Sometimes, this podcast will require a trip down Bad Movie Lane to see if they really were as bad as we thought. Turns out, Jurassic Park III kind of totally is. And yet, it also isn't all that different from Jurassic World, which has been shockingly popular. But why does the franchise really go off the rails in the third film? Well, it's a number of things.
I have to admit, revisiting The 40-Year Old Virgin is such a bummer in 2018. I think it would be a terrible film that hasn't aged well at all even without being in a post-Harvey Weinstein revelation world, or in the midst of the #MeToo movement. But those things certainly don't help it. This film is really, really, really hard to watch, and offers nothing but a problematic take on toxic masculinity.
Warning: there is some foul language, and plenty of discussion about sexual activities. It also includes a little bit of personal information, if you think you might not want to know anything, even vaguely, about my own opinions towards or history of sex. (It doesn't get detailed, but I understand people can feel uncomfortable with open discussion of the topic.)
I fly solo again to look back at the film that inspired the whole thing: Crocodile Dundee. After hearing people expressing disappointment that that Chris Hemsworth/Danny McBride commercial for Australian tourism wasn't actually a fourth Dundee film (yeah, there have been three of them - one made this millennium!), it seemed like a good time to revisit the original and see if it's actually any good. The result? Well........it's pretty dated, and in some pretty awful ways.
Though all art and entertainment is subjective, few genres are as subjective as comedies. Most people enjoy laughing, but finding The Hangover funny does not necessarily mean you will find Meatballs funny or any Mel Brooks movie funny. And, despite the collective social groan at the new Epic Movie or Superhero Movie or Scary Movie, there are people that genuinely find that stuff amusing. Point here being, reviewing a comedy is sometimes trickier than examining a drama because comedy is one of the most subjective things out there.
In that vein, Game Night is an even stranger film to look at. In many ways, its cinematic experience parallels that of the characters within the movie: "what is going on?" was a frequent question on my mind while watching it, except not for narrative reasons it is going for.
Centered on a group of friends and their traditional "game night," they are brought into a confusing murder mystery game that coincides with an actual kidnapping. There's even a third angle that comes into play later that further confuses what is real versus what is staged. The story and comedy is built around this premise. It seems the goal of the filmmaker is to confound audience members as much as it does its own characters.
The problem, then, is that the characters never seem all that confounded themselves. Yet the film is itself a confusing mixture of - often - awesome elements. There are scene transitions that visually look like it is all happening on a game board, which looks neat and is surprisingly interesting for Hangover-esque comedy. There are also sequences edited almost like an Edgar Wright film, with fast cuts to depict the passing of time that, again, feel surprisingly unique for a basic comedy. Or, there's also an incredible synth-based score throughout the entire feature that is both amazing to listen to and amazingly out of place within the film.
And, of course, there's the cast. With Rachel McAdams and Jason Bateman as its leads, there should be little reason for these characters to lack charm or charisma. Yet no one really stands out except for Jesse Plemons (the actor quickly taking up the role of "best actor you see in everything but have no idea what his name is"), and even he stands out largely by playing a completely one-dimensional creepy neighbor. Game Night also features the biggest waste of Danny Huston since X-Men Origins: Wolverine.
The ultimate problem is that the script just isn't that funny. There are funny scenes, sure. To suggest I didn't laugh at all would be incorrect. To be sure, I came to realize that I have underestimated McAdams's comedic chops. But a lot of the comedy falls flat because there aren't really any compelling characters. The most interesting narrative element is in the fact that they never give anyone other than Bateman's character an arc. They appear to give others cliche development, but wind up dropping it just after they telegraph where it's going. It could be a sort of meta-joke, playing on audience expectations for a little laugh. Then again, it could just be sloppy writing.
Game Night highlights that a film isn't always just a sum of its parts. There are many interesting or intriguing aspects to the film, yet it never amounts to anything more. By no means is it the worst movie of the year or one of the worst comedies in a while, but even if you liked it, there's likely not much of a chance you'll ever revisit it.
