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[Movie] Hardcore Henry: what happens when you make an FPS into a movie?

Hardcore Henry is a scifi action film shot entirely in first person. Unlike handheld camera movies like Blair Witch or Cloverfield, there’s never an outside look at the protagonist; we’re supposed to be literally seeing through his eyes. It feels like someone’s taken a first person shooter game and rendered it in film, which is its strength as a gimmick, but also a major weakness.

First off, if you have any problems with getting motion sick in movies that have a lot of shaky camera movements, I do not recommend this one. That’s the number one problem with the first person format here. We’re getting all the shakiness of a mounted camera, which actually works counter to the first person shooter effect because it reminds us that we’re looking through a camera, not actually experiencing the film first person.

Let me explain what I mean.

When you’re running, jumping, doing whatever as a person, you’ll notice that your vision doesn’t actually shake that much, even if you’re really pounding ground. That’s because there are a ton of physical factors, from the stabilization of your neck muscles to your inner ears to the way your brain processes the visual input that work to make what you see relatively smooth. You experience, say, some bobbing motion if you’re running, but not a lot of the vibration or shaking even if that’s literally what’s happening to you. You’re compensating for it.

This is what makes first person shooter games work. The movement you get on the screen is very smooth, with at most some up and down indicating running. (Here’s an example of gameplay from Destiny.) But you’ll notice a lot of the indicators of physical motion we get are from seeing the arms move, for example. So in a weird way, a first person shooter looks more real than something like Hardcore Henry because it more closely apes how we visually experience movement. Even if in a technical sense, Hardcore Henry is more real because it’s literally a camera that is strapped to someone.

This is something that the people who made the Doom movie really got when they shot the film’s famous first person shooter scene. (Though arguably, they made it a tad too smooth.)

Unfortunately, with Hardcore Henry, we’re spending an entire movie watching a camera get flung around rather than perceiving what’s going on in a much more stabilized way, like the character Henry would. This works against the movie, because while I’m sure a lot of the action sequences were extremely cool, I couldn’t tell what the fuck was going on in most of them. There was too much unstable movement for me to be able to track it. So it’s an interesting gimmick, but I wish it had worked better.

As far as the actual plot goes, it really does feel like standard video game setup. Hello, player, here is your cipher character that you occupy, here’s your goal (save your wife Estelle), here’s the major antagonist, here’s your contact Jimmy who will give you the various missions you need to run to level up. The fight at the end certainly felt like Epic Final Boss Battle. Don’t get me wrong, there’s some  fun stuff in there if you’re a fan of action movies and just want to see some badguys get punched. There’s also a couple little twists to be had, including the deal with Jimmy (Sharlto Copley) apparently being the master of disguise, and the denouement with Estelle.

On the other hand, I really could have done without the extended bordello scene, which highlighted the fact that other than Estelle, there really weren’t any women in the movie who weren’t gun-wielding prostitutes. (Guys, you do realize that many a non-dude-bro plays FPS games and thus might have an interest in your film, right?) And I still don’t know what the deal was with the villain, Akan, other than he just wants a private army of cyborgs because reasons. Reasons only an albino with psychic powers could possibly understand and doesn’t see fit to share with you, the viewer. Which is really another contributing factor to the FPS game feel, because let’s be honest, some of those games are pretty thin on the plot. Who needs reasons when you can grab the heavy ammo drop?

I think we’re pretty close to having a full, first person film that’s not going to make people motion sick. This just isn’t it. And here’s hoping that when that film finally comes out, we can skip the whorehouse scene.

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No Shit, There I Was at the Rejectopocalypse

So no shit, there I was, poised to send a flood (118) emails to writers who submitted to my anthology.

I’ve got a lot of mixed feelings right now, let me tell you. Part of me is excited because this is one step in a long process of putting an anthology together, and it also means that my slush readers and I have managed to go through the entire beautiful, terrifying pile. But I also feel no small bit of guilt, because I’ve been there, man. I’ve gotten plenty of rejections. And now it’s my turn to give other writers one more piece of paper to pin to their wall.

