Tuesday, December 25, 2012

An Anthem to Individualism



Before Lois Lowry wrote The Giver, Ayn Rand wrote Anthem, another dystopian tale that concerns a collectivist society and its suppression of individual liberty.  Both books are short and plainly written, but profoundly thought-provoking in their simplicity.

Anthem is even shorter than The Giver at a mere 100 pages, which makes it a welcome alternative for those who are intimidated by Rand’s 1000-page whale of a novel, Atlas ShruggedAnthem is unique in that it’s told mostly through the first-person plural perspective; this voice reflects the utter extinction of the individual in the story’s universe, where collectivism has so influenced society that men are now incapable of identifying themselves as singular beings, instead referring to themselves and their brothers as “we” and “they”.  The book’s protagonist, named Equality 7-2521, inhabits an unadulterated socialist community ruled by a elite class known as the Scholars, who assign to each member of the country a position at the age of 15 which they must hold until their bodies break and they enter the house of the Useless.  Equality 7-2521 has been taught to worship the body of mankind, to respect all men equally as members of the community, to faithfully adhere to the laws of sameness, and to condemn all ventures that promote individuality.  Special friendships between individuals, whether they be casual or romantic, are also forbidden, for only two entities can share such relationships that exclude the state at large, and the Scholars preach, “What is not done collectively cannot be good.”  By the time he turns 21, Equality-2521 has already committed several criminal acts, including befriending his fellow street-sweeper International 4-8818, falling in love with a beautiful woman, asking questions about science, and surpassing his peers in intelligence.  It’s only a matter of time before he tries to break his bondage to the state and pursue the prosperity long denied to him.

While Anthem contains a lot of weighty, philosophically challenging material for its brevity, it’s inferior to The Giver for several reasons.  Rand tends to be overly heavy-handed in her defense of capitalism, and Anthem comes across as especially smug.  An adamant left-winger who reads Rand will likely find her condescending, arrogant, and narrow-minded, while a dedicated conservative/libertarian will judge her style to be unsubtle and preachy.  On the other hand, the conservative themes of The Giver are only accentuated by the subtlety of Lowry’s narrative and the lack of a clearly provided “right answer” to the book’s philosophical questions.  Rand often makes the mistake of telling her readers what to believe, but Lowry never stoops to lecturing in The Giver.  On another note, Anthem feels less like a novel and more like an extended sermon on Rand’s man-centered religious beliefs.  The book consists of a thin plotline that exists mainly to convey Rand’s message about the individual and the collective.  Having reached the 200-page mark, I can say that Atlas Shrugged has far better character development than Anthem, but on the flip side Atlas is 20 times as long and the length is palpable.  Lowry, in contrast, delivers narrative and political philosophy simultaneously in The Giver, never compromising her characters or stories for a message.  To compare the two novelists with a visual analogy, Rand writes lectures and wraps them in a story, whereas Lowry writes stories and wraps themes around them.  The Giver reads more like a harmless work of fiction than Anthem, and so it’s probably been responsible for converting more liberals than its predecessor of 50 years.

Nevertheless, Anthem is a fine introduction to Ayn Rand’s philosophy of Objectivism that one could read through in about 2 hours.  It immerses the reader in a strange but frightful setting and invites one to ponder the role of a government in shaping its citizens’ lives.  75 years before our time, Rand wrote a passionate rebuke to the belief that “we are in this together”, and unless Americans heed her warning against collectivist utopia, slavery to the community is their future.

Sunday, December 23, 2012

Hellf, no


 
Will Ferrell’s Elf is an unorthodox specimen among movies in that its middle third is the most remarkable. Most movies start competently, slow down in the middle, and finish with a gripping bang.  This pattern dates back all the way to Star Wars, which opens upon an exhilarating chase through space, plummets with the introduction of its whiny protagonist Luke Skywalker, then soars again at the end in a heroic rebel mission to destroy the Death Star of the evil Empire.  In contrast, the middle scenes of Elf are hilarious while its first and last 15 minutes are some of the worst ever filmed and a sad picture of how low our society has fallen.

Will Ferrell stars as Buddy, who is “actually a human, but was raised by elves” after he stowed away to the North Pole in Santa Clause’s bag as a baby.  Though Buddy fails to match the efficiency of his fellow slaves (he can only build 85 etch-a-sketches daily, 900 short of his quota), he shares their unwavering sense of altruism and the so-called Christmas Spirit, based on 3 principles: 1. Treat every day like it’s Christmas, 2. Everybody can get on the nice list, and 3. Singing for all to hear is the best way to spread holiday cheer… none of which have anything to do with CHRISTmas, but anyway…  Buddy’s elf father feels it’s time for him to enter the human world where he belongs, and so he sends our hero off to New York City to find his biological father, who incidentally is an evil corporate businessman with a position high on Santa’s naughty list, a man charged with murdering his employees’ wives, using foreign banks, sending his workers on luxury cruises overseas, and cheating on his taxes for a decade.  At this point, Elf transforms from an insufferable kiddie flick into an uproarious fish-out-of-water story with Will Ferrell’s typical, sophomoric spin (potty jokes and gross slapstick abound).  Buddy quickly shows himself to be as unsuited for the big-city lifestyle as George of the jungle.  One of his funnier mishaps involves his first meeting with a mall Santa, an encounter that starts with giddy, childlike joy then deteriorates into anger and shock at the deceit propagated by this shameless impostor, who “sits on a throne of lies”.  Buddy translates his loathing into action by swiping the man’s beard and provoking a vicious chase around the store that culminates in several Lego skyscrapers being smashed to shards.  Elf’s humor mostly sticks to this formula of slapstick and oddball comedy, and the movie mimics Napoleon Dynamite in that its plot consists of many random episodes only loosely sewn together by a broader story arc.  The movie excels when it doesn’t try to tell an emotionally satisfying story and focuses merely on crafting silly scenarios around its premise.  Here are some of Elf’s better lines.

