#ReleasetheTiredCut

I’ve put off discussing Zack Snyder and the recent DCEU news surrounding him for a while. There are two reasons for why. The first is that I’ve said a lot on his involvement in the franchise before, so saying more would be redundant. The second is that I don’t care about this recent development. It’s like, what else is new? But it didn’t end there, so I can’t avoid it.

See, a while back it was revealed that Snyder, director of Justice League right up until a family tragedy pulled him out of Hollywood, had a first print of his film stored somewhere. This is misleading for several reasons, most-notably because it wasn’t even a working one and was unwatchable, but its existence got DCEU diehards who were unhappy with Joss Whedon’s revisions worked up enough to create a hashtag demanding it be released in its original, unedited form. This went on for a year, until WB finally caved and announced its release for HBO Max.

On one hand, this being released at all is interesting. Directors often make compromises on their vision during editing, as that’s where their movies really take shape. Having an “original vision” come to life is exciting, as sometimes the original vision’s better than what we end up with. That Blade Runner only became a classic after the director’s cut came out proves that. Plus, it’s sometimes cool to see what’s changed between versions.

On the other hand, the way in which this came about feels disingenuous. Ignoring how editing’s a thankless process that can cause burnout, a lot of this feels like a response to the toxic vitriol that followed in the years since the original story. This isn’t to say that everyone was toxic, most weren’t, but many of the most-vocal fans of The Snyder Cut were loud, disrespectful jerks who dominated the conversation with complaints of “Joss Whedon Disney-fying” the material for “children who can’t appreciate high art”. Ignoring that superhero movies, even the good ones, are meant for the lowest common-denominator, it elevates The DCEU beyond what it is: edgy, grim-dark filmmaking that failed to resonate with most people. I’d also argue that it diminishes what Whedon brought to the table, but that’s for another day…

Regardless, it’s happening, and now there’ve been talks of bringing back other films to experience them in their unedited forms: Suicide Squad went through changes? #ReleasetheAyerCut. Batman Forever had an original version that made more sense than what we got? #ReleasetheSchumacherCut. The second Superman film wasn’t what was originally intended? Didn’t The Donner Cut already happen?

The problem with this is that directors don’t always know what’s best. We’ve seen that with how the first ever Star Wars movie was rescued in editing, transforming it from a bloated mess to what we love. Editing’s a thankless job that often goes unnoticed when done well. I should know, I edit most of my pieces on this blog!

Besides, the director’s voice isn’t the only one that matters. It’s important, yes, and much of the movie couldn’t exist without it, but other voices are equally as crucial. There’s the screenwriter, for instance, who provides the dialogue and stage notes for the director and actors. There are the actors, who recite the lines. There’s the DP, who frames the shooting. There’s the conductor for the music. There’s the special effects team, who make all the fancy visuals. And there are hundreds upon hundreds of crew-members responsible for making it all go smoothly. The director simply unifies these voices.

Demanding a director’s cut purposely ignores all those voices in favour of one. And that’s not fair. I know the above information contradicts “auteur theory”, the idea that the director’s the true voice of a project, but it’s true. Especially since, as I said before, the director doesn’t always know what’s best. (Look no further than George Lucas and The Star Wars Prequels for that.)

It’s really easy to become attached to a project based on the director. I’m not innocent in that regard. We all want our favourite directors to make their movies their own way, even if they’re bad. But sometimes it’s important to know when a ship has sailed. I say this knowing that I’ll probably never get to see the unaltered versions of The Original Star Wars films because of George Lucas’s stubbornness.

As for The Snyder Cut? It’s happening now, even if not in the way people intended. Does this mean it won’t be interesting to see how the two versions of Justice League compare? Not necessarily. Does this mean it’ll be the better end-product? That’s not off the table. Now, do I want this for every movie that’s been heavily-interfered with from now on? No, especially given the years of toxic vitriol.

Still, my only regret is that I don’t have HBO Max, nor can I afford to pay for it. Seriously, $15USD a month for a streaming service? Absolutely not, even if it has enough content to last a year without getting bored!

