Please Let There Not Be a Mass Effect Movie
I don’t think they’re making one just yet, but given how successful the series is, I often fear that they will someday. And when that day comes, I will cry softly.
First thing, allow me to make it absolutely clear how much I love and adore the Mass Effect series. The third game isn’t even out yet and I already know that it’s one of the best video game series of all time, bar none. By the way, this is coming from someone who usually gravitates towards fantasy over sci-fi and is way too obsessed with a series of ancient computer games based on Dungeons & Dragons. Space operas are not usually my bread and butter. But Mass Effect is just that good. It resonates with me in emotional places I didn’t even know I had, it has utterly masterful plotting and characters, it’s visually stunning, and it’s even making its creators bushels and bushels of money.
That said, here are three reasons why nobody should ever, ever make movie versions.
1. They Won’t Be Any Good
It’s no secret that video game movies are bad. They just are. We all know it. Somewhere between the fun of watching a hero have adventures, and the fun of guiding an avatar through adventures, is an unfun wasteland of lame where all movies based on video games dwell in misery.
Why, we all are! We're all video game movies, and I am your king.
Many of the problems here are obvious. A person playing a game finds it fun to do certain repetitive tasks, but that same person watching a movie would get bored and frustrated if the film’s hero did the same. I wouldn’t watch an action movie where the hero just hides behind cover and spends their time alternately shooting at people and throwing glowing things at them, but I’ll spend hours doing that myself in Mass Effect. Which is as it should be, because the fun of the game is that you’re doing it.
Time is another stumbling block. A movie is designed to take up about two hours, while a game is designed to take up weeks of real time. No movie could cover the same ground a game does. Bioware games have excellent stories and rich characters, which might seem to make them suited to cinematic adaptation. However, the problem is that they have too much of both for a single movie to handle. Sure, if Hollywood made it they’d probably make it a trilogy, but the game’s already a trilogy, so you’re still stuck trying to stuff dozens of hour’s worth of content into a tiny two-hour thimble. You can, of course, cut out a lot of the game’s filler (Mako, anyone?), but the fact remains that the plot and characters were designed with the intention that they would have plenty of time and space to grow. Movies don’t have that luxury, and trying to shoehorn in a story originally created for a longer-running medium almost always results in a mess.
Case in point.
I just don’t have faith in Hollywood to make a video game adaptation that doesn’t fundamentally misunderstand what people liked about the original franchise. They just don’t get video games, they don’t want to, and as long as the people who make games and the people who make movies exist in two entirely different camps, there won’t be much of a marriage of the mediums.
2. Canon Shepard is a Dumpster-Faced Lunkhead
This reason could technically be part of the first one, but I’ve singled it out as it’s likely the most important. I know Bioware constantly insists that there’s no “canon” Shepard, but that’s bull. We all know that if they make a movie we’re going to end up with this guy, probably played by Christian Bale:
See what I mean? The bald head, the five o’clock shadow, the dead eyes, the neck like a ham haunch? He’s a Space Marine. Invented specifically so that 14-year-old white boys can pour themselves into him and vicariously shoot aliens and touch boobies, he has no personality. He is not my Shepard. He isn’t a lot of people’s Shepards.
It’s not just that I’m upset that there’s no way they’d make a Shepard who resembled my female space warrior of justice, the Shepard who means so much to me. Well, that does really get to me. But it would also bother everyone else who has played the game. Because the beauty of the original game, something lost in film, is the fact that each of us gets the opportunity to make Shepard our own. Every person who has played Mass Effect has played a Shepard who was the true reflection of their inner hero, whether male or female, white or black, subtle or forceful, kind or ruthless. Make Shepard “officially” someone else and you take that away from us. It taints our experience of this story to paint some meathead in the place of the person we chose to represent us.
While I didn’t mean for this to turn into a rant about how much I hate Space Marine protagonists, it does apply here, as movie Shepard would indeed be a dumpster-faced lunkhead. You know they’d do it. They’ve been doing it to everybody lately. But applied to a video game hero who was initially customizable, it would be egregious.
3. It’s Just Not the Right Choice
I don’t count myself among the naysayers who proclaim that no good video game movie will ever exist under any circumstances (although I find myself inching closer to them on a regular basis). I think that there are some video games that could lend themselves well to film interpretation.