Buddy: (Upon entering a mail room): “This place reminds me of Santa's Workshop! Except it smells like mushrooms and everyone looks like they want to hurt me.”

Miles Finch (a dwarfish man mistaken for an elf by Buddy): “You feeling strong, my friend? Call me elf one more time…”
*Awkward silence*
Buddy: “He’s an ANGRY elf.”

Buddy: “We try to stick to the 4 main food groups: candy, candy canes, candy corn, and syrup.” (his candy addiction becomes a running joke)

Elf falls apart when it starts to preach the true meaning of Christmas, as perceived by the spiritually dead filmmakers.  The last 15 minutes of the movie are basically a song of worship to a false idol who represents a kind of deity not only to children but also to mind-numb adults.  Spoilers henceforth: right before the climax, Buddy voluntarily leaves his home after ruining his father’s business conference.  Wandering New York City, he happens to witness Santa crash-landing in Central Park; being a loyal elf, Buddy immediately dashes to the scene.  Santa explains that that his sleigh fell after the machine’s Clausometer went dead.  Santa’s nightly flight depends on belief in his existence, and by the looks of things New York City has a severe lack of belief, which seems like bull as the place is run by Michael Bloomberg, who gladly poisons his brain with all kinds of fairy tales.  To save the day, Buddy, his girlfriend, and his younger brother have to “convert” enough doubters to Claustiantiy by singing the mother of all Satanic gospel songs, Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town. Santa’s sleigh gradually gains altitude as more and more people join the chorus, finally leaping into the sky when Buddy’s cynical, grumpy dad casts off his chains of denial and “believes”.  And so everybody is united in one cultish mob through the positive forces of collective idolatry and fuzzy feelings of Christmas Spirit.  To say that Elf’s ode to Santa Claus is harmless drivel is an understatement: the movie’s final 15 minutes are a heinous love song to secularism and group-think, the 2 forces that most threaten America at large and the meaning of Christmas on a smaller scale.  It.  Repels.  Me.

In summary, Elf is a great movie when it asks to laugh at its main character, not with him.  The middle of the film concentrates solely on comedic effect and for that reason it succeeds, but the rest of it is an abysmal combination of every measure to devalue Christmas from every insipid TV holiday special.

Grade rating: B+ for the middle. As for the rest, to quote my favorite radio movie guys, Avoid It Like The Plague.

Thursday, December 13, 2012

The Slender experience



When my friends suggested that we socialize at a birthday party by playing a single-player computer game called Slender, I was a little skeptical.  Video games usually are not the best medium for instigating communion and fellowship, unless they’re competitive multiplayer games with motion-tracking rockets, plasma rifles, magnums, and needlers.  I soon learned that Slender is an exception to this rule.  While the independently developed horror title is a rather awful game to play alone, it stands beside Apples to Apples as one of the loudest, wildest, and most chaotic party games of all time.  I’ll let you decide whether that’s a good thing or not; I stand resolute in my hatred of Apples.

Slender is like Minecraft in that it’s a 1st-person indie game with few controls, bad graphics, and a regrettably limited storyline.  The former, unlike the latter, sells itself as a “survival horror” game and is the first of its genre that I have experienced, unless you count Halo: Combat Evolved (which threw countless parasitical zombies at me in the final half, most of which were more annoying than terrifying), Halo 3 (which had occasionally dark atmosphere and elements of horror, but also lost its effect by the final act), or Metroid Fusion (a GBA game starring Samus Aran that’s surprisingly intense and creepy).  Slender opens in a misty, seemingly uninhabited forest with few landmarks, winding roads, and a lot of crickets.  You as the player control some stranger out for a walk (my friends insist you’re a little girl, but you wouldn’t know that unless you checked Wikipedia or something, because the game makes no attempt to identify your character) who is armed only with a dim flashlight to illuminate the haunted woods around you.  Unfortunately, this is not the flashlight of Alan Wake and is incapable of inflicting damage to your foes.  The goal of Slender is to collect 8 mysterious pages scattered around the forest at various landmarks, including oil tanks, rock formations, abandoned trucks, and the infamous bathrooms.  These pieces of paper contain ominous warnings and sketches that are meant to shed light on the game’s antagonist, the slender man, a disturbing figure that pursues the player more and more ardently as the page tally increases.  The slender man, who resembles a gaunt, ghostly white, tuxedoed man with ridiculously long arms and no facial features, attacks in an unconventional manner, for he seeks to destroy not your body but your mind.  The very act of staring at the slender man makes the player’s character insane and causes the screen to get staticy.  Prolonged visual contact with the slender man will end the game in a noisy and obnoxious sequence in which the creature gets you and you meet an ambiguous demise.  If you somehow manage to beat the game by collecting all 8 pages, the slender man terminates your character anyway, as Caesar Flickerman and the people behind How It Should Have Ended explain.


