Land of the Dead review

    Land of the Dead, the fourth movie in George Romero's Dead series, is a bit like Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. Okay, I'm sure you're all looking at me strangely for that. After all, the two movies have virtually nothing in common. However, the comparison encapsulates my opinion regarding the two movies' value. Land of the Dead is not quite as good as its iconic predecessors but it's a worthy addition to the series.

    In fact, Land of the Dead is my favorite of the Dead series. It's the one I've watched the most, having seen it five or six times. By contrast, I've only seen Night of the Living Dead once and Dawn of the Dead three or so times (I've only seen Day of the Dead once and that was enough). If it confuses you why I prefer Land of the Dead, it's difficult to explain. I guess it's because the movie is easier to watch and, weirdly, more upbeat.

    Land of the Dead is a good movie and it has a lot to say about a number of subjects. Still, it lacks the emotional gut punches of the first two Dead movies. It's an improvement over the many missteps in Day of the Dead, a movie I unabashedly hate, but it's not heavy cinema.

    You won't find great moral questions raised and it's not a movie where people go slowly insane from trauma. Instead, it's a film designed to answer many of the questions raised by the previous three films. Not, 'how did the zombie plague begin' or 'will humanity survive' but more like 'what are these movies really about' and 'is humanity worth it'?

    I considered doing another social satire posts regarding Land of the Dead but I'm not sure it's necessary. All of the satire is front and center. The movie makes no attempt to hide what it's about. Most of the Romero movies are pretty clear about what they're about in fact. Night of the Living Dead is about how humanity reacts in a crisis. Dawn of the Dead is about consumerism. I'm not sure what Day of the Dead is about, so it's the odd duck out, but Land of the Dead is about class division.

    The premise is simple. Human ingenuity has walled off part of Pittsburgh and created Fiddler's Green. Fiddler's Green is, for all intents and purposes, America Pre-Zombie Apocalypse. The citizens use paper currency, the rich live in fancy apartments, the poor live in slums, and minorities do most of the heavy lifting. In short, like Shaun of the Dead suggested would happen, the populace has managed to get the zombie situation under control so it can avoid learning anything.

     The community of Fiddler's Green survives by looting the surrounding zombie-infested towns for supplies. The people who do the dangerous grunt work, like soldiers in our world, aren't appropriately compensated. Big surprise. This is a problem dating back to the Stone Age. As in our world, if you press the people with weapons too hard, bad things happen for both sides. Really, the zombies are almost incidental despite the fact they're remembering more and more of their past lives.

    In a way, Fiddler's Green represents the antithesis of anarchist thought. Were I to simplify anarchist philosophy, it's all about tearing down the existing social order to build something better. The Zombie Apocalypse, the ultimate disruption of the social order, has taught humanity absolutely nothing. Kaufman, played by Dennis Hopper, lords over Fiddler's Green as one part king and one part Donald Trump. He has created a bubble of the Old World in the middle in the Dead world. Beneath him, providing the conflict of the story, is his personal henchman Cholo (played by John Leguizamo). Cholo wants to move up in the world and is unaware that's not allowed for non-Whites.*

    Land of the Dead is different from the first two movies since it has pretty easily identified heroes and villains. Kaufman and Cholo are understandable in their motivations but they're definitely bastards. Riley and Slack are probably as good as people come in the Post-Apocalypse world. This is in contrast to the fact everyone was sympathetic in the original Night of the Living Dead while the protagonists of Dawn of the Dead were murderers and thieves. Morality is clearer in Land of the Dead because civilization has returned to a semblance of 'normality', so to speak.

    Despite this, no one is a caricature. Even Kaufman, who is so much an embodiment of 'The Man' you might think he's Satan himself, is entirely too believable. It stands to reason someone would be smart enough to start organizing survivors and the goal of such a person might just be to make sure they lived as comfortable a life as possible. Cholo, by contrast, is a much more sympathetic character than the ostensible hero of Riley. We empathize with his desire to get his due, even if he's responsible for horrific acts.

    Land of the Dead is the most hopeful of the Dead films. Mankind has managed has to restore some semblance of civilization after the Zombie Apocalypse. It's a crappy civilization but preferable to violent death. Zombies are a fact of life, especially since everyone still becomes one when they die, but people have learned to adapt. In short, mankind is capable of dealing with the problems facing it, it just won't be pretty. Humanity will continue to make the same mistakes which resulted in the zombies nearly destroying us but, honestly, we'll just rebuild again.