As I joked with the Skiffy and Fanty crew earlier, I have become the enemy. Paul quoted, “I have become death, destroyer of worlds.” To which I answered, “I have become editor, destroyer of dreams!”

It’s a weird feeling.

The No Shit Anthology has a pretty modest slush pile, as slush piles go; when the dust settled, we were at 176 stories. Not bad for a particularly themed anthology, nothing at all like what people who run magazines get. But that alone has given me an appreciation for how much time and work slush readers and editors put in. It ain’t easy. And it’s honest to say that my readers and I have enjoyed the vast majority of what was sent to us, which I think means we hit the jackpot.

I’ve got 118 emails queued up now, to say thanks for letting me read this, but it’s not going to work out. And really, thank you for letting us look at all these stories. We mean it. The remaining 58 stories, we’re holding on to for use in building the ToC, which is the part where I hear blood is going to be both sweated and cried, so here goes. If you don’t receive a rejection today (and you did get an acknowledgment of receipt when you submitted) you are in that second round. My hope and intention is to have the ToC mostly decided before ConDFW in a couple weeks (this may or may not be to avoid any awkward conversations about the state of the slush at barcon) so expect the rest of the rejections and the smaller number of acceptances to trickle through soonish.

I’ll make another post here once everything is decided so you’ll know.

And for now, I take a deep breath and hit send.

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5 Indie speculative films you should watch, no excuses

All (except one, sadly) of these are Hugo Eligible in 2016. Just sayin’. And you literally have no excuse to not watch them. They are available online, streaming, for less than the price of a movie ticket. Links are to the trailers on youtube.

**I cannot speak for availability outside the US. Input from readers in other countries welcome.

  1. Ex Machina – available from Google Play, iTunes, PS Store, and others for $4.99. I’m sticking my flag in this one and calling it the best science fiction movie of 2015. You have no excuse if you consider yourself a fan of the genre. (My review at Strange Horizons.)
  2. It Follows – available for $4.99 basically everywhere. Look, this movie is excellent and scary as hell, and I’m recommending it despite the fact that I really don’t like horror movies. (Totally Pretentious podcast episode for this movie.) [Sorry to report that this film technically is not Hugo eligible for 2016 because it released in festivals in 2014.]
  3. What We Do in the Shadows – available for $9.99 on a multitude of online streaming services. This is a mockumentary about vampires living in New Zealand, and absolutely hilarious. Swearwolves!
  4. Infini – available for $3.99 from Google Play, Vudu, Youtube, and Amazon. Currently on Netflix for free with subscription. Fucked up space zombie alien thriller that I needed a hug after.
  5. Turbo Kid – available on Vudu and Google Play for $6.99. I reviewed it in the first issue of Mothership Zeta. Sparkle unicorn BMX apocalypse, DO NOT SAY NO.
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[Movie] Blackhat

Blackhat is a spy-fi movie about good hackers trying to stop bad hackers from doing nasty things to manipulate the stock market. It also involves a not inconsiderable amount of shooting and blowing things up, and eventually death via screw driver. Like most spy-fi/thriller movies, the actual details of the plot are perhaps needlessly convoluted, but things make enough sense as you are conveyed from point A to B to C that even if you can’t make sense of it a few hours later, at the time it’s not a bad ride.

