Review: Jurassic World

1993. 4-year-old me had never even seen a movie theater before—I'm pretty sure. For the sake of the story, let's say I hadn't—but I still remember that rush. The giddy excitement of seeing DINOSAURS moving around, interacting with each other, interacting with real humans who I wanted to believe in. The soaring vistas, the somber moments, the tense moments; even tiny stupid baby me was awe-struck. I think. I vaguely remember shouting at people and laughing when Samuel L. Jackson said the word butt. It was a different time. Regardless, Jurassic Park is more than just a film to me: it's an experience. I go back to that movie as often as I can and every time I find something new to love. The sequels...well, I liked The Lost World when it came out. Same reason as the Star Wars prequels: children like seeing flashy lights and dumb action. Going back to that sequel now isn't so great, and I haven't even watched 3 since the first time I watched it in theaters. The less said about it, the better. So like an idiot, Jurassic World lured me in with its promise of riches, a return to greatness for a franchise that so desperately needed an injection of life. Life finds a way after all, right?

The Premise

Two decades have passed since the incident at Isla Nublar, and Jurassic Park has become a legendary attraction, now renamed Jurassic World: after the death of John Hammond, the rights to the park have been bought by Simon Masrani, who has turned the island into the park Hammond might have imagined. Zack and Gray, nephews of the park's director Claire, are invited to a week at the island while their parents finalize their divorce. Meanwhile, Ingen's new military division wants to militarize the velociraptors raised at Jurassic World, leading to a dispute with the raptor trainer, Owen Grady. In a shocking twist, the genetically engineered Indominus Rex, a mixture of several dinosaurs and modern animals, tricks the foolish park workers into allowing it to escape and wreak havoc.

Did none of that sound particularly compelling or make much sense? Don't worry, it isn't and it doesn't!

Objectively...

Nearly everything about this movie seems to have some completely baffling flaw from the writing, the score, the cinematography, even down to the acting and casting of the main roles. Nothing makes sense, and almost every iconic scene is a cheap call-back to Jurassic Park. When it's not doing that, it's either failing miserably or stealthily taking plot points from the other films in the series. Even 3, an undisputed trainwreck. Looking at a purely objective stand-point, there are details that are simply inexcusable for a movie with such a long filming period and with such a massive budget.

Where to begin? I'll save the writing for later, so let's look first at the cinematography. For the most part, nearly every scene is either a wide-shot or completely plain at a safe distance from the actors. Dinosaur reveals are often completely ruined by this, as chunks of the bigger dinosaurs just bob in and out of shots that should hide them from the audience—imagine if Jaws just constantly had the shark occasionally peeking out of the water. Another odd technique that occurs a few times is this weird, panicky camera work that can only be described as "I guess it's a handy cam now." The same kind of handy cam you'd see in found footage movies like Cloverfield: rapid, out-of-focus zoom-ins which randomly intercut the typical action scenes. I'll gripe about this in the second half of the review, but even looking at it objectively the effect is ugly, too rare of an occurrence to be a necessity, and overall kills the tone of a scene. Either film an entire scene in a found footage style or don't.

Other scenes in the movie are wide-shots where every little detail, every actor and every screeching CGI dinosaur, is put into focus. That would be fine if not for the fact that these action scenes are so safe. We're never given a reason to really care about the 20,000+ park-goers; in fact, some shots make a large chunk of the population seem like the true villains of the film: greedy consumers lapping up the shameless excess that Jurassic World has become.

Which leads me to another very big problem I have with Jurassic World: because the shots are typically so bland, the soundtrack takes a big hit because it's almost entirely the soundtrack from the original film. Those big swells in the score; the bombastic theme; those tender, quiet moments are all ripped from a much better movie to tug on your heart-strings, and the result is something that seems more like a bootleg than a sequel or even a loving homage. For example, take the first big reveal of the brachiosaurus—really, just take it all in and listen to the score.

The epic swells in the music are accompanied by such an awe-inspiring scale that cannot really be put into words, especially on a first viewing. You're totally immersed, and when it crashes down to a thundering roar the music is right there with it. And it keeps going further in the scene as the herd is revealed, when the gravitas of Jurassic Park, both the park and the film, finally hits. "They finally did it," Ian whispers in disbelief, horror, and awe.