2013 in Movies: A Lamentation

COVIDtine’s been really exhausting. Usually at this point, I’d have already seen a handful of Summer movies at the theatre, be they action, comedy or animation. This year, however, I haven’t been to the movie theatre since March, when I saw Onward. It’s been trying waiting out a global pandemic, made less-helpful by so many countries messing up their responses, but it’s had me thinking about 2013.

For those unaware, or don’t remember, 2013 was terrible for Summer movies. It was terrible for movies in general, with most big hitters debuting in time for Oscar season, but the Summer months were notoriously awful. Not since the late-90’s had releases been so vapid and/or disappointing, with most high-profile releases falling flat. So what better time to reflect on 7 years ago, right? Here goes:

The year began like most: after a drab Winter, as well as an early-Spring that was equally barren, we got a glimmer of hope in early-May with Iron Man 3. Helmed by Kiss Kiss Bang Bang visionary Shane Black, who’d later direct The Nice Guys, the movie was promising: an MCU film from one of Hollywood’s most-subversive action writers? That’s a dream come true! And did it deliver?

Well…somewhat. Ignoring the twist reveal, the movie, while a step-up from its predecessor, buckled under the weight of its expectations. It was a big movie with many great moments, but it couldn’t live up to its promise. In short, it disappointed. And it was still The MCU’s best offering that year.

That disappointment trickled into every big-budget release that year. Star Trek into Darkness had its moments, and it was well-acted, but it couldn’t shake screenwriting and directing issues. It also ripped off a better Star Trek movie with the Khan angle. Essentially, it was a big, bloated and underwhelming mess. So the season wasn’t looking promising.

This was the frustration of 2013: most of the tentpoles were either underwhelming, awful, or both. Whereas DC’s previous outing, 2012’s The Dark Knight Rises, left audience members polarized, their 2013 offering, Man of Steel was a train-wreck. Whereas there were usually 2 or 3 big-budget animations to hold younger audiences, the biggest, high-profile release was Monsters, University. It was a tough year to get hyped for anything, and the biggest crowd-pleaser, Pacific Rim, wasn’t even that great.

You know what didn’t help? Waiting for good releases. That was painful. In a normal Summer, it’s not uncommon to wait weeks between releases. 2013 had several weeks in a row with multiple films that were badly-received. It says a lot that: a. I saved money by not watching movies for several weeks in a row. b. my favourite movies of that Summer were This Is the End, a comedy about 5 Hollywood actors surviving The Apocalypse, and The World’s End, a comedy about 5 friends bar hopping during a covert invasion. When I wasn’t reducing movie-watching, I was watching people hold onto their humanity on-screen. Clearly, I’m a fan of schadenfreude.

If there was a silver lining to 2013, it’s the indie dramas. Of the 17 films I watched pre-September, most were low-budget, independent dramas. That’s not necessarily bad, though: I loved Mud and The Way, Way Back, and my frustration over missing Fruitvale Station in theatres was a nice change of pace. But it wasn’t the same. I craved big-budget comedies, animations and action films, three experiences that weren’t being offered in a satisfactory manner.

Fortunately, everything turned around come September. Right as I was about to give up on 2013 altogether, along came Rush. And Prisoners. And Gravity. And a slew of incredibly high-profile dramas. If the first 8 months of 2013 were a wasteland, filled with nothing but high-budget garbage, then the last 4 months of 2013 were the saving grace. It’s frustrating that Hollywood was holding out that long, waiting until the Fall and Winter for the big guns, but it was worth it! Not enough to forgive most of the year, but worth it!

It helped that the Fall/Winter months were compensating for much of the earlier misgivings. With the exception of Thor: The Dark World, arguably The MCU’s worst entry, those few last 4 months felt like an apology for the earlier ones: no good action movies? Have The Hunger Games: Catching Fire. Disney left you wanting with Monsters, University? Try forgetting Frozen for the next 7 years. Even The Wind Rises, which I’d see in January of the following year, and The Wolf Children, which’d come out the year before in Japan, showed that there was good stuff in anime.

Regardless, it all felt like overcompensating. Which leads to the final question: why mention this?

Two reasons. The first is obvious, that being boredom. I’m bored and need something to do. COVIDtine’s been taxing for many reasons, and writing’s surprisingly therapeutic. That, and it gives me a chance to vent about 2013.

