Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri (2017)

Few films manage to find a balance between extremely difficult subject manner and dark, twisted humor on the side. Director Martin McDonagh has, somehow, largely been able to have that lightning strike twice. In Bruges also found a way to be both darkly entertaining while being challenging to watch. Standing Outside a Broken Phone Booth with Money in my Hand Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri is simultaneously a lot darker and funnier, which is a testament to McDonagh's skill as a director.

Starting months after a horrific rape and murder, the film follows Mildred, the victim's mother, as she is still devastated and dealing with the loss. Seeing several broken down billboards outside the town, she opts to rent them out to make a statement. Essentially, she asks the police chief why there have been no arrests, or really, why there has been no progress in the case at all. The billboards set off a conflict within the town, pitting the good ol' boys of Ebbing against a heartbroken mother and, subsequently, a number of other people who have too often themselves found reason to hate the police department.

In some ways, the bulk of the film is a bit like Jaws, where there's a bigger story at play but the focus is on town politics. Half of the film is zeroed in on the town folks' disdain for her efforts. Police Chief Willoughby is beloved in the town and considered an upright citizen, worthy of the mantle as head of police. He oversees an otherwise incompetent force, however, full of racist, homophobic, sexist, and often violent officers that are constantly enabled by virtue of being part of "the club." More, he seems unreasonably fine with these colleagues, even though he appears to recognize the trouble they bring. Sure, he is hesitant to defend Officer Dixon - a man with a reputation for torturing and harassing people of color - but he still defends him anyway.

This highlights the best aspect of the film: a believable complexity of its characters. Though Willoughby is the target of Mildred's billboards, one doesn't get the impression that he himself never cared about the case or trying to find the killer. However, as he mentions, some cases just don't leave enough evidence to really solve. Many murders don't get solved for that very reason. This happened to be one of them. Even more, though Mildred doesn't care to hear his excuses, she still has empathy for him. While Mildred is being held at the station, Willoughby coughs up blood while interrogating her. He goes from tough guy to frightened while she goes from annoyed and cold to concerned and compassionate in a moment. The story is personal, and not personal all at once.

Perhaps the biggest talking point to emerge from Three Billboards is the arc for Dixon, one of the most disgusting characters in ages. This is an officer who frequently abuses his power and represents only the worst of the department. He harasses Hispanic workers, calling them "fucking beaners." He apparently is known for beating a black man pretty badly. We even see him beat a local advertiser responsible for the billboards brutally, including tossing him out of the window. Eventually, he decides to try and straight his act and finds a way to potentially track a suspect in the rape/murder case center to the story. By no means is this a character worthy of redemption, and the take that the film tries to give him one, to make him suddenly likeable or acceptable is problematic is perfectly valid.

However, I would argue that - while it has all appearances of a redemption arc - it isn't really one. The film structures his character thread to look like he is getting one, and certainly his motivation shifts and becomes more acceptable in some ways; I'm not so sure his is really a true redemption story.  (And here is where it's impossible to talk about it without mentioning specifics, so spoiler warning going forward.)

See, after being fired from the police force (because Lester Freamon took over as chief of police and is very much focused on tightening the ship), Dixon receives a letter of support from Willoughby. In it, the former chief offers the advice of calming down in order to become a true detective. One night, Dixon is at the bar and hears someone bragging about what sounds awfully much like the crime committed on Mildred's daughter. He picks a fight specifically to try and get the guy's DNA, hoping that if he submits it, they will find a match and solve the crime. Thus, redemption!

Except that the DNA doesn't match any on file, for any crime across the country either. This guy is clearly made to seem like a horrible person, and we are meant to suspect he did something horrible, but there's the undeniable reality that none of us really know. Dixon is convinced that this person must have done something horrible to someone. He goes on to tell Mildred about that, and the film ends with the two of them driving off to Idaho to track this guy down so they can murder him in the name of vengeance.

This is where I think Dixon's arc isn't truly one of redemption. Mildred's mindset is completely understandable. She is clearly dealing with grief, regret, and loss, and we can totally sympathize with her. Additionally, she gets treated pretty awfully by the town. Many are not happy that her billboards call Chief Willoughby's integrity into question, and those even go on to blame her for his suicide. Despite all that, she engages in some pretty unacceptable ways. She commits assault on her dentist, a bunch of teenagers, and even commits a literal act of terrorism against the police department, lighting it up with molotov cocktails. Her pain is understandable, but she is lashing out in some problematic ways.

