Frank Keane (Carlyle) is a baker driving down the highway when he comes across Steve Mills (Goodman) pinned inside his damaged vehicle.  Stunned, Keane calls 911 and does his best to keep Mills talking; “If he’s talking, he’s conscious, and we need him conscious,” the EMT’s keep saying.  What unravels is the story of how Mills was on his way to Marilyn Hotchkiss’ ballroom dancing class that he promised to attend on the “fifth day, of the fifth month, of the fifth year of the new millennium” with his grade school sweetheart, Lisa Gobar.  Not surprisingly, Mills doesn’t make it and has Keane go instead, to try and find Lisa and tell her he did his best to keep their date.  Although Keane doesn’t find Lisa, he ends up finding so much more in Hotchkiss’ dancing classes.  Having lost his wife recently, Keane begins to see dancing as a way to “exercise his demons” and start anew.

I have to admit, at times I questioned the integrity of this film; from the unmarketable title to the overly sentimental story, I kept wondering if this was on Lifetime previously (I’m also not saying it hasn’t been…).  But despite it’s emotional disposition and lack of testosterone, there’s no denying the grand love story at hand.  More than about love, it truly is about finding the inspiration to overcome one of life’s greatest hardships: the loss of a loved one.  Carlyle does a great job as Frank Keane; “a good guy,” as Meredith Morrison (Tomei) affectionately calls him.  You root for him, you want him to find solace, and what director Randall Miller does wonderfully and effortlessly is… he makes you care.  Even the small characters wear a sheen of pizazz and color which give the film a sense of vivacity and constant amusement.  Probably my favorite group of people are Keane’s support group for men who have had their wives pass away.  Almost everyone in the circle is a recognizable face and their banter is not only comedic, but heartfelt and insightful.  When they end up joining Keane at Hotchkiss’ Thursday night dance lessons, it’s a particularly triumphant moment that left a warm, lasting impression on me.

The film is rather fast paced, dealing with multiple narratives.  There’s the “present:” where Keane is attending these dance classes and slowly getting over the death of his wife and falling for Miss Morrison.  Then there’s the flashback: Keane in the ambulance with Mills, hearing his story.  And then the past: Mills’ story; grainy, 60s coloration to boot.  Seamlessly these all come together and provide a multi-layered tale that’s heavy on the cheese, but endearing no less.  You can tell that the director is taking his source material seriously and the actors are giving their best too.  So despite maybe finding the storyline and its themes sappy, it’s easy to get over such a factor when you see the genuine nature of this movie.

“Marilyn Hotchkiss’ Ballroom Dancing & Charm School” is probably one of the best indicators of “don’t judge a book by its cover.”  With an admittedly terrible (yet fitting) name and a pretty flowery, dumb cover, it’s easy to pass this one up over and over again.  But at a brisk 100 minutes, I encourage anyone to check this out on Netflix on their next lazy day off and see what happens; you might just be delightfully entertained.  In the same vein as “Return To Me” or “You’ve Got Mail,” “Marilyn Hotchkiss’ Ballroom Dancing & Charm School” might be destined to only appeal to an adult crowd, but I’m sure the romantic in all of us could find something to love here.

Final Say: 4 Stars. (Check ratings page on the side column)

What first took me aback was how exceptional of a period piece TTSS is.  Right from the get go I noticed how elaborately 1970s the sets were.  From the suits, to the casual wear, to the seats, to the phones, to the lamps, to the film coloration, to the hair– you feel like you’re dropped right into the Cold War watching these events take place in real time.  Even “Mad Men” can’t touch TTSS in this regard.  But that’s exactly where TTSS lost me for a while.  There’s a lot of flip-flopping going on between the past and present and the only real indicator of time were the glasses George Smiley was wearing (Gary Oldman).  And when the information is this dense, it’s hard to keep up.