The best thing to be said about Slender is that it’s free, albeit with the potential cost of a virus depending on where you download it.  The worst is that it’s a horror game which isn’t scary and relies on a gimmick in order to frighten the player.  Unless you play Slender in a dark room and mute all surrounding noises, the game fails to deliver any substantial jumps, which are all it offers even in the dark.  Slender is more startling than it is terrifying due to its lack of story and character development.  Because the game makes no attempt to personify the slender man, he is no more than a video game obstacle, like the ghosts of Pacman or the koopa troopas of Super Mario Bros.  Nor is he a scary obstacle, because his relationship to the player is unrevealed; nobody can tell you what the slender man does to your character, though numerous theories likely circulate the web.  The challenge of surviving is also nonexistent, for if you define survival as the absence of the death, Slender makes it impossible to not survive, as your character can never die.

I will say out of fairness that Slender is a very tense game that will cause many people to literally leap out of their seats, which is why it’s more enjoyable experienced with associates.  As I said earlier, the game utilizes several gimmicks to make the player jump, first of which is the foreboding heartbeat sound effect that kicks in after you find the first paper.  Slender is marked more by suspense than by action; for great periods of time you will trudge through the forest aimlessly, often running in circles, all the while having to endure the sound of your thumping heart.  The player grows so accustomed to the sheer monotony of this noise and the emptiness of the woods that he gets a serious jolt whenever either is broken by the appearance of the slender man.  Even more surprising than the sight of the slender man is the huge blast of sound he makes whenever he “teleports” to the player’s location (in reality, he never moves in the player’s vision, which further highlights the low production value of the game).  Nothing is more effective at disrupting Slender’s uneventful gameplay than the trumpet of the creature’s approach.  On top of its simplistic but unnerving sound design, the game also inspires a deep hatred of turning corners, especially in the claustrophobic corridors of the crapper.  Navigating the bathroom is in many ways the defining feature of the game, because the player knows before entering every intersection that the monster could be right around the bend; once one penetrates it, the building’s tight enclosure becomes painfully obvious.

Unfortunately, these elements are overshadowed by huge flaws, most notably the game’s pacing.  I’ve played Slender twice with a group of 10-some friends, and although we all (OK, mostly the girls) laughed and screamed together for about 45 minutes, I got so bored of wandering the forest and finding nothing that when the slender man finally did show himself, I purposefully ran into him rather than fleeing.  Slender distinguishes itself more by slow and monotonous gameplay than by true horror, which is why I rushed to end the round.  A good video game, like any book or movie, should be mentally stimulating, well-written, and entertaining in its own right.  While the reactions of various people to Slender are mildly interesting, the game itself is downright dull and unremarkable and fails to meet the basic requirements for a horror game.  For those who wish to play a truly scary game, I recommend buying Alan Wake, Metroid Fusion, any of the old Infocom text adventures (particularly the Zork trilogy and The Lurking Horror), or either of the Portal games, which are characterized not only by humor but also by dark atmosphere, suspense, and an overwhelming sense of isolation.  Although none of them are free, they offer far more fear than does Slender.

Thursday, December 6, 2012

Dictionary of debate elitist code words

Mark Steyn, the Joseph Addison of his day, has written extensively about racial code words, but no one has broached the topic of debate elitist code words.  Here are some of the many terms and phrases debaters subtly employ to make themselves sound more knowledgable/hip.  This is not a complete list; suggestions are welcome and may be added.

Brink – an extra subpoint for those unsatisfied with the complexity of 4-point disadvantages.

Calculus – synonymous with “comparison” or “weighing”.  Debaters who stink at math love this one, because they can warp to an alternate universe in which they're modern-day Euclids.

Cross-apply – synonymous with “again”.  An excellent non-response to damning arguments that sounds responsive but most often isn’t.

Dehumanization – synonymous with "bullying".  Whenever the affirmative team kills some people or takes away their benefits, the negative speaker will assert that they dehumanize the victims of their plan.

Double-bind  synonymous with "It's a trap!"  Either their bomb works and kills off hundreds of people or it fails and they kill us.  These arguments often fall under the "false dichotomy" fallacy.

Fill-in-the-blank-spec – synonymous with “insolvent”.  Flinging this text speak around will confound parent judges, but pick up college alums, who like to think they’re smarter for knowing what a “spec” is.

Framework – roughly stands for “this is the only argument that matters”.

Perm – Slang for permutation.  Synonymous with "not mutually exclusive".  More text speak that will win college judges over and alienate those judges who don’t belong to a counter-plan club.

Press – synonymous with “argument” or “contention”.  As applied to stock issues, especially topicality. 

Roadmap – synonymous with “outline” or “direction”.  Debaters often give one, but rarely adhere to it.

Shell – again, synonymous with “outline” or “strategy”, I think.  It has no strict definition that I’ve yet heard explained, but it sounds cool, so people drop it in random places.

