Okay, so funny story: I’m feeling deja-vu right now. Why? Because exactly one year ago today I was sitting in my kitchen, pounding out a quick list of “lessons” learned from the midnight release of “Avengers.” Now, a full year later, I’m sitting in my bedroom, about to pound out some wayward thoughts about another Marvel movie, Iron Man 3. Wow, thing’s don’t really change for the geek blogger, do they?

So last year, in my list of lessons, I made it a point to state that fans of the comic book heroes should forget Iron Man 2 ever happened. Iron Man 3 only drives the final nail into that coffin. Seriously, I watched the second movie about two weeks ago, trying to remind myself what was wrong with it. Was it the performance easily phoned in by Downey, Jr? Was it the utterly ridiculous accent affected by Mickey Rourke? Was it the over-the-top Justin Hammer, or the blatant overcompensation of the Stark Expo? No, it was ALL of that, and what should have been an amazing look into the day-to-day psychosis of Tony Stark ended up being a cartoon movie on par with Phantom Menace, just sans a motion capture fan-pandering and the utter brilliance of Liam Neeson.

Iron Man 3 is quick to shed any vestiges of that previous misstep. Borrowing heavily from the same character development and loss that worked so well in the Dark Knight Rises (yes, I am making that comparison here), Iron Man 3 manages to capture both desperation and the bravado of Tony Stark, while still showcasing that the man can feel pain. Actual, legitimate pain. Remember, this is a character created specifically to be unlikable, and now we the audience not only see his vulnerable side, but we see him suffer because of it.

We watch as he loses not just his home and armor, but his peace of mind. We watch him dream up nightmares of what he has seen and done. We witness the stress of actually BEING Iron Man finally take its inevitable toll on what is in fact just a man. A brilliant, arrogant genius of a man, but ultimately still just a man. We watch as it robs him of any sense of security he might have had, and cast him into a well of self-doubt and fear that takes actual effort to claw out of. This Tony Stark cannot, and will not, just buy himself freedom from his demons. No, now he has to actually face them, and surpass them, before he loses himself.

No more chasing shadows and suppressing his shortcomings, no, this time we get to see the real Tony. And, as he puts it so eloquently in the film’s closing moments, we watch as he realizes the suit wasn’t his obsession, nor his therapy, but rather it was his “cocoon.”

That, my fellow comic fans, is a story worth seeing. Never you mind that we saw it play out to utter perfection last summer with Bruce Wayne, this time we get to see it again, and watch it happen to quite possibly the most deserving douchebag in the entire comic book canon. Hell, its so worth seeing, that I’ll probably go again next week, just to see if I missed anything.

Some random tidbits now, before my coherence leaves me:

Ben Kingsley, OMGWTF. The man still has it, and in droves. Ditto for Gwyneth Paltrow, who proves, and quite definitively, that she has an inner badass that just needs the right method to convey.

Blight

While I am aware that this film’s plot was culled from the “Extremis” storyline in the comics, the entire time I watched Aldrich Killian “do his thing,” I kept picturing Blight from Batman Beyond. Not that I have a problem with that, Blight was awesome. I just couldn’t shake that notion. (Which, in hindsight, is also probably why I started thinking of Dark Knight Rises…tenuous connection, I know, but one that my mind is already predisposed to making.)

Obligatory post-credit scene? Check. We get to see Ruffalo again. Do not miss out on that, especially all you Tony/Bruce shippers.

And lastly, one does not mess with Don Cheadle. Seriously, don’t mess with him, OR his toys. WARMACHINEROX

This rant has been brought to you by the letters S and D, for sleep-deprived.

Everyone has a favorite teacher; that dedicated, funny, sympathetic role model who helped shape your formative years and provided comfort from the often callous and vicious world of school angst and the pitfalls of growing up. Think about that person for a moment, and what made them great. Picture them in your mind, hear the memory of their voice in your ears. Got a clear image of them? Good.

I bet your mental image looks nothing like this:

This man is Eikichi Onizuka, age 22, virgin, and for a class full of misfits and “social rejects,” he was that favorite teacher, the man who challenged and taught them all about the “real world.” How? By just being himself, and teaching them how NOT to act.

Great Teacher Onizuka was one of those “unlikely anime,” the type that is completely devoid of fantastic elements, lolicons, twenty minute power-ups and skimpy clothing, but still manages to pull the viewer in and keep them interested. Rather than deal with otherworldly enemies threatening human existence, it focused more on the trials and tribulations of being a high school student, which at times could be just as chaotic, and just as terrifying. It lacked “good guys” and “villains,” eschewing instead for a whole lot of gray-shaded cast members who were as petty as they were devoted to their jobs. In short, GTO (as it was so fondly referred to) was a sort of “dirty shonen” slice of life series, more concerned with its world and residents than impressing its reader base.

And that was not a bad thing at all.

A lot of that appeal centered around the aforementioned Onizuka, himself a social misfit more concerned with sex and violence than educating the youth of Japan. A former biker gang leader, he somehow managed to leave the “thug life” behind, enroll in a “5th rate college” and graduate with a degree in…something. You never really find out how studious he was, nor where his “academic” inclinations actually lie, given his preoccupation with porn, fighting and “keeping it real.” But next thing you see, he’s trying to find gainful employment, and failing miserably. Blame his bleached hair, his “yakuza tendencies” or the constant mountain of arrogance that he’s the proud king of, but poor Onizuka can’t seem to catch a break.

All that changes the day he meets, then loses, the “girl of his dreams:” a spunky high school student whom the future Great Teacher is absolutely positive he will finally lose his virginity to. And just as they’re about to do the deed, she literally jumps out a window and into the arms of another man. Who does he lose this wellspring of sexual energy to? Her high school teacher, a dumpy, bespectacled man with a sour face and apparently all the pull in the world. On that day, he swears to become the best teacher in Japan. Why? To get laid.

Let’s put aside the blatantly horrendous motivation for this decision, and focus on Onizuka for a moment. What does he have to offer his students? Forget about the three “R’s,” as Onizuka can barely read himself. Valuable lessons on life? Does one really want to accept the words of a “reformed” biker and generally viewed “lowlife?” Common sense? Not at all, since he’s doing this for the worst reason possible. For all intents and purposes, this man should never be anywhere near children, let alone given the task of teaching them. And yet, that’s exactly what he does.

Finally scoring a job at a prestigious private academy, Onizuka is immediately given the worst class in the school, made up of people either just like him, or well on their way to becoming just like him. Wannabe gang-bangers, unmotivated geniuses, promiscuous girls, awkward kids, and all manner of students who just don’t fit in. These are the students destined to fall through the cracks of the educational system, that the rest of the faculty have given up on, but can’t simply expel because their tuition checks have already been deposited. So, shunted off to the side and ignored, they plod through one ineffective teacher after another, until Eikichi ends up at their door one day, the latest in a long line of schmucks suckered into teaching the class. The “Great Teacher” brings in bluster in the door with him, trailing arrogance like a proud bridal train, ready to talk some “sense” into these students. How do they take to this new teacher, so completely “different” from any they have ever encountered before?

