Understanding the Parts of the Whole

Do you remember Deus Ex? The original, that is, not the sequels (although DX:HR had most of what I intend to talk about here). Well, for those of you who do, you're going to understand what I'm going o talk about and can skip to the next paragraph. For those who don't, or never played it, here's a summary. Deus Ex was a mission based, action rpg with first person shooter style combat. It had literally endless variation and freedom thanks not only to its gameplay mechanics, but just how fun and easy it was to find ways to trick the system. Stacking wall mines to climb over a wall to bypass enemy defenses is a particular favourite of mine. A lot of why Deus Ex succeeded was in the ways it limited you. It tricked you into thinking it was a shooter, but getting stuck in a gun fight, especially early on, was always a death sentence. So it forced you to be clever, to try anything and everything to get through a level alive.

So what makes me bring up Deus Ex? Its spiritual cousin, Dishonored. Developed by Arkane Studios, which features members of the Deus Ex dev team, the Half Life 2 art team and the guys who made Arx Fatalis and Dark Messiah, Dishonored stars you as Corvo, a supernatural assassin. And it's about what you expect, it's a game that looks life Half Life 2 and plays like Deus Ex, with some Arx Fatalis style first-person hack and slash-y combat thrown in. But it's a focus and love for the many parts that make up the whole, rather than the whole itself, that makes Dishonored so exciting. It's all about creatively limiting the player to encourage exploration and experimentation. There's nothing hat you can't do within the rules of the game. Want to fly over that roof to avoid the guards? Just jump in the air and Blink. Time it right and you can break your fall with some unfortunate saps body, killing him instantly. Surrounded? No problem, slow down time, drop a mine then Blink out of there and watch the carnage from afar. Or maybe you'd rather posses a fish an swim through the sewers to your target? Or call down a swarm of rats to help your escape? Every part of this game, from the expertly shaped gameplay, to the fantastic soundtrack and the immediately recognizably unique art style, feels like well oiled, well loved parts of a machine. And that's why I'm so excited about this game. If they can put that much love and attention into every tiny part of the game, then the whole will be some extraordinary. Dishonored is releasing for PC, PS3 and Xbox360 October 2012.

Medal of Honor (2010) Review

Well, here's me putting my foot in it and accidentally researching the wrong developer. Medal of Honor was developed by Danger Close, an elite team of designers from within EA Los Angeles (who developed the original MoH games  amongst many others), but who also used to be DreamWorks Interactive who made one of my favourite games ever - Neverhood. So I'd like to apologise for the misinformation.

In a brave move, Medal of Honor decides to focus on characterization and real world scenarios over the flash-in-a-pan, overly cinematic, set-piece driven frenzy of it's competitors, especially Call of Duty. The story focuses mainly on two teams of Tier 1 operatives, highly trained and deadly black operation soldiers, fighting to uproot Al Qaeda from Afghanistan. There's not a lot of story here, in fact I often times forget why I was even where I was. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, but perhaps a sign of the times. The Afghanistan war feels like so long ago now, and I, like many, am quite disillusioned with why we were fighting there. However, when things go bad and the game becomes about desperately trying to save your comrades and evac from hostile territory, you forget all about grand machinations and instead focus on your desire to save these characters that genuinely feel real. There's some side stuff about a loud general safe at home sending men to die, but it feels a little under-powered when we've seen it so many times before.

Gameplay is mainly standard fare, but everything has weight and meaning. Barring a few key moments in game, there are not a lot of enemies. They don't endlessly respawn (again, barring a few key moments), so each kill feels meaningful, and powerful. Missions are often very quite, focusing on killing with precision and silence, just like real world operatives. Because of this, when things get loud and crazy, it feels all the more hectic. There is a section where you control a helicopter that is amazing, again helped by some clever mechanics, well designed levels and some brilliant set up before hand that really makes you want to keep not only yourself, but your partner alive. Probably my favourite in game mechanic was the sniping level, in which you're forced to make precision shots from hundreds of meters away. at first, it's very disconcerting, relying only on your spotter to guide you. but eventually you get used to the signs and the mechanics and it becomes crazy fun. There is also a hugely impressive defend mission, that ends with you and four others trapped in a tiny hut while enemies spill endless down the mountain towards you, watching your cover blow away and your ammo run dry. You honestly feel the desperation as you have no idea whether help will arrive in time or not. I literally leapt for joy when the rescue finally arrived, it was that intense.