Turn – synonymous with "The opposite is true."  Actually one of the better arguments one can make in team policy, hence the disposition of so many debaters to misuse it blatantly.

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Lincoln Trades Vampires For History


It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a mainstream media in possession of a foul reputation, must be in want of a narrative; this truth applies equally to film critics and political commentators.  In the case of Steven Spielberg’s latest drama, Lincoln, the narrative emphasized the voice of Daniel Day-Lewis; other factors contributed to the critics’ reactions, but it was the voice primarily that drove their 4-star reviews.  Since these dumber-than-dirt movie analysts always presume audiences will share their same interests, this subject of a 200-year-old man’s speech volume hogged most of the reviews I read prior to watching the movie, so I really had little idea of what to expect from Lincoln, other than statist propaganda (Spielberg pulled a Joe Biden and called Republicans pro-slavers prior to the release of the film).  Strong acting, a decent script, and detailed artistic design all left me pleasantly surprised by the credits-roll; while Lincoln doesn’t stand beside other historical dramas, such as Rabbit Proof Fence or Spielberg’s own Empire of the Sun, it’s an intriguing examination of the American democratic process, the debate over slavery, and the efforts of one man to abolish what he viewed as a monstrosity against nature.

The movie focuses solely on the final months of Abraham Lincoln’s presidency and the central conflict of the story takes place not on a battlefield but in Congress.  By 1865, Lincoln (Daniel Day-Lewis) has already earned a polarizing status: some view him as a hero fighting for liberty and human rights, while others view him as a tyrant who has overstepped his Constitutional limits in order to ruin the South’s economy and deprive slave owners of their “property”.  Now Lincoln resolves to infuriate the latter group even further by backing a 13th amendment to the Constitution that would abolish the institution of slavery once and for all time.  Most Republicans in the House back the proposition, but they don’t have the 2/3 majority necessary to overrule the voice of the Democrats, who are obstinate in their opposition to abolition and negro enfranchisement.  Abe’s struggle to unite his party, round up enough Democrat stragglers to approve the amendment, and so legislatively end the Civil War is central to the film.  For its very long running time of 152 minutes, Lincoln addresses a very short segment of the 16th president’s command, yet it explores its subject with a lot of depth and analysis.  This method of storytelling will likely irk some viewers, who will deem the movie slow and boring, but I would immensely prefer it over another drama that rushes through the whole Civil War within the same timeframe.  My mother will testify that I’m a slow reader who’s indisposed to skimming; apparently that same principle carries over into my movie-going appetites.  Besides the Congressional fight over slavery, the film also touches on the relationship between Lincoln and his son, Robert, played by that Inception guy Joseph Gordon-Levitt who’s seemingly acted in a movie every other week since Dark Knight earlier this summer.  Having seen the spiritual and literal (amputations were a common treatment for the war’s wounded; the severed limbs were thrown in mounds not far from the road) trials that war veterans endure, Robert yearns to join the Union Army and serve his country, but his parents would have him become a lawyer instead.  Robert appears in only a couple scenes, and though the audience doesn’t get to know him that intimately, I felt sympathy for him and his father alike.

As other reviewers have noted, Lincoln's cast is excellent.  Daniel Day-Lewis captures Lincoln’s authority and confidence impeccably, and the frustration he bears against his fellows is palpable.  Sally Field is fine as Lincoln’s wife, Mary Todd, although her character is rather minor in the grand picture.  Tommy Lee Jones assumes the role of Thaddeus Stevens, who represents the radical right of the Republican party that supports not only emancipation but also full voting rights for negroes and punitive actions against former slave-owners to achieve “social justice”.  Stevens is perceived as an extremist by most in the government, and even Lincoln doubts the expediency of his views.  At one point in the movie, a Democrat asks the representative if he takes the statement “All men are created equal” literally.  Stevens gestures to the man and answers, “How can I say that all men are created equal when some are naturally endowed by their creator with dim wits?”  Jones credibly conveys Steven's passion and sarcasm, but his performance largely owes to a strong script.

The movie’s dialogue is much more sophisticated than that of the average Hollywood creation, and sometimes borders on Shakespearean.   “He is more reptile than man!” is one example of the witty mud-slinging in Lincoln’s Congress, the sort of invective that’s sadly forbidden in today’s real-world, politically “correct” environment, wherein it’s scandalous to even call your opponent a “food stamp president”.  With that said, the script does make several desperate attempts to sound "cool" to high school/college viewers, mainly through the gratuitous insertion of 21st century profanity.  The audience of my theater got a good laugh when a character exclaimed, “Well, I’ll be effed.”  Likewise, everybody chuckled when Lincoln told his associates, “Nothing makes the English poo faster than a portrait of George Washington.”  Both these situations, not to mention the numerous gahdamns that taint Lincoln’s speech and others’, felt forced to me, although they’ll doubtless become running jokes between homeschool debaters.  The underlying assumption of the film also seemed illogical to me. We’re supposed to believe the ratification of the 13th amendment would effectively end slavery and the Civil War, but the Confederates were essentially rebels who had cast off all the laws of the federal government.  Why would the same parties that ignored Lincoln’s previous Emancipation Declaration pay any heed to the government’s 2nd call for abolition?  Repetition does not guarantee reform, especially since the southern Democrats viewed such calls for change as an assault on their property rights and way of life.  Overall, though, Lincoln is a well-written drama filled to the brim with emotionally-charged discourse, moving speeches, and reflection on the American political system.