As far as they’re concerned, Onizuka isn’t any different from the others, except maybe that he’s dumber than any one of them, and starving for respect and attention. And they hate him.

Why? Because they can see right through him. They know he’s not a teacher. They know he only cares about having fun. From his “tough guy” facade to his horrible sense of humor, this is a man worthy of only their contempt, which they heap on him in droves. hell, the only reason he’s even in this class is because they’ve driven off every single other teacher assigned to them, and the administrators hope that they will do the same to Onizuka.

Until he starts saving them, one student at a time. Whether it’s giving them a reason to live, putting their problems into perspective, telling them to get over themselves (often with associated punches, kicks and getting his own ass handed to him), helping them get “revenge” on those who wronged them, teaching them to stand up for themselves or just not take any s**t from “the man,” the Great Teacher imparts whatever wisdom and street smarts he can, while often taking lumps and plenty of attitude along the way. It’s like the School of Hard Knocks, 90210-style.

His tenacity eventually overcomes even the most stubborn (or stuck up) of the students he encounters, and by year’s end, he manages to reform the worst class at the academy into something resembling a productive learning unit, while teaching even some of his “colleagues” the value of knowing themselves…or at least giving them lessons in self-extracting their heads from their own asses. A little humility goes a long way, and while Onizuka might not know the meaning of the word, he sure can impart its value on others.

That tenacity is the key to GTO’s appeal. Knowing from the outset that Eikichi Onizuka is an “eternal f**k-up who just doesn’t give a s**t” lends him a certain humanity that drives the story. You know he’s going to fail, yet you cheer for him anyway. When he occasionally succeeds, you celebrate with him. When he gets caught with his pants down (literally, on more than a few occasions), you feel for him, but also realize that it’s only going to make him more careful in the future. His crass manners have a certain charm to them, you root for him to find the “right girl,” and when he finally gets the better of his naysayers, you want to clap him on the back and buy him a drink.

Onizuka is the ultimate underdog. And like most underdogs, you want to see him win, regardless of whether its against “corrupt” educators, “conniving” students, or even his own shortcomings. You want Eikichi Onizuka to win. And I guess in that regard, he already has.

Gratuitous shot of…well, everything.

You can consumer GTO in a number of ways: the 1997-2002 manga, while out of print, is excellent. The 1999 anime is a faithful adaptation of the manga, and easier to track down. The 1998 J-Drama (with 99 sequel film) is a bit short on the plot, but the actor who plays Onizuka is phenomenal. Or you can look for the 2012 reboot. Honestly, it doesn’t matter: any version of GTO is worth consuming. Honestly, how many properties can say that these days? There is also a prequel manga “GTO: The Early Years,” and sequel”14 Days in Shonan,” both available now from Vertical Publishing.

The Nintendo DS was an underrated system. Cue backlash, but hear me out for a moment: in an era with flashy onscreen graphics and multiplayer gameplay, the DS stood alone with its often “basic” displays and “restricted” single-player campaigns. And, predictably, there were a great many games that flew under the radar of gamers. This is the tale of one of those games, which appeared and vanished quickly, while still gathering praise and helping add to the prestige of the series with which it was aligned.

This is the tale of Devil Survivor.

Devil Survivor arrived on scene at the perfect time: early Summer 2009, right after the release of Pokemon Platinum (and at the time when the casual Poke-players would be seeking something new), near the beginning of a season perfectly suited for portable gaming. Part of the prolific Shin Megami Tensei series, this game was a solid representation of the visual novel/tactical battle system pioneered by Atlus throughout the previous decade or so. Mixing elements of strategy, foresight and “common sense,” it brought players into a world on the brink and asked “what would you do to survive?”

Devil Survivor was an apocalypse story in the truest sense of the word. Rather than portraying the downfall of society at the hands of zombies/aliens/communists/etc, the game chose to “pull back the veil,” and reveal to a select few the “reality” behind out world: angels are calling the shots and maintaining a semblance of order, while demons seek to rebel and overtake the masses using mankind as a nexus point for their plots. Humanity, caught in between their eternal war, is given seven days to comply with the angel’s commands, or the city of Tokyo will be completely destroyed.

While borrowing heavily from Christian symbolism and storytelling, the game manages to frame the topic in a context that leaves religion out of the debate. Rather than bear witness to the coming doom, a select few of those humans choose to do something. Cults devoted to the idea of human liberation preach the transcendental power of humanity as a whole and warn against both domination and depravity. Certain demons, despite their “unholy” origins, choose to work alongside humans to spare the destruction, while angels appear petty at times, reveling in their “power” while the world around them slowly decays. Long before Supernatural decided to “humanize” the warring factions of good and evil and throw shades of gray into the cosmic struggle, Devil Survivor was portraying both sides strengths and weaknesses as part of an expansive “morality play” and forcing the player to call the shots on how the story ended.

The concept of survival was a central point to the entire experience, as players were forced to deal with mobs of panicking humans, discovering shelter for the night, acquiring food and even looking for a power source at one point, all while society crumbles around them. The daily “countdown” towards impending doom added to the tension of the story, facilitating the need for “smart” decisions, rather than just reacting to the situation at hand, a tactic which would more than likely lead to death or derailment of plans/plots/initiatives. While not as urgent as a survival horror game, there was a distinct emphasis on consequences and foresight built into the plot, which rewarded astute gamers, and added stress to impulsive choices.

This emphasis on storytelling is one of the hallmarks of the Shin Megami Tensei series as a whole, and Devil Survivor expanded upon narrative and character interaction throughout the “seven days” of gameplay. There were numerous story lines in play, rooted around the game’s central characters, and even more around some of the “supporting cast.” Deciding which path the game took often required quick thinking, time management, and attention to detail, for some of the alternate stories hinged on how certain interactions proceeded, how often specific characters were used, what time of day it was, and how well the Protagonist sympathized and related to the individual stories of his friends. One slip up could close off an entire story line from that play through (especially those which were time-sensitive), and often that deciding moment would not be noticed until hours later. Finally, unlike its sequel, which forced the player to choose which side he was on, Devil Survivor elected instead to keep the main plot of the game static: the alterations to the plot rarely changed the outcome, just the path the story took to get to the outcome.

Mechanically, Devil Survivor was fantastically executed. I often called this game series “Pokemon with demons,” and for good reason. Unlike Persona games, which rely on luck and savvy fusing skills, or previous SMT games which needed negotiations to win demons over to your side, Devil Survivor tackled the issue by instituting an auction system. Money accrued during gameplay was used to enter into a “demon auction” against computer controlled AI “characters,” who would bid for the rights to contract with demons offering their services online. Quick bidding and successful manipulation of the system would net powerful demons at a low cost. Failure would mean loss of a potentially powerful ally forever.