Here’s what you need to know: The Circus is a group of Mi6 officials who deal with covert intelligence.  The men involved are George Smiley, Control (John Hurt), Alleline (Toby Jones), Esterhase (David Dencik), Bland (Claran Hinds), and Haydon (Colin Firth).  Although Smiley is retired (fired, actually), he’s called back in to investigate a potential mole after an operation fails leaving Mi6 agent, Jim Prideaux, presumably dead (Mark Strong).  With him he brings Peter Guillam (Benedict Cumberbatch) and the rest is the mystery that unfolds.  At least… this is a minor summation of the overall, involved plot tree.

What’s exceptional here: the acting.  Everyone is superb, embodying their characters wonderfully.  There’s an intense realism to TTSS that makes it feel more like a history lesson than a piece of entertainment.  But on that same note, I found the fun-factor to TTSS lacking.  Although I appreciate the film’s prowess, I’m not certain that I enjoyed myself.  The twists and turns are only matched by how many people are constantly entering and leaving the script.  “I remember her from earlier! Why was she important then? How is she connected now? Why was she just killed???“  Maybe I was having an off-day, but comprehending TTSS proved rather difficult and it made the impact of sudden revelations fall entirely flat while I still tried to catch up to speed.  In the end I understood everything; it all makes sense.  But the resolution doesn’t make any waves.  For me there was never an, “Ah-ha!” moment that made the previous two hour journey feel worthwhile.  Yet again: maybe I was having an off-day.

There was something I wish director Thomas Alfredson illuminated a bit more though.  Among all the timeline swapping there was a particular party where everyone involved in Mi6 (and then some) attended.  You get a glimpse into what these people lived like, not who they were at work.  These short snippets could have been lengthened to give greater emotional weight to the characters and their impending actions.  I feel, too, that maybe there could have been more flashback events that dealt with not only the party, but potentially other intimate events that made the co-workers out to be more than just work partners.  Part of my ennui certainly stemmed from a lack of investment in who these characters were; all we ever really see is who they are when they’re consumed by the current mission at hand.  That’s fine and well for a movie that’s already hugely dense like this, but this moviegoer would have easily sat an extra thirty minutes if it meant I got to know the characters better.

I liked “Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy.”  It’s a very interesting movie that has no other similar titles this year.  But I did expect more from it.  For being almost 130 minutes, I’m not sure there was all that much substance to it besides the overarching plot.  There are certainly attempts at creating a well-rounded character piece, but Alfredson misses it just barely.  As a period piece he certainly swings and hits a home run though.  If anything see TTSS for the production values and the superb acting.  Oldman as Smiley is masterfully eerie, watching him subtly control every conversation he engages himself in.  He’s truly a master of espionage and right when you think he’s accomplished nothing, he’s solved everything.  TTSS hits the bullseye for the most part… just suppose I was asking for more.

Final Say: 3 Stars.

There’s really not much meat here.  Don’t go watching “Carnage” thinking it’s going to change your life or challenge your beliefs.  It’s a play; it’s entertainment.  The focus here is the sharp dialogue and the spectacular performances.  Michael and Penelope Longstreet (Reilly and Foster) invite Nancy and George Cowan (Winslet, Waltz) over to their house to discuss a recent act of aggression between their sons.  Zachary Cowan hit Ethan Longstreet with a stick and now the parents wish to resolve the situation peacefully.  As you can assume from the title, while things start out peachy and nice, shit gets real very fast.  When the parents can’t see eye to eye, societal norms in peacemaking start breaking down and everyone begins to find an enemy in the person next to them.

This is one of those movies where the casting is just right.  Each person delivers a performance that is unique and appropriate, allowing the audience to really believe in the argument at hand, following easily through the hills and valleys of the winding conversation.  If I had to choose, I think Waltz gets the best acting award.  His sly, almost devious, and certainly intelligent character, George, slinks his way through the conversation taking sides effortlessly and attacking in subtle yet cutting ways of verbal bludgeoning.  Just the way he talked and carried himself from scene to scene made him a quietly violent force which proved to be devilishly entertaining.

Final Say: 4 Stars (Please check ratings column on the side bar)

“Carnage” is a smart, fun film that does little else than entertain, but isn’t that why we watch movies in the first place?  Certainly a sleeper hit that’s good for the high brow comedy class.