Lincoln is just as impressive on a visual scale.  Costume, set, and art design all merge to create an authentic portal into the mid-19th century.  The cinematography refrains from the negative influences of shaky- and multiple-camera.  Instead, the camera allows the actors to dominate their scenes, by lingering on them for long periods as they deliver their lines without breaks.  In the same way, music is noticeably absent during scenes of heavy dialogue, which forces all the audience’s attention onto the actors.  The approach pays off well and underlines the power of the movie’s performances.

Lincoln is neither the best Spielberg movie nor the best historical movie I’ve seen, but it is well-made and educational to a certain extent.  My fellow debaters would probably get their $10’s worth from the theater, but everybody else might as well wait for the home video release, as it’s not a big-screen movie.   It’s a darn shame that Spielberg deliberately released Lincoln after the election, as the Democrats are the clear villains of the movie, but what would you expect from an out-of-touch billionaire?  Riddle me this: what do you call it when a Hollywood superstar with a 9-digit salary indicts a political candidate for being too rich?

Grade Review: B+ (where A is Empire of the Sun, Jurassic Park, or Indiana Jones 1 & 3)


Trailer Reviews (compilation of ads from The Dark Knight Rises, Raiders of the Lost Ark, and Lincoln.  Some of these have already entered and departed theaters.) -

Alex Cross – stupid action garbage about a guy who likes torturing people to death and the Tyler Perry who must hunt him down.
Chasing Mavericks – King Leonidas trades his spear for a surfboard.  Like all sports movies, it's based on a true story.  “Radical...”
Frankenweenie – B&W stop-motion film by Tim Burton about a boy who reanimates his dead dog.  Judging by the trailer, the movie is short on plot, but it looks creative nonetheless.
Gangster Squad – Sean Penn stars in a movie about shooting and killing people.  Oh, and there's sex.
Iron Man 3 – Ben Kingsley considers himself a “teacherer”.  Lots of explosions and Transformers-style destruction.
Jack Reacher – More pointless sex and violence, this time with Tom Cruise.
Killing Them Softly – Another movie where the heroes are murderous thugs, this time with Brad Pitt.  Also flaunts an anti-America message.
Les Miserables – Little sneak preview played at Indy in which the producers boasted that they got Hollywood actors instead of real singers to perform the numbers in their musical.  Good for them (*heavy sarcasm*).
Looper – A science-fiction thriller about assassins called loopers who eliminate people from the future through time-travel.  Eventually these loopers are assigned to kill their future selves; we see this happen to Joseph Gordon-Levitt, who finds himself face-to-face with his 70-some version, Bruce Willis.  This appears to be the Inception of 2012, with an intriguing, original premise and awesome special effects.
Paranormal Activity 4 – I don't think my friends and I will be making a spoof trailer based on this one.
Red Dawn – It's a remake of an anti-commie cult classic I never saw about teenagers who repel a Soviet invasion of the United States.  This time the North Koreans are the baddies, confronting a headstrong opposition led by Thor and Peeta.  The acting looks bad, but the film promises fun in its junky, cheesy, explosiony way.
The Lone Ranger – This film adaptation of an old TV show looks visually impressive like Gore Verbinski's other movies (Pirates of the Carribbean trilogy, Rango) and claims the acting of Johnny Depp, but the trailer doesn't reveal much in the way of story.  Then again, neither did the awful Rango trailer.

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Comic Review: The Halo Graphic Novel


The Halo Graphic Novel was released in 2006 and compiles 4 untold stories from the science-fiction universe, only one of which is worth reading.  The one is called Last Voyage of the Infinite Succor and is set in the middle of Combat Evolved right after the Covenant inadvertently release the ruthless alien parasite known as the Flood.  Instead of taking place on the surface of Halo Installation 4 as the game does, the story intends to reveal the Covenant’s initial reaction to the Flood through the eyes of a sangheili commander named Rtas Vadum, who will later claim the title of Shipmaster and become a supporting character in Halo 2 and 3.  The comic opens in the desolate swamp of the 6th mission, where a number of the Flood manage to hijack a Spirit dropship, which they subsequently fly off the ringworld and ram into the Covenant cruiser Infinite Succor.  Rtas Vadum is training his soldiers when he receives word that the neighboring ship is under attack.  Expecting to find no more than a party of humans, the general swiftly gathers his men and flies by phantom to the Succor.  His former assumptions are soon quelled when he discovers the true culprit behind the ship’s raid, and what Vadum thought would be an easy victory escalates into a desperate struggle for survival.

This short story is a thrilling and disturbing look at the culture of the Covenant and the terror inspired by the Flood.  Amid all the green ooze, gore, and gunfire, the reader gets an interesting glimpse into the worldview and customs of the Covenant species, especially the elites, who hold values of courage, duty, and selflessness similar to those observed by our own troops; the novel effectively dispels the limited notion that the Covenant are just targets to be decimated by Master Chief.  The book also achieves moments of tragedy, particularly when the protagonist decides to slice open one of his wounded so as to circumvent his transformation into a horrific monster.  The art by Simon Bisley offers an intriguing portrayal of the Flood which is a noticeable departure from their design in the games but no less scary at any rate.  The combat scenes, many of which involved lethal swordplay between the commander and the reanimated bodies of his comrades, are gripping.  Overall, Last Voyage is a captivating thriller with ample amounts of suspense and action.

