportions. And stamped with liberal doses of blood splatter.


Striking in Miller's artwork is an interesting experimentation with shadows / darkness. His mostly minimalist approach to detail, evidenced above in one of my favourite frames of this or any graphic novel, crafts a mood and look that's both appropriate for the story and surprisingly rich despite the lack of colour. The panel is mainly black, leaving the small details illuminated by Marv's lighter to acquire significance. Why did Miller choose to include them? The bandages, reminding of the violence recently seen. Nancy's barely visible breasts, suggesting lurid meaning. The small cross pendant; perhaps a cheeky stab of Miller's in relation to the hinted violence and sex? Or a small nod at where Marv's quest ultimately lands him?

Obviously such a colour (tone?) scheme would become tired rapidly if not interchanged with brighter, detailed moments. In some instances, Miller inverses what's displayed above. Shadows reveal details, rather than occlude, thusly positioning light in the previous role of dark. In "Sin City", are 'light' and 'shadow' one and the same? Or is Frank Miller just being playful? Who knows, but it's an intriguing visual dynamic than once again exposes space for experiment in a seemingly limited colour/tone scheme. Facial expressions and action present the usual Miller roughness, an aspect of his artwork that neither amazes or annoys yours truly.

Want a gruff, violent story that doesn't attempt to noogie your brain cells? A story where its female characters never seem to wear tops? Something that tries to do something with its noir-ish colour/tone scheme? Get "Sin City - The Hard Goodbye". Who reads Frank Miller for complex, thought-provoking narratives anyway?

Film Review #1: Shutter Island

[If you're anxious about spoilers avoid this piece.]



Rarely do film adaptations eclipse their source material. However it'd be difficult not to here. Not even a quarter into Dennis Lehane's original work I'd figured out two-thirds of the 'twist'. The rest not long after. An unforgivable sin for a 'psychological thriller'.

Telegraphed clues ultimately betrayed Lehane's "Shutter Island". Consequently, I clearly had a different experience viewing Scorsese's adaptation than most. Engaging with Teddy Daniels' plight and the 'twist' was impossible. Furthermore assessing the film's clues becomes extremely hard. I knew what to look for. Would I have even noticed them had I not touched the novel? How revealing were they? I can't confidently answer either.

Despite this both Mark Ruffalo and Ben Kingsley do well to hint, but not over-emphasise, through their portrayals. DiCaprio, almost always reliable, dusts off the Boston accent from "The Departed" delivering a solid, if unremarkable, performance as US Marshal Teddy Daniels. Shutter Island is beautifully, and accurately, realised on screen. Gloomy, foreboding. It isn't hard to imagine someone unfamiliar with the plot being sucked in by the locale, atmosphere and actors. There are moments of inspired direction, as expected from Scorsese. The sliding shot displaying hundreds of Nazi guards being executed stands as one memorable sequences.

Some omissions do stick out uncomfortably. Shame that the cause of Dolores' manic depression isn't communicated. Those flashbacks were some of the more poignant and unsettling parts of Lehane's novel, not to mention contextually relevant. The dream sequences and Daniels' fractured characterisation, also, still feel far too (potentially) obvious. How can a man so blatantly troubled be anything but unstable?

Scorsese's slightly altered conclusion delivers one final 'shock', greater than the novel's. For a film that barely excited due to exterior influences, it still managed to surprise and provoke thought. However, like Lehane's book, it did fail in what it strived for. Like Nolan's amazing "Memento", "Shutter Island" attempts to fabricate the experience of mental disorder - schizophrenia specifically - for the audience. The inability to engage in Daniels' story, and subsequently to 'feel' its jolting upheavel, severely impairs the realisation of this effect. Whether that's a flaw of the film or simply my having read the novel isn't clear. It would be best to try it out for one's self.

Martin Scorsese is a better storyteller than Dennis Lehane. And the story itself is intriguing should you remain ignorant of the telegraphed moments. As such, although critical of his book, full credit absolutely goes to Dennis Lehane for having the initial and ambitious vision.

Boston Legal S2E6 Witches Of Mass Destruction

Trading men-in-tights for men-in-flamingo-suits today. Not sure if that's an improvement. Whatever. Boston Legal. A law court dram-com. Stars William Shatner, best known as Star Trek's Captain Kirk, and James Spader, who has probably starred in something else. It's a demented show; sometimes funny, sometimes serious, sometimes failing at both.

Season 2 has been somewhat disappointing. Utter letdown, actually. So far. With over twenty episodes to go, I'd be naughty to suggest this applies to the season's entirety. And with the sixth episode, things are promising.