Graphically, for the time, MoH is a powerhouse. It's running on DICE's Frostbite 2 engine and uses its strengths to the fullest. Cover breaks apart around you, explosions kick dirt and snow into the air, the gun models are gorgeous and the facial animation is fantastic. The sound design is brilliant as well, with an effective soundtrack, powerful and realistic weapon sounds and brilliant voice acting across the board.

I haven't really checked out multiplayer yet, but it's DICE so you know what to expect I'm sure. I'm all multiplayered out at the moment, so you'll have to forgive my unprofessionalism, just this once.

I know MoH received a tonne of criticism upon release. I've heard it referred to as a lifeless shooting gallery, and this is simply not true. In a shooter world over populated with adrenaline fueled, testosterone gun porn, it's nice to have a slower paced, more cerebral and deliberate, character and story driven shooter. This is a truly under-appreciated gem, a well-balanced, weighty shooter mixed with an affecting, personal and thought provoking story, with a conclusion that will leave you aching for more. I can only hope its sequel continues this trend of bucking the system, because it would be a shame to lose this refuge from the madness outside.

The Dead Space Debacle (or Not All Good Things Come In Threes)

Warning. Massive, complete and total spoilers to follow. If you have not played both Dead Space games and seen both movies, prepare to be spoiled. Seriously, you've been warned.

Dead Space is a game I hold very dear to my heart. I still count the first one among the best action-tinged survival horror, above Resi 4 but under AvP 2, and the second one made some interesting innovations to the formula whilst still retaining it's heart and soul. And now, with the announcement of the third entry, I'm noticing a lot of outcry. So about here is where you're expecting me to lend my voice to the fury, right? Well, I hate to disappoint but I'm going to present my own view here, completely contradictory to the angry mob.

I am very excited for Dead Space 3.

Let me riff a little on the essence of horror. Horror comes in three forms: the self, the uncanny and the other. The original Dead Space focuses brilliantly on all three of these. Horror of the self is mainly based on two things: The Shadow, which is the Jungian term for the area between what we believe ourselves to be and what we truly are; and our secret shames or desire. Dead Space's antagonists, the Necromorphs, are a personification of The Shadow, a culmination of everything base in humanity. Our need to feed, to procreate, to kill. Their appearance however falls into the category of the Uncanny. The Uncanny is something that looks almost how we would expect, but somehow isn't quite right. It's most effective when applied to the human being as we have such a good idea of what a human should look like. It's why someone with a funny eye, or an amputee, can freak us out so much. Necromorphs often times look like us. The poor sap melted into the wall is especially Uncanny. And finally, the location of space, and a spacecraft and planet, provides us with The Other. The great fear of the Unknown. There is a lot of synchronicity between Dead Space and the Alien franchise. Both the game and movie began on a spaceship and thrived on claustrophobia and a feeling of helplessness. Then the sequels subsequently went for a more action focus, realising a crucial thing: once you know what it is, it's not scary anymore. Sure, Dead Space still had the power of the Uncanny and the Shadow, but we've grown used to it now. Even the few new enemy types can't shake us that much. So what do we do once we're not afraid of the big bad anymore? Kill it. Kill lots of it. Dead Space 2 tried to work in more psychological horror, but for the most part failed with a much less subtle approach than it's predecessor. Insanity isn't effective if we know we're insane. The revelation of Nicole being a vision from the Marker at the end of the first game was so effective because we, like Isaac, we were so certain she was real that we felt just as shaken as he was afterwards. I remember when I first saw the trailer, a part of me really hoped that the whole "necromorph invasion" in the game would actually be a psychotic break by Isaac and he ends up destroying everyone on the station before killing himself. That's just how I would've done it, but I was riding on a crazy high from the deeply unsettling Penumbra: Black Plague at that stage. Man, you ever want to experience true insanity from a first person perspective, play that game. You never know what is real and what is not.