None of the other comics are long enough to tell an interesting story, numbering only 16 pages in length each.  One of them details an operation to test a new edition of Mjolnir armor, another shows how Sergeant Johnson escaped from the Flood after the video footage terminated in Combat Evolved, and the final story looks in part at the Covenant invasion of New Mombasa and the civilization that existed before it.  The Johnson comic is stripped entirely of dialogue and depends more on grotesque depictions of mutated human “combat forms” than anything to drive its plot.  The New Mombasa tale is told primarily through a boring, lifeless monologue, has a cartoonish art style, and is ultimately overshadowed by the much larger, more detailed game ODST that followed several years after the graphic novel.

In the end, only one of these 4 comics is worth reading, and for no more than $5 preferably.  Neither this graphic novel nor Uprising feature Master Chief for more than a few panels, so if the legendary Spartan hero is your main attraction to the Halo series, then you’re better off reading the Halo encyclopedia or one of the novels, such as the Fall of Reach, which so far seems like an Ender’s Game rip-off to me but is enjoyable brain candy nonetheless.  That, or you can go buy Halo 4.  Were it so easy...

Friday, November 16, 2012

Comic Review: Batman Knightfall


With the release of The Dark Knight Rises earlier this year, comic book fans yearned to learn more about the movie’s primary villain, Bane.  Batman: Knightfall, co-written in 1993 by Alan Grant, Doug Moenich, and Chuck Dixon, is an ambitious series in 3 fat volumes that should satiate the curiosity of those who are eager to witness his origins.  While it’s overly long, somewhat disheartening, and eventually boring, Knightfall deserves inclusion in the libraries of all Batman fans.

Dixon is credited with writing the pilot to the series, Vengeance of Bane.  The unnamed man who becomes the story’s villain grew up in a damp and dingy Caribbean prison called Pĕna Dura, which is devoid of light and defined by brutality.  Before he had reached the age of nine, he had already murdered his first enemy with a knife; the jailers showed him no mercy for his youth, exiling him to the most miserable room of the prison, a solitary pit “in a more ancient part of the world, where men are thrown to suffer and die”.  By an inconceivable act of strength, the boy endured the rats, the floods, and other hardships of his chamber, emerging from the ten-year ordeal far stronger than any of the pit’s other criminals.  During his isolation, he had harrowing visions of a monstrous bat, which he came to view as his nemesis and vowed to defeat in mortal combat.  While he awaited the day when he could escape his prison and kill the legendary Batman of Gotham City, Bane occupied his time with exercise mental as well physical, consuming books at a rapid rate.  Eventually, the man was selected as a test subject for a powerful, stimulating drug called Venom, which is administered to him through a system of cords and an intimidating mask.  Bane used his newly acquired superstrength to break out of Pĕna Dura and hijack a helicopter to Gotham, taking a band of elite scalliwags along with him, including the falconer Bird, who originally told him about Batman.  Jumping forward to the present day, Bane engineers a diabolical plot to bring down the Batman, and it starts by releasing the denizens of Arkham Asylum.  Bane is an intelligent villain, if not a courageous one, and he knows that Batman will be easier to fell after the other freaks of Gotham City soften him up, which is exactly what happens over the next 10 or so issues, as Batman runs frantically around the city without rest, nullifying threats from villains like the Ventriloquist, Mr. Zsasz, Killer Croc, the Joker, and Scarecrow (who incidentally gets a very intriguing and well-written subplot later in the book that doubtless inspired his treatment in Batman Begins).  In the 13th issue, Bane finally moves in for the kill and delivers a backbreaking blow to Batman readers which won’t lose its impact for a hundred years.  “I was wondering what would break first: your spirit, or your body?”

** Spoilers from this point forward. **

The biggest problem with Volume 1 of Knightfall is that its central hero, Bruce Wayne, is out of the action for half the story, which becomes dull and even more monotonous after his departure.  The authors’ replacement Batman is a young friend of Tim Drake, the current Robin, named Jean-Paul Valley, who has some anger management issues and a controversial understanding of justice.  While the original Batman mostly aimed to incapacitate his foes and deliver them alive to the authorities, the new Batman thinks that he should enforce the law and its punishments all by himself, using absolutely any means necessary, including terror, torture, and murder.  He eventually finds time to modify his costume, completing his dark transformation into the figure of Azrael.  Robin disagrees vehemently with Jean-Paul’s philosophy and questions Bruce Wayne’s wisdom in selecting him to carry the mantle of the Batman.  And so the latter half of the book proceeds, with the dynamic duo mopping up bad guys, Robin complaining about Azrael’s methods, and Azrael treating Robin like a naïve, little kid, which is not too shabby a comparison.  There are many arguments about the role of a vigilante and the rules that bind him in his pursuit for justice, and while the theme is suitable for a Batman comic, it’s so overdone here that the constant quarrelling between the two crimefighters started to annoy me.  The novel is also excessively long, stretching about 200 pages of plot across more than 600 pages.  In this sense, Knightfall is the comic book equivalent of M. Knight Shyamalan’s The Last Airbender or, on a slightly higher level, Stanley Kubrick’s 2001.  The illustrations of the book are better described as cartoons than art.  None of the artists manage to inspire a sense of awe or wonder in the reader, which is disappointing considering Batman’s rich heritage of art.

