Tuesday, March 24

Sapphire and Steel Seasons 1&2

14 30 minute episodes

Back in the 1970s and 80s, the differences between sci-fi TV in the US and the UK couldn't be any greater. Compare if you will, the original Battlestar Galactica, with it's shiny chrome and disco music, with the haydays of Doctor Who, with it's wobbly sets and crap monsters. Or the hopelessly optimistic Star Trek with the none-more-grim Quatermass serials. What they lacked in (literal) shininess, however, they more than made up for in atmosphere and setting. Sapphire and Steel was, in many ways, the ITV's answer to Doctor Who which, in the 70s, had become a lot more playful and *shudder* campy. There was still the occasional story to make you cower, but when you've got talk of Venusian kung fu and jelly babies... well, it's a little hard to take seriously. Even for Doctor Who.

Sapphire and Steel couldn't be any more different. Over six series - one story or 'assignment' per series consisting of between 4 and 8 episodes - we follow the adventures of the titular duo. We never really find out anything about them beyond what we're told in the opening titles: that all 'irregularities' will be handled by the 'forces' controlling each dimension. Heavy elements may not be used where there is life, but medium-weight atomic elements may. Of all the elements - Gold, Jet, Lead and so on - Sapphire (Joanna Lumley) and Steel (David 'I've been in almost every genre show from 1965-1998' McCallum) have been dispatched to deal with this particular case. We never find out who is behind these assignments (and one or two of the elements mentioned aren't even elements in the strictest sense) but as an intro, it's damn effective and sets the tone nicely. The characters live up to their names: Steel is hard and unrelenting, both in his tasks and his dealings with people, while Sapphire is warmer and, as people keep pointing out, incredibly beautiful. In each assignment, they show up without warning to deal with... something.

Their main foe is Time. In this show, Time is a malevolent force, capable of taking things. Once again, we're never told precisely why it's so... hungry, but that just adds to the atmosphere. It's so alien, so outside our realm of understanding, we simply can't understand it, even if we tried. The best you can do is hope to survive it and minimise the damage, help those affected by its need. The idea that Time is a sentient force, and that it can be triggered by something relatively small and benign - a train station waiting room, a children's nursery rhyme - is on a par with the greatest of Lovecraftian horrors. You're not safe. You never were safe, you just didn't know it. And you can't run. No matter where you go, Time will always be waiting right there for you. And even those who know how to deal with it don't always win.

For a show made in the 70s, it's aged pretty well. Sapphire's hair and dresses are of the time, and one of the kids in the first story has a very unfortunate haircut, but on the whole, it's nothing too jarring. You're never left rolling your eyes at the dialogue or the plot or the acting. It's occasionally a little stilted, but again, nothing unforgivable. The only really objectionable thing in the show is the kid in the first story who, in addition to being a gigantic tool, has the most unfortunate accent, sounding not unlike Little Britain's parody of Dennis Waterman. When Steel tells him he needs him to do something important, you almost expect him to reply "What, write the feem toon, sing the feem toon?" It's all a little unfortunate.

The one thing Sapphire and Steel excels in, however, is the setting and atmosphere. There's an ever-looming sense of dread in every dark corner of the screen, in every doorframe. The series uses shadow and mood as a weapon against the viewer, and it works well. The jolts are used sparingly, and while you'll be sitting laughing at them after the fact, that one moment where Sapphire's eyes are pitch black while communicating with the Dark will linger in your mind for just a little longer than you'd expect.

Sapphire and Steel never reached the same level of recognition Doctor Who achieved, even though they're very similar. The show received one run on TV at the time, and was then forgotten until Bravo picked it up some 15 or so years later, with a DVD release only coming out relatively recently. It's likely because the series was so dark and grim. The title characters aren't particularly nice people when you get down to it: any help they give is often a side-effect of their actions, rather than the intended outcome. The mission, for Steel at least, is often the only important thing, and when you consider the forces they regularly encounter, it becomes a real "needs of the few/many" dilemma. Considering how much sci-fi and fantasy in the 70s was about the Shiny Jetpack Future, about jetting off into space to make new friends and have fantastic adventures, the slow-burning darkness of Sapphire and Steel probably stood out a mile off. Ironic, considering the 80s was undoubtedly the age of the anti-hero. In this case, Sapphire and Steel were as much out of time as the menaces they so often encountered.

Monday, March 23

Forbidden Siren

92 minutes

Doing an adaptation of a game is a dangerous thing. It seems to get stuck in the writer/director's heads that it's a game first, and a story second. So, rather than embellishing the story that's already there, they follow the structure of a game, to the point where you can usually pick out exactly when the next 'boss fight' is about to occur. And that's when the film actually tries, most just take the path of 'well it's only a game, it's not like anyone's actually going to care' and just screw around for 90 minutes, making you feel dumber with every second. It's gotten to the point that, with one or two possible exceptions, it's easy to argue that there has never been a decent live-action game adaptation.

