Guillermo Del Toro’s Pinocchio, Is My Favourite Film Of The Year.

In the wake of Disney’s derivative, live action remake of their own animated property, releasing another version in the same year as such a critically maligned adaptation is bold. Considering how much remakes are loathed for there brazen indolence and blatant nostalgic exploitation, it’s commendable that a movie as compelling as “Guillermo Del Toro’s Pinocchio”, embraces the bleakness of the source material, that until now has been sterilised by Disney’s gentrified model. Only someone of Del Toro and Mark Gustafson’s shared singular vision, could possess the initiative clarity to adapt a story we thought we already knew, and remind viewers that with just a simple shift in tone, Pinocchio has always been firmly rooted in a twisted mythology that lends itself so well to Del Toro’s depiction of fascist Italy.

Set in the emerging shadow of WWII, a local carpenter Gipetto, consumed by years of grief at the loss of his son and in a moment of drunken rage fells a tree his son planted before he died, carving an effigy of him in a futile attempt to regain his lost son. When a mysterious entity imbues this little wooden boy with life, a familiar tale unfolds, infused with some requisite Del Toro horror. By instilling the story with an intended bleakness, this adaptation benefits from a solemnity sorely missing from Disney’s original. It doesn’t shy away from death with diluted asides or musical distractions. But lingers on its destructive influence, and just how bereft the passing of a loved one can be. That grief can’t be remedied by a saccharine musical number or comedy routine. It’s not afraid to embrace the melancholy of death, but to embrace it. To depict the sadness of loss as an emotion as natural as life.

Then there’s Pinocchio himself. A characterisation that benefits from the scripts astute focus on depicting a child like boy, that has no understanding of humanity or indeed mortality. With an exuberant inquisitiveness of childlike enthusiasm, Pinocchio is as irritating as he is destructive. A child that struggles with the concept of living, in a society that views something as miraculous as Pinocchio as an insidious evil in the eyes of God. No where is this sense of religious contradiction more apparent than when Pinocchio wanders into a church full of parishioners, condemning his existence, as an effigy of Jesus nailed to a cross presides over their sanctimonious judgements. Despite his autonomy and his effusive desire to be loved, even by his own father, he remains steadfastly fervent. Even when he is manipulated as a tool for Nazi propaganda! The exploitation of something pure, for the purpose of greed or the promotion of a duplicitous regime is even more sinister when it’s a child, wooden or not. Pinocchio is still a boy wanting to please those around him, so earnest and eager to be alive and experience the joys of living, that even in a World corrupted by the tyranny of war and riddled by the cult like lunacy of fascism, can still see the beauty of the world. Even when it isn’t easy for everyone to see.

This Pinocchio is as Dark and gritty as it is gorgeous and reviting. With a perfectly assembled cast to compliment some of the most fluid stop motion animation the industry has ever seen. Characters that are complex and floored, that don’t always do the right thing or even understand what they did wrong. The years of tortuous dedication to get this movie made were well spent. It doesn’t pander to children, but imparts an important message that has been formally diluted by other renditions. That mortality is a precious thing. That death is as much a part of living as life and that without that knowledge, we can never truly appreciate the finite time we have.

Life isn’t perfect, nor is it without tribulations, but we certainly appreciate life more when there’s an expiration date.

The Steam Deck Is The Perfect Device, For The Busy Parent.

With the arrival of the Steam Deck I think the industry needs to redefine the abbreviated definition of “PC”, to “personal convenience”. Because that is what this device provides. “Want something to engage you whilst you’re dropping the kids off at the pool?”. Play the Steam Deck. “Is your daughter watching back-to-back episodes of Bluey?”. Play the Steam Deck. “Partner fallen into a sugar induced coma?”. Play the Steam Deck. And possibly contact emergency services, but that’s at your own discretion. With Steams diverse catalogue of games, a library that now boasts over 4,500 verified or playable titles, the Steam Deck is a practical alternative for those console peasants that covet the resplendent superiority of PC gaming, without the sense of sanctimonious imperialism you’d otherwise contract.

It is worth noting however that as liberating as the Steam Deck is for many people’s sizeable steam library, there is a subtle, yet critical distinction between “Handheld” and “Portability”. With its limited battery capacity and its sluggish heft, the Steam Deck sadly falls into the former category. As comfortable as the ergonomics are, it is a rather bulky device to grip for long periods. Not that such extended jaunts will be a regular endeavour if you’re not permanently tethered to a socket. Tinkering with the resolution and frame rates will halt the rate of depletion, as will a wealth of accessories to prolong the batteries concessions. But fundamentally demonstrates the limitations of this power guzzling unit.

