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Ubisoft
Tom Clancy's Splinter Cell: Double Agent
[Stealth Action]
For a few years now, Ubisoft’s Splinter Cell franchise has carved out a nice little niche for itself on PS2 and Xbox, shifting just enough copies to warrant a yearly sequel without setting the world alight. The premise is always pretty simple, generally focusing on a bunch of guys who don’t like America getting hold of a weapon and threatening to use it, at which point the decidedly gruff Sam Fisher (complete with troubled past, no less) goes in, kills them all and saves the day. It’s not life-changing stuff by any means, but it knows what works and sticks to it faithfully.
What also works very well is the game’s stealth system -- constituting a light meter, noise meter, fantastic acrobatics and a tantalizing assortment of fictional gadgets -- which, having been upgraded with gradual tweaks in true videogame style, culminated in an excellent third installment known as Chaos Theory.
Though the expected improvements to the game mechanics did contribute to the game’s success, what truly separated Chaos Theory from its two fairly good predecessors was some fantastic level design. Promising variety around every turn, levels included a bank, a rooftop apartment, a Chinese countryside retreat and a naval bunker. As well as the exciting locales, the developers had evidently worked hard to ensure each mission would enable Fisher to utilize his full range of moves, resulting in fantastic options for the player. As well as the obvious shotgun-toting brute force route, an array of carefully positioned vents, pipes, rails and ledges, along with generous helpings of darkness, ensured there was always the option to do missions the proper, Sam Fisher way. A strict mission rating system also rewarded stealthy play, penalizing players for excess noise, kills and general clumsiness.
What a disappointment it is to find, then, that the fourth game in the series is a let down on almost all of these fronts. Feeling like a backward step in gameplay terms, Double Agent has some really dull, featureless levels (a warehouse, anyone?) that rarely allow our hero to exhibit his impressive athletic abilities. Not only that, but a lot less shadow and the removal of the mission rating system mean brute force is often the most worthwhile path through missions. In addition, the long load times mean slip-ups are punished severely, discouraging players from risking a stealthy takedown when they could opt for the more reliable machinegun.
The story is a marked improvement, however, told via a series of flashbacks and revealing Fisher’s recent involvement in an elaborate plot to infiltrate a terrorist organization. Only Fisher and his old pal Colonel Lambert were aware of the mission’s finer details, meaning that throughout the game’s levels Fisher is obliged to sabotage parts of the JBA’s plan and risk blowing his cover in order to please the suits back at HQ. This idea is implemented in the game with a simple trust meter that shifts position every time you complete (and thus consequently also fail) an objective for either side. In order for a smooth progression, you are required to keep the apparently mathematical ‘trust’ value in the middle of the bar -- upsetting one side too much could result in them asking you to complete a spontaneous sub-mission which, if not completed in time, results in failure.
While this system has the potential to be great, it hasn’t quite been implemented well enough. To give one example, during my first time through the game I managed to sink a tanker full of 3,000 passengers and let a city get nuked while still comfortably maintaining the trust of the good guys. Now I’m no diplomat, but surely a death toll in the tens of thousands can’t be considered a job well done?
That said, the various split paths in the game do warrant repeat plays and the stealth mechanics are grounded on a solid enough foundation to still make the game an enjoyable experience. With some more attention to detail in the environment s, a few more missions and a bit of tweaking to the trust system, Tom Clancy’s Splinter Cell: Double Agent could have been one of the best games on PS2. As it is, it’s still good, though the aforementioned shortcomings mean Chaos Theory remains the best game in the series. 61
Dir. Edgar Wright
Hot Fuzz
[Comedy]
2004's Shaun of the Dead was rightly regarded as one of the most accomplished spoofs in recent times. Bringing Simon Pegg and Nick Frost's irresistible brand of humour to a wider audience, it was consistently funny, well structured and also handled more serious moments with ease. Though it never quite reached the dizzy heights of This is Spinal Tap, even king of the absurd Christopher Guest could have learned a thing or two from its superb bastardization of the ridiculous (pool cues, anyone?).