Enter George Valentin (Jean Dujardin), “The Artist’s” protagonist.  He’s debonair, wildly successful, and wonderfully personable.  He’s a man’s man in Hollywoodland and when he accidentally runs into Miss Peppy Miller (Berenice Bejo), an star on the rise, his acting career will never be the same.  Essentially “The Artist” is a love story wrapped in a character piece.  George Valentine spirals downward from grace as silent films become talkies and he refuses to make the move, but amidst the chaos, Peppy never stops admiring Valentin and what ensues is a sincere portrait of attraction and affection.

The best way to sum up “The Artist’s” wide appeal is to address it’s charm.  “The Artist” is a charming movie through and through.  It’s never offensive, everyone wears a smile, the orchestra is dazzling, and the set pieces are magnificent.  Regardless of the film being black and white, you haven’t seen a movie look this way in years; decades even.  I was taken aback by the attention to detail in every shot and definitely lost myself in the cinematography.  It truly is spectacularly well-made.  The only way to not know it’s from the 30s or 40s is because the film quality is top-notch and the musical score doesn’t sound like a grainy mess.  In fact, that’s the show-stealer right there: the orchestra.

“The Artist” is a silent film.  So of course there’s a score going on pretty much throughout the entire film.  And please allow me to tell you how wonderful it is…  In today’s film culture, soundtracks don’t always get the praise they should.  Most movie’s have fairly cookie-cutter music done by a composer who has a formula for every kind of emotion the director wants to elicit.  In “The Artist” I found myself swept away endlessly by Ludovic Bource’s composing.  It’s undeniably inventive and pushes the movie along perfectly.  I also really enjoyed the recording aesthetics.  There were multiple scenes where the right amount of ambiance could be heard on a horn or a drum kit and it gave the feeling like you could look over your seat and see a dimly lit orchestra pit following the movie.  Truly spectacular!  On the discussion of sound still, I have to make quick mention on the use of dialogue within the film.  Despite there being no sound, there are screens of dialogue that pop up at crucial moments, and this is something I feel the movie did expertly.  The use of dialogue is so scarce, but they pop up at all the right moments, giving certain scenes the perfect accent, allowing them to carry a weight most films with spoken word could never achieve.  Again: truly spectacular!

As for the performances, they’re all spot-on.  It takes a certain grace to “smile with your eyes” and everyone involved does just that.  It’s evident that those on screen are passionate about the film they’re trying to make and there’s an air of charisma that can’t be ignored.  What we see isn’t the work of actors and actresses trying to win an Oscar, but it’s more so the manifestation of sincere love for a project they’re a part of, a message they want to send.  The vivacity of the cast is contagious and when looking back on “The Artist,” all I see is a good time.

I’m still struggling with where I sit.  My thoughts going into this review said 4 stars (Really liked it)… but now that I’ve dissected it, part of me wants to award it 5 stars (Loved it).  It’s absolutely masterful filmmaking that comes from a place of genuine honesty; something that resonates deeply with me.  But I can’t help but feel there’s an X-factor missing.  Almost like I didn’t get reeled in to the story enough; almost like there needed to be one more scene that got me sucked into Valentin’s life or something that put me in the middle of his and Miller’s love.  I supremely enjoyed my experience with “The Artist,” but did I care about what really happened in the end?  Will I contemplate the story much longer than this review?

One thing is for certain, “The Artist” is a fantastic moviegoing experience.  As I opened this review with, it’s a rare piece of cinema and needs to be enjoyed.  Catch it on the big screen asap if you can– that is the whole point of the movie (you’ll even notice it’s presented in full screen– nice touch!); but if you have to wait for its DVD release, make sure to see it on Blu-ray instead.  Just short of being perfect, “The Artist” is a top-contender for 2011 and I may even have to see this one again.