    I could describe the acting, plot, storytelling, or visuals but they're all just okay. Hopper and Leguizamo are the only two actors who really distinguish themselves. Really, it's the message that got to me. Land of the Dead is a poem to the human race. Yes, we're violent mindless consumers whether we're human or zombie. Still, maybe there's value in us despite that. If zombies are us, maybe zombies have value too. It makes me want to sit down with a zombie and toast marshmallows, you know, before he eats me.

8/10

* Incidentally, I don't even think it was just racism which got Cholo rejected from the upper class. Romero is too smart for that. Instead, Cholo can't disguise the fact he's earned his money. Class, in real life and in fiction, is more than just wealth. As a person who comes from money, I know it is based on your ability to hide you've ever worked a day in your life. Seriously, that's it.

Penny Arcade Extra Credits' Zombie Discussion

Penny Arcade Extra Credits did a very good review of why zombies work.

I agree with virtually everything they've said.

So here's a link.

That's all that needs to be said.

Dead Rising 2: Case Zero review

    Dead Rising: Case Zero is the first Dead Rising game I've ever played. Which is strange because I enjoyed watching the original on YouTube. Don't look at me that way, I didn't have an Xbox 360 back then and I love me some zombies.

     My impression of the original game is it was an excellent zombie game but it was a little too derivative.  I mean it wholesale cribs its plot from Dawn of the Dead and didn't do much to change it up despite adding a government conspiracy/terrorist angle. Still, the voice-acting and story were tremendous. Also, from what I saw, the game play looked hard but fun.

    Unfortunately, I can't say I was inspired to buy the sequel when it came out last year. The idea of it starting with a game show where people murder zombies devalued the horror a little too much for me. I wasn't yet aware it was still a "survival horror" game with the TV show segment only at the start. Thankfully, bored one evening, I decided to try out Dead Rising 2: Case Zero on Xbox Live Arcade.

    DR2: CZ is the video game equivalent of a novella. It's too long to be a demo and too short to be a full game, though it's honestly not that short compared to some of the ridiculously short games I've seen like Homeland or Kane and Lynch. Actually, for a Completitionist, the game has to be played at least three times and that will give you at least six hours of gaming time. For those just interested in finishing the story, the game is about two and a half hours long.

    Which brings us to the price, the game costs $4.99 in Microsoft Points. Yes, for five dollars, you get the equivalent of half a sixty dollar game or a $20 DLC add-on. That, my friends, is good marketing and I encourage people to pick up this game simply for the value. If this kind of market strategy succeeds, we might actually get some decently priced (albeit short) games with high production values.

    The premise of the game is simple. You are Chuck Greene, recently widowed father to four-year-old Katey Greene. Chuck's wife was killed in the Las Vegas zombie outbreak, which he's presently fleeing. Even worse, little Katey was bitten by her mother so she's now infected. However, like in the second Resident Evil movie, there's a treatment (not a cure) for the condition. If Katey receives the unfortunately named "Zombrex" every 12 hours, she'll live.

    After being marooned in a road-side town of seven hundred and fifty people, almost all of which have been turned into the undead, Chuck has to assemble a motorcycle and acquire a shot of Zombrex for Katey before the military arrives. Why before the military arrives? It's a zombie movie folks, the military is always either incompetent or evil. I think the only time it's ever been subverted was Shaun of the Dead. It makes me wonder what a Michael Bay directed zombie movie would be like.

    The game play is pretty much identical to Dead Rising but for the addition you can create "Combo Weapons" from certain objects. You can't create a Saw-Bat, for example, but you can create a bat with nails in it. This is a bit disappointing but I understand the limitations of game designers. Likewise, there's only one difficulty setting and a time-limit which absolutely prevents you from doing everything in a single playthrough. For some, this will be a selling point, but the idea there should be no time-limit seems self-obvious for a sandbox-style game.

    I confess, the game really managed to sell the father/daughter relationship. Children are notoriously bad in fiction as they usually range from annoying to unrealistically competent. Katey is a nice change of pace as she's meant to be a Maguffin and serves that role well. She stays in one place, looks adorable, and occasionally makes a cute comment. I would have less of a problem with children in media if they stuck to this role.

    Chuck, himself, is a likable enough character. He's a believable kind of hero. He's happy to put himself at risk for other people but his family and their escape from Zombie Town come first. He's not the self-sacrificing type for complete strangers but he's willing to take a chance for them. I think most of us can relate to someone like Chuck more than, say, the Master Chief.

    In conclusion, I think Dead Rising 2: Case Zero is an excellent game and I encourage everyone with an Xbox Live account to pick it up. It's not the best thing I've ever played but I would have gladly paid a full twenty dollars for it.

7/10

Update on my life

Hey guys, just a bit of information on what's going on in the Phipps household.