** Spoilers end here.

Where Knightfall excels is the development of its main antagonist, who is intelligent, conniving, and downright intimidating.  While none of the other villains match his sophistication in character development, they don’t have to, as they all turn out to be mere pawns in Bane’s grand plan.  If I see one problem in the book’s depiction of Bane, it’s that he comes across as a coward, who gladly lets other men fight his own battles.  Bane has no such weakness in his film debut, choosing to fight Batman on even ground without the backup of his henchmen.  Alfred is also a fine character in the series who has no shortage of sarcastic remarks aimed at Tim and his curious habit of flicking through television channels rapidly to find “something to watch”.

If I had $20 to burn, I’d probably take a friend to see The Dark Knight Rises before buying Knightfall again, but for those who have seen the movie a sufficient number of times (at least twice), the 1st volume is a good 6-hour diversion.

Monday, November 5, 2012

Socialist Monopoly

This is the third member of a 4-part series on products which subliminally attack classical liberalism and free market economies.  The final installment will be a two-parter Imax 3D review of Sid Meier’s addictive and strategic computer game, Civilization 3, on which I might persuade my dad to collaborate, as he’s actually won it several times, unlike I who have started many games and finished none.  Darn that greedy warlord Tokugawa.

Monopoly as described

Some of you might remember my controversial arguments concerning the beloved family board game Life, which I defamed as socialist propaganda designed to incite class envy and entitlement mentality.  While the Game of Life certainly deserved the full blow of my criticism, it’s a relatively “moderate” game when contrasted with its distant cousin, Monopoly.  The Parker Brothers’ classic not only serves up a plethora of class warfare, but the conflict that plays out around the game board can be described as a kind of microcosm of humans’ natural opposition to taking risks, which are so crucial to the survival of a capitalist society.


Monopoly in Realville

Monopoly, like Life, is loaded with communist, utopian ideals, including the income tax (self-explanatory), the school tax (so that more kiddies can be indoctrinated into statism, become Democrats, and vote for more school taxes which will redistribute even more money from homeschooler parents to teachers’ unions), the poor tax (which is a sin tax on the immoral practice of not being poor… I think), the luxury tax (a toll levied upon the consumer who dares to buy products which aren’t total crap), and the property tax (financial punishment for the criminal activity of owning things, i.e. on private property), all of which are coercively collected by the corrupt and greedy bank, not the government.  In the ideal nation, the ruling class would not have to put a gun at the head of business owners in order to provide “charitable” causes with funding, but as the situation stands in Monopoly and New Deal America, deadly force and violation of property rights are necessary to serve the “common good”.  However, these aspects of Monopoly all seem trivial when juxtaposed with the fears it inadvertently instills in the minds of its players.

Two things are certain in Monopoly: jail and taxes.


The concept of Monopoly is that players move their figures around a game board, buying properties and paying rent on the land owned by others. By the wheel of fortune – sorry, wrong game.  Monopoly has dice of fortune – players will acquire a greater or smaller percentage of the tiles than their opponents do and will proceed to win or lose based on that factor.  The more players involved, the slower the victory will be, for when the number of competitors exceeds 3, an individual very rarely manages to obtain all the members of a set or railroad, which are essential to a rate of income substantial enough to win the game within 10 hours.  For this reason, players have the option to trade or sell their properties among themselves so that they can charge higher rent and collect money faster, but such exchanges of land barely ever happen, as players fear the possible consequences of any risk they take.  Those who play Monopoly demonstrate the natural, human apprehension of change, the reluctance to go beyond the status quo and to break away from a life of mediocrity.  Monopoly discourages players to let go of any squares they possess because such an action could allow their opponent to pull ahead, and thus nobody ever takes risks during the course of the game.  Without risks, capitalism collapses and life devolves into the sort of unbearable limbo that defines the community in The Giver, where the free will to make choices is denied due to the potential cost of making a wrong choice.  Such a life is meaningless, moronic, and monotonous; the stupidity of running around the game board, landing in jail occasionally, bribing your way out, passing Go, collecting $200, and immediately giving that dough back to the bank in income tax soon becomes apparent.

Monopoly is a slow game in theory and practice.  It requires an excruciating amount of math as few of the rental fees are multiples of 5; this requires the player to constantly trade in $5 bills to the bank in return for $1 bills, whether he’s giving change to someone staying on his land or paying exact rent to another homeowner.  The Game of Life and Monopoly have many things in common, and one is that they play faster on a computer, which does all the mindless addition and subtraction for you.

In conclusion, Monopoly, like Life, is not so much about pulling oneself ahead as it is about holding everybody back, the integral purpose of socialism.  The game is rigged to make prosperity almost unachievable, using taxes and disincentives to trade in its ruthless war on the individual.  As such, it deserves a boycott from all who love America and want to see its foundations restored.