Given the vast success of their first foray into film, it's hardly surprising the duo are back for more with Hot Fuzz – an attempted send-up of the countless police buddy movies out there – and the film studio evidently has more faith this time too, splashing the cash on the likes of Timothy Dalton, Jim Broadbent, Steve Coogan, Bill Bailey and more. And though the bigger budget, slicker direction and more accessible gags will obviously win the pair a larger audience (and, you guessed it, loadsa dosh), something has undoubtedly gone missing along the way.
However, identifying exactly what makes Hot Fuzz so inferior to its predecessor is no easy task. Is it the unnecessarily long, self-indulgent running time (director Edgar Wright has admitted deliberately stretching the film to make it exactly two hours long)? Is it the plethora of tired jokes (cops putting on shades and folding their arms, wow...)? Is it the fact that many of the big stars have clearly turned up for the money and can't be bothered to act (a sequence with Coogan, Freeman and Nighy is almost unbearably bad)? It's probably a combination of the three, though Coogan's performance really has to be seen to be believed. Hot Fuzz is also notable for its many missed opportunities. To give one example, parts of the film make effective use of extreme violence, yet the inevitable shootouts are almost entirely bloodless; anyone's who's seen Evil Dead 2 will appreciate the comedic potential of a crimson tide.
Elsewhere, Edgar Wright is keen to show off his new camera, putting together some great fast-paced montages, over the top zooms, swoops and pans that really complement the preposterousness of the mood. Yet about half way through the film the visual effects vanish almost entirely, and with them goes any possibility that some reasonably funny scenes could be made much more memorable.
As it stands now, a week after I saw the film, the majority has been completely forgotten.It's not that Hot Fuzz isn't funny - it made me laugh out loud three or four times - it's just that, after exhibiting such talent in Spaced and then Shaun..., we had a right to expect much more from one of Britain's brightest double acts. At least it's better than Hyperspace. 56
Bloc PartyA Weekend in the City[ Rock ]
Though they were initially -- and lazily -- touted as forerunners of the post-punk ‘revival’ after “Helicopter” received heavy radio play, Bloc Party made no attempt to hide the fact they were different. Refusing to exhume, exploit and exhibit a style befitting of its time (as so many of their contemporaries opted to do), they instead focused on being one of the few, truly twenty-first century bands.
Released in early 2005, Bloc Party’s debut long player Silent Alarm was most notable as a record of contrast -- of shivering warmth (“So Here We Are”, “Plans”), brutal intimacy (“Banquet”) and doleful idealism (“Helicopter”, “Price of Gas”). What made it such an intriguing dichotomy was hard to pinpoint, though a fair guess would surely incorporate the schizophrenic guitars, dizzying drum rhythms and sinister bass work, not to mention Kele Okereke’s nervous, irregular and often confusing chatter. Regardless of the exact reason, Silent Alarm continues to endure as a triumph of creativity, bravery, ambition and intelligence.
With their status cemented as such an important, modern and forward-looking rock outfit, the pressure for Bloc Party to deliver a satisfying follow-up was inevitably going to be huge. Few expected A Weekend in the City to better its predecessor, mind you; while it would be great to have got our grubby mitts on another Modern Life is Rubbish, something akin to a Room on Fire would have sufficed nicely -- in other words, a good enough reminder to reconcile the fact we fell in love with yet another bunch of awkward posh kids.
However, after repeat listens to their sophomore effort, it becomes clear that Bloc Party have failed to deliver on both counts. Instead, they have opted for another well-known approach when recording the notorious ‘difficult second album’: play it very, very, very safe. In fact, save for a handful of inspired sequences early on, the record is almost completely devoid of edge.
But should we have seen this coming? After all, given the Futurheadian risks associated with recording a more ambitious follow-up, can our boys really be blamed for looking to secure their future and pay off the remainder of those student debts? Bono’s recent knighthood suggests not, though as any artist worth his NME cover shoot will attest, bland is definitely not best.