The same music is used in Jurassic World near the beginning when the kids enter the welcome center. The swell in the music happens exactly as the camera focuses on an escalator, of all things. Then it swells again when we finally see the tourist center, but honestly, what's impressive about that? It's a building. We've seen buildings. I'm sitting in a building right now as I stew over writing about this disaster.

The acting isn't so great, either. The two kids' mother overacts like crazy, emoting so many times in a single minute you'd wonder what the script was even supposed to convey. Completely stone-faced love to her kid leading directly into face-contorting heavy crying? Is that an emotion? She's not the only one to overact, though. Near the beginning, Claire flings herself around the helicopter over a small amount of turbulence in such a way you'd expect her to simply leap out of it. Worse, this scene is clearly a nod to the helicopter scene near the beginning. You know, the one with the still-debated moment where Alan Grant "finds a way" with the seatbelts? Yeah, that one. They even use the same music when the camera pans over the waterfall! Only this time there's a person losing her mind over what looks like nothing at all, most likely causing more problems for Masrani than intended, and there's absolutely no subtlety or symbolism—just like the rest of the movie. It's obnoxious and cheapens an already cheap call-back to the original film.

And what was the deal with the characters pausing between dialogue? There was an actually well-written part acted out so bad I can't help but wonder if it was intentional.

"Can't you track them by scent?"
-pause-
"I'm from the Navy, not from the Navajo!"
-pause-

It was like watching a sitcom. Like the director told them to just wait for a second, the audience is still catching their breath. I get the joke, it's pretty clever (if not out of place), but seriously, what is even happening here? And no, this isn't the only problem with the acting. The child actors cry and whine and over-emote and honestly it reminds me exactly of why people hated Anakin in The Phantom Menace. I get it, you need kids for the obvious call-back to the first film, but those kids were supporting roles and these are introduced as if they're the protagonists. And why is Vincent D'onofrio slurring so badly? Were those the first takes? Could they not slap the bottle from his hands for ten minutes?

But that's all to be expected, given the quality of the writing. I don't even think I need to really go into it; just go Google "Jurassic World plotholes." If you're too lazy, well, I'll dump a spoiler into the second half of the review. I'll just say this though: A T-Rex that can keep up with—and even briefly hit—a Jeep until it eventually gets tired and gives up. This same T-Rex apparently cannot chase a person wearing heels at a maintained speed over a pretty large distance. That's simply a plot hole and it's been making me so unbelievably angry that I can't think straight. It's been bothering me since I saw the film opening night. I could go on, and on, and on, and on about the problems with the story from an objective point of view, but honestly, there's too much to list without getting into spoilers. I will say this though: you cannot outrun a T-Rex. You can't, I can't, no actual human in this movie should possibly be able to do such a thing.

It didn't take long to find this clip, but I should note I didn't upload it and I don't own the footage blah blah blah, I'm linking to it for educational purposes.

The T-Rex very nearly catches up with the Jeep in what appears to be at least second gear. In fact, near the beginning (in the first linked video, even) Hammond casually mentions the T-Rex was clocked at speeds of 32 miles per hour. Taking that into consideration, the world's fastest runner was clocked running at speeds of about 28 miles per hour. If, say, you were wearing heels, it would be less time than that: in fact, after a bit of research, the fastest clocked speed of a person wearing high heels was 100 meters in a little under 15 seconds—about 24 miles per hour.

Even at a sustained speed right out of the gate, a human being cannot objectively outpace the established speed of Jurassic Park/World's T-Rex. Even the most physically fit athlete in the world would be chased down and turned into a big pasty blob of food within seconds. Objectively. It cannot be argued. Yet this is the logic Jurassic World attempts to push on its poor, helpless viewer. When looking at an inconsistency it's typical to point out plot holes that creep into a movie—this is a matter of shattering one's suspension of disbelief so drastic it makes the existence of fifty-foot-long dinosaurs seem trivial in comparison.

Another glaring fault of Jurassic World is the bizarre mishandling of the film's main theme of rampant, out of control consumerism. This issue, however, I will admit is more...

Subjectively...

I can't wrap my head around whether or not the product placement in Jurassic World is intentional. Some parts are charming: the massive "SAMSUNG INNOVATION CENTER" is so tongue-in-cheek that it made me legitimately turn around on my intense dislike for the film's opening. Characters deride all the product placement in the park: "Just imagine, Verizon presents the Pepsisaurus." It seems charming at first, and it's a fairly interesting theme.