And yet, it is because of Dixon's efforts to do Willoughby proud that she speeds off to commit murder on someone that, for one, we don't actually know committed a heinous crime, or any crime. For another, she's so distressed at the lack of justice for her daughter that she is willing to murder someone else for potentially a different crime to fill that hole. In essence, Dixon's "redemption" arc ends up pushing Mildred down an even darker path than the one she was on. It is because of Dixon's "redemption" arc that Mildred speeds down the path of herself becoming irredeemable. I would argue that while Dixon does indeed seem to himself regret some of his actions, he's still the same problematically violent person he was before. What, really, is the difference between him tossing Red out the window in a fit of emotional rage, and loading a shotgun in the back of a station wagon to run off to murder someone who might have committed a crime.

In essence, it seems to me that Dixon's "redemption arc" ends in a place where both he and Mildred can't come back from. And yes, it's presented ambiguously as though they are reconsidering it. Still, it's hard to get around the fact that is Dixon's actions that push Mildred to this point. She did a number of horrible things herself (including nearly killing Dixon with the molotovs). Dixon doesn't help her find peace, or bring justice. And he still acts according to a more violent mindset, one in which he still clearly views himself above the law.

The alternative take - that he got a redemption arc while being unworthy of one - is certainly valid and understandable. But to me, it wasn't a real redemption arc. He does see change as a character, but the main problems (feeling above the law, a penchant for violence) are still there at the end. It's a big part of why I love the film: I can understand most of the characters, and they are either complex in their own motivation, or develop in complex ways. I didn't grow to like Dixon at all by the end. I actually felt like he stayed awful, but changed the way he was.

Other people might disagree. It's really easy to see that other interpretation of the film, and how that would ruin it for many. The ambiguity and complexity of each character and plot thread is a big part of why I really liked the film. Mix in excellent acting from Frances McDormand and Sam Rockwell, it's easy to see why it's in Oscar contention. It's, at times, really heavy and hard to watch, but it's surprisingly well done given the subject matter.

REDUCTIVE RATING: It's Good!

The Post (2017)

It would be easy to knock Steven Spielberg's career path, going from fun action-adventure films to historical dramas, but The Post actually accentuate's his roots in surprising ways. With Lincoln, he attempted to make the mundane passing of a bill exciting, seeing mixed results. In his latest film, Spielberg is actually successful in making the mere printing of a newspaper feel dramatic and exciting. This, in large part, due to editing and sound design, but those are tools he has been utilizing well for ages.

Top-tier acting talent is front and center of the period piece, with Tom Hanks and Meryl Streep as the headliners. However, it would be a mistake to ignore the contributions made by the other actors with much less screen time. Bob Odenkirk, Bradley Whitford, Tracy Letts, David Cross, Carrie Coon, and Michael Stuhlbarg all excel given their limited appearances. (It's a big time of year for Stuhlbarg, who was excellent in The Shape of Water, Call Me By Your Name, and The Post, all currently in theaters and getting Oscar buzz, and yet he has received no attention!) Bruce Greenwood stands out as a supporting actor for his portrayal of Robert McNamara. Still, despite the huge cast - including some recognizable David Simon players like Stark Sands and Deirdre Joy - it really is the Hanks/Streep show, and largely, their chops are on full display.

Centered around Daniel Ellsberg release of the Pentagon Papers - a study conducted by Secretary McNamara examining the missteps of the Vietnam War - it plays a bit like previous Oscar darling, Spotlight. We follow reporters as they track down possible leads and try to gather sources. The goal is to out-scoop the New York Times, their more successful and popular rival. Along the way, they are met with constant threats from the government and additional road blocks. What makes The Post a bit different is that it tackles other elements of the story as well. Streep plays Kay Graham, the majority owner of the Washington Post and the only woman in those board meetings. She struggles with the desire to protect the paper's (and, by extension, her father's) legacy, what is best for the employees who would benefit from a sale of the paper, and the journalistic responsibilities as a newspaper. Where Tom Hanks's Ben Bradlee is only focused on publishing the story, and this a more simplistic, Graham has a much, much larger issues to balance. 