It is difficult going back to play an old game for the first time, especially if that game came out in the early to mid-aughts. Beyond Good and Evil was a 2003 action-adventure game that quickly drew a loyal fan base, with good reason. It is, however, extremely dated - even with an HD remaster released for XBox Arcade years later.
Still, there is plenty of reason to revisit it or check it out if you haven't. Most impressive is its execution of AI allies. Future games would be critically acclaimed for working in teammates to help the player - games like The Last of Us or BioShock: Infinite - but it speaks volumes of the developers of Beyond Good and Evil that they managed to effectively do the same thing a decade earlier. AI allies are useful in combat and, when applicable, required for puzzle-solving in levels.
Often working with a teammate goes a long way to making your partnership feel more real. When Pey'j gets kidnapped by the evil DomZ, his absence is notable. A new character pops up to assume the role of ally, but the powers and movesets are a bit different. They're similar enough in combat, but in puzzles, they provide different attributes according to their characters.
That segues nicely into the other strength of the game: it's world. The mid to late aughts really saw a push for more realistic-looking graphics and styles, but Beyond Good and Evil really went for a cartoon-like look. Anthropomorphic animals and humanoids exist in this world, along side alien invaders and robots. That visual style lends itself to more of the humorous tone throughout the game, too. In terms of its atmosphere and style, it's a fun, cohesive look aided all the more by a stylish, memorable score.
The weaknesses, though, make it a challenge to play today and - frankly - probably then as well. Combat is clunky, and its apparent indecision to allow player-controlled cameras or fixed camera angles makes it nauseating to get through some stretches of dungeons. At times, the hardest part of the game is struggling with the camera. The stealth elements of gameplay are appreciated, but it would have been better if they committed to one camera or player-controlled cameras. It seems a little unsure if it primarily wants to be a stealth or an action game. While the style and tone are cohesive and in tune with one another, the gameplay is often confused. Even the hovercraft races are clunky.
That applies to the inclusion of the in-game camera. To earn money, players are asked to snap photographs of the local wildlife. Story missions include elements of photojournalism as well. For the story stuff, it works out pretty well. To increase your cash-flow, it is entirely distracting and chops up the flow of battle. Does it want to be an action game, or Pokemon Snap?
None of it makes the game wholly unplayable, and indeed the notion of a sequel on modern consoles is promising because it implies they will iron out the controls and camera problems. However, it does make it feel very dated and sloppy. It takes a little while before the awkward controls and camera starts to show itself as problematic, but when it does, it never goes away.
Beyond Good and Evil was ambitious for the time, poorly executed in some important ways, but also clever and fun. It's odd that it will ultimately be about a decade and a half between the first and its upcoming sequel. This is one of those games that, like Spider-man 2: The Video Game, can be hard to truly gauge because of the year it came out versus how poorly it plays today. There's a lot to like about the game and, subsequently, a potential franchise, but it's probably not worth it to go through the whole thing at this point.
Reductive Rating: It's fine, but dated.
Available on: PS2, PS3, XBox, XBox 360, GameCube, PC
As we discuss options for the future of our podcast endeavors, we took the time to talk about Black Panther, and boy do we talk about it for a long time. It's about two hours, so...yeah...Sorry. But also, it's hard to not talk about this movie for so long. Granted, we also meander through various other topics from time to time.
Xenosaga was always going to be a hard sell. A long, cut-scene heavy turn-based RPG with a ton of thematic narrative that is often confusing and a bit too "intellectual" for its own good, the series did see generally positive reviews yet failed to truly capture an audience the way other franchises had. The biggest problem facing the third installment of the trilogy was that it was never planned to be a trilogy. The original concept had called for a six-part story, so after the middling success of Episode II, they dramatically re-worked Episode III.