Final Say: 4 stars. (Please check side column for rating scale)

There’s a poignant scene where Theo lashes out at Nat and says, “How come you never wanna fuck me?  You don’t want to fuck me, do you?”  Nat’s left speechless in this scenario, unsure what to say next.  As the omniscient audience, we know what the answer is, but the big question is, what will she end up feeding him?  You see, Theo’s starting to get it in his head that him and Nat need more sex, more animalistic drive.  He’s getting these notions from a photography client code-named “Subgirl” who is hiring him to take voyeuristic photos of her doing dirty deeds like masturbating in a park or having sex with an abrasive man and what starts out as a simple job turns into a sexual fascination.  What Theo’s not seeing though is that while maybe Nat isn’t delivering on the sex, she’s giving him so much more and she, too, wants so much more than physical pleasure.  It’s this lack of understanding that makes up the main conflict in “Monogamy.”

From a technical standpoint “Monogamy” lives and breathes like a typical indie flick from New York.  It’s a bit grainy, it’s trying really hard to be mature, and it contains a lot of dialogue meant to be gritty, but ends up feeling a bit stilted, almost like an Off-Off-Broadway production about bohemians trying to survive themselves.  But the story is actually pretty good.  The pacing is nice and by the movie’s end when all the pieces come together and there’s the big “Ah-ha!” moment, it feels rewarding; I certainly enjoyed my investment into “Monogamy.”  Chris Messina and Rashida Jones do a great job acting; this is easily Jones’ best role to date.  However, I will admit I think she was cast improperly.  Jones isn’t cut out for “gritty” and I never could see her as truly being “Nat.”  But being objective?  Yeah, she nails her performance.  There’s actually a really great scene between Messina and actor Ivan Martin where Theo is showing how obsessed he’s become over “Subgirl” and Martin gets in his face about how ridiculous he’s being that really gave the film some “umph.”  There are some intense moments that really push “Monogamy” into greatness that make it a bit more sophisticated and a bit more polished than other indie flicks of the same ilk.

If you’re perusing Netflix in need of a good, solid film about love and what it means to be in a relationship, check out “Monogamy.”  I found it worthwhile and enjoyed the performances immensely.  Just make sure you’re a fan of the genre before diving in.

Final Say: 3 Stars. (Please check side column for Rating Scale.)

Sci-fi flicks don’t get much of a spotlight.  The last sci-fi movie that comes to mind was Justin Timberlake’s, “In Time.”  When Timberlake is the lead actor in a prominent sci-fi film, something has gone wrong.  And don’t think I have anything towards JT– I’ve loved him in pretty much every movie he’s put out recently (He especially won me over with his comedic portrayal of a nerdy teacher in last Summer’s “Bad Teacher”), but try imagining him in something like “District 9″ or “Minority Report”– monumental sci-fi movies– bet you can’t picture that, can you?  And even here, I didn’t know “Limitless” was science fiction until I was about twenty minutes in.  The marketing ads made me think it was a run-and-gun action movie ripe for Summer and I’m sure most others thought the same.  Yet as I sank into my chair I started seeing that this thrill ride had a bit more meat to it than I suspected.

Immediately it’s made clear that we’re about to witness an adrenaline pumped movie-going experience with zany cinematography and bizzarro CG elements.  The intro alone is kind of mind-bending and the over-saturation of the film color creates a world that feels very foreign yet oh so familiar; typical sci-fi MO.  But within the first 20 minutes “Limitless” reveals all of its cards.  Like the CG “almost-masterpiece,” “9,” “Limitless” is clearly held back by studio restraints and too many producers trying to call the shots.  When a movie gets released between May and August and you leave thinking, “They were onto something great… but didn’t get there…” it’s almost a guaranteed bet that the director’s and writer’s main intentions for the film weren’t actually met.  “Limitless” was surely a cash cow and all the intelligence, subtleties, and grittiness got sucked out.  Even in the intro credits, there’s a prominent line of text: “Based on the novel ‘The Dark Fields’ by Alan Glynn.”  This beckoned thoughts of every sci-fi movie based on a short story by Philip K. Dick which turn out to be really bad ass.  And as I kept watching I saw a lot of really great ideas being mentioned… but never totally fleshed out properly.