1. I now have my Masters Degree

Those who follow me on the boards will know I've been struggling with my thesis for some time. I am satisfied with the results but my professors had some severe issues with my conclusions early on. Whatever the case, they're happy with it now and I passed my graduate requirements.

So yay, I'm now a Master of English.

2. Kat is fine

My wife has been going through a series of illnesses one after the other so it's pleasing to report she's presently okay. She suffers from a number of c conditions there's no real cure for like fibromyalgia. We cope, however, and she's doing well.

3. Books progress is fine

A weakness I've discovered in my writing habits is that I let myself get distracted too easily. I am dialing down to finishing and 'perfecting' my present three manuscripts. That means Foresight, After the End, and Merciless: How I Became a Supervillain (new title).

This means Dating the Damned is going in the trunk for the time being until I can work out some kinks in it and the same for my Hollow Earth novel. I got some good short stories out of the last, one, though.

Musing on Lovecraftian Horror

    I got into another debate today on the nature of Lovecraftian Horror. A lot of people have different and varying ideas about what constitutes Lovecraft's 'vision.' The most commonly given definition is that it's based on there being a 'cold, uncaring, impersonal universe where there's no God and humans are an insignificant part of creation.'

     Well, this is a valid interpretation for some of Lovecraft's stories but I don't think it really covers them all. I also think it attempts to conflate Lovecraft's own atheistic views on the world with his writing is a mistake. Part of the horror of Lovecraft's universe is there are gods. They're not malevolent per se but the very act of humanity being subject to their presence is terrible.

     Which is worse, really, that we live in a universe where there's nothing higher than humanity and we're complete masters of our fate or that there is something more important than us but we're of negligible importance? In the Cthulhuverse, humanity is to the Great Old Ones what ants are in the Christian universe. A fairly unimportant creation which has no relevance beyond the occasional infestation.

     Brr, scary.

    Really, I think Lovecraft's horror is best summarized as being marveled by the inexplicable. What really separates H.P. Lovecraft from other writers of his day was his willingness to throw the bizarre into daily human life. Much like Stephen King, who admits to learning much about horror from reading Lovecraft, the heart of Howard Phillip's writing is the arrival of the "wrong" into an otherwise normal existence.

     My favorite Lovecraft story is The Colour from Outer Space, which is a story lacking all of the traditional elements of horor. A guy encounters something which he can't really put into words. Simultaneously, I think The Unnameable is the quintessential Lovecraft story. A guy encounters something which is totally beyond his understanding. The End.

    H.P. Lovecraft's protagonists were, by and large, very ordinary men who were suddenly divorced of their comfort zones. A vampire is a seminal creature of horror but the thing about vampires is they've become familiar. We understand how vampires operate, as often as not. A vampire attacking you would be horrifying and call into question your sanity. 

    A gigantic indescribable thing appearing in your front street at night is everything a vampire is but about a hundred times worse. Doubly so if you can't comprehend its motivations or purpose. A vampire wants blood. The indescribable thing may be here to kill the protagonist, observe him, or any number of other things. The not knowing is what makes Lovecraft's universe terrifying.

    Horror readers are best kept on edge and a good way to do that is to never quite let them recover their footing after things go to hell. While as far removed from Lovecraftian horror as you can get, Jason Voorhees reminds me of this adage. The inexplicably immortal slasher wanders into the lives of most of his victims with almost no warning. He is implacable, unreasoning, and indestructible with his motivations being obtuse. Yeah, he kills teenagers having sex but not just them. Worse, there's nothing which will drive him away or satisfy his blood thirst.

    If I were to seek the quintessence of Lovecraft's writing, it is the fear of the dark. We don't actually fear the dark, we fear what might be inside the dark. It could be anything. What drives the Lovecraftian protagonist to his proverbial madness is not the revelation of monster's existence--bad enough as this may be.

    No, it is the fact these revelations spark the imaginations of their discovers to the point they're unable to look at the world the same way. From Beyond has a man who discovers countless horrible things invisible around us. Could you ever be comfortable again, knowing there's sharks flying around you which could eat you at any moment? It's not paranoia when they really are out to get you.

    I think Howard Phillips enjoyed subverting mythology as well. The Ghouls of Pickman's Model are pretty far removed from fairies but that's the closest thing they resemble. The Mi-Go, those brain removing nutters from Outer Space, are actually described as the basis for Yeti. To be thoroughly blasphemous, the Great Old Ones rising and Yog-Sothoth's arrival would be not nearly so effective if not for a cultural awareness of the Christian Apocalypse.

