3:10 to Yuma

So slightly behind the times, but last weekend I watched 3:10 to Yuma. Immediately thereafter, I played directly into the mass media culture and, like the insipid fool that I am, I ran off to various review sites to see what other people, professionals and amateurs, thought of the film. IMDb, RottenTomatoes, MetaCritic, Wikipedia, Digg, you name it.

And then I stopped.

I blinked and came to a realization, which can be summed up in this sentence: "The internet is full of mindless fucktwits whose opinions are worth less than a sack of elephant shit." So really, who gives a good goddamn about what so-and-so on RT had to say versus what this-and-that had to say on IMDb?

Reviews (specifically film reviews) can be fun to read, to see a separate opinion on the film and compare/contrast to gain a heightened understanding of issues portrayed. However, it always feels like every reviewer, from Ebert to Joe Schmoe on the IMDb forums, believes that they speak the word of their god, and that only they can understand and unlock the secrets of a film (or dismiss it entirely).

Well, that's bullshit. Don't you tell me that the movie lacked essential character arcs. I'll decide what's essential in a movie for me. I'll decide whether or not something was done well. I'll decide if there were plot holes. I'll decide for me.

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3:10 to Yuma: Hell, I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy this film. Russell Crowe played a baddy that I felt even Cthulhu would give a pat on the head (immediately before, or perhaps during, the devouring of Crowe's character's soul for all eternity). He was smart, he was calculating, and he was fun. He's what drove the story, not Christian Bale's worn-down war vet. That isn't to say that I didn't absolutely love Bale's performance, because I did. I just felt that the movie was using Bale as the protagonist to cast a light on the real lever: Crowe.

The plot was fairly straightforward, but not pointless. It wasn't something that made me challenge my beliefs. However, at the same time, it didn't need to be. It was breathing some air in the dead and dying western genre, but a little more brutal than other depictions (not counting Unforgiven).

At the denouement, I got a genuine grin on my face and thought "Hells yeah, Ben Wade."

3:10 obviously wasn't the film that changed the world. It was no Casablanca, it was no Godfather, but it was fun. It's a movie that I'm glad I watched, which is more than I can say for most of the steaming, festering piles of slop covered in battery acid with a topping of urine that come out of Hollywood these days. Sure, the movie had scenes that made me scratch my head and say "Huh?" and wonder why they were included. Sure, the movie had moments that simply didn't make sense. But hell, it was good. And that's all I'm going to say about that.

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Going back slightly, to my previous rant, I want to clarify that I don't view all reviewers as the spawn of some unholy deity incarnated on earth. Film critics can jump right off a cliff, though (and that includes todays generation of snobby, indie, hipster or other stereotype [like the cinema studies department at almost any liberal arts school, Oberlin included]) who think that film has no purpose but to convey art or social messages and only they can understand it). To them, I say "bullocks."

The same goes for most literary reviewers, or really "traditional art" critics. They're not nearly as pervasive nor insidious, but I don't really appreciate someone whose got their well advertised, paid-for-review head up their ass telling me what is or isn't a good book. I'll decide that on my own, thank you very much. And really, I'm protective of my books; the written word is something I hold great love for. It actually verges on silly to imagine my love affair with words. But yet, it exists, and I think that I'm a good enough judge to judge for myself.

What I mean by "traditional art" doesn't mean I'm protecting "modern" art or people vomiting on themselves and calling it art (yes, that really happened here. Disgusting, and not art), from criticism. Because, quite frankly, I don't give a damn about what people have to say about it. What I meant by my phrasing is actually an interactive artistic medium, which largely goes unrecognized by the artistic community. Yes, I'm talking about video games.

I don't really care what video game reviewers say, for much the same reasons as I don't give a flying monkey shit what other art critics have to say, as I already make up my mind to buy a game before I read reviews for it. Hell, usually I buy the game first, then read a review of it. Previews, sure, who doesn't like previews? The main difference is that games have not been subjected to the holier-than-thou bullshit reviewers for as long as other industries, so it's not quite the corrupted cesspool of evil that makes up the shepherds leading the flocks of sheep to Best Buy, and United Artists Theaters. Instead, it just leads the sheep to EA...which isn't really a step in the right direction.

PS: For those who were wondering, I am apparently hegemonic and intolerant for not accepting a creation myth as historical fact. Cultural fact, but not historical fact. So while you read my oozing commentary, it may be good to remember that I am simply a hegemonic, intolerant cretin, and to take my hate-infused drivel with a grain of salt. Or so I have been told.

PPS: Being told the above made my day. ^__^

Echochrome

Joystiq ran a story today regarding a demo for Echochrome. I read it, shrugged, decided to dust off my old PSP...and wow, am I glad I did. It was not a simple task, getting the old machine ready for a new demo... it needed firmware updates (from 2.50 to 3.90) and network authentication. Sadly, the integrated web browser can't handle SSL encryption, which made it unable to authenticate itself via Oberlin's log in.

Anyway. Echochrome. Simply fantastic, despite the demo being completely in Japanese. Addictive as all get out, too. Maybe it's just 'cause I started playing it at a quarter to one, or maybe it's because I had a lot of fun, but I want to replay it again already.

The concept of the game is simple enough. Take a given scenario that is maddeningly similar to an M.C. Escher painting, and guide your little dude to each checkpoint, using the terrain to your advantage. It's so....easy, yet elegant. Plus, the music was pretty fantastic. For the first time in a long while, I enjoyed holding my PSP.

Now that I've gone ahead and updated it, I might as well get ready for using it. That's gonna require a couple of upgrades...namely a bigger memory card (32MB simply does not cut the mustard) and God of War: Chains of Olympus (because I need Kratos). Given enough time (and money...I'm short on money), I'll hopefully begin to use it again and justify the multiple hundred dollars I spent on it on its launch day.