In the end everything is pretty cookie cutter.  Lack of depth in characters, typical camera angles, unoriginal music score, common plot points.  “Limitless” could have been so much more cerebral.  Nevertheless, I did enjoy the movie.  For being a bit of a cheese-fest, it was still pretty entertaining.  Bradley Cooper makes for a terrible narrator, but he’s still a fun actor to watch.  Seeing his meteoric rise in success within “Limitless” feels so natural, especially coming from Cooper who kind of always looks a little mischievous and a little devious.  I also enjoyed Deniro’s parts.  One scene in particular he gets a little down into it with Cooper and you see a fire emerge in Deniro’s eyes and a tenacity in his voice we haven’t scene in a long time.  It’s like the director got this nearly washed up legend to be in his film and said, “I know you’ve gotten comfortable making crap like ‘Little Fockers,’ but dammit I’m going to make you give me one great moment in my big new movie.”

For being on Netflix, “Limitless” is a sure winner.  It’s entertaining, requires no higher thinking, and for those of us who like Jason Statham romps, it’s a bit smarter in its presentation as an action film.  There are some intensely surreal moments that occur which elevate this standard fare into the realm of “worth watching.”

Final Say: 3 Stars. (Please refer to ratings page in the side column.)

Yes, I’m still blown away by her prowess: “I’m Sorry,” “I Feel It All, “My Moon My Man,” “Past In Present,” “Sea Lion Woman,” and the wildly popular “1,2,3,4″ all come immediately to mind when thinking of her Grammy winning record.  Yet, on any given day I prefer the heart and soul that lingers on the poppy “Let It Die” in comparison to the raw, almost cold-sounding “The Reminder.”  Sure, “The Reminder” clearly got all sorts of accolades for being a work of art; how Feist and her fellow friends/musicians made it is very… artsy.  But does that mean it’s necessarily better?

Go see Feist perform live.  Her stuff jams pretty hard.  “I Feel It All” and “My Moon My Man” are increased in tempo exponentially.  Whenever possible Leslie loves to just… yell.  She squeals, harks “Yeah!” into the microphone, and altogether unleashes a near primal version of herself when she hits the stage.  While watching her DVD for a second time last night, I was getting beyond juiced when I heard the live rendition of “Sea Lion Woman.”  Feist starts breaking it DOWN… and really?  The whole band should be jamming the fuck out.  Yet as you watch them, they’re hardly playing any more intensely.  You can make your records using a method as “artsy” as you want, but come on.  When you’re clearly supposed to be jamming… you need to JAM!  And it’s right here in this moment that makes me realize Feist is being held back.

Feist’s two most independently created records were “Monarch” and “Let It Die.”  Then when she began collaborating with folks like Mocky and Chilly Gonzales, the eclectic, barren stuff started emerging.  What I would give to hear Feist be… Feist again.  If she continued to be the genius behind borefests like “The Water” and “The Park,” I would fully concede that she just made a natural progression towards the critically acclaimed music she’s continuing to make.  But as I see her really grooving on stage and look back on her previous works, I can’t help but think there’s so much more than an indie folk singer among us.  Throughout the years we’ve heard stuff like “The Reminder” and “Metals” before.  They’re delicate, masterful even, exuding careful talent around every note and curve.  But something like “Let It Die” is extremely precious.  It’s pop music that is honest and inventive.  It’s pop music that takes the talent and unique creativeness Feist and Co. brings to the indie sector and makes it accessible like a huge John Mayer single.

I love Leslie Feist, I really do.  But from where I’m standing, I think she’s capable of so much more; she has the ability to make so many more waves and move so many more mountains.  She just needs to ditch those with which she’s surrounded herself.  In that world, Leslie might just own the whole damn place.