The early signs were also not encouraging: stopgap single “Two More Years” was notable for its “shades of grey” (so helpfully pointed out by the band). Decidedly pale bass, colourless drums and a washed-out guitar line characterized the song which, backed with a dull video, inevitably succeeded in the singles chart.
What was interesting about the new sound, though, was the increased prominence of vocals compared to earlier singles. It was almost as if the music had become a single instrument, acting as a platform on which a more assured, relaxed and confident Kele could lay down his thoughts without interference. Gone were the panicked yelps and squeals of “Price of Gas”, instead replaced by more of traditional indie rock set-up.
A Weekend in the City follows this formula to the letter for the most part, exemplified most obviously in opener “Song for Clay (Disappear Here)”. Taking centre stage, Kele flicks his guitar gently while delivering a typically provocative statement of intent: ‘I am trying to be heroic in an age of modernity’. No doubt about it, this is a cracking first line of a record, threatening to pave the way for another great listen.
But then it hits, subtle as a runaway train, one of the other great sophomore slip-ups: the bit when we hear how hard it is to be so terribly rich and famous. ‘I devour flesh and wine and luxury,’ shrugs Kele, ‘but in my heart I am lukewarm / Nothing really touches me.’ Seriously, what emotion is this kind of vain moralizing supposed to inspire? Pity? Jealousy? Admiration? Whatever the intent, it surely fails, rather adding water to the already overflowing notion that all rock stars are, in some capacity or other, pig-headed egoists.
Nevertheless, I’m willing to forgive a band I once considered potential Radiohead-beaters and who I have closely followed for around four years. After all, what’s rock ‘n’ roll without a little charity? So, assuming the fois-gras references are put aside for a second, it does actually develop into a pretty good tune.
The gentle opening is soon replaced by Matt Tong’s aggressive (though admittedly formulaic) drums, meanwhile Russell Lisack’s guitar bobs and weaves nicely at a safe distance, alternating between generic hard rock riffing and more free form explorations that give Clay’s song a welcome unsteadiness. The most important line of the record -- ‘East London is a vampire / It sucks the joy right out of me’ -- is also delivered without a shred of irony and certainly deserves a mention.
(It is worth noting at this point that Gordon Moakes’ bass is, inexplicably, almost completely unnoticeable on A Weekend in the City, despite being one of the most accomplished aspects of the first record. When it is audible, it is completely unremarkable, and thus does not warrant a mention from hereon in…sorry Gordon!)
“Hunting for Witches” then kicks and squeals with all the ferocity of “Helicopter” as shredded voice samples, tiptoe guitar and up-tempo drums irresistibly combine to demand attention. A thunderous riff subsequently strikes and takes charge, driving the momentum and completing one of the band’s best intros since “She’s Hearing Voices”.
Unfortunately, Okereke is in the inexorable post-9/11 mood for poorly veiled, poorly observed social commentary, offering the following observation: ‘I'm sitting on the roof of my house with a shotgun / ... / The newscaster says the enemy's among us / As bombs explode on the 30 bus / ... / Now is not the time for liberal thought’. So he thinks Britain’s reaction to the London bombings has been excessive. Well, quite frankly, who in the predominantly left-leaning guitar rock world doesn’t? He follows it up with a cheap shot at the Daily Mail, which, though deserved, is so twenty-five years ago. What’s next -- a carefully considered critique of Hitler's domestic policy, perhaps? The song also refuses to progress musically, stuck in first gear for the duration, enhancing the sense of disappointment after such a promising start.
Thankfully, we are then treated to the best song -- musically at least -- on A Weekend in the City. “Waiting for the 3.16” is the song that sticks closest to the overall concept, successfully capturing the atmosphere of a chilly London night. Excusing another lyrical faux-pas (‘Spend all of your time trying to escape / With crosswords and Sudoku’), it really feels alive, holding its breath during the subdued verses before exploding into colour with necessarily grand walls of guitar when the chorus draws near. As if that wasn’t enough, they even throw in some choral wails to eke out a tear or two. Oh London, how we hardly knew ye.