The consumerist theme gets a bit muddled when immediately after this characters interact with their Samsung™ Galaxy© phones, typically shown in crisp detail. There are scenes in this movie where the entire screen is taken up entirely by phones. Phones on dashboards, phones in hand, phones everywhere, all Samsung brand with the phone's front display garishly splayed out. A character screams bloody murder...when she sees her family member's cracked phone on the ground.

And it's not just that, although the Samsung marketing is extremely jarring. Characters walk around with their Starbucks cups so the logo shows completely. One character says something like "we need to get a fast ride," followed immediately by a shot of some Mercedes SUV with the logo so prominent I thought it was a commercial. The teenage boy is constantly shown with his Beats by Dre in such a way that you'd think he was averting his gaze completely from the camera—how else would we know exactly what sick beats he's enjoying his music with? Chris Pratt even has a close-up where he wipes sweat from his brow and takes a deep swig of Coca-Cola from a glass bottle, the logo displayed directly across the center of the screen. The only thing missing would be for him to wink at the audience and say "refreshing!" Why is there a Pandora's Jewelry in an amusement park?

I can appreciate jabs at consumerism, but being so tone-deaf as to mix the criticism directly into product placement is not only a missed opportunity as much as it is insulting to the audience. It's like the movie's glaring use of CG: the audience is expected to have their eyes gaze over and just enjoy the mindless action (A VELOCIRAPTOR IS THROWN BY THE I-REX AND JUST EXPLODES!), but it's just not working on me. I don't appreciate the product placement. I don't appreciate replacing practical dinosaur models entirely with floppy CG monsters.

With the CG, though, I'll admit that it's more disappointment coming straight from the recent Mad Max. That movie is full of so many amazing practical effects that it comes off as simply classy movie-making. Jurassic World...not so much.

Verdict:

I don't expect much from movies. If you're just an action movie, impress me with the action, Show me some scale that really makes me gasp, have some practical effects that make me question "How is that actor not dead?" Jurassic World stands on the shoulders of greatness and just middles around with the sequels of the first film. It might be the best sequel to the original, but when over half the film is shameless product placement, lame jokes and lazy call-backs to one of the best films of all time, it feels more like I'm being sold a pitch for a sequel—and don't you worry, Jurassic World sets up what will likely be a massive franchise of the same drivel. But look at those box office returns: it might not be what I wanted, but audiences most certainly did. I'll be skipping the next Jurassic Whatever.

Heavily Flawed

Review: Nightcrawler

With widespread praise and favorable comparisons to one of my favorite films of all time, American Psycho, I knew Nightcrawler was going to be something special. I finally had a chance to watch the film after a while, and it certainly did not disappoint.

The Premise

Louis Bloom is a desperate creep willing to do anything for a job. He lives in a dingy apartment and resorts to pawning stolen property for a bit of cash, wasting away on TV and watering a tiny plant. His life changes when he comes upon the scene of a grizzly car accident and discovers his new passion in life: filming the aftermath of whatever accidents he can find, no matter the cost to himself or the people around him.

Objectively...

Nightcrawler is shot brilliantly, weaving a dream-like tale with brutal succinctness. Lou is a man at home in shadows, both real and metaphoric. Nearly every scene is shot at night, and a large number of daytime scenes take place in Lou's unlit, cramped apartment. The tone is set visually, and when the narrative's dark underpinnings are revealed it never comes off as forced.

Because of the tone, the film itself is often very quiet: Lou comes across scenes of accidents while the police are cleaning up, so rather than focusing on action, much of Lou's job is sneaking around in dark houses or flitting between victims thrown from cars at the scene of a grisly crash. Development of Lou's character comes from just how far he is willing to sink to get that one perfect shot.

It's a success story where the audience wants the protagonist to do everything but succeed. Points of Nightcrawler's plot can be compared one-to-one with "underdog" types of movies, but the one defining characteristic is that Lou is simply an arrogant, creepy, and overall loathsome sociopath. This is where the film shines at its brightest; from the very beginning the audience can sympathize with Lou as a disaffected youth, willing to do anything for steady income. In any other movie of this type, Lou would be the antagonist whose ideologies clash with the more "moral" protagonist. But here he is—the hero we're supposed to be rooting for, underpaying his intern and rummaging through the houses of fresh murder scenes.