While there was a buyout system which circumvented the bidding wars, it was often more cost-effective to analyze strategies and find ways to outbid the computer, thereby winning powerful new demons to your collection, which could then be fielded or fused within the Cathedral of Shadows to create more powerful fare. Players were encouraged to keep checking the auctions after each battle, since new demons would appear frequently, as older ones would eventually “experience out” of viability. This mix of fusion and “negotiation” proved to be as addictive to players as wandering the tall grass, because battles were often challenging and required a steady stream of “the best” demons to ensure victory.

Battles were both simple and complicated affairs. Borrowing from the tactical RPGs which Atlus is known for, combat removed the player from the interactive world and placed him on a massive grid system, facing off against wild demons or opposing summoners. Strategy took the form of choosing not only the appropriate demon, but also having a working knowledge of the demons skills and “specialties.” Certain demons had the ability to move quickly, or multiple times. Others could attach twice. Others could attack from long range. Some could heal, or fly, or teleport. It was very easy to lose sight of these special skills in the heat of combat, and thereby discover your party has been maneuvered into a tight spot from which escape was unlikely. There were many-a-battle where enemies with huge hit boxes could wipe out an unprepared party before they could move within range to strike.

Devil Survivor was a frustrating experience for the unprepared. While the learning curve was hardly an issue, the difficulty would abruptly ratchet up several levels in between encounters. Time-sensitive events would vanish swiftly, and frequently never pop up again in the “daily log,” thereby restricting (or even breaking) carefully planned course of action. Certain bosses were quirky and had merciless AI and “random number generators,” which could spell doom for even the best-prepared party. Even grinding was unpredictable and relentless in its encounters. And yet, it is a testament to the game’s appeal that one would not wish to stop playing. Even after losing a hard-fought, twenty-plus minute boss fight in the final moments due to an unanticipated sequence of strikes, the player would simply reload a save and go right back, taking what they learned and hopefully avoiding it the second (or third, or fourth) time around. Maybe a tweak to character abilities, or a swapping of demons/party members, and it was back into battle. It made the eventual victory both sweeter and more satisfying, knowing it was attained through strategy and effort, and not just overpowered steamrolling.

It might be a testament to the success of the game that you rarely see copies for sale. It sold fairly well, maybe not a hit in most people’s opinions, but certainly enough to warrant both a “fancy” 3DS upgrade, and “cult classic” status. It vanished from store shelves a few months after release, and even the used game sections rarely-if ever- see copies in them. Like many of the other SMT titles, this one served to satisfy the fan-base, but also made fans of many newcomers, myself included. While it’s a radical departure from the wildly popular Persona series that many casual gamers recognize, it was also familiar enough to have solid appeal. The replay value was extremely high: New Game + mode carried over demons and money, which made the followup game sessions ridiculously easy; the existence of multiple endings, “exclusive” fusions, and optional bosses prompted repeat plays just to see how strong one could become.

There was a sequel released in February of last year, also for the DS, which carried over many of the aspects that made this game such a success. And on it’s own, Devil Survivor 2 is as much a “Game You Slept On” as it’s precursor. But for this gamer, the first title will always be the special one. It opened the wide world of Shin Megami Tensei on a platform that seemed perfectly suited for casual play, while not losing any of the addictive nature that other SMT games hold. It was because of this game that I sampled Persona, which has become its own monster in my gaming life. And while I haven’t played it since those three hundred or so hours back in 2009, I can still recall vividly how much enjoyment the game carried with it. That’s a rarity these days.

According to Twitter, it’s always a good problem when an anime season has too many good shows. This logic is sound: I would rather spend my time choosing between awesome series than trying to find just ONE to hold my interest. In addition to keeping my occupied, it also adds just enough spice to long road trips, because now I’ve got a backlog to work on instead of just staring out the window.

Spring 2013 is one of those good seasons. Seriously, between apocalyptic battles between man and monster, giant robots, elder gods and something new from Gen Urobuchi, it was a challenge to find that one show to follow until summer. So I decided to follow four, with the potential for a fifth to come later. Hence, this will be part one of my Spring 2013 impressions, the second to come after I’ve fully caught up.

First Pick: Valvrave the Liberator

I’ve had a really low opinion of giant robot shows for the past few years. While my “formative time” as an anime fan was spent watching a lot of Gundam, recently (since around the time Code Geass was airing) I discovered how little I cared about mecha as a genre. Gundam AGE didn’t strike a chord with me (or anyone, really…), and I would be hard-pressed to identify a single robot series that I found compelling or interesting. And then came Valvrave.

Off the bat, this show plays like Gundam Seed did a decade ago. Space colonies at war, hidden weapons of destruction, betrayal, espionage, schoolchildren, a stab at the Russians…the pilot was scene for scene a rehash of Seed (with a single nod to Destiny midway through), and yet did not come off as being “fake” in any way. It moved quickly, hooking me as a viewer and making me feel invested in a narrative that’s been done to death by every other mecha franchise since ever.

Then came the “obligatory” curve: the machine itself was either sentient, or some kind of channel for powers beyond the comprehension of man. Cue awesome neon lights, an ass-kicking, and an enemy army on the run. Okay, been there, but this is pretty flashy. What else you got? Pilot gets shot- repeatedly- but gets up and bites a his assailant. Okay, vampires? Unexpected, especially for a science fiction series? No, wait…not vampires…he BODY-SWAPPED with him? And now he can use all those “1337 ninja skillz” against his foes? What IS this show? I DO NOT CARE!

Valvrave, no matter how derivative it comes off at times, is fun, and even a bit refreshing. It drops hints slowly as to what the bigger picture is, so while fans can appreciate the nods to past mecha series, they can also look forward to twists and turns as the story progresses. As of the second episode, none of the characters are all that different from the “cookie cutter” mold established thirty years ago, but the influx of animation technologies and grandiose fight scenes help you forget its “roots.” I’m eager to see where this series goes in the end, but as long as it keeps up the bells, whistles and head-shots, I think I can live with the results. After all, Valvrave is also wicked fun, not bogged down in political jargon or complicated diplomatics. There’s a war, there’s a giant robot, let’s see where this goes. It adds up to being fun, which in the end is one of the major reasons for watching anime in the first place.

Valvrave gets an A, for awesome. And there’s a post-credit scene in episode 1.

Second Pick: Shingeki no Kyojin (Attack on Titan)

Last summer I watched a series where humanity was in a state of decline and “otherworldly” beings were now the masters of Earth. This season that theme comes back, but it’s no longer cute little faeries creating bread from rubber, megalomaniacal skinless chickens, and yaoi criticism. Attack on Titan is a dark, moody show that depicts mankind not just in decline, but on the defensive against a powerful, predatory foe eager to devour us all. How does it feel being knocked down a peg on the food chain?