Aside from abominable lead single and homage to rock star excees, “The Prayer”, and woeful sneer at yoof culture, “Uniform” (‘All the young people look the same / Wearing their masks of cool and indifference / Commerce dressed up a rebellion’ -- hang on, weren’t these guys part of the Converse-sponsored t-shirts and scarves retro ‘rebellion’ of years past?), the rest of the album is lyrically sound.
Okereke is obviously most at ease when musing about love, perhaps best exemplified on “I Still Remember”, a sweet recounting of unconsummated schoolboy romance. “You should have asked me for it / How could I say no?” is the key line, though the homophobic press are unfortunately given some bait to snatch at with the detail that “We left our trousers by the canal”. He’s gay?! Oh. My. God. Fetch the cameras; we need to interview this guy!
Elsewhere it’s all a bit, well, dull. Aside from the aforementioned ninth track, the entire second half of the record melts together in a thick soup of MOR mediocrity. “Where is Home”, “Kreuzberg”, “Sunday” and “SXRT” are all Coldplay songs: nice enough to look at on the plate but without anything to really get your teeth into. To put it differently, you know you’re in trouble when so much of your grandiose and supposedly ambitious ‘concept album’ is this pleasant.
So, all in all, A Weekend in the City will mostly be remembered as a major failure. In a way, though, I’d rather they mess up this badly and for it to be clearer exactly what they did wrong. One of the major issues I had with Franz Ferdinand’s You Could Have It So Much Better... was that it was almost impossible to spot the holes. It wasn’t bad but, then again, it wasn’t particularly stunning either. At least now Bloc Party knows which direction it shouldn’t be heading in. Whether they take heed, or whether the flesh, wine and luxury prove a bigger draw remains to be seen. For now, though, we are simply left with a(nother) telling lesson in how not to follow up a great first record. 46
Bohmeia InteractiveArmed Assault[Military Simulation]When Codemasters opted not to publish Armed Assault - the follow-up to one of the best, most popular and most enduring PC games of all time - I should have known something was up. However, Operation Flashpoint was just so complete, so immersive and so perfect that I couldn't imagine what could possibly go wrong. After all, all they had to do was keep the finely-crafted battle dynamics and make it a bit shinier, right? Well, after a five and a half year wait, it genuinely saddens me to report that Marek Spanel and his team haven't even managed that.
When it wants to be, or more importantly, when it can be, Armed Assault is the best-looking game of all time. However, what is immediately striking on first playing this unofficial sequel is that the visual side of the game is not all there: it's less an engine, more a big pile of shiny nuts and bolts held together with string and paperclips. And, despite having been delayed for more than two years, the extent of the mess is disgraceful.
Every time the vast island map loads, for example, the objects form in front of your eyes, starting off as crude, colourless blocks before layers of texture are added. Five seconds later, just as you think the level is stable, changing your viewpoint results in exactly the same thing is happening all over again, Sahrani building itself piece by piece, as and when those pieces are needed. Not only does this lead to a fifteen second delay at the start of some missions, it completely destroys any potential sense of immersion during cutscenes when the camera pans gracefully over a sea of grey cubes.
As mentioned previously, however, this can be a stunning game when it works. It may be an unplayable slide show when the settings are above 'normal', but some of the visual effects are terrific. That said, on a 3Ghz computer with 1Gb of RAM and a GeForce 6800 GT, all three of which satisfy the recommended specifications, the only way I could experience a playable frame rate was with the quality setting somewhere between 'low' and 'very low', at times making the game look as bad as the 2001 original (and boy was that ugly). Scanning through the official forums it is clear that this is a common problem and, though I'm sure the code is being optimized as I speak, if playing a good-looking version of Armed Assault is out of the question then you have to question the point of such a radical upgrade.