It’s funny.  In grade school, 8th grade, to be exact, I sang a duet with my then-girlfriend in a random school production.  I was the bare-chested king from “The King & I” and my girlfriend was Anna.  We sang “Getting To Know You.”  And back then, I meant every word of that song.  Even one of my teachers pulled me aside and said, “It was beautiful watching you two sing that; I can just see it in both of your eyes and faces that you deeply love one another.”  Yet now I’m definitely more like Liz Lemon from “30 Rock” and can’t wait to pinpoint a girl’s shortcomings so I can say, “Deal breaker!” and move on.  I want a girlfriend, I really do.  I miss having someone to text “goodnight,” or someone I can count on to give me a backrub or watch a movie with.  But that “getting to know you” part is just so… blech.  Aside from finding the deal breakers, I find it obnoxious.  It’s like how Louie C.K. mentions, “I’m 40 and I made a new friend– you don’t do that when you’re 40!”  Granted, I’m only 21, but I share the same antipathy towards it.  How many times over the course of my life have I had the same discussion with new friends about movies I love, music I love, video games I love, blah blah blah BLAH.  I’m sick of those conversations and really wish I could just… know a body.  I wish I could skip past all the pleasantries and decide face to face, “So, is this going to work?”  I hate bullshitting at parties; why have a conversation with someone you’re yelling at over loud music and drunken banter when that person is NOT going to care about you the next day?  Maybe I’m just a curmudgeon and don’t deserve love or new friends if this is how I’m going to treat the matter…  But I promise I’d be the best boyfriend to anyone who meets my high, discriminating standards.

Having said that, I’m in a tough state of existence.  There’s this girl I… know.  I don’t like her…  Well, I do like her.  She’s cute, she’s friendly, and she’s certainly pleasant towards me.  So I like her.  But I don’t like her, if you catch my drift.  I don’t know her.  But I’ve encountered her enough times where there’s nothing that deters me from wanting to know more about her.  Yet after so long of being out of the game and moving past girls left and right, I find myself hesitating to take my infatuation any further.  Despite seeming like a totally sweet girl deserving of my attention, I can’t find it in me to take the plunge in getting to know her because that part sounds so boring and painful.  I know– I’m unworthy.  Hence why I can’t bring myself to just ask her on a date because I’m afraid of the potential future consequences.  God forbid I fall in love, right?  But what if I find that deal breaker and just… break her heart?  I don’t want to do that!  But that’s dating for you, yes?  Fact of life…?

All I really know is that I would love to have a specific kind of time machine.  The one that fast forwards your dating life; one that lets you see if the girl you just laid eyes on could have a good future with you.  Life is too precious, my time not expendable.  Yet if I want to find love the way I say I do, it’s about time I got over my neurotic nature and took some risks.  To get that backrub I crave I need to sink some coffee and stories into that investment and hope I make a profit in the end.

I’m not keen on dating in the 21st century.  But I gotta play the game if I plan to win at all.  Or maybe I can just keep losing…  That mind set is easy to abide by.

Please read this article and see how pointless the argument is: http://tv.yahoo.com/news/toddlers-cuss-word-modern-family-draws-ire-024407751.html

I think Levitan wins the match right where he says, “We’ve all been through this.”  That’s really part of Modern Family’s charm to begin with: the way they manage to take situations that most people/families have been through and show them in a light hearted, comedic light.  So many experiences that the characters go through have certainly reflected my own life, from the cringe-worthy, to the embarrassing, and even the most tender, sincere snippets, and that’s why I love watching Modern Family each week.  To see this fictional family go through what I’ve already done and witness how a fabulous cast and crew decides to present these all-too-familiar situations is a complete joy.  I’m 21 and still haven’t bridged that gap of cursing in front of my parents; in shows like “United States of Tara” where the kids and parents alike are all swearing, that actually really resonates with me– I sit there thinking, “Gosh, could I ever be that comfortable around my parents?”– and I’m sure this week’s Modern Family will certainly resonate with me too.  In fact, now I’m highly anticipating the episode, wondering how Cam and Mitchell do plan to deal with Lily’s newfound vocabulary.