So now we come to Dead Space 3. Isaac is back, and this time he brought a friend. Countless games before (i'm looking at you Resi 5 and you FEAR 3) that playing horror games with a friend is not scary at all. But Dead Space 3 is not a horror game. It's a TPS with some freaky monsters to kill. It's time to get even and I say bring it on. Necromorphs aren't scary anymore, we know everything there is to know about them. WE know what they are, we know where they come from, we know how to kill them. So let us kill them. Once and for all. I also like the fact that we can finally take the fight to those Unitologist bastards, the true monsters of the Dead Space universe. I hope the series continues after 3, but not with Isaac, and hopefully not with the necromorphs. Visceral Games have created such a unique and interesting universe, filled with so much untapped potential. I'm excited for Dead Space 3, but most of all, I'm excited for what is to come afterwards, for Dead Space's "Prometheus".

Altman be praised.

The Secret Art of Crafting Challenge

Somewhere in the last decade, game designers have forgotten a very basic and crucial part of game design: challenge. Challenge is a difficult thing to understand, and something that's even harder to create. There are certainly many levels of challenge, and just as in life, the greater the challenge you overcome, the more rewarded you feel. Back at the birth of gaming, from the arcade to the early consoles, designers used challenge to their advantage, crafting almost cruel products like Contra or Battletoads. Games so intricately designed you were truly considered a god among your peers if you could complete them. To be fair, a lot of this design came from a desire to make money - the harder the game, the more times you'll have to attempt it and therefor the more money you'll spend. But along the way, as our medium began to reach a wider and wider audience, developers began to ease back on the difficulty, and thus was the "difficulty level" born. Outside of the cover system and regenerating health, the difficulty level is one of the most abused and misused devices in gaming ever. Now, I'm not a game developer, so this opinion is only my own, not a professionals, but the following is what I believe the problems are, and what solutions I believe can be found.

Problem Number 1: Lack of Direction


To create something, the creator has to have a lot of things in mind. What audience do I want to market my product to? What skill ability will be required? How much do I intend this to cost? Where will I release it, and when? Every design decision needs to be carefully thought out and crafted with clear answers to these questions in mind. However, with more and more developers focusing on the widest audience, the clear, directed approach is becoming non-existent. How can you design a focused experience when you have no idea who is going to play your game? This also leads to the "voyeur" problem, that feeling that you are only a casual observing in everything that's going on, rather than a participant. But how does this affect difficulty, you ask? Quite simple, in fact. How can you design a game's difficulty and challenge when you have no idea what type of person is playing it? You want it to be easy enough so that as many people can play it as possible, but challenging enough so they don't become bored. Hence, the "difficulty level". However, the "difficulty level" almost always leads to lazy, and plain awful game design. I'm going to use Call of Duty Modern Warfare 3 as a perfect example. When reviewing games, I like to play them through first on the easiest difficulty, and then the hardest. I find at the easiest difficulty you find the experience the designer wanted you to have, and at the hardest all the games flaws become perfectly evident. So let's talk CoD. At the easiest difficulty, you can eat bullets for breakfast without even flinching. You are a walking immortal God and can sprint checkpoint to checkpoint without breaking a sweat. Perfect example of the voyeur problem right there. Barring a few critical moments of player interaction, you can just run from checkpoint to checkpoint without shooting anyone and the AI will handle everything. It's a joke. So let's switch it to Veteran. And of course, the only way to make something harder is to reduce your health and damage, and increase the enemies damage output. So most enemies will one or two shot you, while you have to empty half a clip into people unless you get a lucky headshot. So you play cautiously, sticking to cover and slowly picking enemies off one by one. Thankfully, you have three men at your side at all times, watching your back. Or at least, you'd think that. Unfortunately, their too busy standing in front of your shots, blocking your escape from the endless tirade of grenades, or shooting uselessly in any random direction. Or my favourite, calling out clear when there is clearly at least one guy left shooting at you. So the flaws are revealed, just as I thought. But the real problem, and the real point I want to make, is that the enemies in CoD don't play by the same rules as you. They can lock into cover, blindfire, lean and shoot, roll onto their backs and pull out an infinite ammo pistol when shot. They never run out of ammo, they have wicked good aim and they don't react to being shot at all. In fact, the only person stuck playing by your rules is you. Your partners act just like the enemies, while your left awkwardly crouching behind flimsy cover, occasionally standing up to be oneshotted by some guy blindifring from behind a solid steel wall. To juxtapose that, let's use an example of perfect challenge: Dark Souls. In Dark Souls, every enemy plays by the same rules as you. They have a health bar, they have stamina, they can only make the same movements that you can, they have the same openings and weakness that you do. They can be learnt, outsmarted. They require skill. CoD on Veteran falls down to a simple game of luck, chance and memorization. Enemies always spawn at the same spots, always move the same ways, always do exactly the same thing. They are scripted, entirely devoid of AI, carrying out the same routines over and over.