Unfortunately, the same cannot be said of Nightcrawler's supporting cast, who are at best meandering and at worst completely supportive of Lou's cause. Those who aren't are functionally useless, and because of that there's simply not much of an antagonist. That's not to say there isn't one, but suffice it to say the opposing force for the protagonist is a road bump in their best scene. As Nightcrawler continues there's not a whole lot stopping Lou from accomplishing his goal, and the tension comes from the actual jobs he takes on rather than his initial goal of simply becoming a major ambulance chaser. That's not to say the movie is devoid of tension; in fact, closer to the end of the film the action itself becomes tense more than the initial premise. Which leads me to...

Subjectively...

The only single problem I have with Nightcrawler is that it's not quite focused enough. While there's plenty of intrigue and tension throughout the entire thing, it lacked focus for me. Not that the plot itself is unfocused, but after a while it seems like the movie just jumps between disconnected story arcs. Lou needs a job, he gets a job. There's a rival ambulance chaser, Lou takes care of him. It reflects the character as a guy who takes care of problems when they arise, but it didn't work out quite like I hoped.

The American Psycho comparisons are obviously drawn from Lou's similarity to American Psycho's protagonist, Patrick Bateman. I wouldn't go quite that far. Both characters are clearly multi-layered, deep but flawed in their own ways; and, of course, both are complete monsters when left to their own devices. While their characters might share some similarities, the story around them are entirely different (and not all in Nightcrawler's favor). For instance, Patrick is already established at the firm he works at; he's a yuppie, and he hates his empty life. A portion of Nightcrawler is dedicated to Lou finding his calling as an ends-meets-the-means photojournalist, although the "how" only really slows down the plot. Of course, the beginning establishes that Lou is willing to do anything for money as well as showing (rather than telling) the rivalry between he and a rival journalist. A chunk of the beginning could have been dealt with if he was already trying to start up his career, and honestly, I feel it could have started stronger if Lou was in the middle of starting his business.

But then, that's not the movie I'm reviewing. Clearly, the director wanted us to see Lou at his lowest before he started his filming career, and for what it's worth, it's just fine as it is. That's not the only area in which the two leads differ: a major subplot in American Psycho is the game of cat-and-mouse between Patrick and Detective Kimball, who is implied to be trying to wear down Patrick and have him reveal his crimes. Kimball's plot is more thematic than a key point of the plot and serves as an attack of conscience with the protagonist. Nightcrawler has a very similar subplot, and I imagine this is where a pretty fair amount of comparison is drawn. Like my earlier point, it's not a comparison I view as being very favorable.

Detective Fronteiri in Nightcrawler is everything Detective Kimball is not; emotional, following leads she cannot connect, and overall a fairly useless detective, Fronteiri gives very little tension to the scenes in which she attempts to pin Lou for his crimes. The depth of Kimball and Patrick's relationship is entirely missing, and even if you haven't seen American Psycho (thou must!), it's pretty apparent that, despite Fronteiri being so immediately hostile to Lou, she doesn't offer much as an antagonist with opposing ideals. She merely exists as the necessary symbol of justice, but instead comes off as more of a pushover. As multi-faceted as Nightcrawler actually is though, adding more to Fronteiri might drag the movie on. Even still, the morality of the film is mostly present in Lou's intern, Rick (also down on his luck and desperate for work). He's a very sympathetic character, but his role is largely comic relief until a later part of the film.

Of course, those are very specific complaints for such an incredible movie. For all the criticisms I have, I'm sure there is more than one reason why the final product is better for not addressing those specific areas. Aside from that, those are merely the reasons why I find comparisons to American Psycho off-base. Both movies are stellar character studies, but they're wildly different and excel in their own specific ways.

Verdict:

Nightcrawler is a rare movie: dark, subversive, deep and oozing with satire, this by all means should be a miracle from a first-time director. The American Psycho references are a bit weird, but I see where they're coming from; if you hated that movie Nightcrawler stands pretty far apart from it, but if you liked the former there will almost definitely be something in here you'll enjoy. Jake Gyllenhaal absolutely nails the role and you won't want to take your eyes off of him for a second.

Highly Recommended

Review: Sleeping Dogs Definitive Edition

I don't know where to even begin with this thing. I have a ton of praise that's met with equal amounts of criticism. I didn't even want to review a video game at the moment but Sleeping Dogs left me with such an immense amount of confusion and disappointment that I had to. I'll do the standard format here but the subjective part is mostly going to be full of spoilers.

The premise.

