Friday, November 14, 2014

Guitar Hero My Ass...

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You know what depresses me? Guitar Hero. Sure, it may be fun to play and it sure boasts a killer soundtrack (”Raining Blood” by Slayer!? “Through The Fires And Flame” by Dragonforce!?! Kill me now!), but the fact that the game replaces the six-stringed instrument with five buttons on its neck and installs a switch near the bridge that goes up and down - assuming the movement of string picking - had me shaking my head in disbelief.
Let me make things straight with fans of Guitar Hero and the Bemani series from Konami. As mentioned, I can imagine the game being fun to play because players are able to imitate music by different recording artists and make it their own (well, somewhat) by playing with it using the guitar tailor-made for the game. Plus, practicing for Guitar Hero is less rigorous compared to practicing with a guitar, which simply means that Guitar Hero won’t take much of your precious time burning a hole through walls using your staring powers and fleeting with your thoughts of this futile existence.
However, the good things are pretty much what makes the game suck as well: there would be a greater inclination for people to play Guitar Hero than to pick up a real musical instrument simply because it’s easier, more affordable, and more convenient. Hardcore gamers are now into this shit like guitar whores owning a harem of guitar concubines from different models to different brands. What’s even more annoying is how people are actually posing with the faux-guitar like it’s the real six-stringed thing. Not that it’s destroying the essence of music or anything, but it’s sad how they look like when they pose, pouting lips and all. I mean, the ’80s is so, like, over.
My advice: drop that guitar-thingie, and get a real one. Since we’re at it, get a Stratocaster or a Les Paul, and shred like hell - Yngwie Malmsteen hell! Make your own symphony of destruction, or shred like a tornado of souls. I know, you’ll have to practice in order to reach Randy Rhoads- or Michael Angelo Batio-proportions with the instrument, which is a real bitch to some, but at least you’re gonna be way better than playing with a hokey guitar.
Published at The Geek Revolution on Cctober 8, 2007. Recovered using The Wayback Machine.

Thursday, November 6, 2014

The Royal Anderson

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Darjeering Limited was released on selected cinemas this past week in the US, and despite its lukewarm reception and box-office sales, even not having seen a trailer of the film or having heard Hotel Chevalier just a couple of days ago (more on this later), I can only assume that this film kicks ass. Not in a Tony Montano-kind of way, but the kind that would make Mahatma Gandhi wet himself. There, I said it.

For those who’s still wondering why I, a lowly and fashionably-bored bloke that I am, would even prematurely surmise the excellence of this film, I have two words for you: Wes Anderson. If there’s anybody who could pull off films with so much conviction and passion despite its glaring awkwardness and banality, please let me know and send me a copy of their film (please, by all means necessary), because Anderson puts his cinematic knowledge into good use, utilizing the plethora of film methods to convey a sense of enlightenment to its characters that permeates to the viewers as well.

He did this with The Life Aquatic of Steve Zissou when the title character lay motionless after witnessing the leopard shark, the one who killed his partner and whom Zissou wanted to exact revenge upon, swam across his vessel. He drew tears, but his emotion is rich with understanding of the shark’s beauty that he decides to not pursuit it and leave things be. Of course, I just described the scene like feces in the gutter ripe for the picking. T’is always better to see it for yourself, I believe.


However, disregarding his crowning masterpiece Rushmore (which I haven’t seen yet - curse the gods!), Anderson painted a picture of a strained familial relationship whose ties have been resuscitated by their father - the cause of all their heartache. I’m talking about The Royal Tenenbaums, one of my favorite movies of all time and the best film of 2001. The film evokes laughter amidst the overlying pain and sadness that the film harbors, but it’s far from being a depressing film. It is, in a word, indescribable, just like any other orgiastic experience in the theaters.
Although my praises for Anderson is more than tangent, the greatest thing he’s done in his life so far is to have Natalie Portman bare her breasts in Hotel Chevalier. Although she technically did appear nude in Closer (by Mike Nichols), the scene didn’t appear in the final product, so that shit doesn’t count. My point being, can somebody direct us a link of this 14-minute ecstasy? Like the lunar eclipse, it may not happen again soon, so make the most of the chances, dagnabit!

For the record, I’m not a 1st class perv. But like Jack Black said in the Shallow Hall when asked about his friend’s man-tail, “I don’t want to see it, I NEED to see it!”

Post originally published on The Geek Revolution at October 13, 2007. Recovered using The Wayback Machine.