With the swarm of men around her to tell her what to do, Graham is constantly being pulled every which way. Bradlee jumps down her throat for possibly passing on the story because of her relationship with McNamara, feeling as though she is trying to protect a friend. Arthur Parsons (Whitford) is constantly focused on the reputation of the paper amid a large public sale, recognizing that leaking government secrets and engaging in a legal battle would harm the company's value and cause investors to pull out. Fritz (Letts) is similarly advising her about the best course of business action, but is one of the few men around to recognize it is her paper and her decision. He's, perhaps, the only adviser who advises, and then respects her decision. 

As tiring as it might be to constantly see Streep at the Oscars, we see yet again that is with good reason. She is believably conflicted, and even her moment of empowerment feels grounded. While dictating her decision to a furious board, she still appears to hold anxiety about voicing her opinion in this male-dominated room. She still puts her foot down, yes, and that moment is earned through her compelling acting. That she appears to be forcing herself to speak up, despite her feelings of insecurity, makes that moment even more significant. 

Of course, it is hard to ignore the meta-narrative of the film. Unlike Spotlight, or even previous Spielberg historical dramas like Bridge of Spies, Lincoln, or War Horse, The Post resonates primarily because of its timely release. In an age with an authoritarian President constantly attacking the very concept of the free press, Spielberg deliberately chooses to explore another time not that long ago in which a similar thing occurred. The biggest "heroic moment" of the film is at the end when the staff at the Post receive a package of several other prominent newspapers around the country publishing the same Pentagon Papers in solidarity, after the government threatens to shut down any organization doing so. 

While the film is ultimately about a few timely concepts - the advancement of women into traditionally male industries, the responsibility of the press, and the corruption of American government throughout the years - the biggest note it wants to push is the idea that an attack on one freedom is an attack on all. Bradlee himself tries to sell Graham on the notion that this is about more than just out-selling the Times. He constantly pushes the narrative that this is a fight for the First Amendment, and for the basic idea of the free press and constitutional rights at large. 

As it stands, it's hard to imagine anyone leaning to the right at this moment in time will appreciate any aspect of the film. They will very likely chide it as just "liberal propaganda," reinforced when we get the progressive speeches as the Academy Awards. Still, the real life story was one that shook America to its core, and the film itself is pretty solid, even if a little slow at times. It does, on occasion, get a little preachy, but given the current political climate, it probably isn't a bad idea to hit people over the head with history. 

REDUCTIVE RATING: It's Fine. 

Random Encounters Special #2 - Star Wars: The Last Jedi - Part 2: Canto A'ight

Part two of our two-part conversation about Star Wars: The Last Jedi. Late to the party, we do discuss more of the criticisms and why we think they are maybe a tad off base.

Braid (2008)

Braid was a 2008 indie game from designer Jonathan Blow that served as a critique of gaming trends, as well as a thought-provoking and, at times, intellectually stimulating puzzle. Like another indie darling years later, Thomas Was Alone, the strength of Braid is in how the narrative is interwoven with the mechanics and level design. With an ambiguous conclusion, players effectively get to work out the meaning of the game just as they had to work out the solution to each puzzle.

Built like a Mario game, players control the character Tim on his quest through worlds to save the Princess. At the end of each one, someone appears from a castle to inform you that the Princess isn't here and has, predictably, been taken to another one. The levels are complete with little goomba-like creatures, keys, and collectibles (including stars and puzzle pieces). Structurally, it plays a lot like a Mario or other classic game. It plays off of Shigeru Miyamoto's own admission that rescuing a princess provides a quick and simple motivation for the gameplay.

Worlds are constructed around particular mechanics that are connect to the story, however. They begin with some text to provide background into Tim and the Princess's history, as well as his feelings and motivations. World 2, for example, starts with the feeling of regret and desire to simply take back the mistakes he made during their relationship. Players then proceed through a series of levels introducing a time-rewind mechanic, which is the prominent mechanic of the game.World 4 features insight into Tim feeling empowered and in control, that he should be able to just go out and find the Princess just as he had managed to reinvent himself from his younger years. These levels introduce the mechanic that time moves along with and in the direction of the player. Moving forward moves time forward. Moving backwards moves time backwards, highlighting that sense of agency.

World 6 is perhaps the most clever. The pre-level books tell a story implying Tim and the Princess might have been married; that indeed whatever mistake Tim made that lost the Princess occurred during this time. It also provides insight into how Tim felt about it. Suggesting an uncertain attitude towards marriage, it talks about "the ring" and how it often made him feel as though it kept people away, and so he would sometimes choose to hide it rather than wear it so they would approach him. These levels see the introduction of a literal ring that emits a barrier that dramatically slows time within it. In essence, the ring you use in game has the exact impact the ring in the story had, according to Tim.