Problem 2: Not Seeing The Curve for the Peaks
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The difficult curve is a concept as old as games itself. The idea of ramping the challenge to match the player's increase in skill, providing a consistent challenge throughout the experience. This used to be achieved through clever level design, new enemy types and other clever design decisions. Now, it's achieved one way and one way only: more enemies with more health. Almost every single developer is guilty of this. Bioware is an especially good example. Why have clever boss fights when you can just have a massive enemy with a stupid amount of health that instantly spawns smaller enemies until it dies. It's bad design, and worse, it's lazy. It requires no thought, no creativity at all. To bring up Dark Souls again, The Tomb of the Giants, one of the hardest levels in the game, barely has any enemies compared to other enemies. There's maybe 20 proper enemies in the whole area. However, it's almost entirely dark, filled with perilous walkways and clever enemy placements. Each encounter is a tense affair as you try to maneuver around the tight terrain and the pitch dark. And yes, the boss has a lot of health and has an immortal army of followers, but if you have a divine type weapon, which is very easy to get, you can wipe out his army without breaking a sweat, and his big heavy attacks are easy to evade.

Problem 3: Player Error versus Cheap Design


This is probably the biggest problem in modern games. Cheapness in place of challenge. A lot of this results from the first two problems, but together they form a massive problem. If I die in Dark Souls (barring one or two rare areas), it's because I messed up. I mistimed my strikes, I wasn't paying attention, I rolled when I should have blocked. You get angry, you get frustrated, sure, but at yourself, not the game. You got outsmarted by a computer, how dumb does that make you look? However, when I die in CoD because the guy standing next to me was to busy running into a wall to watch my sides while I engaged a swarm of enemies running at me so I got oneshotted by a dude who spawned behind me, I get frustrated at the broken AI and shitty level design.

The Solution


So what can we take from this? Is this ranting leading anywhere, you ask? Well, maybe. I don't know. The solution  seems simple, but I can't see developers willing to put in the effort. There are two options. Option one, ditch the difficulty level entirely and design games with one difficulty only. Think back to games like Legend of Zelda, Castlevania, Contra. Not a difficulty level in sight, right? So what you get is an experience uniquely crafted with a clear vision of what challenge they want to present. Option two, make each difficulty level unique. The Devil May Cry team and Platinum Games (especially with Bayonetta) are really good at this. Want to play it on easy? Then you'll encounter less enemies, or less challenging enemies. Want to play on the hardest difficulty? Then your going to encounter enemies that were mini bosses before as regular enemies, new harder, smarter enemy types, maybe some new bosses even. Replaying Bayonetta on Hard achieves this perfectly, mixing in late game enemies right form the beginning, giving them new move sets and more dangerous combos. But both of those require a lot of effort and a clear design vision, something modern developers seem to be uninterested in. Instead, by focusing on appealing to a wider audience, they are alienating the very people they want to include. Casual gamers feel pandered to, and alienated by the harder difficulties, whilst more skilled gamers feel cheated by the lack of challenge and cheap excuses for difficulty. Outside of the indie scene, and the Souls series, the seems to be no sign of a return to this kind of intelligent design and it's somewhat horrifying to see. Where never going to be taken as a serious artform when we don't have the courgae to stand by our decisions, to take risks. Where so busy holding hands and constantly reminding gamers of the most basic activities. I should not need to be told "press R1 to shoot" in the last fucking level. We are the generation of "press X to win" and it's a joke. Splinter Cell: Blacklist confirmed this for me. Punch one guy in the face and then you can kill every single guy in the area with one button press. No challenge, no user control required. Just two button presses and you win. I honestly hope we're all not as stupid as game developers think we are. I really do.