The second is perspective. So 2020 won’t let me go to the theatre? It could be worse! I could be scraping the bottom of the barrel for gold, assuming it’s even there! I may have only seen a handful of movies in theatres this year pre-pandemic. And yeah, that sucks. But pre-COVID’s track-record was better qualitatively than 2013’s was for most of the film year. That accounts for something, right?

But I digress. It’s been frustrating regardless, so why not lament about simpler times? It’s not like this pandemic’s gonna lift soon, right? (But seriously, stay home and wear a mask in public. Don’t be selfish.)

Don't Be a Chicken!

Aardman Animations. Despite never getting the mainstream recognition of, say, Studio Ghibli or Pixar, thanks largely to their niche storytelling, they still have an excellent track-record. Whether it’s their character models having jovial faces constantly, their British humour, or even tackling bizarre concepts in fun ways, Aardman’s mastered Claymation. Which is why it hurts to be critical of them when they make bad decisions. Case in point: Chicken Run.

Those who’ve followed me since ScrewAttack’s heyday will know that Chicken Run’s one of my favourite animated films. I even included it in a Top 15 list that, sadly, no longer exists. It’s a great movie, and it pays homage to one of the greatest chase movies ever made, The Great Escape. Yet it never crossed my mind that a sequel could be milked from its premise, as it ended conclusively. But having discovered some upsetting news, I’m not sure I want one anymore.

See, Chicken Run recently had a sequel green-lit. The idea’s curious enough, but then there was the announcement that its leads, Mel Gibson and Julia Sawalha, wouldn’t be returning as Rocky and Ginger. For Gibson, this makes sense, as his behaviour in the years since has been questionable, and Aardman would rather not be associated with that. But Sawalha not returning raises eyebrows, as the reason given, that she’s “too old”, doesn’t add up.

Let me explain.

Voice acting, unlike in-person acting, is tricky. It’s not as appearance-oriented, as your voice is what matters, but it’s equally as demanding. If Tom Hanks is indication, it might be more demanding, as all of your energy has to go into your voice. If you’re not giving it your all vocally, it’ll show.

In that sense, I can see why Aardman wanted to replace Sawalha; after all, she’s in her 50’s, and voices do age. Considering the strain of voice acting, it’s not unreasonable to want one that’s capable of the stresses of the microphone. Especially since a lot can happen in 20 years to a person’s vocal cords. It’s bad enough when you strain it once, let-alone constantly!

But I have to still call bullocks. For one, even when factoring in the aforementioned, VAs are capable of voicing characters at advanced ages. The late-June Foray was voicing Rocky the raccoon well into her 90’s. Even in mainstream animation, Jessie was voiced by Joan Cusack for over 20 years, while Elastigirl survived two movies with Holly Hunter. Even Mark Hamill has been doing The Joker off-and-on since the early-90’s, and his voice has considerably changed since then! So Sawalha being “too old” feels disingenuous.

Two, older VAs have voiced younger characters before. Older woman have even voiced children, boys in particular. Wendy Lee was the original dub voice for Takeru, an 8 year-old. Brianne Brozey was the official dub voice for Tomoki, a 9 year-old. And let’s not forget Tara Strong, who’s been voicing Timmy Turner since the early-2000’s. Considering the ages of these three women when they started their work on these characters, it’s disingenuous that Sawalha’s age was a factor here.

Three, we live in an age of technology. Voices have been scrubbed over and cleaned up for decades, like when one of the voice actors in Animaniacs hit puberty. And given that some voices can be artificially replicated for VAs who can’t make a session, it’s not like there aren’t ways to fix aging voices. Couldn’t Sawalha record her lines and have Aardman polish them in post? Is this impossible? I don’t get it.

Four, and this is especially important, I don’t think Sawalha’s voice has changed that much. She recently shared herself rerecording her lines online, and the change was really subtle. Sure, there might’ve been a slight difference, but it’s nothing that couldn’t be fixed in post. If anything, her rerecording’s the best argument against being recast as is!

I understand wanting to recast someone. It happens in Hollywood for a variety of reasons-health, puberty, scheduling conflicts, scandals, death-and it happens constantly. I also don’t think that Sawalha owns Ginger, even if she helped create her. But that doesn’t mean she can’t still voice her because she’s “too old”. She’s in her early 50’s, for crying out loud!