For me, Boston Legal is most entertaining when tackling difficult subjects. Yeah the silly get-ups, sexual innuendo, absurd cases ... They are amusing. Occasionally. But the show peaks when it anchors that stupidity with real purpose, a point. Something that makes you tighten those eyebrow muscles. Presumably in thought. Take here: Alan Shore, providing another pendulum swing between seedy sleaze-bag and justice upholder, challenges the controversial 'Stop-Loss' program. This sub-plot becomes an impassioned plea for opening discussion on, to actually allow space to talk about, the military's unaccountability for lost life. A compelling argument made more powerful by Shore's dealings with friends and colleagues.

Brad and Denny Crane, respectively, present discourses of 'pride' and 'nationalism' that stunt conversation about the army's culpability. Watching Shore face vilification, from friends, simply for taking a stand is moving. The writing's quality, however, isn't just its argument but its manner in navigating these sensibilities held by Denny and Brad without condemning them. Because, as the failure of Shore's case shows, the episode's point isn't to demonise the army, its troops or the war effort but to make room for the voicing of concern. And to present the articulation of this concern as not automatically dishonouring the sacrifices of troops or inciting treason. That is the episode's most valuable point. The judge, visibly moved by Shore's persuasive words, blatantly struggling with his ruling in favour of the army's defense highlights how we first need to free ourselves from anxieties of 'honour' and 'nationalism' before we begin to try and shape the nation's legal fabric.

The other case provides comedy to run concurrently with the thought-provoking material. That said, it also has a significant issue at its heart: bringing to attention the sensitivity of minority religious groups (Wiccans) when it comes to popular representations and motifs (the wicked witch and its prominence in Halloween themes). It's tough-in-cheek stuff, but refrains from being insulting or blunt. And, by the case's end, it too manages to place in one's mind a caution towards certain understandings of groups that are incapable of expressing themselves amidst more wide-spread imaginings.

Warning! May Offend 'IWC' Dorks

The Miz vs. Kaval - WWE 07.06.2010

The year, 2007. The ECW Championship was circling through young hands in the aftermath of Chris Benoit's double murder-suicide and the bizarre circumstances of several individuals being suspended for exposed steroid / substance usage. In the mix, John Morrison and The Miz. During one backstage segment, The Miz slapped JoMo and walked off. I was extremely annoyed. A strange reaction, perhaps founded in the enjoyment I received from John Morrison then. But it also tapped into a now embarassing elitist feeling concerning The Miz. How could WWE's writers possibly think of pushing this green hack - obviously stealing air-time due to so-called 'celebrity' status - to the potential detriment of someone who had blatant talent and potential in John Morrison?! The guy, that being Miz, had evidence of charisma but his in-ring efforts were underwhelming.

The year, 2010. Morrison has become bland, flashy athletics sometimes engaging (usually when deployed against heavyweights) but mostly producing a big, bad dose of 'meh'. The Miz, conversely, is RAW's best prospect. His mic-work and character development has been superb, his in-ring performances improved a great deal. Miz has emerged into a solidly entertaining act, exemplified through his prominent role on NXT.

This match here proves as such. A neat little match, its tale depicting Kaval (Low Ki to 'Net legions) test The Miz before succumbing to his 'veteran' opponent. To most viewers, and probably the writers, Kaval's comeback sequence is the most important part. But the excitement it generated is as much a testament to The Miz as it is Kaval. The heel's job during their control segment(s) is to slow down proceedings whilst beating down the fan favourite, a performance mechanism designed to rally the live crowd behind the face hoping to restore the faster, thrilling pace. In the past Miz' offense was sluggish, telegraphed and awkward. It wasn't very engaging. Here, however, The Miz displays vast improvement in the crispness and confidence of his motions. His rest-holds don't look like RESTholds, Miz plays around portraying them as another punishing attack. His strikes appear strong and intentional. Not filler-fluff or weak. He can afford to drag down the match's flow because his offense is interesting enough to bridge the opening and closing excitement. The awkwardness is gone, allowing him to focus on his material and read the crowd.

Kaval does well in not letting himself feel the need to 'steal the show'. The simplicity of his comeback, comparatively speaking, is all the better for it. At this point the NXT rookies should have 'tough' showings against the WWE Pros, but not to such an extent that they seem superior in defeat. Yet. That's the point of the whole show after all, these rookies progressing to the point where one or more are promoted to the main roster. Promoted into being equals. Kaval's restraint in offense and sustained fatigue selling hints at a humble maturity that'll see him flourish in the WWE. Hopefully he keeps this up.