The plot establishes itself quickly: in the face of monstrous, androgynous beings called “Eotena” (who are deliciously creepy thanks to wide grins, sharp teeth and an utter lack of both clothing and genitalia), mankind has withdrawn behind massive walls built to keep our dwindling population safe from being eaten off the face of the planet. These walls, and the people living behind them, have stood for a century without breech, a fact which leaves some of the residents more complacent about our standing in the world. A young boy dreams of a future where he (and the rest of humanity) can rise up and strike down their tormentors, and establish a new world outside the walls, where men are no longer “livestock,” but the true masters of nature.

Then the destruction comes. Confronted with an Eotena far larger and stronger than any encountered before, the walls are breached, and mankind once again becomes cattle to be devoured by their gigantic foes. Attack on Titan weaves together a powerful message of survival, politics, ambition, and annihilation, as the resources and resourcefulness of humanity as a species must contend with forces beyond our control, and capability to fight. The Eotena are mindless killing machines with no thought other than acquiring prey. The soldiers lack courage needed to fight against them, or find themselves hopelessly outmatched. Bravery and food are both in short supply, enough to spur on suicide missions against an unbeatable foe, mostly in the name of “population control.”

Lunch time…

This is a very dismal series. Recalling imagery from “War of the Worlds,” “Berserk,” and “Gojira,” it depicts civilization on the brink on collapse. Heroes are born, but are powerless to institute change. Like its kaiju-cousins, its better to run, hide, and survive than fight back, but where is the honor in that? Is it even possible to be honorable when life as you know it is coming to an end? (Or, as one character puts it: you lack the strength to save the world. I lack the courage.) What must you do to survive? These are themes explored in just the first two episodes, with promises of secret powers and weapons to come later.

Attack on Titan also receives an A, for allegory and adult themes.

How far can one take a trope? Seriously, consider what I’m asking here. Tropes are called tropes for a reason, usually because (like their literary cousins, the cliches) tropes are so often utilized and over-utilized that they eventually lose all the impact and meaning their initial use conveyed. And when something transforms from plot device into trope, that usually also takes with it any sense of innovation the trope might once have had. Cynical, I know, but not far off the mark- tropes need to find new ways to make themselves relevant.

I mention this because I spent some time this past weekend getting reacquainted with an old friend. And this old friend apparently had a makeover. Was it a good idea for said friend to have a makeover? Maybe. It all depends on how much you like this friend to begin with. But you can’t deny that this friend is a little sharper, a little cleaner (relatively speaking) and a little less campy than he was before.

This friend I spent the weekend with was Evil Dead, and he has aged rather well (makeover notwithstanding). The granddaddy of campy horror, the progenitor of the oft-utilized “cabin in the woods” trope, and inspiration for any film that likes to throw young people to the proverbial wolves (or demons, elder gods, nazi zombies, Eli Roth, half-redneck sociopaths and Tyler Labine, etc etc), Evil Dead made a splash when it was first released for being rather funny…unintentionally or not. So when I first saw trailers for the “re-make,” completely devoid of campy overtones and taking itself rather seriously, I was a bit concerned.

Was this an attempt for the production team to distance itself from its predecessor (especially in the wake of last Spring’s utterly hilarious send-up “Cabin in the Woods”) with a darker, more forbidding film, or were they attempting to make the film Sam Raimi had “intended to” way back when he was still slumming around with Bruce Campbell and looking to make his mark in the worlds of B-horror and blood. After all, serious horror films often fail miserably, especially when they take themselves too seriously.

Thankfully, Evil Dead does not.

See this man: he is NOT in this movie. Sorry. No Bruce for you.

I’m going to start this by saying that if you’ve NEVER seen Evil Dead before, then you will probably love this film. You have nothing to compare it to. You have no emotional connections to certain characters or scenes, you probably didn’t laugh yourself silly at the “serious” horror of the original, and you likely have never heard the term “boomstick” in its “native tongue” (and yes, I know that’s from Army of Darkness, I’m trying to make a point here). For all intents and purposes, this is a new film, no matter how “old” it might feel.

For those who HAVE seen Evil Dead, approach with caution. There have been changes, lots and lots of changes. No more promiscuity. No more fountains of blood. No more stupid-looking rubber demons terrorizing those poor college students…hell, no more college students either, as everyone is now a blissful twenty-something. Do not go into this movie expecting Evil Dead, because unless you are a very forgiving person who understands that sometimes remakes aren’t a bad thing, you will nitpick this into oblivion before going home to cry into your copy of “Drag Me to Hell” while cursing Raimi and company to a painful afterlife alongside “Mac guy.”

(Don’t believe me? Check out some critics reviews lamenting the lack of camp and humor the original had…most of which was unintentional. Thanks for missing the point, Richard Roeper, as much as I might agree with your assessment of the players in this game.)

This time around, Evil Dead deals less with teenage matters and more with addiction, fear, loyalty and why its not a good idea to read from the Necronomicon. Five young adults meet in a cabin in the woods (the same cabin used in pretty much everything these days) to help a friend cope with a heroin habit. While there, they discover a secret room in the cellar full of dead cats, and a book wrapped in barbed wire. Predictably, one of them opens and reads the book, and bad things start to happen. One friend slices her face off. Another pours boiling water on herself. There’s some conflict involving a nail gun, and unconventional use of a turkey knife.

This is NOT what one means when they refer to getting a “facial.”

Evil Dead is a very “gross” movie, much like the original was. Drawing on elements of 80s splatterpunk and body horror, this film highlights how humans are simply sacks of meat and blood, and gloriously delights in showing the many ways we can be corrupted, putrefied and ripped apart. There’s plenty of filth present in both the cabin and the woods itself from the get go, leading one to wonder why the people present would even think to stay in such dirty surroundings. It practically screams “bad stuff is going to happen!” I once had issues with my uncle’s “summer home” because some squirrels got in and left nuts in my bed. These people trudge through mud and muck, and never seem to mind…or take showers.

The characters are also hopelessly dumb. Not in a “poorly written” sort of way (well, one of them is), but in the fact that they seem to completely lack common sense. It’s bad enough reading from an odd book you found in a “devil worship” room…actually no, that IS pretty bad. It’s wrapped in barbed wire, for god’s sake. You need bolt cutters to get it open. There are plenty of warnings written in ink and blood telling you not to read from it. And if you’re smart enough to read Sumerian, you should be smart enough to know NOT to read Sumerian. Seriously, lack of common sense here…oh who am I kidding, I would have done it too, if only for kicks.