(500) Days of Kyle (or What I Found in the Garden State)

I'm about to try something a little different here, as I find myself in a bit of a strange situation. As I said in my Avengers review, professional courtesy as a reviewer implies that I must write my reviews from a purely critical, analytic state. However, I also want to talk about some of my favourite, most well loved movies. Obviously I cna't review them, pre se, being so emotionally attached. So instead, I'm going to provide a written piece, discussing these films and the benefit they've had on my life in as spoiler free and critique free way as humanely possible.

It was pure chance that led me to hire these two movies again. A re-watching of Scrubs and a Pixies song. Two seemingly irrelevant, tiny details. However, watching Scrubs reminded me of Garden State, a movie I had not seen in many years and listening to the Pixies' Here Comes Your Man reminded me of the karaoke scene from (500) Days of Summer, a movie which at that stage I had already watched 6 times. So upon returning Scrubs, those two films found themselves at the top of my hire list. And then it was straight into the DVD player with (500) Days of Summer for my 7th viewing. 5DoS has always had a strange synergy with my life. The main character always rang a little too close to home for me. When I first viewed it, I saw it only as "finally, a movie with the bloke as a hopeless romantic". I felt his pain struggling against the tyranny of the world and Summer's emotionless realism. At the time, I was in a similar relationship and thus blinded to the true story at work. However, over multiple viewings, I began to realise that despite the entire film taking place from his point of view, this was not Tom's story. Nor was it Summer's. If anything, it is a morality tale about the dangers of close mindedness. It's Tom's steadfast belief that Summer is the "One" that drives her away. It's this close minded belief that leaves him shattered at her departure. But it is also Summer's stubborn refusal to see anything outside her pragmatic view on life that leaves her confused and lonely. We constantly see her looking lost and broken, torn between her heart and mind without realising it's possible to follow both. And it is through her growth at the conclusion that we realise what the film truly is about. Acceptance. Acceptance that we can't define life, or love, or fate. Acceptance that we can't let emotions and blind optimism rule our lives. Acceptance that we can't let fear of failure freeze us in place. Acceptance that we are all different, that what we believe true for ourselves won't be true for others. Whether or not Tom accepts this at the end is left open, but I think that's why the message remains so important. (SPOILERS) While Summer stumbles into commitment and happiness in love and comes to accept Tom's view along with his own, it seems to the audience that Tom will continue to endlessly pursue "The One", but we can only hope he has been left wiser from all that has come to pass.(END SPOILERS).

Garden State is a bit of a different beast. I was young when I first saw it, probably too young. I knew only that it was Zach Braff's feature film directorial/writing debut, and that it was shocking different to Scrubs. Don't get me wrong, I loved the movie. I found it poignant and funny and strangely different to anything else I'd ever seen. However, I was so caught up in just how different it was to Scrubs, how strange it was to see Zach playing the straight man, that I missed what the movie was truly about. At it's heart, Garden State is a simple growing-up film. It's a film about family, about mental health, and about death. But there is so much more under the simple trappings. At its heart, Garden State is a celebration of life through the mirror of death and suffering. Every character in the movie represents a different aspect of the human condition. And separately, they are all broken individuals. Most of them are hooked on drugs, or booze, or sex. Andrew (Zach's character)'s father is so set on trying to make the world perfect and happy that he can't see all he is doing is making the world numb. Andrew himself, drugged out of his mind on Lithium and stupor, is shown different aspects of himself through the people that surround him. The childishness of his best friend, the laziness and immaturity of his rich friend, and most importantly, the acceptance of life for all its pain and sadness represented through Sam. Sam represents everything that Andrew has numbed out of his life. Fear, grief, love, excitement, naivety. The audiences perspective shifts almost to Sam's eyes after her introduction, and we suddenly see a change in all that surrounds her and Andrew. Is this change brought about by her presence, or has it always been there and we, like Andrew, have been numbed to it? There's no attempt at reconciliation, no tight, happy package at the end, because life isn't like that. It won't always be perfect, or happy, or safe, but who could possible want that? By flooding the audience with emotions at the same time that Andrew experiences them, we feel we have all grown along with him. We feel the shell of numbness falling away and we, like Andrew, feel like stepping out into the great meat grinder of life and trying to get few with as many body parts intact as possible. And the most important lesson we learn of all is, always take time to listen to the Shins.