It is important to recognize that last part: "according to Tim." The bulk of the game reminds you that you are in his shoes, just as players are always taking the role of Mario. It is also aware of the fact that by that very nature, players are likely to assume they are fulfilling some heroic role. We've seen it in Mario games, Zelda games, Final Fantasy games, and countless others wherein players assume the role of the hero on a journey to rescue the damsel in distress. Decades of video games have classically trained players to default to expecting that role to be a heroic one, full of courage and bravery - traits deemed worthy of love and affection as a reward.

Braid goes a very different route with it. The last level features a traditional left-to-right platforming sequence that makes it appear as if the Princess has gotten away from the Bowser-like bad guy and is helping you get to her so you can run off together, safe and in love. When you get to the end, it is revealed that, in fact, you have been reversing time. It then sends you right-to-left to reveal that, in fact, the Princess has been running from you! It's a smart twist on the damsel-in-distress trope, as well as basic game design. For much of visual media, left-to-right is viewed as progression. Moving right is moving forward. Braid presents that for the bulk of the game, only to reveal that in actually, it is moving backwards. Basically, everything you thought you knew was wrong.

It's easy to see why some might find Jonathan Blow a pretentious intellectual too clever for his own good. He clearly has a keen mind for puzzles, and they range in difficulty throughout the game. Admittedly, there were plenty of times I felt like a complete idiot or that I must just be too stupid for this game. (This is always a risk for puzzle games, and I felt similarly at times throughout The Swapper, which is another game I loved for how clever it was.) Blow goes beyond the puzzle aspect to play with and subvert expectations of the medium.

The conclusion itself is, perhaps, his best puzzle. Deliberately left on the more ambiguous side, the game asks players to come up with meaning based on their own interpretation. Some have used this pretense to claim the game is actually about scientists who created the atom bomb (complete with the Princess being a literal metaphor for the bomb itself), and one must credit them for that creativity, but it's a substantially smaller, more personal story than that implies. It is full of complex emotions to shift through and perspectives to consider and reconsider later.

Often credited among the creations bringing rise to a more well-established indie game culture (indeed, Blow himself appears in the documentary, Indie Game: The Movie - which is good and you should watch it!), the math adds up. Puzzle games aren't for everyone, and the designs can wrinkle your brain getting you to think outside the box. However, it isn't a long game and is also designed so that you don't have to be a completionist to get the basic experience. If you can't solve how to get certain puzzle pieces and get the most absolute ending, you will not find a disappointing ending by just getting through it. Blow is one of the most intriguing game designers out there. Fans of games in general should look forward to his next project, whatever brain-aching puzzles he comes up with for it.

REDUCTIVE RATING: It's Great!

Available On: XBox360, Playstation 3, OS X, PC, Linux

Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle (2017)

There are a few key differences between the original Jumanji and its updated quasi-reboot/sequel. First and foremost is the basic concept. Instead of elements of the game being brought into the real world, the kids of the real world get sucked into the game. It's fundamentally opposite to the original, which goes a long way to making it feel surprisingly fresh. Second: the game is a video game rather than a board game, giving it a more modern appeal (although, despite what one kid says, plenty of people still play board games).

It might be tempting to pass off the update to a video game as just modernizing the story now that video games are a multi-billion dollar industry. (Lord knows, Sony was hardly shy about promoting their games - yes, I know I still need to play The Last Guardian, Sony! Sheesh!) At the same time, sending the kids into a video game allowed the screenwriters (including Community's Chris McKenna) the opportunity to make some clever gags. The "three lives" element was sometimes used well to advance the plot, or to make for a decent gag, and at times, to provide for compelling character moments. The strengths and weaknesses, while sometimes random and other times under-utilized, still provide some solid comedic bits as well. Naturally, there are some missed opportunities (rendering jokes or glitches would have been neat), but largely, it feels like a story by someone at least casually familiar with the medium. 

The film is ultimately about stereotypes, in a sense. Each of the four new kids fulfills some cliched high school movie role. Spencer is the nerd. Bethany is the hot, shallow, popular girl. Martha is the shy, awkward girl. Fridge is the dumb jock. Even Alex, the first kid to get sucked into the video game in 1996, is a stereotypical metal head. It's not a super original idea, but it allows for the film to have a shockingly cohesive structure. 