It’s also not like Sawalha’s committing vocal blackface. She’s not. Ginger’s not a person, she’s a hen. Unless hens become personified and can think independently, I don’t think she’s breaking any moral boundaries, either. So why does it matter if she’s 20 years older?

I wouldn’t be annoyed if this reasoning didn’t hamper plenty of actresses. It seems like adult actresses are only good for a few years, fall into a black hole, and then resurface years later as mothers or grandmothers. And that’s sexist. I mean, is that all women are good for? Being single for a while, then being maternal figures later? This isn’t something they asked for, right?

There’s not much I can really do, sadly. Sawalha has already written a statement, which you can find here, so it’s not like this went by unnoticed by her. I only wish Aardman had given a better reason than her age, especially considering how voice acting actually works. And who knows? Maybe they’ll reconsider? Only time will tell!

The Existential Superhero

COVID-19 has presented a unique challenge to entertainment. Usually we’d be well into Blockbuster Season by now, with the superhero movie as the big cash-cow. However, with a global pandemic keeping people inside, movie chains and movie production have both suffered. Movies have been forced to either delay their openings or release on streaming, and the big-tent superhero films have been halted altogether. It’s frustrating, to say the least.

Yet COVIDtine has given me time to ponder what I never thought of prior, including something I’ve been flirting with for a while now: why are superhero movies made the way they are?

Now, I’m not going to spend time dissecting the relevance of superheroes in 2020. Not only do these movies make tons of money at the box-office, but they don’t release nearly as frequently as detractors claim. For relative figures, we get about 10-12 superhero movies a year. There were more than double that number of musicals and Westerns yearly in the 50’s and 60’s. We’ll survive.

I’d like to, instead, shift the conversation to how these movies have changed, as well as what they’ve had to say about society as a whole. Because art doesn’t exist in a bubble, it’s always a response to what came before it. Movies, one of the most streamlined forms of art, are no different, catering to various groups’ fears, concerns and anxieties simultaneously. It only makes sense that the superhero movie, which gained its footing during the Carter presidency, would evolve to stay relevant.

I’ll start with 1978’s Superman: The Movie. Released in the years following The Vietnam War and President Nixon’s resignation, the movie is a response to American fatigue with its own exceptionalism. Comes Superman to remind people that Americans still have what it takes to be great. They can still be a nation of supermen, provided they adhere to a moral code. It’s cliché, and the film addresses that, but it has its cake while eating it too.

Superman: The Movie would spawn a franchise, including a sequel with two versions, but it’s a contrast to the 1989’s Batman. If Superman: The Movie was a response to the Carter years of post-Watergate distrust, then Batman was a response to the Reagan/Bush Sr. years of mass-privatization, Reaganomics, Cold War paranoia and staunch conservatism. If Superman: The Movie was a lighthearted fluff-piece, then Batman was its dark, heavy counterpart. If Superman: The Movie was silly, then Batman was serious. And while Batman might feel hokey by today’s standards, especially in light of the themes presented in modern superhero films, it successfully captured the paranoia and uncertainty of the late-80’s while being crowd-pleasing.

Like Superman: The Movie, Batman would see a slew of sequels that’d inevitably run the franchise into the ground. Unlike Superman: The Movie, the Batman IP would fall victim to the “late-90’s Blockbuster curse” that’d make Summer releases feel gluttonous and excessive. I feel bad for even slamming Batman & Robin openly, especially in-light of its director’s passing. Sure, it’s not “good” by any means, but it’s no more corporate and pandering than many of its contemporaries. It feels like a victim of 90’s excess, no doubt due to the economic boom and “first-world problems” brought on by Clinton’s presidency.

Nevertheless, the damage was done. And while 1998’s Blade would make a valiant effort to rehabilitate superheroes, it wasn’t until X-Men in 2000 and Spider-Man in 2002 that that’d be successful. Both films took their concepts in different directions, but they felt like direct responses to those superheroes that’d come before them. For the former, the movie was a response to the glut of the 90’s. It was a serious movie that dealt with serious themes, and it did so while catering to older fans. In contrast, Spider-Man would show the accessibility and everyman appeal of superheroes, all-the-while feeling like a response to post-9/11 disillusionment.

