Monday, 24 June 2019

Celeste (2018)



Celeste is a 2018 platform game, written and directed by Matt Thorson, namesake of his developing studio Matt Makes Games. It has been released for several platforms and I played the release for Nintendo Switch.

Celeste is a story about a young woman named Madeline who is trying to climb the mountain Celeste(*) of the title. It is a difficult climb, but she is determined to succeed. She is however haunted by mental health problems, with depression, anxiety and panic attacks. It turns out that Celeste mountain has mysterious supernatural powers. It makes her negative emotions manifest in "Part of Madeline" (unofficially called Badeline), a dark reflection of her which has its own body. This entity tries to keep Madeline from climbing the mountain. Thus in order to reach the summit, Madeline must face her own emotions.

* (Mount Celeste is incidentally the name of a real mountain in Canada (which is the homeland of the developers), but I doubt it is anything like the supernatural mountain portrayed in the game.)
 
Celeste is an oldfashioned 2d platformer. The player controls Madeline who can walk, jump, dash and climb walls. She can dash in mid-air in eight directions, but only once before she must recharge her energy by standing on a flat surface or through certains items. Her ability to hold to and climb walls is limited by her stamina, which also must be refilled in the same way.

                                         Gorgeous graphics, but so many ways to die. The purple spikes
                                         will kill you instantly. Screenshot from the game's official site.


These controls are simple, but the game is very difficult. This is the kind of game that demands precision movements and where nearly every mistake will kill your character. Each level in this game is full of potential for Madeline's death, such as bottomless pits and spikes. The game has a helpful counter that keeps tracks of your deaths. When I finished the game, mine was at 4895 deaths. That says a lot, really.

The game however has a very friendly attitude about its difficulty. It is very easy to make mistakes, but the game doesn't punish mistakes that severely. Each level in this game is divided into fairly short sections. And when you die in the game, you immediately start over within seconds at the start of the section. This makes dying in this game a very minor setback. It feels like a natural part of learning to play the game. Before you start a certain level, you even get a message in text saying "Be proud of your death count! The more you die, the more you're learning. Keep going". It is a very encouraging and uplifting attitude.

By dividing the levels in sections, most of which are rather short, the game makes each challenge feels manageable. The player can save and quit the game at any point and then start again at the beginning of the section where they left off.

Most of the most difficult parts of this game are optional.  There are strawberries you can collect in each level and getting those are usually the hardest parts. But the game explicitly tells you that they are optional, collecting them "will only impress your friends".  And the truly hard levels are bonus levels, called "B-sides", which don't affect the story.

There is even an "Assist mode", which tweaks the game to make it much easier. I didn't use it, but the game doesn't shame the player for using it either, which is very commendable.

The reason I didn't use that mode was because I found the platforming challenges in this game very compelling. They are not just about reflexes and precision, but also challenge your brain. Each level section in this game feels like a puzzle, built around Madeline's limited stamina. You have to figure out a way to get through the section without running out stamina and dying. This makes for very cerebral gameplay for a platformer, which I really liked.

And this is the rare platformer that has a well-written story with emotional power. The story is about dealing with negative emotions and mental illness. Climbing the mountain is a metaphor for the struggles of life. And it makes it's metaphors very explicit.  Madeline's negative emotions literally manifest as a separate entity that tries to keep her from climbing the mountain. That part of her is motivated by fear that Madeline will fail; she thinks it is best to play it safe and return home.

But the game refreshingly doesn't traffic in any simplistic notions about overcoming mental illness. Instead, it is about accepting them as part of yourself. Your negative emotions such as anxiety will always be there, you can't get rid of them, so the only way to cope is to accept them. It is the only way to gain some control over these emotions. This game is of course not the first time I've been given this advice, but it is welcome nevertheless.

This is portrayed in the story very well. Madeline first tries to run away from Badeline (her negative emotions) and tries to get rid of her, but that proves to be impossible. Eventually Madeline comes to accept that part of herself. This makes her more powerful in game. She is now able to dash twice in mid-air. The story effects the gameplay, which is sadly rare in video games, but this is an welcome exception.

The difficulty of the game strengthens the central idea climbing the mountain as a metaphor for the challenges of life. The aforementioned amiable attitude the game has towards the player is part of the message. The game presents you with difficult challenges, but it has a forgiving attitude towards mistakes. It is essentially saying that life is hard, but it is Ok to make mistakes.

In addition to this gameplay and story, there is the graphics and music, which are both wonderful. The retro-graphics are gorgeous, the result of great art design. And the music by electronic composer Lena Raine is really powerful.