My only real complaint is how the writers handled the entire affair: unlike the original, this time around the entire “reading from the book” angle seems more like an afterthought tacked on in as quick a way as possible. I never quite believed why said character did it, nor what he hoped to gain by doing it. Rather slapdash, which is disappointing considering how much careful thought was put into the rest of this movie.

This complete ignorance of basic survival instinct and sense is what ultimately makes the film enjoyable. Let’s face it, we as a people like seeing bad stuff happen to stupid people, and the people here definitely qualify. While possibly not the intent of the director, it can be deliciously entertaining to watch demons possess folks and turn them into sacks of flesh to be toyed with. You will likely find yourself egging on the monsters, anticipating the next gruesome death scene with more enthusiasm than you would like. That chill you’re feeling…that’s revulsion at yourself, not the film.

Worst. Nightmare.

And despite what some critics might say, this film is not without its own brand of twisted humor. You will laugh, but you will also squirm. Some of those chuckles might not be for outrageous plotting, but at that awkward feeling creeping slowly into your gut as the film progresses. It takes a truly well-paced and -plotted film to make an audience feel that, something which Tarantino, Roth and even Miike (these days) have been trying to cultivate, often to their own dismay. Even me, as desensitized as I am to “horror” films, found myself shifting uncomfortably at certain times, and muttering “worst nightmare” under my breath while my friend next to me closed his eyes and shivered.

So by all means, go and see this movie. It’s a raucous good time. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.

A few weeks ago, while the gaming world was abuzz at PAXeast over in Boston, Christians were commemorating Jesus’ ride into Jerusalem, and die-hard Westerosi were anticipating the return of their favorite soap opera reality show, I had the benefit of attending the 6th incarnation of Zenkaikon in Lancaster, PA. A mid-sized convention teeming with local flavor, ambitious guests and a location to die for, this con often falls under the radar of so many congoers in the mid-Atlantic and New England regions, which is unfortunate given how enjoyable this event has become in the past three years.

I started attending Zenkaikon in 2011, its last year at the Valley Forge convention center, before that location was turned into a casino. I had mixed reviews about both the con and the crowd that year, but since I’m (rarely) never one to judge on first impressions alone, I gave it a second try last year, when it occupied a lovely May weekend at the Expo center in Oaks. At the end of those two days of fun and fellowship, I discovered the con would be moving back to March, and into the fancier Lancaster County Convention Center, another hour away from its previous locations. I lamented the loss of mall-crawling at King of Prussia and the easy access to mass transit, but given how enjoyable the con had been at Oaks, I knew I would be going back regardless.

Needless to say, like a fine wine, Zenkaikon gets better with age.

Location:

Let me just say this: the fact that there’s a farmer’s market across the street made eating a VERY pleasurable part of the weekend. Local meats and cheeses (which I brought home in droves and gorged upon for DAYS after the con), excellent coffee roasters and surprisingly awesome cuban food made for a very happy con indeed: you couldn’t walk through the small market without seeing plenty of cosplayers interacting the the locals (for good or ill), and the local creamery offered free scoops to anyone in costume. Lancaster was happy to have the con, and the con was very happy to have Lancaster.

Seriously, you would wander into stuff like this ALL WEEKEND if you took the stairs…

The convention center itself was a fine spot, with a huge vendor room, panel seating on par with Otakon, and plenty of free space for gatherings and cosplay shoots. This is one of those sites Zenkaikon can grow into with ease, and likely will: next year the con should have access to the entire top floor of the convention center, a location they only had for Friday this year. That means more panels, more events and more “roaming” space for wayward congoers.

Plus the convention center also has an archeological site AND a back hallway system that feels like something out of Lord of the Rings. Seriously. It was like walking through the mines of Moria at one point.

Programming:

Zenkaikon has always had surprisingly solid programming for a con its size. This year was no exception, as more theoretical fare found its way into panel rooms. The Friday night burlesque show, hosted by Uncle Yo (and featuring me in a creepy mask and hatchet), was easily the best one I’ve ever seen, Greggo’s Game Shows pulled off a solid reworking of the Pokemon game he debuted at Ichibancon, and the media guests were both friendly and informative. I would even go so far as to say there was more to do at Zenkaikon this year than at a lot of the smaller cons I went to last year. The audience asked for more, and more was given back to it.

I also will go on to reiterate my assertion that I had the best Friday I’ve had at a con in the past few years at Zenkai 2013. No lie, I was kept pleasantly busy all day, culminating in probably the best presentation of “Kowai” I have ever given, before hamming it up at the burlesque show. I didn’t want the day to end (and technically it didn’t, as I found myself in a huge Cards Against Humanity game a scant 90 minutes later), it was that enjoyable.

Vibe:

This man. Seriously, THIS MAN. Most epic cosplayer of the weekend.

I love Zenkaikon’s attendees. I really do. This con has one of the most welcoming communities of any con in the mid-Atl. From random meetups in the halls to encouragement of cosplayers, the people who attend Zenkaikon make sure everyone feels welcome and at home. Consider the case of one attendee, who found herself sitting on the Pokemon game show Saturday night: a girl dressed as Mei from White 2, found herself in a trivia battle with another potential Pokemon master. Flustered and in over her head, she attempted to throw in the towel during the final part of the opening round of the show, and requested to simply forfeit and leave the stage. The crowd, however, would have none of that, as they cheered her on and made sure she knew they were solidly behind her. And while she didn’t win the round, the ovation she got as she left the stage was nothing short of inspiring.

THAT is the power of this community, and that is why Zenkaikon is worth attending. Forget programming, guests and vendors: attend this con simply to meet other supportive, like-minded fans, and develop connections with them. I guarantee you will never be bored, nor will you feel alone. While it may not draw the numbers of some cons, the quality of the fans at Zenkaikon more than makes up for the quantity.

Zenkaikon might not have the flash or flair of PAX, or the size and variety of Otakon, but that doesn’t mean this con should be ignored. While you won’t find Funimation announcements or giant cosplay summits during the weekend, you will find a welcoming community full of frenetic (if tempered) energy and fun times. Zenkaikon manages to tread that perfect line between growth and hearth, and it shows in the excited attendees, happy gatherings and generally relaxed atmosphere that permeates that con every year. Despite being smaller, it’s definitely worth the visit (as my friend Doug made all the way from Boston, eschewing PAX this year despite living right next to it). So if you have time and some cash to splurge, consider hitting up Zenkai next year. You will appreciate it.

A few years ago, I found myself sitting in a movie theatre watching an animated adaptation of Ursula LeGuin’s landmark “Earthsea” series. Produced by the legendary Studio Ghibli, it marked the directorial debut of one Goro Miyazaki, son of the acclaimed animator and storyteller Hayao Miyazaki. I left the show feeling satisfied with the end result, and pondering where this new voice in filmmaking would go with his next piece, should he actually direct a second film.