With this success came the inevitable reboot of Batman with 2005’s Batman Begins. A darker reimagining of Batman that’d spawn two equally-successful sequels, the film felt like a commentary on Bush Jr.’s neoliberalism, including its views on the uber-wealthy. These ideas would be expanded on in The Dark Knight, but the parallels remained. This movie could’ve only been made during the Bush Jr. years, it has his presidency’s fingerprints all-over it.

Which leads to Iron Man and The MCU, as well as the current superhero landscape. While Iron Man began as a commentary on late-American attitudes toward Bush Jr. and The Iraq War, especially in its discussion of WMDs, the franchise that’d spawn from its success would broaden its scope to include global ideas of how superheroes effect the public. Themes of superhero accountability, population density, isolationism and global unity, to name a few, would be tossed around frequently. While these themes would be tackled with varying degrees of success, they played to the public’s growing distrust of politicians and world governments.

And now we arrive at the current landscape of superheroes. It’s true that, on some level, the batting average of these films is far better than even a decade ago, thanks to actual fans of these properties helming them. But that doesn’t interest me as much. I’m more intrigued by what these superhero films have to say about society. Like the post-Nixonian Westerns of the mid/late-70’s, the superhero film’s in a state of self-reflection. 42 years after Superman: The Movie, the genre’s become contemplative.

Is this good or bad? I can’t say. There are pros and cons to having a genre be reflexive, and we’ve seen both with the superhero film. For every deconstruction ala The Incredibles or The Dark Knight, we’ve gotten entries like Man of Steel to balance them out. But that there can be room for these movies in an increasingly-populist genre impresses me. It shows how flexible the superhero is.

I know that superheroes require a huge suspension of disbelief. In the real world, a Batman-type character would be another shameless billionaire “fixing” the mistakes that he created. Even ignoring that, there are ethical and moral quandaries that arise from these movies. Some might even call them irresponsible, and there’d be due cause! After all, why watch something that promotes policing crime without accountability?

Still, while this is a valid question, it ignores what the superhero has demonstrated over the years: flexibility. Flexibility of concept, flexibility of themes and flexibility of ideology. Whether tackling Carterism or Reaganism, the superhero film has stayed relevant by appealing to what we expect from it in our day and age. And because it’s always been evolving, no doubt as a response to our ever-changing values, it’s clear it isn’t disappearing anytime soon. Unless Hollywood collapses, because you never know!

Harping on Harper's Magazine

Life is trying. I say that in light of recent events, be it The Coronavirus or how political figures globally have been embarrassing and frustrating people. There’s lots going on that’d stress anyone out, hence I’m conflicted about writing this. Why put myself through more stress? Call me a masochist, but I’m discussing Harper’s Magazine and their recent…I guess you could call it a “slip up”?

Harper’s Magazine, a publication that still doesn’t pay its interns, published an academic-level letter about public discourse. I won’t copy the full text, it’s verbose and long-winded for something so short, but it argues that not engaging in debate without freaking out is bad. It rails on “cancel culture”, even if it doesn’t use that phrase, and argues that exposing bad ideas, not shutting them down, is the best method for eliminating them.

There’s lots to unpack, like what constitutes as “open debate”, but what bugs me is the people who’ve signed it. Some, like Malcolm Gladwell, I have no issue with, especially if you know what they do for a living. But then you have names that make me scratch my head. A few even make me angry.

I won’t spend too much time whining about the document. While it bugs me on many levels, as many “victims” of cancel culture haven’t really been de-platformed, I agree with aspects of it. I find there’s an ingrained bias against those that don’t line up with the masses 100%, and so this feels like a kumbaya response from 150 people across the spectrum. But while it’s a nice sentiment, especially in this day and age, the signatories and their backgrounds raise more questions about the letter’s authenticity than the publication wants to admit.

Take Noam Chomsky, for instance. Anyone who’s encountered Israel discourse has heard the man’s name. He’s vehemently anti-Zionist, and he’s been openly criticized for some of his takes on the country. I’m not a fan for that reason, but I’ve always thought of him as someone who takes ardent stances. He’s the guy who openly chastised the media for not taking Donald Trump’s behaviour seriously, after all. So for him to put his name on a letter asking for a free-exchange of ideas that contradict his beliefs? I’m not sure what to take from that.