Celeste is a masterpiece of a game, in which every element from music to gameplay come together to tell an emotionally moving story with an important message.

Wednesday, 13 February 2019

Koyaanisqatsi, a film by Godfrey Reggio

Koyaanisqatsi is an experimental documentary film from 1982, directed by Godfrey Reggio, with cinematography by Ron Fricke and music by Phillip Glass.

The film has no conventional story and no narrator or spoken dialogue. The meaning of the footage shown in this film is thus not explicitly explained, yet the result is surprisingly coherent. The film begins with beautiful images of unspoilt natural landscapes. Yet we soon see the human impact on the environment, ranging from mining operations to power plants to nuclear explosions. And the film shifts to depict the ultimate product of human technology: the city. It is shown primarily through sped-up, time lapsed footage of ordinary people walking and driving through the city, working in factories, eating and having fun. In the end, we see footage of a rocket exploding shortly after take-off.

The film ends with an intertile, which explains the title of the film. "Koyaanisqatsi" is a word from the language of the Native American Hopi tribe. The film gives several translations for this word. It can be translated as "life out of balance" or my favourite, "a state of life that calls for another way of living". Prophecies of the Hopi language are also sung as part of the soundtrack.

Due to the title, the film is most often interpreted as a criticism of modern technological civilization. Images of natural beauty are contrasted with images of technological destruction. The images of modern urban life are sped-up or time-lapsed, which defamiliarizes the viewer to those images. The footage becomes alien, unnatural and disturbing. The quickened pace of the footage is perhaps a comment on the hectic pace of modern life.  The film uses montage techniques to make sardonic comparisons. A good example is a cut between footage of people on an escalator to sausages in a factory. The layout of cities are similarly compared to circuit boards. In this context, the explosion of the rocket that ends the film becomes an image of man's hubris.

Of course, this is a purely romantic and emotional argument. There are valid and intellectual criticisms to make against technology and modern civilization, but the form director Godfrey Reggio has chosen precludes him from making them. By foregoing language, the film can't make any real intellectual arguments, only sentimental ones.

Yet the film remains emotionally and aesthetically very compelling. The cinematography by Ron Fricke is very impressive. The images are awe-inspiring and hauntingly beautiful. And  these images are masterfully edited and combined into a coherent and affecting sequence. The music by Phillip Glass doesn't just complement the imagery, but is an integral part of making the film so emotionally powerful. I was privileged to have the opportunity to see in the film in a cinema, which is perhaps the best way to experience it. It may not be a compelling argument to abandon industrial civilization, but is still a masterpiece of filmmaking.

Saturday, 5 January 2019

Les Misérables by Victor Hugo


Les Misérables is a novel by French author Victor Hugo (1802-1885), first published in 1862. I read it in a unabridged English translation by Charles Wilbour, thoroughly revised by Lee Fahnestock and Norman Mcafee. Wilbour was a contemporary of Hugo and actually released his English edition the same year as original French edition. This translation was later revised by Fahnestock and Mcafee in 1987.

Les Misérables (the title can be translated as The Wretched) is of course the story of Jean Valjean, a poor man condemned to prison for stealing a loaf of bread to feed his starving sister and her children. He is released in the year of the restoration, 1815, full of bitterness for his fate. But he is shown kindness by the saintly Bishop of Digne. This convinces Valjean to live a life of compassion. He becomes a hero, improving and saving the lives of many. Most important to him is the orphan girl Cosette, who he saves from the abusive home of the villainous Thenardier. But Jean Valjean is relentlessly pursued by the police officer Javert, whose Manichean and rigid view of law and justice sees in Valjean only a criminal to be arrested. This is the main, but far from the only plotline in this epic novel, which has its climax in the failed French revolt of 1832.

This is a novel about the evil of poverty and inequality, the degradation of which is depicted in horrific detail. It is an evil that can make good men like Valjean turn to crime and good women like Cosette's mother Fantine turn to prostitution. The legal system, embodied by the narrowminded Javert, harshly condemns such crimes, but condones the greater disaster of poverty.
  
Most importanly, it is a problem that can be solved. A solution is glimpsed in the noble, but failed revolution of 1832. It attempted to create a new French republic based on the values of liberty, equality and fraternity by overthrowing the July Monarchy of King Louis Philippe (itself established in response to the revolution  of 1830). The 1832 revolt was crushed within days, but the novel depicts the revolutionaries in heroic terms.

It is also a novel about the importance and redemptive power of love and compassion. A single act of compassion is enough to put Jean Valjean on the albeit painful road to a life of selfless kindness. The redemptive power of love was of course a common theme in the romantic era.
 