Why I Do What I Do

Sometimes friends and family ask why I do this. Why do I take the time to publish blogs, reviews and columns with no direct financial incentive or even guaranteed readership. Why bother? It's a valid question, one that I've answered differently over the years. Former answers include: claiming the pieces form a broad portfolio that'll indicate the quality of writing I'm capable of to a future employer; suggesting that each work represents an application of themes / concepts from my university studies, thusly becoming a measure of study; practice for writing critically; educating the ignorant sheep-like masses in good taste (I'm kidding); and etc.

As you can see, I've felt an overwhelming urge to provide grand justification for what I do. Something with mature goals, great aspirations. Something more than it is. Why? I don't know... I'm going to go against that here though. Here I'd like to instead tell the blatant truth: I do this because I like to do this. Nothing else, really. And whilst there are truths hidden in those reasons above - critical writing is intrinsically tied to what I wish to do in life - I don't do this in order to achieve that. I want to achieve that because I love doing this. I like to have my say on things. Whether it be as silly as pro-wrestling, as supposedly artistic as literature, as obscure as a random episode from a television show, a video game, a film, graphic novel, article or essay, song. Anything I feel like talking about.

It's a hobby I've had for a long time, one that I hope to transform into a career of some sort down the line. But that's then. For now I'm just happy to have my say and provide my critique. =)

And now onto some WRASSLIN~!

CM Punk vs. Rey Mysterio - WWE 02.12.2010


Although Rey Mysterio may be my choice for best WWE performer of 2010 so far - as he was by 2009's conclusion - this performance is much more impressive for CM Punk's contribution. The attention to detail Punk exhibits is impeccable. It highlights a respect for every moment spent in the squared circle, every act (minute or huge) that shapes the story being told. Keep in mind that this occured on Smackdown. Not on pay-per-view. For all intents and purposes, it simply isn't as important an occasion. And yet Punk still feels obligated to trace out each aspect of the story, teasing potential twists and offering tangents that keeps us alert.

What am I blabbering on about? He takes what would normally be a filler/throwaway sequence within the match - Rey momentarily attacking Punk's leg before returning to aerial stunts - and makes it seem potentially significant. You may recall how many matches, specifically those from independent promotions (but not exclusively so), begin with an inconsequential but obligatory sequence of 'testing out the opponent', usually performed via trading holds and other such nonsense. Often never actually having an effect on the story or its outcome. Wasted motion, really. Well, Punk takes something similar and weaves it into the narrative without turning it into a major plot point. It doesn't affect the outcome, but it certainly has an underlying influence on our experience of the tale.

The quality of it lies in the subtlety: Punk doesn't pretend his leg is snapped in half, but he hints at a lingering, niggling problem that may factor into his downfall. He clutches the knee occasionally, hits or shakes it attempting to regain feeling, and portrays a small limp in the seconds following Rey's attack. The degree of pain depicted correlates with the amount of time spent by Rey on the assault. It's not a killer injury but it's enough to bother and grow into something serious. It keeps you guessing as to how the match will pan out and conclude whilst equally upholding a respect for selling that appears to be increasingly absent from professional wrestling (not just in the WWE, mind you). The fact that it doesn't impact on the finish hardly devalues its presence within the performance. Rather, I feel, it shows masterful storytelling by CM Punk in not having to resort to trading near-falls or overdoing the antics to convey a sense of complexity and suspense to what is essentially a simple television match.

Meanwhile Punk's croonies allow for dramatic instances that magnify the thrilling chain-of-events. Just their presence moulds the story, distracting Mysterio enough for Punk to slam him down onto the barricade. This leads to a targeted attack of Rey's back. And, of course, the exciting teased finish that sees Mysterio almost succumb to the 'numbers game'. Suspenseful stuff, if you allow yourself to get caught up in the match's flow. The dynamic between Punk's heelish slower control segments and Mysterio's upbeat bursts of high-flying creates a nice ebb-and-flow to the match (as usual). Special mention also goes to CM Punk's weird, creepy mannerisms tapping into the cult-like interpretation of his Straight Edge Society. "I can saaaaaaaaaaave you, Rey!" The bulging eyes and intensity doesn't reach the exaggerations of a Kane. Or an Edge. Thankfully.

It's a lovely match, spearheaded by an expertly subtle performance by CM Punk generating a wealth of meaning from the smallest of inclusions.