Earthsea ended up receiving a lot of heat from the animation community, panned for weak storytelling, unfinished ideas and a rushed “feeling” to the entire project. For my part, I saw the film as an emulation of what Ghibli had produced before: it definitely lacked the sense of identity and “personal voice” that classics like “Princess Mononoke,” “Spirited Away,” and “Pom Poko” had utilized to great effect, and at times felt like it was “trying too hard” to be a Ghibli film. Rather than create its own space, it was too preoccupied with fitting a specific mold that its predecessors had established.

not-so-Extraordinary

Much of that blame was laid squarely on the shoulders of the younger Miyazaki. It’s no big secret that his father did not want him making that film. It’s no big secret that the elder Miyazaki had once tried to do the same, but was met with roadblocks from author LeGuin. It’s also no big secret that Goro’s insistence that he make the film translated to tensions between father and son. And it’s also no big secret that Earthsea itself is one of those “impossible projects:” literary works that are downright incompatible with translation to the screen (if you don’t believe me, feel free to watch the SyFy original movie adaptation of Earthsea…or just watch a film version of anything by Alan Moore).

I mention this because over the weekend I was fortunate enough to attend to US premiere of Goro Miyazaki’s latest film, “From Up on Poppy Hill,” a project he worked on in conjunction with his father as a sort of animated “olive branch” between two strained family members. And the first thought to run through my mind after the credits rolled was: “see, he can make a great film with the right source material.”

For starters, this film, which was adapted from the comic “Kokuriko-zaka Kara” by Chizuru Takahashi and Tetsuro Sayama, returns to a time period that Ghibli has had great success with in the past: postwar Japan. Set against a backdrop of the looming 1964 Olympic games, 16 year old Umi Matsuzaki must come to terms with both the loss of her father years earlier, and the emotions in her own heart as she builds a friendship with fellow student Shun Kazama.

This type of story is one that Ghibli has done time and again, from Laputa in the 1980s to 1995‘s Whisper of the Heart: strong themes of love, loss, nostalgia and reconciling the past and present in a time of great change pervade every line and scene, introducing westerners to many of subtle (and often unrecorded) path of “progress” Japan has been on since the mid-1800s. Conflict between heritage, history and embracing the future has been a frequent one, and finding that balance between the two is both challenging and rewarding- in many ways, this film is a sort of “collective version” of the under-known “Only Yesterday,” a similar tale with a similar outcome, and similarly satisfying in its resolution.

As the film progresses (and quite humorously, at that), Umi and Shun becomes leaders in a “cleanup” for their school’s historic “Latin Quarter:” a clubhouse that has fallen into disrepair and is in danger of being torn down to make room for “progress” in the form of a new facility building. As their efforts gradually build, more of their fellow students join in the cause, transforming the repair work into a near school-wide project that serves, as Umi states, to bring them together as a community. More than just a home for the “misfit” clubs, the building symbolizes that intangible connection that runs through all students in the school, and while some might be apathetic to the loss, it simply makes those dedicated to the project work that much harder.

At the same time, Umi is struggling to come to terms with both her lost father, her feelings for Shun, and a revelation that threatens to derail the friendship that has allowed for them to spearhead the Latin Quarter project. This part of the narrative is similar to many that Ghibli has done in the past, and might even be considered obvious for anyone who has watched the “canon” before. Though, in its defense, it is handled very well, and far more “organically” than earlier films like Whisper of the Heart. While the true joy of the film revolves around the Latin Quarter, neither plot feels overblown or underdeveloped, but rather balances and revolves well around each other (something which was lacking in films like Arrietty). You actually care about that old Latin Quarter building- partly because of its playful charm, and partly because of all the students and alumni who cherish the memories they made there. You feel hope for the young Umi, ever diligent in her raising of the signal flags, pointing a way home for her lost father. You laugh at the exaggerated mindsets of the club members, so enthralled by their studies, but still willing to come together for a collective goal that unifies and defines what they share, and are at risk to lose. You actually develop a stake in the entire affair, rather than simply watch a story unfold.

Plot aside, this film is also absolutely lovely to watch: the “Ghibli aesthetic” is wonderfully present in lush colors, the variety of character/face designs and the use of shadow and subtlety to differentiate between cities and settings. Fresh is fresh, dingy is dingy, locations come alive of their own accord- all things that Ghibli has perfected over the years, and viewers have come to expect. While it lacks some of the “fantastic” elements found in the elder Miyazaki’s classics, it still manages to reflect and convey its own distinct form of “old world charm” in both the clubhouse and the surrounding port town. (In particular, that first glimpse inside the Latin Quarter is probably the most “Glibli-like” visual sequence in the film: some might wonder if they would get lost amidst the dust and gathered relics of clubs past.)

When I speak about the films of studio Ghibli, I often make mention that if Earthsea is the worst film Goro Miyazaki makes, it’s a pretty good start to his career. From Up on Poppy Hill is proof of that: his ambition is clearly present in the direction, while his father’s steady hand keeps him from running “off the page.” As a collaborative effort, this film is both solid and enjoyable. It’s not perfect, but much like the setting and story, neither are those who live in it, and that just adds to its charm.

and’s she’s quite the looker too…

In Japan, there is a certain goddess. A pillar of righteousness, she sits high in the heavens, casting her light down upon everything beneath her. Countless other gods, enraptured by her splendor and majesty, hurry about trying to cull favor from this radiant maiden of unearthly beauty. Her name is Amaterasu, the embodiment of the sun itself, ancestor of the imperial family, and possessor of the supreme power of all kami: ready to defend her people at a moment’s notice against evil and ever vigilant in her watch over all those beneath her.

At least until her favorite anime comes on. Then, you’re s-o-l.

A playful entry into the winter 2013 anime season, SHAFT’s Sasami-san@ganbaranai (Ms Sasami @ Unmotivated) is an alternate take on the legend of the sun goddess, told from the point of a cute, hikikomori schoolgirl and her faceless brother. But while the legend of Amaterasu is a tale of bullying, retreat and the eventual emergence of the brilliance of the sun, Sasami’s story is a little more…relatable? Typical? Expected? Actually, it’s hard to put into words.

By day, the spunky Sasami Tsukuyomi is content to lounge around, taking time out of her busy schedule of gaming and sleeping to spy on her elder brother while he works his job at the local high school she should be attending. By night, she demands that he profess his love to her, feed her, wash her and put her to bed, so the following day she can repeat the process. Punish his supposed ecchi moments, act aloof until he’s swooning, and deflect his advances continuously.  Not too different from any pampered princess living out her daily dreams of not doing anything.