This isn’t a device furnished for transit, but for the rigid manoeuvrability of the home. It’s a device for the busy parent. The guardian with only brief sabbaticals between tending to garden maintenance, household chores and other domestic responsibilities. All while you acquiesce to your child’s coercive demands. Gaming for any prolonged session just isn’t a practical hobby afforded by child rearing. The Steam Deck, even with its demanding power consumption, is a pragmatic solution to satisfy those abiding gaming compulsions, without it becoming a detriment to your own domestic responsibilities. These short, focused bursts permit fewer streamlined experiences that are more effective for cursory engagements. At least that’s what I tell myself.

The ambiguous nature of this machine makes it difficult to define who its intended audience is with any discernible accuracy. Is it for casual new adopters to PC gaming? Or established one’s with aspirations of liberating their games from the shackles of a static gaming rig? Personally it’s both and neither. The Steam Deck is the first multi purpose device, that has no set purpose. It does what you need it too, even if it is compromised by it’s own formidable power. But for my purposes, simple as they may seem, the Steam Deck is just the right device at just the right time.

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Do you own a Steam Deck? What do you think about it? Let me know in the comments below. Cheers.

“Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Shredders Revenge”. A Review.

Nostalgia. The most powerful, all encompassing element known to man. A concept so persuasive that it makes the Jedi’s force power seem like Scientologists thetans. Nostalgia boasts such a tremendous potency, that if we could derive its raw, dormant capabilities, we’d only require the constituted energy from Comic-Con attendees to generate enough renewable energy, to adequately sustain the entire world’s energy requirements, until Britain’s next Wimbledon champion. A trip down memory lane, just off “unfulfilled aspirations avenue” on the corner of “anxiety disorder drive”, often presents some rather revealing architecture. Such as the 80’s sci-fi classic “Short Circuit” featuring an ostensibly racist character, in a prominent role. With Fisher Stevens rather egregiously portraying a man of Indian heritage in a very convincing, though stereotypical manner. Though it’s comforting to know that some aspects acceptable in the decade of decadence and dubious flamboyance, are still as revered.

The “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” were the cornerstone to many burgeoning childhoods. A cultural phenomenon that’s ubiquitous stature has never really diminished, owed to its diversified transitions and reinventions. Every generation has had iteration of this fearsome fighting team, each with a stylistic distinction that set them apart from it’s predecessors. “Shredders Revenge” is sterling commemoration of the native beat-em-ups I played as a kid, inspired by the classic 80’s adaptation. Which makes this celebratory trip a ripe subject for nostalgic scrutiny.

It’s fair to say that “Shredders “Revenge” captures that kinetic momentum of those games with such studious precision, that it might as well have been copying its homework. The movement of the Turtle’s has been amplified, to give it a contemporary fluidity. But still retains that vintage Turtle’s sensation prominent in its originator’s. I do think it leans a little too heavily into the retro style aesthetic, by embellishing an unnecessary sheen of pixilated aesthetics, to give it a simulated aged look. But considering the historic negligence suffered by this once admired series, I’m not complaining. Quite the opposite. As “Shredders Revenge” is a sobering reminder about the joys of local co-op.

Teaming up with my daughter, with characters that are unfamiliar to her, yet enjoying the experience regardless of her neutrality and limited skills, evokes memories of collaborations with my own father. One of the few fading memories of effusive contentment that I had with my dad. A memory I hope to replicate with my daughter, though hopefully a coalescence of many enduring memories. Her energetic vigour, with the almost rhythmic punishment of the buttons, belies the attentive concentration that crease her already furrowed brow. An accursed hereditary trait I’m afraid. An intensity that diminishes in a flourish of furious, symbiotic ferocity as we vanquish Shredder and his menagerie of mutated subordinates.

“Shredders Revenge” doesn’t offer anything necessarily inventive. There are additional fighters besides the titular tortoises, online capabilities and a difficulty that scales depending on the number of player’s, to a maximum of 6. But when a series as neglected as this, suffers such a prolonged draught, your aren’t going to complain about a light drizzle.

“Alba: Wildlife Adventure” Review.

“Alba: A Wildlife Adventure” might well be the most charming, cosy and optimistic games I’ve ever experienced. A game of such wholesome sincerity you’d be mistaken for thinking you were in an Enid Blyton story. The titular character Alba Singh is a young girl who travels to the fictional Spanish island of “Secarral” to visit her grandparents for a weeks long vacation. While there Alba reacquaints with her friend Ines, to form a wildlife rescue league. Being the burgeoning conservationists, these life long acquaintances decide to organise a petition to halt the construction of a gaudy luxury hotel by the local litigious mayor, that could potentially harm the local ecology. Together they rally the local community behind their noble cause, by restoring the neglected nature reserve and attract species considered extinct from the island.