To a certain extent, this movie appealed to me by just making some unexpected story and casting decisions that were entirely too charming. Of the four main characters in the movie? Nick Hathaway, played by an only muscular rather than positively Asgardian Chris Hemsworth, is the only white guy. Of the other three, we have FBI Agent Carol Barrett (Viola Davis), and Chinese super computer nerd siblings Chen Dawai and Chen Lien (Leehom Wang and Wei Tang respectively). The opening conceit of the film is the Chinese and Americans teaming up to stop an evil hacker, with the Chinese siblings acting as the real heart of the team instead of it all orbiting Chris Hemsworth’s muscular mass. That was definitely an unexpected turn, since the first few minutes of the movie were shot more like the Chinese might be the villains. When Nick and Lien end up sleeping together (because of course they do) Dawai doesn’t act like a macho shithead, but rather has a reasonable and adult conversation with Nick about his concerns in regards to the fact that if their mission fails, Nick goes back to prison and that would kind of suck for Lien–all without demanding dramatically that the two break up. The hackers work with command lines rather than ridiculous, fancy GUIs, and much of what they do is accomplished by just being clever bastards rather than brute forcing things. (Eg: At one point Nick gets a password by tricking someone into changing their password and using a keylogger.)

Leehom Wang and Viola Davis were the standouts of the cast; it’s refreshing to see Davis in such a different role for her and she plays it well. (Favorite line of the movie is when she looks disbelieving at Nick’s attempt to be cool and says, exasperaed,  “Chica? Do I look hispanic to you?”)

All of that? Exceedingly charming. It’s those unexpected factors that made me willing to forgive a lot of the weaknesses, and are what stand out in my mind even now when, over a week later, I couldn’t tell you what the hell most of the plot actually involved, other than noting that the romance between Nick and Lien comes out of the blue and makes about as much sense as some of the more tortured jargon. That’s perhaps the biggest problem, is that the plot has only one twist startling enough to stand out, while the rest is a little too caught up in spy novel intricacy without having quite as much driving tension as less arcane spy movies. While it’s refreshing to hit several points in a movie where you go Oh, that’s not what I expected, I can’t help but think the best definition for a movie is being able to tell you what it is as opposed to what it isn’t and then the rest being fairly unmemorable. But fun, worth watching, and and I think worth watching again to see if more of the plot sticks this time.

The fights (with a bit too much steadicam for my tastes, rendering them almost incoherent as those in the Bourne Supremacy) are short, indelicate, and brutal, which is something I’ve come to appreciate in movies that are trying to be a bit more gritty and realistic. That’s the tone the movie goes for, gritty and dark and more than a bit brooding at times, though the use of the various cities and the urban color scheme are gorgeous. More of those and less of the Tron-esque watching light track through circuit boards, which was baffling as to what it really meant to add. As for the hacking? I don’t know enough about computers any more to actually say how silly it was. But I think the most unrealistic part of the entire movie was actually a man inserting a USB drive into his computer on the first try.

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Warm Up For Winter Contest

And now a word from the lovely publishers of my steampunk series, Musa Publishing!

Enter daily to win one of 17 promotional paperbacks
 

Outlaws by William Weldy
Only A Hero Will Do by Susan Lodge
First Frost by Liz DeJesus
Glass Frost by Liz DeJesus
Trusting Sydney by Helen Hardt
Taming Angelina by Helen Hardt
Treasuring Amber by Helen Hardt
2012: The Rising by Joanne Hirase
Typical Day by Gary K. Wolf
Obsession by JoAnne Keltner
Stained Glass byMindy Hardwick
Grape Bubblegum by Beth Bowland

Dragon Drop by Jerry Ackerman
New Girl by Joan B. Flood
The Fox’s Mask by Anna Frost
Unforgettable You by Marci Boudreaux
Storm’s Fury by Nya Rayne

And one of 30 e-books:

3.99 by Richard Satterlie
100,000 Midnights by Aaron Smith
A Company of Thieves by David Pilling
A Place to Call Their Own by L. Dean Pace-Frech
A Reason To Stay by L.S. Murphy
A Sense of the Ridiculous by Heather King
A Willing Spirit by Cindi Myers
Alaska Heat by Vella Munn
An Incident on MSR Tampa by SS Hampton, Sr
Apple of My Eye by Elizabeth Botts
Baiting The Hook by Mary S. Palmer & David Wilton
Between by Clarissa Johal
Black Widow by Lena Austin
Bring Me To Life by Scarlett Parrish
Captain Westwood’s Inheritance by Lynda Dunwell
Contingency Plan by Anita Ensal
Crazy Greta by David Hardy
Daughter of the Earth and Sky by Kaitlin Bevis
Deep Into The Night by Tracie Ingersoll Loy
Dragon Revealed by Nulli Para Ora
Enchanted Realms by Eleni Konstantine
Forget the Misteltoe by Lizzie T. Leaf
Her Goblin Prince by Thalia Frost
High Stakes by Chad Strong
ICE blue by Susan Rae
Identity Thief by Milo James Fowler
Keeper of Directions by L.K. Mitchell
Kojiki by Keith Yatsuhashi
Little Bird by Liza Gaines
Looney Dunes by Anne Skalitza
Masquerade by Sloane Taylor

All entrants are eligible for the Grand Prize Drawing January 31

Grand Prize 
Warm Up for Winter Basket
Snuggly Blanket
$20.00 Musa Gift Certificate 
Starbucks Coffee
Coffee Mug
Specialty Chocolates
 PLUS
 5 paperback books: 
Marissa’s Choice by Kadee McDonald
The Dominus Runes by Peter Lukes
Walking the Dog by Linda Benson
Love Lies Bleeding by Laini Giles
For his Love by Nya Rayne


 

 


a Rafflecopter giveaway

Winners of paperback books who reside outside the Continental United States will receive their prize in e-book format.

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A quick catch-all

I’m in the UK for the annual Christmas thing. Still attempting to get a short story written and ready to submit by the 31st because I hate myself. The normal stuff. There are Yorkies here (Indy and Brody) and they’re absolutely adorable. My cats will be so angry when I come home and smell like other animals. LIKE A BIG OL’ WHORE.

The flight was pretty good, though more turbulent than I normally like. I felt very bad for a guy I’d met while standing in line for the bag drop. He was a professional cyclist who had just gotten hit by a deer (yes you read that correctly) and broken his collarbone badly. Not something that mixes well with turbulence, hopefully he was loaded up with enough drugs for the flight. He showed me pictures of what was left of his bicycle and it made me want to curl and weep. (Frame snapped in four places.)

Normally I try to catch up on movies, but between the hectic week and the flight being delayed an hour, I was actually incredibly tired. I managed to sleep! For something like six hours of the flight, which is just unheard of. So I only watched a bit to fill up the rest of the time.

The Great Gatsby: I’d been wanting to watch this movie since I saw the previews, but also wasn’t so certain about it since it was directed by Baz Luhrmann. Who I’m certain is a lovely human being, but of the two other films of his I’ve watched (Moulin Rouge and Romeo + Juliet) I didn’t like either of them. They were visually interesting (very colorful!) but there’s just something about his style that I can’t seem to connect with. Sorry to say I had the exact same problem with The Great Gatsby. It was pretty, and I just didn’t even care. I actually fell asleep about halfway through the movie. Oh well, at least I tried.

Alan Partridge: Alpha Papa: I had no idea about the Alan Partridge thing going in. Honestly, the only reason I picked that movie was it was short enough to finish in the limited time left on the flight–well, and I remembered seeing something in Empire about it being very funny. Very funny doesn’t really do justice to this movie. It’s fucking hilarious. And in that particularly British way that I love. I think I made the guy sitting to my right (not Mike) a bit uncomfortable because I was laughing so hard. As a bonus the movie is about Colm Meaney snapping and taking his fellow employees in a radio station hostage (but in a ridiculous way, it is a comedy) so you get to feel like it’s Chief O’Brien who has lost his shit.

I’ve got my preferences on BA set up so I get a vegetarian meal, since at this point the only way I can keep myself from having what I feel like is too much meat in my diet is to actively avoid it. For fun, this time around I had the “asian vegetarian” meal, which was actually the best in-flight meal I’ve ever had. And it involved okra, which I guess is now something I like so long as it’s done in an Indian style. But I got a bit of an odd look from the flight attendant when the meal ended up going to me instead of the beautiful lady wearing a head scarf who was one row ahead.