Which leads me to my final point, and one that applies to both movies, and that is an expert use of music. Being a musician, and someone finely attuned to music, choice of music can make or break a movie for me. But the sign of true melding of film and music is being able to listen to the soundtrack and understand the movie as if you had just watched it, and that's what both films achieve. And that's all I have to say really. Just something to share. Perhaps there are films that mean something special to you. If so, please feel free to share the stories in the comments below.

The Avengers Review

It's generally considered pretty bad form for a critic to get emotionally invested in something they are critiquing; and even worse form to write an entire review whilst still under the emotional influence of said article. Still, I've never been one for rules and dammit if I'm not going to try to convey just how indescribably amazing this movie is.

You've heard the hype. If you haven't, then you've been living under the biggest rock yet to grace this technologically advanced floating lump of earth and water. As with any hype, there is always a fear that The Avengers could never live up to the massive hype surrounding it. But fear not, The Avengers not only lives up to the hype, but blows the hype out of the water, into the atmosphere and Hulk Smashes it to the ground. It is truly impossible to generate enough hype to match the splendor of The Avengers.

For those of you somehow not aware of what's happening here, The Avengers is the culmination of Marvel Studios attempt to bring comic book cross-media continuity to the big screen. Starting all the way back with Iron Man 1, then continuing through The Incredible Hulk, Thor, Iron Man 2 and Captain America, Marvel has been slowly weaving their films together into a concrete universe. Loki (Tom Hiddleston), the disgraced sun of Odin and brother to Thor, has returned to Earth with a massive and unstable power and the intent to unleash an unstoppable army onto the Earth. Desperate, Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson, in the role that was based on him in the first place) pulls together any and all heroes under SHIELD's purview. This includes the reclusive Dr Banner (Mark Ruffalo, replacing Edward Norton), the thawed out Captain America (Chris Evans) and the narcissistic, ego-maniacal Tony Stark (Robert Downey, Jr, playing the role for the third time). Thor (Chris Hemsworth) himself even eventually joins the fray and it's a race against time as the heroes must put their differences and egos aside to unite in the Earth's defense. Over simplified as it is, The Avengers is much more than its deceptively simple premise thanks, mostly, to three important things. Joss Whedon (Firefly, Serenity, Buffy) has not only provided an extraordinary screenplay, but once again proves his directional chops are criminally under-appreciated. But a fantastic script and direction wouldn't mean a damn without the actors to back it up, and thankfully The Avengers deliver on all fronts. Both Chrises and Robert deliver even stronger performances than they have previously, and Mark Ruffalo owns Banner more than even Edward Norton could. Tom is having way too much fun as Loki and his personality elevates him well beyond stock-standard villain territory. Jeremy Renner's Hawkeye is really the only missed opportunity here, with his character mostly left to the sidelines or support roles. And yes, there is much more to Scarlett's Black Widow than that leather or 'dat ass' this time around; Whedon gives her plenty of room to flex her acting as well as her legs.

The Avengers true wonder comes from the way Whedon manages to work in all his little quirks and have them not feel out of place. He truly understands these characters; their flaws and their humanity. His wonderful moments of comedy never feel unnecessary or forced, but a natural progression of events from a deep understanding of who and what he is writing for. This especially shines through with both The Hulk and Captain America. Whedon provides the best understanding of The Hulk so far as an unrestrained, brutal force, like throwing a hand grenade into a sandpit. Some of the best moments of comedy come from the Hulk being the Hulk. And Captain America provides an interesting change for Whedon, a step outside his usual flawed, complex characters and a chance to write a straight man, and he handles it divinely. It's a tribute to everyone involved that this film manages to feel like a natural continuation of not one, but five different movies.