What I find endearing is the objectives Alba must complete to ensure the preservation of the local fauna’s habitat, as well as the adverse dichotomy between the natural ecosystem and human industrialisation. Menial task’s such as cleaning up discarded rubbish, repairing damaged benches, bird houses and signs take on a greater significance in the context of this insulated adversity. As you explore the island, refurbishing dilapidated bridge’s and rehabilitating animals back into their natural habitats, you can document the creature’s you encounter via your phones camera. The captured images will then be catalogued on your mobiles companion app, a sort of encyclopaedia, displaying information about the different species you’ve photographed.

Alba encourages that inert photographer in all of us. As you adjust your stance, utilise the environment and position yourself to capture the perfect image for your journal. It helps too that this open world climate expedites this desire to explore. Though not detailed, the modest graphical style complements the simple, environmental message. Its vibrant hues and abstract aesthetic gives it a familiar, nostalgic quality to it. Reminiscent of those adolescent vacations you took abroad with your parents. Fleeting, indistinct images and sensations of inflatables hanging from a lattice fence or the encroaching heat that diminishes in the evening, but never fully relents. The only real problem with “Alba: Wildlife Adventure” is just how brief it is. With a clear schedule, you could probably rescue the island from gentrification and dereliction of natural habitats, in the time it takes to listen to Michael Jackson’s “Earth Song”.

Yet despite it’s succinct duration, roughly 2-4 hours for a casual play-through, “Alba: Wildlife Adventure” is about as far from cynical as you can get. Delivering a comprehensive narrative, in a short time frame, with a lead that can only communicate through the gestural shacking of her head, while advocating a cogent ecological message that isn’t sanctimonious or condescending. Alba’s excursion of conservation was as insightful as it was delightful. A legitimate pleasure that I wish lasted longer. And an insightful entry point for young children who are curious to learn about the preservation of our natural environment, without patronising them.

“Gerald’s Game” Movie Review.

Gerald’s Game is a Stephan King adaptation, directed by Hill House creator Mike Flanagan. Starring Carla Gugino – another Hill House alumni – as Jessie, who travels to a remote holiday home with her husband Gerald (Bruce Greenwood) in an attempt to revitalise their faltering marriage. Things begin to escalate however when Gerald, now heavily dependent on Viagra to offset his beleaguered masculinity, proposes that they enact a sordid rape fantasy to spice up things in the bedroom, much to Jessie’s reluctance. She eventually accedes to her husbands desires, and while handcuffed to the bed, Gerald suffers a fatal heart-attack. With her hands bound, no leverage to escape nor means of communication, Jessie must devise a plan to prevent fatal dehydration and repel the advances of an all too ravenous hound!

I’ve always personally enjoyed character driven stories that rely on situational misfortune. A narrative centred in one specific location, that is elevated on the performance of its actors. In this case espousing the absurd premise of a women trapped on her bed in a remote country retreat, held captive by her own mind rather than an intruder. Its very reminiscent of Stephen King’s much vaunted adaptation of “Misery”. Depicting a similar sense of foreboding hopelessness that makes you wonder just how is this person intended to escape? Gerald’s Game executes this with meticulous precision, setting up moments that seem conspicuously obvious, though you’re not sure why. A glass of water placed upon a shelf. A price tag from a negligee casually discarded onto a bed-side cabinet. Little details that on the surface seem trivial, but have greater significance as the story develops. As well as convey Jessie’s inherent capacity to improvise and survive.

It’s such an unusual, as well as humiliating situation to find yourself confined to. A situation only compounded by the sense of isolation and dissolution expedited by her fragmented mind. A mind that begins to conjure hallucinations, manifesting as a pragmatic version of herself and an agnostic depiction of her husband. A duel psychosis competing for her desire to survive. Dealing with an impossible situation, as she clings to her sanity as well as her life. Staving off the figurative and literal presence of Death. With the smug posturing of her deceased husband mocking her attempts at escape. His body decaying by the bed as flesh is torn from his corpse by the lingering appetite of a feral dog, that’s beginning to crave fresher meat.

Because the setting is so minimalist, Gerald’s Game, though cinematic, is also very theatrical. I can see this being performed on a stage, far removed from the commercialised pomposity of the West End or Broadway. And though the explicit scene’s are gratuitous, they’re sparse. With it’s visceral intensity tempered by the far more disturbing abuse Jessie suffered as a child. Memories that have been exposed and must now also be confronted.

Stephan King as an author is someone I’m rather ambivalent too. As much as I respect his craft, it’s the adaptations of his works I find most compelling. The Shining, Shawshank’s and Misery’s may go down as some of the more distinguished adaptations, but “Gerald’s Game” might be his most modest. And certainly another illustration of Mike Flanagan’s exemplary direction of horror.