Then there’s David Frum. Anyone who’s old enough to remember the George Bush Jr. years will recall that he was active in his administration. He was Bush’s speechwriter (or one of them), and he was instrumental in convincing the public of invading Iraq with his “Axis of Evil” speech. Recently, however, Frum has been an anti-Trump conservative who attacks the president while reminding people of his older self on occasion. Him signing this letter actively frustrates me because it feels like he’s asking people to forget that he was partly responsible for the deaths of thousands of soldiers and Iraqis.

Perhaps the biggest offender’s JK Rowling, author of the Harry Potter books. Rowling’s a whole case to unpack, but her inclusion’s probably the most toxic. For those unaware, Rowling’s gone on frequently transphobic tirades on Twitter and Blocked people who challenge her. She’s become so toxic that the latest MMO bearing the Harry Potter name is trying to distance itself from her. Rowling signing this letter comes off as hypocritical, especially when factoring in the above information.

I mention all of this because it’s nigh-impossible to disassociate this letter from its signatories. And yes, I’m sure many of them believe what they’re signing was right. I’d also be remiss to slam all of them for extending an olive branch. But many of the signers come off as in-genuine, with chips on their shoulders and wanting to escape accountability. That’s inexcusable.

But I also think two issues are at play, and they’re directly related. The first is parameters. What, exactly, is a “fair debate”? Someone arguing that, God forbid, “raping children is okay, actually” would fall under the letter’s vague guidelines, even though arguing that position is abhorrent and would be grounds for immediate-dismissal in most cases. That there are no limits laid out is a problem.

The second is that of honest debate. Not every debater wants to engage fairly. There’ll always be individuals who don’t care to listen to the opposition fairly. And it’s these individuals who often have the loudest voices. I should know, I’ve Blocked many of them on Twitter!

It’s this that people have taken such personal offence with. Yes, I’m not guiltless. I’ve said stuff that might be “bad faith”. But I always ask for people to, respectfully, call me out, hard as that may be. Because I’m human, and, therefore, make mistakes.

I also think some of the backlash is unreasonable and bad faith too. Whether it’s the nasty criticism, or even some bigoted and bizarrely cartoonish remarks, there’s been plenty of toxic discourse as a result of this. And that’s not okay. It’s especially not okay because it obscures the original intent, which I’d hope wasn’t written in malice.

Regardless, I take issue with the fact that this letter exists, especially in-light of who’s endorsed it. The world might be messy, yes, but this nonsense doesn’t help. It glosses over how hurt many people have been by bad faith actors, and it ignores how so few of them have actually faced accountability. If anything, it highlights how these bad faith actors have “fallen upwards”, and we know what happens when someone does that!

The Case for The Legend of Zelda...

On Sunday, June 18th, 2017, I posted a rant discussing my frustrations with the Zelda franchise. I’ve slammed the franchise on numerous occasions since then, enough to start a running tally. But constantly attacking a franchise I don’t like is really unfair. Because Zelda games aren’t bad, they simply don’t appeal to me. So, in the sake of fairness, I’ve decided to write a counter-piece for these games. Here goes!

The Zelda franchise is known for many innovations. Most-notably, the first game introduced the save feature in cartridges. Prior to this, video games relied on single play-throughs, with interruptions forcing gamers to start from scratch. Being a massive, open-world game with non-linearity, the first Zelda title was next to impossible to beat like that, hence the save feature. It might be primitive now, but for 1986 that was huge!

Additionally, the Zelda games made open-world exploration mainstream. Is the first game’s over-world too big and confusing? Yes. Would every game since be even more confusing? Again, yes. But a non-linear map allowed for, in theory, free-reign for exploration, as well as the unpredictability that came with that.

This only heightened the exploration aspect: don’t want to start with Dungeon A? You can do that. Want to talk to some people along the way? That’s possible too. Curious to try a side-quest? Guess what? You can.

One of the coolest parts about Zelda games is exploration. Because immersion centres around choice, as well as not having it predetermined. That you can veer off in your own direction means playing however you want, upping the fun factor for many. It’s something that’s taken for granted nowadays.