A story of deep conflict and tragic loss. --NY Times Film Review
Mass Effect, however, was already created to have a cinematic feel to it. The cut scenes, the dialogue, the way the camera moves during character conversations-–all of it was supposed to invoke a feeling of a seamless story like that of a film. It makes the games great, immersive to play and incredibly fun. It’s also the same thing that makes a movie adaptation pointless. What could a film version hope to bring to a story that was already told with all the style a movie would have, plus the player choice and interactivity a game needs? It could only possibly take away excellence from the story as it was told before.
People are excited about the Bioshock movie, and you know what? That could actually work. From the original game, you have a story that’s simple enough to fit a movie’s running time, but unique enough to hold interest. You have a fantastic world chock-full of iconic imagery and great opportunities for characterization. There are places where a movie could tell you more, where the game left some blank space that a film interpretation could expand on. It’s a good choice.
Not that I’m convinced it will be good. The history of video game movies is a history of failed ideas, whether or not those ideas could have worked in theory. But enough about the Max Payne movie. I really need to get lunch.
I Review Dragon Age: Origins
Actually, I won’t. Because someone with exactly my opinion has already done so. This person is, of course, as big of a Baldur’s Gate fan as I am, was as excited about Dragon Age for the same reasons I am, and liked the new game just as much as I do. We even have more or less the same caveats about it, as well as the guilty reasoning that most of the issues we have regarding it are more related to our nostalgic obsession with Bioware’s first games than DA:O’s actual flaws.
But we can’t help it, you see. I, for one, have never played a game where the developers endeavored to inject as much atmospheric, entertaining content into every corner of their work as much as BG2. Here is one of my favorite examples. In most fantasy games, if there is an inn mechanic, the PC walks up to the innkeeper and initiates dialogue. The Standard Fantasy Innkeeper is invariably fat, bored, and boring. He asks for a few coppers and sends you up to bed, with nary a second glance. If you’re lucky, you can squeeze a rumor or two out of him. Whereas in BG2, this happens:
Vincenzo the Innkeep: ’Allo to you an’ a good day! I am Vincenzo and I offer you all the services of me humble l’il inn!
Willet the Stableboy: There’re a lot o’ things t’ be said about yer inn, Vince … but “humble” ain’t the one I would be pickin’, aye?
Vincenzo the Innkeep: Hush, boy! An’ keep callin’ me “Vince” an’ I’ll have ye strapped o’er a log! The name’s “Vincenzo!”
Willet the Stableboy: ‘At’s a lotta rot. Ye hears that name from a Sembian trader an’ suddenly yer puttin’ on airs. Pfeh!
Vincenzo the Innkeep: Never mind the boy. He’s an ignorant lout I took in out of pity. A simpleton who doesn’t know his place. Is there aught I can do for you, my good Lady?
This is what I mean. These NPCs, who continue to argue with one another every time the player interacts with them, serve no further use later in the plot. There is no purpose to their conversation other than to delight me, and the game is chock full of this stuff. And some people think a good RPG is about damage per second and item harvesting.
Do I think Dragon Age lives up to this game in sheer richness of detail? It doesn’t, but frankly, no modern game could. Nowadays developers have too much other stuff to worry about, like creating character models that don’t resemble Polly Pocket dolls. Making each and every NPC into a quirky character and creating fantasy cities that seem alive with real individuals would take time and energy that they simply don’t have.
Sexy.
And really, DA:O is still damn atmospheric, more than any RPG I’ve played for a long time. I still love you, Bioware. Call me.
An Excuse for a Brave Little Toaster Rave
Today I came across this funny little rumor that Pixar might be considering remaking The Brave Little Toaster.
Like many of the commenters, I don’t believe a word of it. While Pixar is the only studio I can think of that I would trust to modernize a cartoon as stealthily profound as TBLT, and I would certainly go running to the theaters with great excitement were it to ever happen, I feel pretty safe categorizing such a notion as pure fantasy. For one thing, Pixar is far too fond of creating fresh ideas to bother remaking a cult classic, which is of course one of the things we all love about them. More importantly, however, the actual story content and mood of TBLT runs counter to Pixar’s modus operandi. I consider this to be neither a good nor a bad thing, as it should be obvious by now that I adore both these subjects, but I certainly think that they don’t belong together.