See, the strength of this movie is in seeing these actors play against type. You've got the attractive Lara Croft-type Karen Gillan playing Martha in game. Then, you've got Jack Black as Bethany, Kevin Hart as Fridge, and Duane Johnson as Spencer. Everyone except Kevin Hart essentially plays the opposite of who they really are. Your enjoyment of the film will definitely depend on how funny you think it is to see the Rock constantly amazed at how strong and powerful he is. Jack Black does a pretty good job playing the popular teenage girl as well, provided you can live with the stereotype of millennial teenagers. For my money, Karen Gillan was a joy to watch, showing off some comedic chops. Her "flirting" scene was among the highlights.

Kevin Hart, however, largely just does the same Kevin Hart role he always does. This might not bother many, of course. Hart is good at what he does. However, it does run counter to the purpose of the film. The bulk of his time is making comments about his size compared to the Rock's, something we saw plenty of in Central Intelligence. It's also a bit disappointing because we get a pretty good arc for each character except for Fridge. Martha learns to love herself as she is and to not just pre-emptively reject other people to avoid the possibility of being rejected because of her appearance. Bethany learns the value of empathy and consideration of other people. Spencer learns to be brave. On a technical level, there is reason for Fridge to learn the value of studying and caring about school subjects. We see him put his avatar's attribute of knowledge to good use. Unlike the other characters, though, we never see him have a real "a-ha!" moment that implies he will carry that back with him into the real world.

It should be noted that - perhaps to assuage the anger of '90s kids - the film does not retcon the original. Though it serves functionally as a relaunch, it is implied through a somewhat clever reference halfway through that the events of the original Jumanji did take place in this world. That said, it virtually doesn't matter. If continuity is a thing for you, you can rest easily knowing that they didn't just wipe out a beloved childhood movie. That said, there's a fair amount of difference. Liking one won't necessarily mean liking the other. 

Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle is an enjoyable film with some solid comedic acting and a few great bits. At times, poignant and clever. At others, shallow and disappointing. Your entertainment from it will likely depend on how much you like the cast. By no means amazing, or one you should rush out to see, it's not as terrible as the trailers make it seem - even if they do spoil what would have been some of the best gags. 

REDUCTIVE RATING:  It's fine. 

Random Encounters Special #1: Star Wars The Last Jedi - Episode 1 - What Did You Do, Rey?

Hey! After a nearly two-year hiatus, we are back for a Star Wars special! But, not a holiday special. Rather, we talk - at length - about Star Wars: The Last Jedi. We enjoyed it a lot, but still had to address some of the biggest controversies surrounding it, and why it is one of the most divisive films for a fan-base in ages.

Since we talked for over two hours, we opted to break it up into two episodes. This is the first part.

Battlefield 1 (2016)

The folks at EA DICE decided the best way to freshen up the market of first-person military shooters was to go backwards, to World War I. The entertainment industry has never quite fallen in love with the War to End All Wars like it has with World War II, and it makes sense. Not quite as massive (though fighting occurred on most continents), primarily trench warfare, the technology wasn't as good, and there wasn't exactly a clear case of who the "bad guys" were, given so much of it was nationalism driving nations to war as imperial Europe came crashing down.

Not many games take place during World War I for those reasons. Off the top of my head, I can think of Red Baron, Sky Kid, Valiant Hearts, and Wings of Glory. Of that list, none are first person shooters, and for good reason. It is hard to turn World War I into a fun, action-packed shooter when the most common weapons of the conflict were slow, and enemies often fought hand-to-hand in muddy trenches.

DICE managed to get around that issue by effectively making it a World War II game. The speed and pace of battles is fast and furious, almost no different than previous Battlefield or Call of Duty games. Often, you find yourself running and gunning from checkpoint to checkpoint, just the same as any other military shooter before it. It feels a bit like a missed opportunity to try something wherein anxiety in combat stems from weapons that do not fire in rapid succession. It would be a complete change to the formula, but imagine a FPS wherein movement and accuracy were significantly more important than just wildly spraying shots after popping out of cover?

To be fair, they do add a little bit of that thanks to a key upgrade for the genre: larger, more open maps. There's so much space to maneuver, and because of that, more opportunities to flank or be flanked. The addition of artillery off in the distance of the map encourage motion. Staying in place too long can get you shelled. Additionally, they at least attempt to give players the choice to approach a level as they would like. Some campaign missions allow you to choose the order of checkpoints to take, for example. The size and space of the maps goes a long way to increasing the sense of scale of each battle.