But Sasami is different. Unlike a mere mortal royal, she is the heir to the power of the sun itself, and with it has the ability to force anyone – god or human alike – to do her “bidding,” those wishes she has in her heart that she rarely vocalizes. These “transformations” come back to haunt her time and again, but still she resists, preferring the life of a shut in to that of a responsible person. For shame, denying the obligations of the mighty sun goddess- she would never do such a…oh…OH!, I get it now. Clever girl…

From the outset, Sasami-san@ganbaranai borrows liberally from the legend of the “original hikikomori,” Amaterasu. In the legends, the maiden of the sun is driven underground by her brother, the “vile” Susano-o. Taking refuge in a cave, she refuses to come back out, depriving the world of her radiance and allowing for monsters to run rampant. Some clever and enterprising folks manage to use her own envy against her, convincing her (through the use of several well-placed mirrors) that they have chosen a new sun goddess, and luring her back out. From then on her, place remains in the sky, driving off ghostly spirits and giving light to the people. All that’s missing here is the computers.

kawaii…and not a little reminiscent of Chobits…

Sasami, the heir of this cosmic power, lives her life indoors. Every time she attempts to leave the house, a powerful wave of nausea and disorientations overtakes her. She retreats back inside. She finds amusement in petty things. She can’t take care of herself. And her brother, kami bless, him, dotes on her unceasingly. Continue along this path until forced to leave, in order to protect the brother she realizes she loves, from sacrificing himself for her. Not a word-for-word updating of the original tale, but close enough to provide a cute, modern insight into the source material. (Even cuter when you realize her faceless bother Kamiomi is Tsuki-yomi, the “faceless” god of the moon- ever present, ever mysterious, ever-doting…well, maybe that last part is a stretch.)

Of course, her brother is “assisted” in his duties by three “sisters,” the Yagamis, who are themselves human incarnations of the three regalia of Japan – the mirror, the sword and the “jewel” – tasked with assisting in Sasami’s “upkeep” and making sure the transformations she seems to throw around like proverbial candy don’t come back to take a bite out of HER. Each sister, from the innocent, yet still oddly busty, Tama, to the almost mecha-musume Kagami, to the slightly skewed Tsurugi (also a teacher at Sasami’s high school), play important roles in maintaining a balance between the real world and Sasami’s whims. Each one also plays a deeper role than even Sasami realizes, though saying anything else would be spoilers.

On the surface, Sasami-san@ganbaranai feels a lot like a certain other moe-style show from a few years ago: a light novel series about girl seeking something more from life, subconsciously gains the power to influence reality to meet her desires, then needs to be “saved” by a cadre of fellow students brought together because of her existence and affect on cosmic balance…we’ve heard all this before…

The difference between Sasami and Haruhi, however, lies in the fact that unlike the latter, she isn’t an arrogant (at least not too much), relatively unlikable tsundere forcing her interests on others. In fact, Sasami is more innocent, perhaps even sweeter, than Haruhi Suzumiya ever could be. And that innocence makes her character far more interesting and relatable. When she makes a mistake, she tries to fix it. When she realizes how her actions impact those she loves, she attempts to make amends. And unlike Haruhi, she eventually gains a full understanding of what she is, and grows from it.

I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that Sasami-san@ganbaranai is the moe show I’ve been looking for. More fun than Jintai, a better use of folklore than Inu X Boku and at times sillier than Haiyore!, this is the kind of show I’d expect from SHAFT: nothing groundbreaking, but a better use of tropes and narrative than simply cute girls doing cute things. A solid entry for winter season, and enough to tide one over until the spring.

This might not come as a surprise to many of you, but I used to play a LOT of D&D. Back in High School, when I was one of the few kids without a Playstation or Nintendo 64, and only a rapidly aging NES, D&D was my only gaming outlet most of the time. It was cheaper than Magic the Gathering, required a lot of creativity and storytelling ability to pull off, and was a great way for a social misfit like myself to find friends to do things with on weekends. College changed a lot of that, but I will always have fond memories of those pre-”gaming” days…of 8 hour long game sessions.

I bring up this little bit of reminiscence because I recently played through Crimson Shroud, a little gem of a game by Level 5 and legendary director Yasumi Matsuno (Vagrant Story, Ogre Battle, Final Fantasy Tactics). Part of the Guild 01 project that also includes Liberation Maiden, Crimson Shroud is a short but expansive game that borrows heavily from many aspects of tabletop RPGs, including stat management, “gear hoarding,” and most interestingly, dice rolls.

Sound untraditional for a video RPG? Well it certainly is. Crimson Shroud manages to incorporate “classic” RPG elements into a gameplay that is anything but, creating a game experience that can be both frustrating and incredibly addicting at the same time.

Crimson Shroud plays out over the course of a single “dungeon crawl.” A team of “chasers” (adventurers tasked with tracking down “gifts” of a bygone age, when magic ruled the world) consisting of stalwart Giaque, clever Lippi and mysterious Frea, delve deep under the ruins of an old castle, seeking a certain artifact for their patron. Expecting only minimal trouble from goblins living underneath the structure, they find themselves trapped between warring factions of undead, mystical traps and triggers, and a sense of despair as they discover there is more to their mission than previously believed: rather than hunting a missing text, they might actually be on a quest to unearth the mythical “Crimson Shroud,” the “gift” which brought magic into the world.

What allows for the game to stand out from its peers is the introduction of those previously mentioned unconventional gameplay elements. Crimson Shroud has no concept of leveling, no money, and a heavy reliance on rolling dice. During certain moments in the game, the player is often asked to “roll” a set of dice on the lower screen of the 3DS, be it to add damage, sneak past enemies, set/overcome negative status effects, or regain MP. A clever mechanic on its own, the player can eventually use the motion control of the game system to “steal” some of these same dice, adding them to his “inventory” for later use.

In place of levels, players accumulate and fuse gear dropped by foes to create stronger versions of their weapons and armor, which in turn can add to stats. “Grinding” in Crimson Shroud is less a process of beating down foes for experience, and more a strategic selection of (non-random) encounters developed to maximize gear drops while minimizing ambush events and party wipes. It is very possible to spend hours in-game fighting party after party of foes just seeking that one piece of armor, or that special weapon, that can be successfully melded to create something that will overbalance the game in your favor…at least until the next chapter begins.

It should be noted that Crimson Shroud is not an easy game. That becomes apparent during the first few encounters. Since grinding to overpower your foes is not an option, it requires players to think carefully about how they approach each encounter: do you set up a strong defense to lessen damage, or do you blitz your foes right out of the gate? Do you focus on one “powerful” enemy, or do you pick off his weaker friends first? Failure to recognize the basic tactical outlay of each encounter will result in a dead party, as some enemies hit hard and fast, and will make short work of your three heroes.

Thrown into this mix is a creative “combo” system: each skill and spell belongs to a different elemental force, and players must learn how to “chain” their skill strikes together to increase both damage, and earn more of those “bonus dice” for later use. Breaking combos is incredibly easy (sometimes as simple as rolling for MP), and players have to learn to manage both their attack order, and the order of enemies, to take advantage of the bonuses. Successful management will ensure a quick victory. Improper management will ensure a hasty death.