The novel takes on real-life social issues and historical events, yet the tone is completely romantic.    The emotions expressed by both the prose and the characters are overwhelmingly strong. The plot is a grand adventure story exemplary of romantic era prose, which often relies on coincidence. Characters and situations are delineated with broad and vivid strokes, although not without subtlety.

A considerable part of the book consists of essayistic digressions by Hugo on various topics. The subjects include the battle of Waterloo, revolutions in general, the Paris Sewer system, monasteries, Parisian street urchins and argot (slang) among criminals. In most cases these are pure digressions that don't develop the plot or characters. The wide variety of topics discussed gives the novel almost an encyclopedic nature. Indeed, this novel might be a rare example of the encyclopedic narrative, a genre category proposed by literary theorist Edward Mendelson.

These digressions are major reason for why the novel is so long (1460 pages in my edition). This length is why there are many abridged versions of Les Misérables.  The editions I could find in my native language, Swedish, were all abridged, which is why I resorted to reading this novel in English. As mentioned above, the translation I read was by Charles Wilbour, revised by Fahnestock and Mcafee. I found it to be a fine translation, although the language is quite archaic because of the age of the original translation, despite the changes made by Fahnestock/Mcafee.

No matter the minor faults of the translation, it made me understand why Les Misérables is  considered one of greatest novels ever written. Hugo's concerns of inequality, poverty, social justice, compassion and revolution are of course still relevant today. The book demonstrated the ability of literary romanticism to take on real life issues in a convincing manner.

The plot relies too much on coincidence to be realistic, but the story told is still suspenseful and moving. Hugo's characterizations may not be as subtle as that of the great realist writers like Tolstoy, but still a grand example of the romantic style. The characters are vivid, interesting and memorable. And that is why the story is so moving, despite occasional moments of emotional excess.

The essayistic digressions can also be excessive, at least in length. Yet Hugo was a fine essayist and they often make for interesting reading. There are often moments of brilliant writing to be found in them. That's why my advice is to read an unabridged version of this novel, despite the length and the many abridged versions that exist.

Hugo's preface to Les Misérables may have best explained the reason why the novel is still read today: "...so long as ignorance and misery remain on earth, there should be need for books such as this".

Thursday, 1 March 2018

Norse Mythology by Neil Gaiman


The book Norse Mythology by Neil Gaiman is, as the title promises, a retelling of the Norse myths by the author in question.

We begin with Ymir and the creation of the world, we met the gods, including Odin, Thor and Loki  and learn their stories. Everything of course ends with Ragnarok, the end of the world and it's rebirth.

In his introduction, Gaiman states "I've tried my best to retell these myths and stories as accurately as I can, and as interestingly as I can." And this is indeed a very faithful re-telling of the stories from the Eddas. Small details are different, but nothing of major importance is changed. The most important change from the Eddas is that Gaiman arranges the stories in some kind of chronological order, so that the book goes from creation to apocalypse. But Gaiman doesn't try to impose some overarching plot of his own. He doesn't even try to resolve the small contradictions that exist between the different myths..

Of course the myths are such powerful stories already that they don't need changing. And Gaiman tells them well. This is simply a well-written book. Gaiman knows how to make effective use of the inherent dramatic and comedic qualities of these stories.
 
However, his faithfulness to the Eddas make this book somewhat redundant. If you have read the Eddas, there is really no need for you to read Gaiman's version of the same stories. The Eddas can in translation be perfectly enjoyable reading despite their age. And if you want a more accessible re-telling, there are many other faithful literary adaptations which serve the same function as Gaiman's book.

Of course, there are always people who are new to Norse mythology and in Gaiman's book they will find an accessible and well-written introduction to the stories. And for those who already know these stories, this is a fine, albeit non-essential way of re-experiencing these evergreen stories

Wednesday, 24 January 2018

Ursula Le Guin 1929-2018

I'm greatly saddened to hear this morning that one of my favourite authors have died. Ursula K Le Guin. The world will be poorer without her.

In the 1960s, She was regarded as part of the New Wave of Science Fiction, a loose movement of young writers who sought to raise the literary standards and broaden the horizons of the genre. Le Guin was perhaps the author who were most successful in doing so. Many of her books and stories, such as the Earthsea trilogy, The Left Hand of Darkness, The Word for World is Forest and The Dispossessed are regarded as classics and masterpieces. The stories dealt with serious themes with both intelligence and sensitivity, all expressed in beautiful prose.