Pixar, like any maker of brilliant children’s media, is not afraid to touch on the dark and unsettling aspects of their stories. At the same time, each of their films is buoyed by a strong undercurrent of hope. Even their flagship Toy Story, which shares some thematic similarities with The Brave Little Toaster and clearly has said movie as one of its influences, is an inspirational tale of triumph over adversity. TBLT, on the other hand, is a surrealist tragedy that has a happy ending only in the barest sense of the term–it is a veneer, a requirement because it is a kid’s movie, but really only a thin disguise that does nothing to change the fact that the main themes of the film are sacrifice, abandonment and despair.
Onward to futility!
Most people I know have one of two opinions about The Brave Little Toaster. Either it scared them when they were children, so they hate it, or it scared them when they were children, so they adore it. The former often cite this particular piece of nightmare fuel, and it’s no surprise that such a sequence is certainly terrifying for young kids and would put a lot of them off liking the film.1 There are many more examples of frightening symbolism: mangled appliances sing about the ongoing horror that is their lives; the vacuum cleaner gets upset at one point and starts choking on his own cord; and I hope I’m not the only person who thought that the Blanket’s needy obsession with its Master was kind of creepy.2
But some of us, for whatever reason, were not driven away by TBLT’s dark undertones, instead finding ourselves drawn in by its at times heartbreaking poignancy. For instance, the highest point of hopefulness in the film is followed almost immediately by this:
The infamous Air Conditioner scene, extremely stylized and even a little silly, is nonetheless a perfect blend of the film’s frightening aspects and tragic themes:
For my money, though, the best sequence in The Brave Little Toaster is the song “Worthless.” This occurs right before the climax of the movie and is the part that sums up its message. Various junked cars sing about their invariably sad lives as they are, one by one, crushed into tiny cubes by an emotionless machine:
This is, in my opinion, one of the most affecting scenes in children’s cinema, and can be attested to by the numerous YouTube commenters discussing which car they personally think has the saddest story.3 This scene is promptly followed by a very disturbing climax, in which the Toaster has to make the ultimate sacrifice in order to save his Master, mangling his metal body in the cruel gears of fate for the sake of someone whom he has always deemed to have far greater value than himself. Then the Master repairs him and adopts him once more into his shelter of usefulness and love, but I ignore that part because, as I said waaaaaay back at the beginning of this post, it fails to convince me (dramatically speaking). The rest of the movie is just too goddamned sad.
So here ends my rave about why TBLT is awesome, and secondarily why Pixar will never remake it because they are awesome in an entirely different and less depressing way. If anyone has actually made it this far, I’m glad I got to share my obsession with the underlying dark themes of children’s movies with you. I’m only one of the many people that this film has made a permanent impression on, and I think it deserves to be lauded for what it is. However, as it grows dated, I doubt it will be resurrected anytime soon even by the magnificent Pixar. It’s actually quite fitting that this little movie about the doom of obsolescence should suffer that fate itself, but at the very least it will live on in the hearts of many children born in the 1980s, and perhaps even those of future generations will find something to appreciate in it. Some things never lose their worth.
- My younger sister has told me that she saw the movie when she was young and then saw it again as an older child with the “clown” scene removed for the television version, and for a long time didn’t know whether the scene had actually existed or whether she had simply made it up–which would make it all the scarier. [↩]
- The part that especially sticks in my memory runs from 1:43 to 2:11 in that video. [↩]
- For me it goes either to the pink convertible who has given up on life but is unsure how or why, or to the pickup from a reservation that served loyally only to be rewarded with a thankless abandonment–I also find it interesting that he is the only car to drive himself to the crusher rather than being dragged there by the magnet. [↩]
A Black Sheriff? I Mean, Princess?
Although it’s not exactly hot news anymore, I just have to weigh in on The Princess and the Frog. I find Disney’s animated movies to be absolutely fascinating, minus the dungbombs of the last several years, so I’m holding my breath that this one will be worthwhile.1 I’m glad that they’re attempting a return to 2-D animation, since it’s what Disney has always done well, and I would sincerely miss it if it were to disappear forever from the face of mainstream Western entertainment. It’s also gratifying to see that they’ve finally taken the plunge and made a black princess already–and that’s the part that’s gotten everybody riled up.