The real issue here though is why does such a group exist?  What conservative 18-year-old girl has the drive to form the “No Cussing Club?”  That’s bananas.  Shouldn’t you be neck-deep in college applications like a normal teenager? Words are just words, too, dammit.    And the alleged 35,000 members in the U.S. who joined need to get off their high horses.  Cursing is one of the most expressive forms of communication.  Nothing soothes the soul better than yelling, “Fucking noob!” into my bluetooth when “[GFM] eloy_85″ blows me up in Uncharted or calling pedestrians who walk stupidly in front of my car “pieces of shit.”  Also, swearing is a made up concept.  Somewhere along the way when language was being invented, people decided that “fuck,” “cunt,” “shit,” and even “hell (used in a derogatory manner)” were “bad words.”  They’re just words.  For anyone who has ever been offended by an overusage of the word “fuck,” you need to relax.  Think back on your kindergarten training: “sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me.”  Your 6 year old self and all your snot-nosed classmates were onto something.

Aside from highlighting “bad words” and how its a pointless societal norm to “watch your mouth,” what about the whole “Freedom of expression” deal we’ve fought so hard to keep?  Entertainment doesn’t need to play by any rules– hence why pornography is still one of the highest grossing forms of media.  And if Modern Family wants to BLEEP out a FAKE curse word on their show to address a scenario that’s typically common in any sort of household, then they should be allowed to do it without having to justify themselves.  The fact that anyone intervened or got upset is just aggravating.  And I get it– I do… ABC is a major network that everyone gets to watch.  But there is puh-lenty of other programming on the air that is way more offensive than Modern Family could ever be.  Just look at the Simpsons– that shit is breaking records left and right for longevity and Bart probably swears at least once in every episode– UNCENSORED.

You’d think, too, with all this SOPA/PIPA talk, little miss McKay Hatch would probably realize her actions aren’t going to be very popular among a nation that’s fighting for NON-censorship on the Internet.  Whatever.  Ms. Hatch, enjoy your 2 minutes of fame;  because in our foul-mouthed nation, the one that produces R-rated comedies like “the Hangover,” “Forgetting Sarah Marshall,” and “The Forty Year Old Virgin,” the nation that made “Nip/Tuck” and “Grey’s Anatomy” huge successes, no one is going to give a shit about your views.  Yeah, when you try and attack Modern Family, one of the most successful shows on TV right now, you’re going to get some publicity.  But publicity doesn’t equal traction.  And your cause is about to be entirely stuck in the mud.

Peace.

We’ve come a long way in gaming conventions.  From regenerative health, to auto save, to the complete elimination of the HUD, someone who time traveled from the 80s or even as late as the 90s would probably be floored by what gaming has become.  There’s even a genre known as “Interactive Art” that gets thrown out as a label for groundbreaking games like “Flower,” “Heavy Rain,” and “Auditorium HD;” games that transcend exactly what “entertainment” means.  What I’m here to discuss today though is the evolution/concept of a “checkpoint.”  As I was growing up, playing games like Final Fantasy VII, Grandia II, and even Battletoads or Power Rangers: the First Movie, proposed difficult challenges not only in the gameplay, but also in where you would respawn if you died.  As my quote in italics suggests, most older games said, “Start back at beginning if you wanna screw things up and die.”  For the RPG fans, dying meant going back to a (usually) unfair save point.  So there were definitely points where you’d pump in an hour of gaming, die mercilessly and have to re-do those 60 minutes you just accomplished (or didn’t accomplish, technically).  When I was younger this was certainly frustrating, but I put up with it.  I found a way to just… soldier on and not let it ruin the game for me.  However, as gaming has evolved and Save points/checkpoints have become more frequent (and fair), I find myself unwilling to put up with the shenanigans of older titles.  For instance, I’m playing through Final Fantasy IX, and for every time that I die stupidly after playing for 30 minutes, I just can’t find the strength to relive those 30 minutes I already spent.  It’s almost like the value I place on time and my life is greater, now that I’m older, and that certainly correlates to how I view my games and the way they treat me.