Nevertheless, I still had every right to be reassured by the fact that Operation Flashpoint features, hands down, the best gameplay of anything I had played before or since. The freedom to do whatever the hell you wanted in the original game offered such a stunningly original sense of autonomy that is often promised but rarely delivered in video games. Despite relying heavily on scripted triggers, I can only recall a handful of occasions where a mission became impossible and had to be reloaded. With Armed Assault, on the other hand, almost everything is broken.
The vehicle AI is so bad, for instance, that expecting the computer to drive a hundred yards down a straight road is hopelessly optimistic. In one early mission, 'Dolores', the player is expected to plant explosive charges on a bridge, hide, and then blow the bridge in conjunction with two others in order to trap an enemy armoured convoy. However, not only does one truck get stuck behind a wall ninety percent of the time, forcing a restart, on occasion your commander will forget to blow his bridge, leaving you to wait helplessly as a full complement of T-72s proceeds to massacre the handful of American soldiers expected to fight them off.
Not only that, but the AI controlled ambush squad that is supposed to head off the remaining tanks contains no armoured units or anti-tank soldiers whatsoever, leaving the player to fight them off unassisted. As if that wasn't enough, the only artillery in the area - a large, unmanned AT cannon that none of the poorly-armed soldiers have decided to use, despite them facing a tank rush - is positioned too close to a sandbag such that any shots fired from it hit the barricade and immediately kill the gunner. And, even if you manage to hold off the six or seven tanks single-handedly and keep your squad alive, you are still given the order to retreat, receiving a radio message telling of the massacre that hasn't happened right in front of your eyes. I could go on but, in honour of the Bohemia Interactive mentality, why bother?
The story, described briefly above, is also an absolute catastrophe, not only featuring a completely preposterous premise but also having very little coherence, a frankly ridiculous twist and the distinct lack of any character background. You play as a nameless, faceless soldier, expertly trained as an infantryman, pilot, tank commander, saboteur and sniper, who never features in any cutscenes or back story. This contrasts markedly with the hugely memorable storyline in Operation Flashpoint, so memorable in fact that I even remember the nicknames of my former squad mates. There is no Armstrong, Fowley, Kozlowski, Gastovski or Berghof in sight, just a newsreader relaying events with cringe-inducing voice acting and the odd 'sergeant' offering his thought on proceedings.
The events, in case you were wondering, are equally ridiculous. Judging from its size and the number of houses, the combined population of Sahrani is roughly 1,000 people, yet the southern half manages to have its own monarchy, two airports and an oilfield, while the north, possessing its own airport, invades its neighbour with countless troops, hundreds of tanks and aircraft, under the command of someone who is never named, seen or heard. Why the US decides to intervene is a mystery, as is the fact that the player spends the first half of the game retreating from the apparent military might of North Sahrani. As if this wasn't bad enough, there's a side plot involving slave camps being set up around the island by an unknown enemy. Oh dear. At times it's almost impossible to believe these are the same people who bought us the epic, emotional and exciting journey all those years ago. Armed Assault's campaign, incidentally half the length of the one in Operation Flashpoint, is simply excruciating.