The weather here is extra British-ly hideous, with hard rain and high winds. So needless to say, I didn’t go for a run today. But I did do exercises with a resistance band, so I feel like I accomplished something. And then we decorated the Christmas tree. It’s looking particularly awful this year because we tried really hard.

By the way, I get to have a piece of this after dinner tonight. I will now bask in your jealousy.

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[Movie] The Hobbit 2: The Desolation of Smaug

I’ll admit it right up front: the only reason I went to see The Hobbit 2: The Desolation of Smaug opening weekend in the theaters was so I could hurry up and say snippy things about it. I wanted to get my snark on before it got tainted by everyone else’s. And obviously, we already know I did not take it at all seriously.

Which is okay, because I think maybe it didn’t want to be taken seriously? I’m not sure. And that’s part of the problem.

First, let me note that I have very purposefully not reread The Hobbit since I heard the movies were being made. I want to address these on their own merit. (At one point, I used to believe movies should be faithful to books. I don’t any longer.)

And then spoilers:

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Why Can’t Spiderman Be Gay?

(Yes, I’m late to this. But this topic keeps coming up, over and over again. And I believe in the power of stories to be retold.)

Good question, Andrew Garfield. And predictably, some people have freaked the fuck out about it. (Don’t believe me? Just look at the comments if you want to come up hating humanity.) Kind of like a couple years ago, when some people suggested that it might be pretty awesome if Spiderman were black, and perhaps played by Donald Glover. And some people freaked the fuck out. To me it sure sounds the same as when some people bitched on Twitter about the Bishop of Carlisle in Richard II being played by Lucian Msamati (a black actor). The Shakespeare fandom is just a somewhat different demographic, which generally tends to have better spelling.

I don’t make any secret of the fact that I love seeing existing roles have their gender, race, and sexuality bent. (Hey, I even just talked about it in a quest blog post.)

Now let me explain why.

Stories are by necessity living things. They may be written at a particular time and about particular people, but if that was all they were, we wouldn’t keep reading them, watching them, over and over. And more important, we wouldn’t keep retelling them. We tell the same stories over and over again because there is something magical in them, some vital spark that makes them as powerful today as they were on the day they were written–or sometimes even more powerful. Even more so with legends, because they’re about how human beings relate with each other, with the world, what we think we are and who we believe we can be.

And because stories are about us and about our place in the world, we want to interact with them. We want to see ourselves in them. In fact, stories invite us to imagine ourselves in the shoes of the protagonist. That’s what gives them their power. We connect ourselves with characters who are different races, genders, sexualities, because there is still a fundamental humanity that speaks to us. Different facets of human experience are still human experience.

I get that there are characters who are quite literally defined by some aspect of their race, sexuality, or gender. Shaft would not be the black private dick that is a sex machine to all the chicks if he wasn’t black. But tell me, what fundamental part of the Bishop of Carlisle is defined by his race? What fundamental part of Peter Parker is defined by his sexuality?

What I find so upsetting about people saying Peter Parker can’t be gay, can’t be black, is that they are basically saying the experience of a gay man, of a black man is alien. That they cannot or don’t want to connect to a black man, to a gay man and find that same fundamental humanity and imagine themselves in his shoes even as we are all expected to constantly imagine ourselves as straight, white men. That only a white, straight man could possibly have that experience, that story. That only one tiny facet of the human viewpoint is valid.

That stories are static, dead things that cannot change and grow with us.

And I mourn for their imaginations.

(And you should totally go read: Why Batman Can’t Be Black.)

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The Joys of Cat Ownership

So I’m going to talk about poop. As an adult I can do that, right, without the immature giggling? Well, to be honest, I’d be giggling myself probably if I wasn’t the one this happened to. You know, that laugh you do when you’re so grossed out you can’t do anything but laugh?