It feels exactly that way, as well. At times, the story unfolds in a natural pace. Half of the game takes place in the past, having players revisit events we had already been exposed to in the previous game. That stretch seems absurdly long given all the major points of the final three games had to be condensed into one. Why waste time showing us this thing that appears to have so little to do with anything?
Admittedly, Xenosaga's story is itself inherently a mixed bag. It is dense and heavy on many different philosophical themes that can easily be appealing to players looking for more thought-provoking stories. Conversely, it is so cryptic for so long that it can be difficult to follow. When a ten minute cutscene starts playing after a battle, it is easy for players to simply zone out or, in today's time, double screen. Episode III wisely includes a database in the menus - a source of information players can refer to when they don't exactly remember who was who or what organization was what. The writers often do a poor job explaining things in a way that makes any sense to viewers, though the characters in-game seem to have all the knowledge in the universe.
In fact, the push for religious and philosophical themes often comes at the cost of the characters. Despite some neat design and a few of them being overall "cool," they hardly exist as anything other than pawns in the larger focus of the story. Jr. got a fair amount of attention in the second game, as did MOMO, but plenty of characters don't get adequate exploration or explanation - especially chaos.
By virtue of compressing more story into a single game, Episode III also manages to feel a lot less technically special. Cutscenes are still prominent, but the bulk of the narrative and dialogue now gets displayed through motionless text-boxes. It almost plays more like a comic book than a video game, with speech appearing next to an image of the character. Clearly, this was done to maximize the amount of space they could use for additional levels, cutscenes, and other elements of the game, hoping to elongate it.
That isn't the only shortcut it appears to have taken. The ultimate strength of the previous games were their somewhat unique gameplay systems. Episode I had a fun combat system built off its predecessor Xenogears that made it stand out from other RPGs like Final Fantasy or Breath of Fire. Episode II introduced the boost and break system, as well as add elements of chaining series of attacks together for added damage. Here, the game takes a much more traditional approach to battles. It plays almost exactly like any other RPG with the exception of the "break" bar. Every combatant on the screen has a health bar and a break bar. When a player's break bar is filled, they essentially get knocked out for a couple of rounds. Turns are skipped and, more importantly, any damage taken is amplified. Managing health and break stats during the battle adds a small amount of complexity to fighting, but it's still ultimately very simple and streamlined. Similarly, leveling up takes a pretty linear approach as well.
Mech battles are a little smoother than in the previous two games, but still sees some of the problems. Really, the big issue present in the first game never gets even remotely addressed throughout the trilogy. If the most egregious design issue is that the rules that apply to players do not apply to the AI enemies, especially bosses, then Episode III takes those to almost new heights. Bosses, in particular the last set of them, are so full of unfair cheap shots that it can really test one's resolve to even keep trying.
On some level, it's frustrating to get through all of three games, over sixty hours of game, and then get a string of "final bosses" that feel so incredibly unfair that you just decide it's not worth it to bother trying. Or, alternatively, grind. Side quests are so tedious throughout the series that it often feels like homework.
In many ways, the entirety of Xenosaga is noticeably dated, yet the trilogy did have moments of promise. There are combat elements that could have been more widely used and adapted throughout the genre that the turn-based RPG could have continued on. The concept of mech fights with their own separate mechanics could have resulted in something better. Yet it still suffers from poor level design (Episode III seriously has some of the most tedious levels in any game reviewed on this blog), a battle system and leveling system constantly watered down, and an over-reliance on cutscenes - all some of the worst aspects that the game industry had to offer in the early aughts.
There are interesting aspects to the trilogy. And to be sure, there are plenty of older RPGs worth revisiting that, yes, do still feel a little dated, but don't feel negatively so. However, the Xenosaga trilogy is not one of them.
A new weekly podcast, Revisitors seeks to re-examine once popular films or otherwise still quoted films that seem to have largely faded from our memories. (And hopefully this will someday include other people talking as well. That's the dream with this one.) We begin with one of the strangest films to just explode onto the pop culture landscape for some reason, Napoleon Dynamite.