Into the ring steps Forbidden Siren, an adaptation of the crushingly hard survival horror games of the same name. Released to coincide with the second game on the PS2, Forbidden Siren tells the story of a girl and her family who move to the remote Yamajima Island. The family is there to seek treatment for the little brother, who is unwell for some vague reason. While there, the girl is told that there is one rule amongst the islanders that she must never break: if she hears the sound of an air raid siren, she is never to go outside. After finding a diary describing some worrying events, and dealing with the strangely suspicious locals, she eventually hears the siren, and tries to get to the bottom of the strange grip it has on the villagers.

This is a film filled with fanservice. Lots of little references to the games have been thrown in everywhere if you know where to look: the shots taken from the viewpoint of characters stalking Yuki, the heroine, are shaky and feature heavy breathing, just like the trademark sightjacking ability from the games that lets you see things from another's perspective. The song featured at several points features the same music as used in the ritual at the beginning of the first game, and as sung by a character in the second. The red water is another big nod, being a key plot device in all of the games so far, and the island itself is supposed to be the same one visited in the second game. The problem is, it all feels so tacked on. It's the same problem with films like Constantine and Wanted: you're left with the nagging feeling this was an unrelated script someone changed a few details on to make closer to the source material. Beyond the visuals and the like, there's really nothing linking this to the games at all.

Okay then, as an adaptation, it's tenuous at best. How does it rank as a film then? Well, sad to say, not that much better. The biggest problem lies with the pacing. By the point where you think the story's starting to pick up, there's only 20 minutes left. The buildup goes on way too long, and by the point they finally start answering questions, it's already too late. Then there's the ending, pulled right out of an M. Night movie. I'm really not joking, the Big Reveal tries to turn the whole movie on its head, and instead, comes across as laughable. Yes, it explains why the townspeople were acting so weird the whole time, but it's such a hackneyed twist, it's laughable. Throw in a final 'Or Is It?' moment at the end, and you'll be rolling your eyes the entire time. At least the direction is better, with a nice use of red (another element from the game) in every scene. It's subtle at first, but as the movie continues, it becomes more and more prevalent, the final shots using it as a malign invading force.

Forbidden Siren could have been better. It should have been better, considering the excellent storylines seen in both games.The film just sort of happens with no feeling of threat or tension, and virtually no shocks at all. Considering this is a film based on a horror game that prides itself on both, that's unforgivable, and the lacklustre final twist ends up feeling like the twist added in a kid's campfire story, right up there with 'because it had turned to wood" and "but who was phone?" It's not a bad film, but then again, it's not particularly good either. An interesting curio, but little else.

Monday, March 16

Bloodrayne 2

PS2

9 hours 39 minutes

Hey there, kids, do you you like any of the following:

  • Vampires
  • Needless violence
  • Explosions
  • Gigantic blades
  • Sassy take-no-crap-from anyone chicks
  • Red hair

You do? Then mister, have I got the game for you! Allow me to introduce you all to Rayne. She's a dhampir (half-human, half-vampire) who works for the Brimstone Organisation, a group dedicated to the eradication of all supernatural nasties. In the last game, she wiped out half the Nazi war machine single-handed, all in a quest to find her father who had killed her mother, blah blah blah. Let's face it, the plot is irrelevant here. All that really matters is that she's hot, she dresses in skin-tight leather and kicks more ass than a mechanical ass-kicking machine set to full-auto, right? Fuck yeah, I'm right!

In all honesty, it's easy to be cynical about the Bloodrayne games. They feel like they were designed by writing up a checklist - probably one not too far off the mark from that one up there - and trying to hit as many points as possible. They're shallow, bug-ridden and reek of early 2000's marketing zeitgeist. But stab me with a mythical weapon and drain me of all my blood if they aren't fun as hell!

First thing you'll notice is the camera. Actually, that'll be the second thing you notice, first is Rayne herself, striding out into battle in a black PVC dress and hair that I last saw in a bottle marked 'haemorrhage red'. By herself, she's interesting to look at, in all the various costumes you can eventually deck her out in, but her voice actress, Laura Bailey (better known for Fruits Basket, of all things) manages to make the whole thing that little bit more interesting, somehow being able to redeem even the most facepalmable one-liner. Its her that makes the character, and, if we're being honest, probably a large portion of the game.

But back to the camera. The camera in this game has four main aims: focussing on Rayne's cleavage; focussing on Rayne's ass; trying to focus on both Rayne's cleavage and ass at the same time; and pissing you off when you least want it to. And in all these respects, it succeeds admirably, zooming in on her butt when you're surrounded by about a dozen mooks, giving you a pristine shot of her rack when you're failing to make a jump for the Nth time, and making you wonder if they really did spend more time on giving her standard outfit just the right amount of sheen than tightening up the controls just a little more (the correct answer is, of course, 'yes'). Once you get to grips with the beast, it becomes a lot more manageable, and being able to get a closeup of Rayne's assets whenever you want stop the camera from hurtling all over the place (or at least minimize the damage) makes the game a lot more enjoyable.