Another feature taken for granted is intuitive controls. The Zelda games all have perfectly-attuned control layouts. Each scheme also fits the respective console, making for a more immersive experience. This has often resulted in delaying the game for increased polish as well. The Zelda games being unafraid to tinker with new technology doesn’t hurt.

Speaking of, the Zelda games routinely utilize new gameplay mechanics. Whether it’s the 3-Day Cycle in The Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask, or flying in The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword, each one continues to “reinvent the wheel”. It may not always work in its favour personally, but it does for most generally. And isn’t that what counts?

I’d be remiss to mention the in-game puzzles. I’ve harped on them for over-relying on franchise history, but when you solve them it sometimes feels rewarding. It helps that the games have pleasant jingles for solving the puzzles. If all else, considering the dungeon and over-world designs feeling tedious, that’s a nice touch.

Then there’s the games’ adherence to formula. I know, for instance, that when I beat a mini-boss in a dungeon I’ll be rewarded with an item. I also know that that item will be used against the dungeon boss. And I know that the dungeon boss will play fair. This familiarity, while arguably tired and cliché, feels welcomed.

Speaking of, the aesthetics continue to impress me. I saw The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time for the first time as an 8 year-old and was wowed. Future entries would only continue pushing the limits of their consoles and handhelds, with some still looking amazing today. I mean, look at the wind effects in some of them! Or even the waves! I know it’s bare-minimum to praise the visuals, especially since a game’s more than that, but still!

I can’t go without mentioning the games’ OSTs. These are great scores, both past and present-alike! Whether it’s the constant remixes of the over-worlds, some of the dungeon tracks, or that famous chest jingle that’s been re-orchestrated too many times, there’s no denying the staying power of the music. I can listen to an entire playlist of Zelda jingles and never be bored, they’re that good. Forget Mario, Metroid or Pokémon, Zelda’s music is Nintendo’s finest! In some ways, it might be better than the games themselves!

Lastly, the games, at times, are fun. And yes, I know that I routinely pick on them for being tedious, obnoxious, repetitive and laden with puzzles I rarely think are fair. I also know that I despise the in-game sidekicks for being completely unhelpful, often telling you information you already know instead of being useful. I even know that I’ve complained about the games’ shameful padding. But when they’re none of the above? That’s when they’re really great.

These glimpses of brilliance sometimes even overshadow any problems, thereby not letting me hate them. But I can’t lie. The games are, at worst, always well-made with moments of brilliance. If that doesn’t sell them, then I don’t know what does. You can quote me on that!

It sounds like I’m being superficial right now. I get that praising a franchise I don’t like could potentially ring false. This was really hard to write for that exact reason. Still, it was worth it. Especially since the internet has plenty of unbridled negativity, so a change in perspective was needed to balance everything.

And that’s my defence of the Zelda games. Don’t worry, I’ll have many opportunities to trash them again!

Checkmate, Mr. King!

(Note: the following was written prior to Stephen King's clarification. While it's nice to see that he's owned up to his behaviour, at the same time it's still a little disheartening that this whole exchange had occurred in the first place. So for the sake of continuity, and to illustrate a general point about writers taking ownership for their behaviour, I've kept everything intact. My apologies in advance to everyone.)

Earlier this month, I wrote a piece decrying JK Rowling’s rant that she’d linked on Twitter. Rowling has yet to apologize, instead doubling-down further, but what’s worse is the ripple effect. First, there was a prominent politician using her words to justify his own beliefs. And now, there’s *checks notes* beloved author Stephen King cc’ing the memo via a Re-Tweet. (And people wonder why writers aren’t taken seriously…)

On one hand, this isn’t all that surprising. Not only has Stephen King made some off-colour remarks in the past, but his writing reeks of questionable content. Whether it’s the child orgy and blatant homophobia of IT, or his constant references to “Indian burial grounds”, the man isn’t free of some of the trappings of Rowling. On the other hand, King writes consistently. And given how long he’s been around, he’s had enough time to grow and mature as a writer.