In weaker hands, The Avengers could have easily fallen apart. There's always so much going on, so many characters, so many sideplots, but at no time does it feel like too much. Whedon keeps a steady hand on everything, letting the pace build slowly until it erupts into a stunning final act. It succeeds not only as a standalone movie, but as a movie teeming with the fan service this kind of cross-continuity stories were invented for - Hero on Hero, cross film cameos and references, hints at further stories and developments. I challenge anyone not to leave this film feeling something incredible. I'm calling it, right now, nothing this year, comic book movie or otherwise, is going to surpass this film. Go, see it, now.

Seriously.

Melancholia Review

Few names in the cinematic world stir up as much fear and controversy as that of Lars von Trier. Personally I am a huge fan and have never bought into the claims of racism, misogyny or any of the other terms people love to throw at him. There are few directors with as recognizable a style as von Trier, nor few with a powerful enough drive and vision to create what he has, from the minimalist Dogville and Manderlay, to the more recent (and most controversial) Anti-Christ, few can deny the power of von Trier's vision. And so he returns this year with Melancholia, a human drama disguised as a disaster movie.

The film opens with a stunning series of slow motion shots that sum up the themes and motives of the movie to come, all set to a beautiful excerpt from Wagner's Tristan and Isolde (which also happens to be the only piece of music used in the film, repeated at important intervals, a surprisingly stark and effective choice). Afterwards, it continues in two parts, named after the primary protagonists, Justine and Claire.

Justine (Kirsten Dunst) is getting married and intends to celebrate the wedding at her sister Claire's (Charlotte Gainsbourg) estate. The reception is paid for by John (Kiefer Sutherland), Claire's overly-rich amateur-astrologist husband. Throughout the night, Justine sinks further and further into depression, tearing not only her family, but her work and even her marriage apart. After sleeping with a stranger on her wedding night, her husband leaves the wedding in disgrace. Upon riding in the morning, the sisters notice a single start has vanished from the night sky.

The second, Claire, takes place an indeterminate time later. Justine has sunk into an almost catatonic depression and is unable to function, so she returns to live at her sister's estate. Meanwhile, a mysterious planet has appeared from behind the sun and is on course towards Earth. This part juxtaposes Claire's descent into fear and insanity with Justine's calm acceptance of the end, creating an interesting argument over who really is sane.

It's hard to talk about what Melancholia, the film, and Melancholia, the planet, represent without ruining things for the viewer. This is a very personal movie and will mean something different to every person who watches it. Some will hate it, there is no doubt. It's slow-paced, surrealistic nature is bound to lose the more casual viewers, though it is far less disturbing or even controversial than any of the director's previous works. There's almost no sex or nudity; hell, there's barely even any language. At its heart though, Melancholia owes a lot to its stars, especially Kirsten, showing again her incredible acting chops that so many people tend to forget about, especially those that first saw her in Spiderman and were remiss enough no to hunt down her earlier works, such as the incredible Elizabethtown. The script, will well-written, could easily have been lifeless, overly-intellectual and self-indulgent almost to the point of masturbation were it not for the subtleties of the performers. Kirsten's depression is a quite one, shown by long periods of silence and slow movements, not by dramatic outbursts or endless drama. Claire's anxiety burns slow, too, so that when it finally boils over it's all the more powerful. Keifer is given the somewhat unlikable role of the voice of science/arrogant rich bastard, but he again proves that he's not just Jack Bauer. Alexander Skarsgaard, Stellan Skarsgaard and John Hurt also shine in the prospective roles, though both John (as Justine and Claire's father) and Alexander (as Justine's husband) are rather underused.

To truly appreciate Melancholia, you have to forget about the planet, or at least think of it as a metaphor. A disaster movie, this is not. The ending of the world is simply the catalyst to create drama in a surreal and extreme situation, not unlike Requiem for a Dream's overly extreme portrayal of drug use. It recalls a similarity with this year's Tree of Life, which explores some similar themes and is also a fantastic movie. It is true that not everyone will enjoy this, but I implore you to ignore the Lars von Trier stigma and go in with an open heart and mind. There is much to discover at the end of all things.