One of these themes was death itself. And now, in the wake of Ursula Le Guin's own death, I am  reminded of the third Earthsea book, The Farthest Shore, in which it is the central subject.  The novel is about a misguided wizard who tries to gain everlasting life, but almost destroys the world by trying. The message is that it is absolutely vital to accept death, as that is necessary for accepting life. I think that it was with such healthy magnanimity Le Guin faced her own death. As she says in her novel: "To refuse death is to refuse life."

Tuesday, 31 October 2017

The Woman in Black by Susan Hill

The Woman in Black is a horror novella by the English Author Susan Hill, first published in 1983.

The novella is set in an unspecified time period, probably the Edwardian era. Trains and cars exist, but horse and carriage are still the dominant mode of transportation. Like Dracula, the story begins with an English solicitor who in performing his duty travels to a strange place haunted by a supernatural evil. The narrator Arthur Kipps travels to a remote village of Crythin Grifford on the North-Eastern coast of England. He is there to deal with the estate of a reclusive widow, Alice Drablow, an old client of his employer. While attending her funeral, he sees a mysterious woman, clad in black, who is no ordinary woman. Soon Arthur must struggle for survival against her.

The Woman in Black is a deliberately old-fashioned English ghost story, as exmeplfied by M.R. James. The ornate prose style, the period setting and the gothic atmosphere convincingly re-create the genre. The story doesn't betray it's origins in the 1980s at all.

While the story does not need interpreting to be enjoyed, I find the backstory of the ghost of the title interesting from a gender perspective. It is revealed that the ghost of the title was in life Jennet Humfrye, the mother of illegitimate child, who was taken from her and then died in a tragic accident. Her grief for the child and her anger at the injustices committed against her has led her to haunt the living as a vengeful spirit ever since. Kipps can't help but pity Jennet Humfrye in life, even as he is horrified by what she became in death. The evil is supernatural, but has it's origin in the evils of Victorian patriarchal society, which can certainly be interpreted as a subtle feminist statement.

The Woman in Black is an excellent gothic horror story. The act of reviving an old genre can turn out like the corpses re-animated by Herbert West, but here the results are truly alive. The tale is genuinely creepy, the horror coming from the carefully created atmosphere and suspense.  It is recommended reading for everyone who is interested in gothic horror and the traditional ghost story.

Monday, 30 October 2017

Dracula by Bram Stoker

Dracula is a 1897 Gothic novel by Irish novelist Bram Stoker.

                                                  Cover to comicbook version of the novel 
                                                  by Spanish artist Fernando Fernández.  
                                                  The source is the blog Book Graphics 

Most people reading this probably already knows the story, but I will introduce it nevertheless. The novel opens with an excerpt from the diary of an English solicitor, Jonathan Harker, who is traveling to Transylvania in Romania in order to met with Count Dracula. The purpose of the trip is for Harker to help the Count buy a house in England. But he soon discovers that Dracula is not human, but a vampire, whose purpose in moving to England is to feed on the blood of the innocent and spread vampirism. He must be stopped.

Dracula is a novel which can be interpreted in many ways. You can interpret the novel as a peculiar example of the then popular genre of Invasion literature, which was about Great Britain being invaded by foreign forces, typically the Germans. The book is peculiar to the genre in the sense that it is about a supernatural foreign invader, not a military threat, but thematically the book fits perfectly into the genre.

The vampire is often interpreted sexually and Dracula is one of the main reasons why that is. The vampire attacks have a frightening sexual element to them, as they are disturbingly similar to rape.

You can also interpret the novel as a battle of the modernity vs old superstition. The main characters come from highly developed nations in Western Europe and North America and are thoroughly modern and scientific in their outlook, which is even reflected in how they record their experiences using then modern inventions like the typewriter and gramophone. 

Dracula in contrast represents the old and medieval, being a folklore creature and an aristocrat from an undeveloped part of Eastern Europe.

Because of their modern outlook, the main characters are slow to realize that vampires exist. The Dutch physician Abraham Van Helsing in contrast can be said to represent a necessary synthesis of the old and the new. He is a man of science, yet knows the old superstitions well. He is therefore the first to realize that vampires are involved and thus comes to lead the fight against Dracula, using both modern science and old folklore to do so.


There are many more interpretations, Franco Moretti for example interprets Dracula as a metaphor for monopoly capitalism.

Yet the novel can be read simply for simple enjoyment, as it is an excellent and suspenseful horror novel, in which Stoker uses the epistolary form effectively. The book is old-fashioned in some respects, particularly it's treatment of gender and the foreign, but the tale is told so well-told that it deserves it's place as a classic of gothic horror.