She's not really sure about this, and frankly, neither are we.
So what’s the big deal? Well, a princess, especially a Disney princess, is socially speaking so much more than the daughter of royalty (and really, the royalty thing is sort of optional). What really counts is that she’s the most beautiful woman in the world, and therefore, in the politics of our culture, the most powerful woman in the world. Little girls love Disney princesses because they are a vision of their ultimate goals. It may sound depressing, but it’s less so if you think about it on a symbolic level: it’s not beauty in and of itself that they desire, but the power over others that it brings. Well, maybe that’s still depressing. But little boys have the same goals only focusing on different means (strength, super powers), so it’s kind of even.
In short, Tiana up there has been carefully crafted by Disney, the gatekeepers of the sacred Princess Archetype, and we should give them a little credit for finally crossing a line they’ve been afraid to for at least fifteen years. And in true Disney fashion, they’re clearly taking great pains to do it while stepping on as few toes as possible.
Of course, Disney claims that creating a black princess is an idea that came about “organically” one day when they were all thinking about how great a town New Orleans is. I don’t believe that for even a second. They’ve known for years that they needed a black princess, but they were waiting until it was safe.
Okay, that’s a little unfair. They announced this film way back in 2007. But it’s true that Disney is always more comfortable in the wake of the cutting edge when it comes to social change. It represents the mainstream, and so in its own way this film is a very good sign for race relations.
What’s interesting is there appears to be a divided response among the demographic at issue. Some black people are quite offended by what they’ve seen so far, whereas others don’t see a problem. This probably says more about our current societal state than it does about the film, but then again I’ve always felt that the primary value of Disney films is in their reflection of contemporary cultural values. They act sort of as entertainment time capsules, and The Princess and the Frog is sure to be a fascinating addition, charged as it is. I for one can’t wait to see it.
- Pixar’s films absolutely do not count. I don’t care who owns who, creatively Pixar and Disney are completely different beasts. [↩]
Barbarians Once More
So it looks like they cast the new Conan. I find it interesting that they found someone who’s also an Austrian bodybuilder, and hopefully this is a demonstration that they’ll be faithful to the spirit of the original. I’m looking forward to this new low fantasy reboot (Conan and also Red Sonja), even though it’s simply another notch on Hollywood’s remake bedpost. The way I think of it, we’ve got nothing to lose–the genre’s been practically dead since the 1980s anyway, and it would be nice to see it redone from a modern perspective. I would also be nice to see some fantasy movies to counter the dominance of high fantasy propagated by Lord of the Rings.
The genre shall be ours forever! Forth Eorlingas!
I should probably clarify what I mean by “high” and “low” fantasy. Generally speaking, high fantasy stories are like LotR and Star Wars, featuring an epic scope, black-and-white moral dichotomies, and lots of magic or the equivalent of magic, like the Force. Low fantasy stories like that of Conan the Barbarian tend to have more constrained proportions (such as being centered on one man’s quest for revenge instead of the salvation of the entire world), ambiguous morality, and very limited use of magic. It’s a great use of fantasy, and I’m glad to see it resurrected even if it’s all being done for money. Hopefully it will be worthwhile, as the Batman and Star Trek reboots have been.
Girls & Games
I came across this post in my internet wanderings while I was trying to find out what percentage of players of The Sims 2 were female (about 60 or 65 percent, by the way), and it got me thinking. What draws the female audience to games like The Sims? What qualities could a game have that attracts women in general?
I’m in agreement with Ms. Knight that games can be made to cater to a wide female audience without having to be “pink” games that nobody with a penis would be caught dead with, and that women who are potential gamers are a market widely untapped by the industry. And the differences in the way these games were made could be a lot more subtle than the hammer-hitting done by the toy industry:
I’ve always been what I consider to be a feminist, but I was turned off to it for a while in high school when I found out that it can also involve a lot of screeching and the annoying denial of any innate differences whatsoever between men and women. A while ago, however, I came back to it, determined to find a more reasonable way to believe in rights and respect for women. My sister, who went through the same process, calls this “born-again feminism.” I think that young women of my generation (and the generations to come) are going to learn to stand up for themselves without being shrill. In many ways, they already have. And hopefully, the games the corporate world is trying to aim at us will highlight the ways men and women can communicate with one another and not rely on further division between us.