Essentially, King sharing some views with Rowling is more heartbreaking than Rowling harbouring them. It’s also not like King became famous for one series, then spent the remainder of his career retconning it like Rowling did (even if, to be fair, Rowling has written the odd work since). Unlike Rowling, who George Lucas’d herself while showing her true colours, King’s written a platitude of stories. He’s also dabbled in genres outside horror, and many of his books have been adapted into films and mini-series’. His legacy overshadows Rowling’s, which is why it hurts more for him to be transphobic.

So what now? Like JK Rowling, Stephen King’s impact has been immense. So immense that his style’s often hard to copy on film. Unlike JK Rowling, Stephen King’s influence on the cultural zeitgeist is hard to divorce from his personal leanings. Whether it’s Carrie, The Shining, Misery, The Shawshank Redemption or the recent adaptation of IT, King’s work has helped make plenty of talented people’s careers. The entertainment world owes him that.

Does that excuse his behaviour? No. Which places me in a dilemma: how do I reconcile the author of some of culture’s greatest stories being a bigot? And how do I do it without ruining my enjoyment of these stories? Is it even possible?

Last February, I wrote a piece discussing this issue. In it, I said the following:

“...That our favourite works of art were created, or partly-created, by awful people isn’t surprising, but expected. And trying to erase the impact that predatory people have had in art removes not only their potentially-positive contributions, but is incredibly-dishonest. If history is anything to go with, bad people should be learned from, not ignored.”

I still think this is a relevant bit of advice. But I also mentioned the following in the next paragraph:

“I understand that this is hard to do; after all, these people have hurt us. They’ve wronged us. They’ve set a bad precedent by suppressing the talent of individuals whose voices we may never get to know. That’s a tragedy, and it’s only natural to want to erase them. If they had to cheat to get successful, why bother feeding that success?”

I hold by that too. I’m not entirely sure who Stephen King had to “cheat” here, though it could be an abstract “cheat”, but King’s, and by osmosis Rowling’s, legacy can’t be divorced from his personal views. No author’s without biases, yet King has a platform and a responsibility to lead by example. That he’s not is upsetting.

I get it: famous people don’t ask to be role models. That was made perfectly clear by Charles Barkley. But while it might be easy to sympathize with that, as it puts undue stress on the individual to maintain the act, famous people are still looked up to. Like it or not, they have a reputation to uphold. And, like it or not, it’s disappointing when that reputation’s shattered.

I’m surprised Stephen King doesn’t realize this, since he’s been vocal about injustice on numerous occasions. He’s had his pulse on the political ethos for a while, something made more-apparent by his daughter being an activist. So to turn around and espouse hateful rhetoric about a marginalized group, even if indirectly? It reeks of hypocrisy. It also really hurts.

It doubly-hurts because it’s not what the world needs. In recent years, we’ve seen the underbelly of polarization stop being an underbelly. We’ve seen long-standing tensions between friends and family cause often-irreparable rifts. There are many individuals whom I’ve made the decision not to talk to again based on their toxic views, and some of them have openly clashed with me as result. It’s been hard witnessing those I look up to and admire disappoint me in big ways. I don’t need that from yet another writer with prestige.

I’m more concerned personally because I’m also a writer. And I’m desperate to get my work published one day. I’ve been working hard for years to make that dream come true, even enrolling in a course online. Seeing people like King piss away their goodwill makes me concerned that it could happen to me too; after all, I’m human! I’m sure I’ve said and/or done stuff before that could come back to bite me!

I guess there’s nothing I can do to ease concerns about writing “being cursed”. Because King’s made his bed, messy as it is, and now he needs to lie in it. If he doesn’t want to change, then there’s nothing I can do to sway him. He’ll have to live with it, sad as it is. Like they always say “C’est la vie!”

I’ll end this with the conclusion of my aforementioned piece:

“…I’d like to share something personal: when I was about 11 years-old, Teletoon started airing old Warner Bros. shorts through The Bugs Bunny and Tweety Show. They were all smart and funny, but one stood-out in particular: ‘What’s Opera, Doc?’. In it, Bugs Bunny tries outwitting Viking Elmer Fudd and loses, with the entire short set to, you guessed it, Wagner’s famous opera. It was funny, sad, and-most importantly-clever, despite its music. Even after finding out that Wagner was Antisemitic, I was upset because the short had made such a lasting impact. And isn’t that what matters most?”

Once again, I think this is true. I’ll let you all consider why.