Sleeping Dogs was at one point the smoldering remains of the third title in the True Crime series of video games. Like those, the story follows an undercover cop digging into the criminal underworld. The main character is Wei Shen, a Hong Kong-born young man who joins his childhood friend to join the Sun On Yee, a branch of the Triads. Lines become blurred and Wei has to come to terms with his own loyalties.

Objectively...

The game is clearly a love letter to violent, over-the-top Hong Kong martial arts cinema, as well as open-world games such as GTA and the aforementioned True Crime games. In that sense, the game is incredibly well-made: from grungy run-down docks to the serene natural beauty of Buddhist temples dotting the landscape, Hong Kong comes to life with astounding detail. That being said, the game is only an enhanced port of a video game from 2012 and built for the last generation of consoles. While Hong Kong generally looks gorgeous with its brilliant neon, the foggy and cramped sky overhead, and fairly detailed roadwork, a closer look reveals the game's downsides. Models for non-player characters are typically bare, leading to some moments where Wei (detailed down to his pores and light beard) appears to be talking to a character ripped straight from a PS2 game. It doesn't happen often, but it's not pretty when it does.

Whether it's driving around the winding streets or challenging master arts clubs, there's a wealth of stuff to do. Racing challenges, cop missions, favors for citizens—the list goes on and on. This leads to another problem: the mission structure is generally pretty samey. One race looks like another, some favors involve just driving people around or shooting people while they drive around, occasionally beat up a drunk. For a game with such an enormous world, because of the repetitive nature of missions the world actually feels somewhat limited. And tough luck if you want to go on a GTA-style rampage: unless you hold on to a firearm from a mission, you'll have to either steal a gun from a police officer or level up a perk that allows you to take guns from cop cars. This reflects the staunch gun laws in Hong Kong and gives the world some depth, but considering your character is a cop, it seems odd that you have to jump through so many hoops if you want a pistol.

In fact, many of the games problems arise when guns are so much as hinted at. Sleeping Dogs works best as a martial arts game, but at a certain point in the story a third-person shooter element is introduced. This is more of a subjective problem, but when it comes to shooting mechanics all I can think from this game is just pure misery. More on that later.

All of this serves to point out the major flaw in Sleeping Dogs: for every area the game excels, an aspect of that drags the experience down. Fist fights are deep and tense; Wei can dish out pain but has to be quick to counter or a fight will end quickly. Upgrades involve the addition of new mechanics, different methods of countering or a new throw. Likewise, shootouts are typically groan-inducing slogs and shooting perks are almost always something like "for one particular moment you can slow down time to aim." Driving and racing is fun, but every race typically plays out the same. Some character models are extremely detailed, while others look like they're from a PS2 title.

Keep all that in mind when approaching Sleeping Dogs. The game is very well made, there's a ton of stuff to do and it looks gorgeous—but don't expect perfection simply from an objective approach. If you can look past the flaws, this is a seriously well-made experience.

Subjectively...
In Which I Complain About Guns for Several Paragraphs

Any time a gun appears in Sleeping Dogs everything becomes so stupid I can't handle it. Sleeping Dogs is largely a nod to Hong Kong Kung Fu movies, right? So what's up with the abundance of third-person shooting, especially after the first quarter of the game? That's rhetorical, of course. You gotta have shooting in your AAA shooting game. And yeah, it makes sense in context of the story. Wei's involved with the cops and the Hong Kong Triad, guns are going to come up in some fashion. It's just that whenever they appear, the game's own logic can't seem to handle the gravity of firearms and just huddles in a corner while waiting for the player to end the section.

I'm going to spoil the game at this point. Jump to the end for my score.

Sleeping Dogs manages to handle gun play fairly competently for the first few missions after firearms are introduced, which is why I'm so baffled by how it's handled later. Even when Pendrew hands you your first handgun, he makes it seem like a big deal. Guns are contraband in Hong Kong and only cops really have access to them, and if you're coming across Triad members with guns, you should be prepared for some hardcore thugs to get them. The implication exists that the shooting elements of Sleeping Dogs would be a major event, something that only occurs when you're coming up against a major enemy, or for taking down criminals in high-stakes cop missions.