Which brings me to how I woke up this morning. With Loki (the cat) digging at the carpet and trying to bury something. This is never a good sign when you own cats. And indeed no, it was a fleck of poo. On the carpet. A poo crumb, if you will. I went into the bathroom to get some toilet paper and the Nature’s Miracle (blessed be he or she who invented it) and was promptly hit by the stench.

There is nothing in the world worse than cat poop. Except cat pee. I don’t know what the hell happens in the diabolical inner machinery of these adorable little shit monsters that makes everything they excrete toxic to mere mortals. It’s not like the dried food bags come with biohazard or radioactivity warning stickers on them.

But the smell, people. The smell sticks in your nose almost as bad as formalin, to the point that hours later I feel like I want to lean in close to my coworkers and whisper, “Is it me or does everything smell like cat shit today?”

Anyway, at some point in the early hours of the morning, there had been a poopsplosion on the inside of the cat box. I don’t know, maybe someone finally managed to kill and eat a june bug and it disagreed with them violently. And there was a trail of poop crumbs through the house, like a path sowed by Satan himself. As a bonus, my carpet has flecks of dark brown in it naturally, so I spent a lot of time this morning crawling around and picking at brown spots with wads of toilet paper, unable to tell if they were carpet or poo and unwilling to get close enough to check by smell. Not that it would have done any good, since my nose is so burn out that everything has a faint hit of eau de poo.

These are the things they don’t warn you about, when you get cats. They may be cute and fluffsy and have adorable feet (oh my god look at your tiny pink feet!) but some day you will end up squinting at the carpet, wondering if that fleck is a bit of fluff or something far more sinister, and you realize you really ought to put in your contacts only they’re in the bathroom, the same bathroom that contains the cat box, which is radiating visible smell rays that will at the very least make you sterile if not just outright give you cancer.

Of course, there was also the great poopsplosion of ’07, when Loki (the cat, not the Norse god who looks rather like Tom Hiddleston) woke my then-boyfriend and me out of a sound sleep by jumping up on our bed while he had most of a turd ground into the fur of his butt1. At least then, all of the poop was localized to the butt of the cat. The shrieking, wailing cat that we had to give a bath to at oh my god in the morning and it’s a miracle the neighbors didn’t call the police that time.

So I guess what I’m really trying to say is that it could always be worse. Happy Thursday!

 

1 – Honestly, it probably would have been easier if it had been the Norse god, because even if he’s big and cranky and magical, at least he doesn’t have a furry ass2.

2 – I mean, it’s not like I know for sure or anything, but it seems fair to assume that as it does belong to a god, Loki’s bottom is smooth and pleasing to both touch and eye3

3 – Though come to think of it, it’s not like we’ve seen him without his trousers on4

4 – Get Marvel on the phone, I just had the greatest idea ever for Thor 3

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Forward Momentum

Over my three day weekend, I rode 111 miles on my bike, spread over three days. The second day was 47 miles of pure hell and head winds; by the time I got to day three, I just wanted to sleep late and say fuck it. But I got up and did another 39 miles anyway.

I was told, “I admire your dedication.”

I don’t know. Maybe it’s dedication to a certain extent. I am trying to train up to ride a full century (100 miles) this year – more on that at a later date. But I don’t feel like it was dedication then, or when I drag my tired ass out of my house and to the gym.

It’s fear. I’m afraid of losing my forward momentum.

I do like what I do, most of the time. Otherwise I wouldn’t do it at all. But there are days when I just desperately wish to sit on the couch and watch Hulu. But then fear drives me out of the house. I keep thinking about how easy it is, to skip a day, and then another day, and then suddenly I can’t go up a flight of stairs without getting out of breath again. That’s what I’m afraid of. I’ve struggled so much to get myself rolling at this speed, and I know precisely how easy it is to lose that.

I guess it comes down to Newton’s first law, like will is a physical instead of mental thing. A body at rest tends to stay at rest. A body at motion tends to stay at motion. I’m terrified of becoming a body at rest again.

Maybe I should start just planning out recovery days.