Wednesday, October 31, 2012

On Listening

The Author's Files now takes a break from a series of comic book reviews to share the following encomium/maxim essay, written in the classical style.  I was motivated to write an essay on this topic because I think it's undervalued in today's society, especially among teenagers.




A wise woman once said, “The secret to talking is listening.”  To master the art of beautiful speaking, one must acquire an attentive ear as well as an eloquent tongue, for the skill of locution requires one to hear the words of others.  The benefits of listening are numerous and the detriments of neglecting it abundant.  The man who listens to others will have the prized ability to endear his friends and understand his enemies, but he who shuns the wisdom of listening will only offend his friends and foes, gaining neither knowledge nor respect.

The man who listens has several advantages over the man who does not.  On the simplest level, the attentive man has a much more intimate connection to his friends than the man who doesn’t listen; this is evident because humans desire companions who can articulate their own beliefs but also hear opinions contrary to those they hold.  The most agreeable individuals open their ears to conflicting mindsets and worldviews, even those with which they disagree.  Likewise, good friends not only share experiences from their own lives but more importantly commit to hear stories they have not heard; those joined in true friendship must be willing to listen before they speak.  Yet there is a greater value to listening than mere popularity: knowledge.  In the act of listening to his adversaries, the attentive man acquires a better comprehension of their stance and all its flaws, and thus simplifies his burden to refute their arguments.  An old maxim counsels people to keep their friends close but their enemies closer, and the wise man, by allowing his enemies to explain the rationales for their positions, keeps them far closer in his mind than he would if he were to ignore their false teachings.

The man who fails to listen to others invokes enmity and embraces ignorance.  Through his adverse habit of interrupting and talking over others, he will frustrate his friends and distance his foes even further.  He who interrupts the conversations of others exposes his blatant disinterest in their concerns and suggests that his thoughts are more important than anyone else’s.  This disposition is perceived by all as rude and off-putting; thus, people are less likely to befriend a man who is unwilling to listen to them.  Furthermore, the man who despises listening is more prone to ignorance than his fellows, for by refusing to hear the arguments of his opponents, he handicaps his ability to rebut them.  In contrast, the man who has lent his ears to both sides of a given issue is better equipped to argue against either of them.

In the same way that good generals look to history for the best strategy to seize victory instead of relying on their own intuition for success, so too does the man who listens obtain more wisdom than the man who brashly talks over others.  For he who has studied the mistakes made throughout history is less likely to repeat them, and he who notes the words of his friends can acquire twice the knowledge he’d otherwise possess.

There are many current examples and political figures one can draw upon to demonstrate the wisdom of listening.  Mike Rowe, host of the popular television show Dirty Jobs, knows that an attentive ear is more valuable than an active mouth.  Although Rowe is the only man on the show whose name is nationally recognized, he acts mainly as an observer while allowing the American workers he meets to do most of the talking.  In this way, he learns more about the dirty careers central to his program and conveys more information to his audience.  The 4th century saint, Basil of Caesarea, also deemed it wise to hear voices of different ideological leanings.  In his address to young men on the right use of Greek literature, he recommended that Christians read the myths of the pagans as long as they kept their souls oriented in the right direction, towards God.  In contrast to these two figures, talk radio is populated with rude and intolerant people who have no intention of hearing viewpoints different from their own.  One example of this set is Clyde Lewis, the host of a nationally syndicated radio program called Ground Zero.  One October night, Lewis was crafting a somewhat paranoid case for stopping the use of unmanned aerial vehicles (or drones) in military operations; he expressed his opinion by employing faulty logical reasoning and mentioning fairly suspect evidence that drones are computer-operated and kill 3 times as many civilians as militants.  His claims went mostly undisputed for the first half hour, but when 2 callers phoned in to deconstruct his arguments, Lewis erupted into an uncontrolled furor, yelling over his guests and denying them any opportunity to make their points.  In so doing, Lewis not only lost a chance to learn the truth about drones, but also harmed his reputation in the eye of his listeners, many of whom will never tune into his program again.  One can also see the prudence of listening in recent presidential debates.  In the first presidential debate of 2012, Mitt Romney surpassed Barack Obama in persuasiveness and delivery partly because he paid attention to the incumbent’s statements and responded to all of them directly.  Obama however just reiterated the views he expressed formerly whenever he spoke, never refuting Romney’s points.  If he had listened closer to the arguments Romney made, Obama might not have lost so much ground in the polls after the debate.  But if Obama showed an abject ineptitude for listening, his running mate Joe Biden displayed an complete aversion to it.  When debating Paul Ryan, Biden closed his ears to the words of his opponent, laughing openly at them and deriding them as “malarkey” and a “bunch of stuff”.  Even more egregiously, the cranky old man went out of his way to interrupt Ryan at every possible moment, 82 times in total, instead of listening and patiently waiting for his turn to speak.  As a result, Bite-Me lowered his standing even further in the public eye, an impressive feat given his past blunders, and came away as the clear loser of the debate in gentlemanly conduct.

Thus we see that it is better to give attention than to receive it, for wisdom is derived from listening, not speaking; but men who interrupt and speak over their associates draw only irritation and resentment.