For me, the shooting isn't very fun either. You have a cover button, a reload button, an aim, and shoot. There's no combat roll, your health recharges after a point (nonexistent in fisticuffs), and general over-the-shoulder aiming is so basic it would not be out of place in an early 7th-gen title. There's nothing to speak of, which makes the fact that you're forced into it even more irritating. You have one gun, no auxiliary weapons like explosives or anything—ever—enemies are all basically bullet sponges in every shootout. For me, this isn't just a low point of the game, it's one of the poorest examples of third-person shooting mechanics in recent memory.

I'd have to go back through the game to pinpoint an exact moment, but the one that stands out to me is Winston's wedding. The twist is shocking and effective and it really feels like you'd need to sneak around to avoid being seen. But no, these highly skill and trained assassins just happen to leave guns lying around and are easily dispatched by Wei, despite being in an emotionally compromised state. With overwhelming odds against him Wei murders with perfect precision (assuming you're skilled at the game) every single 18k assassin, who are unable to effectively surround him or form any logical counter-attack. These are people who tricked the entire wedding procession, including Uncle Po (the chairman of the Sun On Yee Triads), but are incapable of stopping a cop who doesn't even carry a gun with him.

That's what I mean when I say the game's logic doesn't seem to understand what's happening. The 18k attack at a moment when every member of the opposition has their guard down and are unarmed. The gameplay should reflect that, and does so very briefly when Wei finds Uncle Po and carries him out of the building with just a single handgun. Of course this doesn't last very long and Wei runs straight into groups of armed assassins and effortlessly eliminates them with their own guns.

After this point nearly every story mission becomes a shootout. I'm not exaggerating—even missions with huge potential to become giant fist-fights instead devolve into cover shooting. That's it. Cover shooting everywhere and the repetition I mentioned earlier becomes so much worse because you get the sinking feeling that you're going to be just shooting. Favor missions become "lean out of a window and shoot men riding motorcycles while your friend drives." All this aside, a few missions in particular stand out as being particularly poor form.

The funeral of Uncle Po should be a somber event. In all honesty, the 18k and cops should be there as an insult and nothing else happen. Instead, Pendrew uses the opportunity to intimidate Wei by showing he is affiliated with the 18k, supplies them all with guns, and tells them he is going to look the other way while the Sun On Yee gathered at the cemetery are killed. If nothing else, this should have been an escape mission where Wei is the sole survivor of the massacre. It would set the stage really well for the endgame and also give the 18k even more of a threatening presence.

Instead they're reduced to stupid bullet sponges for a stupid cover shooter where Wei and his stupid friends magically spawn guns out of thin air. Another opportunity is missed here, because I simply do not understand why Pendrew and the cops don't just arrest every member of the Sun On Yee for having access to firearms. If he's willing to look the other way for the 18k, why not just go all the way?

That scene leads to Jackie, your hyper and all-around naive buddy who wants nothing more than to be a bonafide Triad member, being abducted and buried alive by the 18k. It really makes you feel for the guy because up to that point, he just wanted to be seen as a serious gangster. But then you have a stupid shootout while riding a boat over to where Jackie has been buried; however, the culmination of this mission isn't the boatguns, it's all about saving Jackie. Wei digs him up and gets him back to the main island, and it becomes clear Jackie doesn't want this to be his life. We see him in a vulnerable state and sympathize with him. Despite the fact that he came off so obnoxious before, this is a man who has given up on his dream and is scared for his life.

When Jackie is brutally murdered in the next mission, it's genuinely shocking and emotional. I can't think of a moment that's hit me so hard in a story-driven game, and when Wei is captured and tortured in the coming scene it's even more effective because we never thought the 18k would come after Jackie and finish the job so soon.

The next mission begins so tense because we feel weak after losing Jackie and having been tortured. I'm usually opposed to quick-time events, but the timing on the mission is pretty tight and I accidentally even died at one point. Yeah, it's embarrassing to admit, but it made the mission even more frightening. This, to me, was finally the stealth mission I thought should have been implemented before. I wasn't so disappointed when the room right after the QTE happens becomes a brawler room, because it seemed like such an easy cop-out to make a shooting section.

So when it became a shooting section I rolled my eyes and went with it. Of course that's it. Luckily the boss of the mission is a hand-to-hand fight, and it's actually one of the more difficult fights in the game. Which makes the final boss in the next mission so mind-boggling.

In the final mission, Wei raids the antagonist's compound in a big dumb shootout, then kicks in the boss's room in a display of being a big tough guy and immediately is shot by the final boss. Here's the problem: this is the first time the boss is shown to be shooting anything, and there's only one round in the shotgun. I don't get it. Why only one round? What happened to the rest of them? He wasn't in the previous shootout, so what? Was he just carrying around a shotgun with a single round of it?