    Lovecraft, himself,  commented that part of his philosophy is to go one step further. In one of his letters, the exact quote has slipped my mind, he talked about a fan writing him about his own work. The fan talked about his premise: a mad scientist wants to conquer the world with a virus. H.P. Lovecraft said the story had promise but if he wanted it to be scary, he should have the mad scientist try and destroy the world. After all, plenty of people in real life have tried to conquer the wold (he cited Napoleon) and weren't particularly scary. Obviously, HPL lived before WW2.

     Another element for capturing Lovecraftian horror is the "fear of self." Specifically, the fear of losing those qualities we use to justify ourselves as human. Much has been made of H.P. Lovecraft's racist worldviews and their influence on his writing but the overpowering fear of the Other does not end at racism. Nor, necessarily, does one have to read racism into the stories beyond the literalness of the text.

    H.P. Lovecraft has a large number of protagonists, none of whom I'm going to spoil here, who undergo shocking changes to their body. Others still, discover they are not who they thought they were. The attack on identity and what it means to a Lovecraftian protagonist is a powerful tool. Your parents are not your parents, your friends are not your friends, and oh yes, you're turning into a gigantic fish man are all things Lovecraft uses to tell a whopping good story.

    Interestingly, one of the biggest elements of "fear of self" is that these changes are things which don't limit themselves to the body. The changes happen in the mind as well, warping a person's mind and turning them against their former selves. If you can't trust even yourself, who can you trust?

    I think if a person really wants to capture the feel of Lovecraft as opposed to just using his monsters they should work on making them strange. The Justice League of America and Ghostbusters have fought Cthulhu (or at least thinly-disguised knock-offs) so he's not as scary as he used to be. That is, of course, unless you're willing to make him strange or able to go one step further. Preventing the rise of Cthulhu isn't scary. Dealing with Cthulhu rising, destroying the world, and flying off is.

    My .02.

Why I love Zombies - Musing on the Mindless Dead

     Zombies.

    Since George Romero re-introduced the Arabian ghul to modern audiences with Night of the Living Dead in 1968, they have been a feature of B-movies and video games ever since. The typical zombie is slow, unintelligent, and hungry. Individually, such creatures pose little threat but they have a better history of overrunning the world than virtually any other monster. When was the last time you heard of a mummy apocalypse, for example?

     Some movies, like 28 Days Later or Resident Evil, modify their zombies. They're fast or semi-intelligent or can become hulking 8ft tall monsters. These creatures pose a greater threat than the somewhat pathetic Romero zombie, who just wants to go to the mall and hang out.

    At heart, though, I am a fan of the classic Romero zombie. Why, though? Why do I like zombies the most? Why not, say, vampires? The answer is simple, vampires have become a little too cool for their own good. Forget Twilight, the moment Bela Lugosi strutted out onto the stage, vampires have been a little too urbane for my tastes.

    The modern vampire is suave, sophisticated, and powerful. Even if they're a bunch of hillbillies like Lance Henrikson's bunch in Near Dark, they're still immortal and super-strong. If you're of a sufficiently amoral bent, killing people to live forever may not be unappealing. Hell, if you can survive on animal blood like Nick Knight, undeath is less of a curse than more of a lifestyle choice.

    Being a zombie, though, is a terrible fate.  They're ugly, rotting, and probably don't smell too good. If I was a vampire, I'd use my supernatural charms to cruise for tasty young morsels and hang out with my immortal equally hot wife. I'd be rich as sin because vampires always seem to have a never-ending supply of wealth. As a zombie? Well, I'd probably just shamble about my office or mindlessly stare at my computer all day. In short, being a zombie would be pretty close to my normal day only worse.

    That's the nature of the much talked about social satire of zombies. Whereas vampires get to be cool loners who represent socially unacceptable sexuality, zombies represent being part of a slavering horde of mindless consumers. I suspect everyone who can afford a computer probably thinks they might, just maybe, take more than they give back. Being a zombie just makes that quality about human flesh versus natural resources.

    Zombies also serve as a metaphor for disease and not even television has managed to make that sexy. As much as we've managed to conquer Smallpox and measals, there's still plenty of horrible conditions which can infect us. Unlike vampires, who get associated with syphilis or other sexuality-based conditions, being a zombie is more like getting the flu. It's a painful unpleasant situation that can come about from causal contact with the infected. Being bitten by a zombie isn't erotic, who knows what's floating around in the mouths of those things.

    If you think I'm harping on the vampire vs. zombie connection, it's actually because the two monsters used to be one. Surprised? You shouldn't be. People have been talking about the dead rising to consume the living since before Helen of Troy met Paris. The original vampire was a bloated, disgusting thing which didn't have much intelligence. It existed to feed on people and was associated with disease.