The camera isn't the only thing that makes combat fraught with danger, as enemies hace a nasty habit of corner-trapping you, repeatedly pummelling you to within an inch of your life. It's not uncommon to be pinballed from one foe to another, resulting in large chunks of your life vanishing before you can even catch a glimpse of Rayne's Peak District. Your main weapons consist of two giant blades strapped to your arms, with pointy bits on the obligatory high heeled shoes for good measure. When you kill certain enemies, you'll receive extra attacks, or extensions to your basic combo. Most of the time, you won't use them though, as your feed attack trumps pretty much everything. Don't forget, Rayne is part vampire, and that makes almost every enemy you see a health pack on legs. While feeding, you can rotate yourself and your victim (which is impressive considering she usually wraps her legs fully around the poor/lucky bastard she's nomming at the time, moaning suggestively all the while) to shield yourself from further attacks, healing yourself and protecting you from further damage. It doesn't work on everyone - some enemies are armed with melee weapons and can fend you off (knocking you to the ground and hitting you square in the groin. Each and every time), and some are just too big, being hideous mutants or incorporeal humanoids formed out of bugs. In the case of the former, you can either knock their weapons out their hands, if they're standard mooks, or just get behind them and start chowing down that way.

Your other main weapon is your harpoon, which is mainly used in the 'puzzle' elements of the game. I use the term loosely because virtually every puzzle involves using the harpoon to launch a hapless minion into some pointy bit of furniture, a fan, a printing press, or in one memorable moment, the blades of a downed helicopter. Doing this for pure giggles isn't exactly frowned upon, however, as it nets you Carnage Points. Keen to prove it's not just another mindless hack-and-slash, you can increase your health and rage meters by ripping people to shreds in the most creative means possible, be it tossing them off a roof, hurling them into electric fences or executing them while feeding. It doesn't add too much to the basic gameplay, but it gives you a valid reason to brutalize your foes beyond 'what, that stuffed rhino head was just looking bare without a flunky bleeding on top of it'.

And finally, because there clearly wasn't enough blood in the game, you've got your guns. At the end of the first batch of stages, you come across the Carpathian Dragons, vampyric weapons that - get this - run on blood! Yes, while feeding, you can plunge them into your human lunchbox and suck out their blood, then fire it back at their friends! They're the only firearms you'll acquire throughout the game (which will piss you off no end when you encounter enemies running around with Pancor Jackhammers. It starts off as a piddly little peashooter, but along the way, you unlock other modes that fill in the traditional shotgun/machine gun/rocket launcher roles. The guns can also level up, increasing their destructive capabilities and ammo counts, but unless you make an effort to use them at every opportunity (which is pointless when the feed attack is a confirmed kill, health up and human shield all in one) you'll only use them for one or two bosses at most.

It's impressive that a game this shallow still manages to be such fun. It's the gaming equivalent of the brain-dead action movie, pure and simple. There's no deep meaning to be found, no important lessons to be delivered, just endless action from one end of the game to the other, all delivered in a black Japanese schoolgirl outfit which, of course, shows plenty of fanservice (one of about a dozen or so outfits unlocked when you complete the game, and no, I'm not making this up - you can't say Terminal Velocity doesn't know their audience). It shouldn't succeed as much as it does, and often doesn't, being needlessly frustrating at times. But it manages to retain that certain something that keeps you playing in spite of yourself, and that deserves some respect.

The ending of the game promises an all-out war between Rayne, the Brimstone Society and the remaining vampires. but so far, we've seen nothing, probably because of Uwe Boll. Allowing him to brutally rape your license get away with a gigantic tax dodge in cinematic form make a movie out of your game is never a good idea, but Terminal Velocity, Rayne's parents, went the extra mile and allowed him to do it twice. Twice! That's grounds for auto-Darwination right there in my book. I mean, I know the games weren't going to win any awards for outstanding excellence, but no one deserves that! (as an aside, one of his upcoming movies, Stoic involved a poker game where the loser is forced to eat, puke, then eat the puke. Anyone who's witnessed one of his films will know just how that feels) There's always a chance we'll see a third game, but alas, it looks like Boll has killed this vamp stone dead.

Thanks, Uwe.r

Sunday, March 8

Silent Hill: Homecoming - because even the fourth wall can't protect you forever

Static...

In my restless dreams, I see that town.

Silent Hill.

You promised me you take me there again someday.

But you never did.

Well, I'm alone there now...

And you're stuck playing a shoddy port of a mediocre game.

I hope you get raped.

Twice


Love

Mary Maria The Demons Ah, who the fuck knows anymore