Anyway, the next section is a boat chase and then the final boss begins. But the final boss is Wei, tired, fighting this boss who's been built up for nearly the entire game in a quick-time event. Look, I don't think I'm really a stupid guy, but the mechanics for this mission in comparison with the previous make me think maybe I missed something.

Why not make the next-to-last mission entirely a stealth mission with quicktime event stealth kills, culminating in a QTE boss fight so the actual final boss is a real fight? It seems like the boss design from one mission was cut out and replaced in another. I know this is a different type of complaint, but the mere fact that a gun is involved at one point of this mission goes back around to the fact that firearms are like a black hole of stupidity that drags down the game's story in such a way that it makes the rest of the game look lazy and cheap in comparison.

I'm finally done. Verdict:

The game's story really isn't bad. In fact, I'd say it's pretty engrossing. The world is fun to explore and I really liked the 70s Kung Fu DLC mission, it felt like a supplement to the lack of real combat at the end of the game. I'm glad it was included in the Definitive Edition of the game, because I think I'd have been a bit miffed to have had to pay for it. And honestly, if the shooting mechanics had been as fleshed out as even Grand Theft Auto 4 or Red Dead Redemption, I don't know that I'd be as hard on those missions.

It's a shame that there are problems with Sleeping Dogs, because looking at the game as a whole there's a ton of potential. Outside of the shooting and a few graphical problems, the only other criticism I can give is that the missions are a bit repetitive. Your mileage could vary and maybe I'm just reading too much into it, but even considering all that I didn't hate my time with Sleeping Dogs. It's a great send-up to old martial arts films, there's a ton to do, the story and characters are both fleshed out to a decent degree. For the tight development schedule it was on some of the lazier parts can be forgiven, because with more time and a higher budget a sequel (not that MMO thing) could be very interesting.

FLAWED BUT ENJOYABLE

Review: Birdman

You know what? I'm going to be perfectly candid. The Oscars did somewhat influence my decision to finally seek out Birdman. The first reviews for the film back last winter immediately painted what looked like a film I'd go nuts over, even one that I have wanted before I even realized it. My local theater never showed it. The renting places dragged their feet. So, for the first time in a while, I finally broke down and bought a movie I could have rented or found on television. After such a build-up, the only outcomes for Birdman are whether it was worth the hype or if it will ultimately come crashing to the earth.

The Premise.

Birdman: Or, the Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance follows Riggan Thompson (Michael Keaton), a washed-up actor known for his role in the fictional superhero trilogy Birdman. Unlike the famed Attorney at Law, this Birdman seems to be an almost perfect recreation of some other famous superhero. Thompson, in an attempt to legitimize what he believes to be a career defined by schlock, writes (and directs, and stars in) an adaptation of Raymond Carver's short story anthology What We Talk About When We Talk About Love. With a new actor and the production falling apart, Thompson begrudgingly weighs the worth of his career with his fragile ego, often out of touch with reality.

Objectively . . .

Birdman is something of a marvel: the cinematography is impeccable, the soundtrack is very fitting, the actors are perfectly cast—basically, there are very few things about the film to criticize without delving into nitpick territory.

The movie is filmed in a way to mimic a long take with no discernible breaks. This technique is tough to pull off due to the precision required to choreograph entrances and dialogue, and the fact that Birdman appears to be a two-hour-long single take gives the movie a frantic, almost schizophrenic feeling while some of the more chaotic events begin to unravel. Tricky editing is involved, but it's very difficult to notice when cuts are happening due to the seamless work of the director. I mean that quite literally: scenes will jump from a character's private room to a bar with no noticeable transition; characters will appear in one scene only for the camera to pan to a different time of day with that character in completely different clothing; in some rare occasions, scenes will transition from day to night leaving the viewer none the wiser. Red Letter Media's Half in the Bag review aptly compared this to the literary style of stream of consciousness, a technique often brought to film in varying degrees of success (though not often very good). An example would be the literary masterpiece The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner. Because the narrative style involves a seamless thought process with no breaks, characters will often remember details in various points of their lives or create fictional dialogue with other people, leaving the reader to piece together the story threads despite having some fairly unreliable narrators. I bring up this novel and Red Letter Media's review because it's probably the best example of this narrative device to be employed in film. The seamless breaks give the impression of the movie having a somnambulist quality, especially when magical realism comes into play. That being said, when the actual breaks in the long take occur, it's very effectively jarring.