    Sound familiar?

    Whereas the vampire eventually got associated with Incubi, Succubi, Lilin, and Ingrid Pit; the zombie just waited for Hollywood to find an appropriate avenue for showing their particular brand of loathsomeness. It took awhile, the zombie not being particularly photogenic, but modern culture has become a little zombie obsessed.

     Like Lovecraft's Great Old Ones, the mindless undead have become a part of our culture. Even in space epics like the video game series Mass Effect, one of the major enemies are the Space Zombie Husks while Star Trek's the Borg manage to combine zombies with gestalt intelligence. What makes zombies so appealing?

    I think part of this is due to the fact that zombies are the best monster for discussing death. Being a mummy or whatever is a triumph over death. Sure, you may be a monster but you aren't rotting in the ground. Unless you believe in an afterlife, in which you probably still maintain some doubts, dying  is scary. A zombie is as close to true living death as possibly exists. You're moving around, killing people, but it's not you.

    What makes zombies unstoppable is this metaphor. Dracula and the Wolfman are impressive physical specimens. So is Jason Voorhees. However, at the end of the day, they're characters. You can outwit or outfight them and they'll go down. Zombies, as a metaphor for death, are inevitable. You can kill as many as you like, more will come. It's why their relative weakness is such genius. We outrun death every day but, eventually, we tire and he overtakes us.

    It's why discussions about how the military would plow through your average Zombie Apocalypse sort of miss the point. Yeah, zombies are weak and stupid. However, it's not their powers that are a threat. It's the fact everybody dies.

     You can kill ten, twenty, or even a thousand zombies but the best you hope for is to survive another day. We all defy death every second of the day. It's just that he's always there, surrounding us. The zombies don't even have to take over the world to be scary because their threat is ever-present, serving as a reminder of our mortality. It's why Land of the Dead is one of my favorite Romero movies. People have learned to cope with the undead and life will go on, but the zombies aren't destroyed.

    How could they be? No one can beat death.

Max Payne review

    I have a confession to make, I never played Max Payne when it first came out. I didn't own an Xbox, I had an Xbox 360, but I missed the train. Having finished Mass Effect 3, I heard about the release of Max Payne 3. Having enjoyed the Max Payne movie starring Mark Wahlberg and Mila Kunis, I decided to give the originals a try. I purchased the first game used and the second via Xbox Live.

    I have never been more pleased.

    Max Payne is basically a John Woo movie crossed with The Matrix. The titular character loses his wife and child to a bunch of drug-addict vandals. Going undercover with the DEA, he's framed as a villain and...wackiness ensues.  By wackiness I mean slow-motion gunfights, assaults on super-corporations, and single-handedly taking on the entire New York City mafia.

    Max Payne's game play has aged extremely well, allowing a fast paced action movie experience where you are placed against a literal army of thugs. Death is very easy in the game but autosaving means you rarely are placed at a point where it's frustrating to replay the scene. This is almost unique in the entire history of gaming. Never before have I enjoyed game overs but the replays are always entertaining.

    What makes Max Payne so entertaining, though, is the writing. Max, himself, is a tortured soul whose occasionally silly metaphors are charming when they're not moving. He's a Reconstruction of the done-to-death Noir Detective archetype. There's nothing good in Max's life but revenge and that's the sole motivation that he has left. Yet, really, we want to see Max triumph despite his lack of heroic idealism.

    The villains in the game are also immensely entertaining. None of them get more than a few minutes of screen time but make a tremendous impression for their short appearance. Nicole Horne is, obviously, the most memorable villain but her evil is mostly in the slimy way everything ultimately traces back to her. Lupino is completely off his rocker but we find that out due to the stuff we find about him rather than our interactions with him. If more games practiced this kind of visual storytelling we'd be in a far better place.

    I'm also fond of the character Mona Sax, who is only a bit player in the first game but has a dramatically expanded role in the second video game. It's a rare female character who manages to be sexy without being cheesecake. She makes an excellent foil to Max Payne and manages to avoid a majority of the cliches associated with femme fatales in fiction.

    I even like the somewhat pointless inclusion of Nordic symbolism in the game. There's no real meaning to it, it's just there to look cool. Yet, it does add to the atmosphere of Max Payne in a way that makes it resonate. The worst winter in history is affecting New York City, Alfred Woden is Max's somewhat duplicitous patron, and Lupino plays the role of the Fenris Wolf.

    In conclusion, I believe that Max Payne is one of the best video games released for the Xbox. I encourage gamers who haven't played it to download the Gamers Marketplace version. It's available for only a fraction of the original cost and is well worth the expenditure.

10/10