Even more, stealth is encourage from time to time as well. During missions wherein you are completely alone, rushing into an area can be a horrible idea. The trenches can be filled with well-armed enemies, and the artillery and machine gun nests will make quick work if you're not careful. It isn't always the easiest, and first-person stealth can be a bit clunky, but this also works to give players more control. There are missions wherein you get to choose which outposts to take first and how exactly you want to go about it: quietly, or guns blazing.

The addition of stealth gameplay enhances the World War I setting somewhat. Given that you are frequently pressing on established enemy outposts, it makes sense that you would be at a huge disadvantage with just a bolt-action rifle while the enemy has fortified positions. Taking out some guards quietly makes a world of difference even if you get caught and the alarm blares.

That said, there are also plenty of missions that essentially betray the setting. The finale of T.E. Lawrence's campaign devolves into a chaotic event that is tedious and, at times, unfair. Artillery shells you from a distance while airplanes drop bombs above. Yet there isn't always adequate warning that you are in danger of being hit. Because the only way to damage the armored train is to shoot it with heavy weaponry, you are constantly running from one cannon to the next. When the game is at its most action-packed is when it decides to introduce more of a slow-loading element to the play. Every shot you take requires a time-consuming reload, which leaves you vulnerable. Getting out of the reload animation can itself take a moment as well, so you are liable to die before you even realize anything is headed your way. The slow loading makes sense, of course, but is an element completely absent from the game except for that point.

It feels a bit like the stories within the campaign are a bit try-hard as well. They're brief and not super compelling, often attempting to be emotional or profound without actually doing the narrative leg-work to earn it. The very first mission is great! You can't win it. All you can do is keep fighting until the game decides you get the point. Players jump around from soldier to soldier, fighting off a charging wave of Germans. When you finally get killed, a name and the birth and death year appears on screen. Then, the game thrusts you into the next soldier where the process is repeated. It is a shockingly powerful moment in a military shooter. Suddenly, these people who are dying on screen aren't nobodies. They aren't just avatars. The names and the continued failure really highlights the sense of futility soldiers must have felt during the Great War!

One can't necessarily fault DICE for not continuing that throughout the campaigns, but it would have been so much more meaningful if every time the player dies, they essentially transport into another soldier. Imagine if, rather than having death represent the player failing, each one represented another soldier dying. And imagine if after players clear the objectives, the game informs players of how many soldiers they got killed. What a profound statement that would be from a military shooter!

Instead, we get single-person stories that are too brief to earn the emotion they try to hit at the end. There's a bit of ludonarrative dissonance when you are playing a story in which the character you control is recounting a story from the war. Thus, players are playing an event that has already happened, yet the name and life dates show up whenever you fail. It feels extremely "gamey," and takes you out of the moment. Seeing the same name show up with their years of life really loses its power after the third or fourth time it pops up. In that way, the campaign stories all miss an opportunity to highlight the futility of WWI, or say anything meaningful about war itself.

The game is fun to play, with the maps and stealth elements key to improving the genre. That said, it fails to offer anything interesting as a result of its setting. It's really a WWII game. There are more automatic weapons than bolt-action rifles. The action is really fast-paced. And, when all it said and done, the Germans are still presented as the "bad guys." While not every member of the German national military was a Nazi, Call of Duty games largely presents battles with SS troops. The evil associated with that makes killing them almost cathartic.

This becomes a bit more problematic in a game set in World War I. I have no reason to feel satisfied killing German troops in this setting. They had no more desire to fight the stupid war than the Allied troops. There really could have been an interesting element wherein players control, say, a British soldier in one story, then a German in the other, to really get a sense of how bleak and futile and awful the war was. Instead, we are presented - yet again - with Germans and the Ottoman troops as the only bad guys. In one campaign, they are comic book villain-type evil.

Perhaps the best thing to say about Battlefield 1 is that it is fun, but could have been so much more than what we got. It's a solid military shooter to pick up if you are like me and haven't played one in a long time, but otherwise, completely fails to do anything half as profound as they appear to want to do. In some ways, it's the perfect game for World War I: a forgettable game centered on the Lost Generation.

Reductive Rating: It's fine.

Available On: XBox One, PS4, PC