The soundtrack, composed entirely of drums, feeds into the dreamlike aspect of the story without being obtrusive or hitting the viewer over the head with symbolism. Percussion often gives tension to a scene in a normal movie, but in Birdman the music is more jazzy and gives punch to scenes, and when they go missing in some scenes you'll notice. The silence can be awkward and painful at points, but this is typically done on purpose: the soundtrack weaves into the movie in such a way that it comes natural, and some twists to the visuals of the music add depth in an unexpected way.

Of course, I couldn't talk objectively about Birdman without touching on the main cast. Sure, Edward Norton and Emma Stone deliver subtle performances that need to be seen, but Michael Keaton, aside from being a very on-the-nose choice for Riggan Thompson (I'd be surprised if the script wasn't written with him in mind), delivers a stunning performance as a man conflicted with what he wants in life. His interactions with the formerly mentioned cast come off as tempestuous, raging at the circumstances beyond his control.

Subjectively . . .

The wait was worth it. I liked Birdman so much it's actually a bit hard to be objective about it for this review: for me, this is a perfect film. Funny at times, cerebral, heart-wrenching, deeply experimental and perfectly cast, Birdman represents a highly original and very enjoyable watch. If I had to criticize something it'd be the antagonist that arises halfway through the movie: for me, it was a massive bait-and-switch and the ultimate "villain" of the movie felt inconsequential, unlike the character I believed at first to be the actual antagonist. The tension between all these characters feels lopsided, but mostly because the antagonist has a very small role to play and has very little development. In a movie so committed to literally following characters uncomfortably close, the lack of development in that character felt like a missed opportunity.

Furthermore, I would have liked the ending to be a tad bit longer. I'll admit, as soon as the film was over I had to look on Google to see if I was crazy or just stupid, and sure enough there are pages and pages of discussion involving the ending, including dozens of theories. I typically enjoy open endings like this, but for Birdman I felt it deserved a bit more closure. Reading that this was something of a makeshift ending when the original didn't pan out makes sense, and truth be told I don't hate the ending at all, but I wish there was more time devoted to it. There's plenty in the movie to guide you to a conclusion, but it's a bit bare if you take it at face-value.

The Verdict:

Objectively, this is a highly experimental, well-directed and soft-spoken film that does not overstay its welcome.

Subjectively, there were minor things that while I didn't necessarily dislike, I would have preferred more dedicated screen time. In a film with so much sublime focus, it's weird that a few key elements are decidedly skimmed over.

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED.

The Subjective Objective.

The internet is a bustling wasteland of reviews. Books, movies, TV, video games; written reviews, video reviews, cartoons, podcasts—you look hard enough and you'll find exactly what you're looking for. However, with this degree of accessibility arises the problem of professionalism in what you're getting into. Sure, the pretty colors or the swear-a-second host might be entertaining, but at the end of the day a review or impression must impart a critical analysis of the title while either augmenting the reader's impression or helping him or her to come to a purchasing decision.

But what is a review, anyway? Not just a dictionary definition; what is the spirit, the essence, of the critical review? In a sense, it is simply an opinion put to paper. Most reviews published on the internet are presented openly as an opinion piece with a grade attached to the end. Objectivity is not often the basis of some such review. An honest, interesting review must couple the subjective with the objective, and this blog means to do just that.

The reviews posted here will follow a format you are sure to enjoy, dear reader. At the forefront of every review will be a synopsis of whatever it is I'm touching at the moment: literature—audiobooks or physical—comics, movies, television, and of course a very large amount of video games. Following this will be an overview of whatever it is in the most objective manner possible: as an example, if I were reviewing a video game then this point would involve a review of the gameplay mechanics, presentation, sound, special features or unlockables. Basically, if it is something plainly presented, it will most likely be reviewed here.

Following this will be my honest opinions and impressions. Again, if it's a video game, this part of the review would be dedicated to story, replay value, and overall how much fun I had with the title. The real nitty-gritty, as it were. After this will be a short round-up with a subjective score and objective score, followed by a straightforward recommendation.

The "objective" of The Subjective Objective is to give you, the reader, both a succinct and in-depth take on several types of media, and I hope it will serve you well.