It's not that Armed Assault is so bad that makes reviewing it such a depressing experience. It's that, after nearly six years, this doesn't look, feel, play or act like a finished game. I guess we'll never know what Bohemia Interactive have been doing all this time, though judging by the sales figures of the original, it doesn't take a genius to figure it out; among all the champagne, schmoozing and celebration, they've actually forgotten to make a game. N/A
Four correct guesses out of twelve. Two worthy winners out of twelve. There is thus only one conclusion: Musically Sound is better than the British music industry.On another note, I will try to ensure that follow-up features are not posted two months after the relevant event. Some would say it's the effort that counts, but they probably work for rival blog #945456748.In future, Musically Sound promises to be much more punctual with it's witty and informative two-part pieces, widely known to offer insightful and cultured debate regarding key events in the...[end]
Dir. Kevin Macdonald The Last King of Scotland[Thriller]The Plot: Scottish student Nicholas Garrigan (James McAvoy), having just gained his degree in medicine, chooses a random place to fly to and exercise his new found skills. Ending up in Uganda, he finds himself employed as Idi Amin's personal physician and confidant. Things start to go wrong shortly after the genocide commences.Much has been made of Forest Whitaker's headline-grabbing portrayal of the headline-grabbing Idi Amin in The Last King of Scotland and, without doubt, it is a great performance. The story may be mediocre, the politics clumsy and the supporting actors disappointing but, yes, Whitaker is great. So too is James McAvoy as a slimy, often repulsive misogynist, exploiting the privileged position he finds himself in as Amin's personal physician, thankfully making it easier to overlook Gillian Anderson's abominable, gooey-eyed, one-dimensional temptress.Where the film fails is in trying to cram too many minor characters and unnecessary subtext into a very basic plot – Amin was a bastard and we put him there, watch how the white man takes advantage when opportunities present themselves. It should either be more focused and twenty minutes shorter, or much heavier and forty minutes longer, yet it settles for an uncomfortable middle ground, resulting in a film that feels both rushed and, at times, plodding. It fails as a thriller by not being nearly thrilling enough, and it fails as Hotel Rwanda 2 by not being nearly deep enough. Honestly, The Sound of Music had more important things to say.As mentioned previously, however, the two male leads are on good form and just about manage to hold the thing together; in particular, the scenes involving only Whitaker and McAvoy as Amin's mental stability deteriorates are frequently compelling. It also gets extra marks for ripping a particularly gruesome scene straight out of Cannibal Ferox and for avoiding what I thought would be a tiresomely predictable climax. 63
Dir. Roger MichellVenus[Drama / Comedy]The Plot: charming English gent Ian (Leslie Phillips) is exasperated when his boisterous niece Jessie (Jodie Whittaker) comes to live with him. Another charming English gent called Morris (Peter O'Toole) meets her, the two hit it off and hilarity/heartbreak ensues...Chances are that, if you are either (i) between the ages of forty and sixty-five, (ii) charmingly snobbish, or (iii) blissfully ignorant, you will absolutely love Venus. You see, it portrays the working class youth of Britain in a perfectly accurate light. That's right, folks, everyone under the age of twenty-five is a rude, promiscuous, tracksuit-wearing, Pot Noodle-eating booze hound. Oh, praise be to writer Hanef Kureishi for such cutting social commentary.Back in the real world, it's pretty obvious from the beginning of Venus that the film's perception of today's youth is almost vomit-inducing in its ineptitude. You know how it goes: drinking alcopops, shopping in TopShop and listening to Kylie Minogue (!), Jessie initially has no time for higher pleasures like Shakespeare but eventually begins to bond with the quirky and lovable old guy until she realises he's far too good for her because he's from the educated classes and she's just a pauper and that would be very wrong indeed (now breathe). Excuse me for asking, but, isn't this the twenty-first century?Sure, there's the odd nice touch and a handful of moments that will make you smile, but the fact that the majority of Venus even got past the conception stage is extremely worrying for the future of British cinema. I say the majority because for about a third of Venus Jessie is nowhere to be seen and what we get instead, via some fantastic chemistry between Peter O'Toole, Richard Griffiths and Leslie Phillips, is some great dialogue exploring the nuances of old age. At regular intervals throughout the film, the trio meet in their local greasy spoon to discuss the week's events with great enthusiasm and caustic wit. Some of the scenes are so electric it makes it slightly easier to stomach lining the pockets of a bigot.Special mention must also go to a scene which almost manages to completely destroy Peter O'Toole's reputation as one of the finest acting talents Britain has ever produced. Rejected by Jessie and wandering the streets of London, his character Morris happens upon a deserted theatre. Shambling awkwardly to centre stage he surveys the scene, attempting to recall memories of his lost youth. In the most serious tone he can manage, he whispers to himself, “To be...or not to be.” I assure you it is almost worth the entry fee alone.Venus, then – good for exposing the exploitable hidden prejudices plaguing middle England, bad for being a good film. 33
Ubisoft