Games I blazed through this Summer: Metal Gear Solid 4, El Shaddai, Catherine, Uncharted 3.  I beat El Shaddai in record time actually.  Do you know why?  Because every time I died I would float back into existence almost exactly where I fell off the edge or got the crap knocked out of me.  While an argument can be made that there’s no challenge in that, I fully disagree.  The reason why I died is because the boss or enemy or obstacles in the level decided to be a bitch and conquer me.  Why should I be punished ten fold for dying when all I want to do is get back in the fight and kill the bastard that’s besting me?  Recently I beat Ace Combat: Assault Horizon.  When facing off to Markov, the main baddie, I received no greater satisfaction that having him blow me to bits and being able to jump back in immediately and try my hand and blowing up his cockpit.  Even look at Catherine– a ridiculously hard puzzle game.  I pushed on famously though because the checkpoints were always fair– I never got sent back so far that I lost heart and gave up– and with a game like Catherine, it’s extremely easy to lose steam.  But this is exactly why these games were successful in my mind: their checkpoints.  The adrenaline never stops because I never failed an objective and became disheartened– I merely was able to add more fuel to the fire and dive right back into the action to reach my goal.

There’s really not much of a higher calling to this post: merely an interesting examination I stumbled upon.  Just by improving the checkpoints in video games, I feel the industry is creating a more intense experience.  That’s why gaming is turning more and more into a niche genre.  My father can’t operate Uncharted 3 or Battlefield 3.  His head might explode if he tried playing a fully engaged round of “Conquest” in the “Oman Gulf.”  But he did play Asteroids and even R-Type.  Because that shit was simple.  When you died you went back to the beginning and the controls were simple enough that a) you could play at any point and know what was going on and b) the repetitiveness allowed you to learn each level.  But examining something like Battlefield where online play is so important: the only thing you can get comfortable with is the map; because you’re never going to have the same experience twice.  And more than that, you have to learn each class, customize each class, learn how to use various vehicles, gadgets, etc. etc.– the list goes on and on.  When you die?  You respawn in 3 seconds and get right back in, trying to find the dick who shot you dead.  Your team can be on the other end of obliteration, but each time you respawn you’re filled with a sense of hope like, “I’m not gonna run on that mine this time, this time I’m going to bust out my frag and– oh.  That was a sniper.”  Now imagine this: you had a perfect round in Uncharted.  You’re near the end of 3, in the desert trying to be a two man army with Sully.  You hid perfectly on that rock, rolled over and grabbed the RPG, took out turret number one, shot that guy with a pistol who’s about to chuck a grenade, found a sniper, took out turret guy number two, picked up an M9 and rocked a slew of guys while you took cover, and then threw two perfectly placed grenades to blow up turret number 3.  And that was all just wave number 1.  If you had to re-do all that shit because you died during wave 2 of the enemies, how much more frustrating would the Uncharted series be? (And trust me, it’s already difficult enough as it is making it checkpoint to checkpoint).  In R-Type you just had to dodge some enemies and shoot them down; maybe you powered up your gun.  Sure, probably just as difficult and generally intense– but it’s truly on a different level.  The immersion with which games operate these days is striking and if checkpoints were still bringing us back to the beginning, I bet less games would be finished.  You have to put in a lot of work to achieve something in most great games, and nobody wants to ace a section only to re-do it.

What’s wonderful, too, is that this isn’t a petition: games do have good checkpoints nowadays.  Gaming is one of the rare industries that loves to make improvements.  From graphics, to control maps, to the soundtracks, to enemy diversity, to even how a gun fires, game companies are always looking to evolve the experience.  Some people still cling to the games of yesteryear, harping endlessly on how older shit’s better– but you’ll always have those people who are suckers for nostalgia and those handful who also do just truly like the experience better in older games.  But from a technical standpoint games are only getting better and better each year.  And so long as I don’t have to waste my time re-doing scenes I’ve mastered, I’ll continue to complete those games, seeing their stories to the end.  But I do wonder if I’ll do much time traveling and see myself through to the end of such classics like Final Fantasy IX.  Because I have to be honest: I think I’m done playing 25 hour games that actually have an extra ten hours of loss and regret tacked on.