In many respects, this is a game for the RPG veteran, the person who has cleared out many-a-dungeon, and fought all manner of beast and monster: challenging, but not impossible, if approached correctly. One needs a keen eye for micro-management, and a sharp attention to detail, because everything matters during battles. The random element of luck represented by the dice can be your savior, or your tormentor, depending on the situation.

Aesthetically, Crimson Shroud is a very simple game. Despite being a 3DS exclusive, the 3D is minimalist, serving mostly to add depth to the screen, and lift the “text” off the “players.” I played most of the game with the 3D off, in fact, and noticed little difference. There are also no cutscenes: all the action is set against still images, and based around a set of “miniatures” representing both character and enemy, placed on a “game board.” A throwback to the days of tabletop gaming, and a fun little bit of nostalgia for those who remember grid maps and painted figurines.

While this might seem out of place in an era that increasingly values lush production and character design, Crimson Shroud manages to keep it successfully “retro,” and rewards the player with a deep story, played out like a dungeon master reading aloud an adventure. At times feeling like another trip to Ivalice, it manages to maintain it’s own voice throughout, courtesy of well written dialog, console quality music and a general aura of suspense, exactly what you’d expect from Matsuno and his often progressive take on the genre.

If Crimson Shroud has a fault, it would be the length: I finished the game in 9 hours. Other reviews have clocked in even less time to play through the chapters, some as few as 6 or7. It calls to mind the original Fable, which was another short, but ambitious game that challenged the RPG perception and left a mark on how storytelling can impact a game. Unlike Fable, which was a “lifetime,” Crimson Shroud is very much an “afternoon,” but one that will capture your attention and keep it there for however long you choose to remain (even with the…bittersweet ending). There is a “New Game +” option, for those of you who like harder replay value.

It’s official: zombies are the new vampires. Okay, maybe this isn’t that big a revelation, since there have been literally hundreds of zombie movies, books, games and even anime offered in the past few years. There have been nazi zombies, time traveling zombies, snow zombies, smart zombies, dumb zombies, angry zombies, steampunk zombies, huge-chested females hunting zombies, zombie cops, and even a few zombie comedies. So is it any bigger a shock when the genre decides to push itself a bit more and create a zombie romance? Maybe if you’re a purist into the entire “undead have no identity or feelings” idea. But for the rest of us, we now have something new to “chow down” on.

Based on the novel of the same name, “Warm Bodies” is a new take on zombie mythology. While Romero built upon the older, prevailing notion of the animated dead, completely devoid of the sense of self and little more than walking corpses seeking to satisfy their eternal hunger, Warm Bodies decides to take the narrative in another, unexpected direction: it gives them a sense of humanity, no matter how buried under layer after layer of brains. While there is plenty of the aforementioned eating of the living throughout the film, it asks the question of “what if:” what if, rather than just being a walking corpse, the zombie is actually retains a bit of itself beyond the “grave;” what if the zombie becomes capable to emotion, feeling something “more” than just hunger and shambling; what if we “got it all wrong” in the end.

I’m getting ahead of myself again and waxing philosophical…need to stop that for the moment. Where was I?

Warm Bodies is the story of one zombie out of hundreds: a young male who has no idea who he is or where he came from, just that his name starts with “R.” He’s your typical undead: eat flesh, wander around aimlessly, and wonder about how everything changed. For the first act of the film, he is a silent narrator, pondering on and on about what it means to be a zombie, and asking if there is anything more to his seemingly monotonous existence. He has his “friends,” he has a “home,” and in many ways “lives” the same “life” he did before becoming a zombie. In many ways, he is reminiscent of the protagonist “Columbus” from the landmark “Zombieland” film: a boy at the crux of his young life, wondering what went wrong, and where to go from there, while being firmly fixed in the “unchanging here and now.”

Gee, Brain, what do you want to do tonight?

His life changes the day he meets Julie, one of the survivors left on Earth and daughter of Colonel Riggio, the man who has kept humanity safe for the past 8 years in his walled mass of a city. While out looking for supplies, her team runs afoul of R and his mob of zombies, gunfire and feasting ensues, and in the midst of it all, R feels an emotion. Like the virus that changed him into one of the walking dead, it spreads first though him, then through those closest to him, giving them a taste of hope, and of a better “life” than what they have.

While the story itself is nothing new, and plays to the conventions of the genre rather closely, it is the idea that zombies can “revert” back to human that lends this story some metaphorical teeth. See, in this new take on zombie lore, the reasons why zombies go for the brain isn’t rooted in some primal fear revolving around the destruction of the self. Rather, it is the last chance they have to experience emotion. Eating a human’s brain gives them a chance to “experience” the memories of that person, and for a lifeless creature craving something more than shambles, it is their only resort. They’re not trying to obliterate the self, but rather are trying to remind themselves what it means to have (and lost) one. Wow, that’s pretty deep for a zom-com…

But there’s more. In the case of so many zombie films, the zombies themselves are often viewed as incarnations of personal fears: death, decay, rampant overconsumption, corporate control and the dictation of culture, nazis- the list goes on an on. But usually near the top is the fear of loss- in particular, the loss of self and self-identity. Slavery, if you will, be it to another person, a disease or something else. The loss of freedom, the loss of power, the loss of the ego itself, when the person becomes nothing more than a body without a “soul,” a “what” rather than a “who.” Perhaps more than the ravages of time or death itself, the loss of who one is inside might be the biggest fear we all have.

In the beginning, Warm Bodies is just that, a question about the loss of the self, and what the meaning of it all is. R can remember bits and pieces of what it means to be human, and wants more of them as time goes by, but he knows he’s stuck in a dead body endlessly repeating the same motions perpetually. After he meets Julie, R’s journey becomes less about becoming human, and more about regaining his lost identity. He collects things, and that allows him to make a connection with the girl. When he begins to dream, that’s a look inside what he wants. When he begins to speak, he’s finding his ability to communicate, and by extension, his ability to express, restored (beyond the “typical” grunts and groans). When he begins to feel…he remembers what it was like to be human again. Not because his life is being restored, but because his sense of self is being restored, and with it his ability to become more than a walking body. Again, wow…pretty deep for a zom-com.

Okay, philosophical ramblings out of the way. So how is the movie itself?

Yeah, because I have no idea what you’re going for here…

I really hate writing this, because I really enjoyed this film, but the trailer pretty much sums up the entire movie. Every major plot point, every revelation and summation of R’s trip is contained in those two minutes of film. The rest of the run time is icing to the cake. While R’s internal monologues are especially fun, and watching the budding relationship between human and zombie is both lighthearted and emotional, there are no surprise twists or turns, the ending is obvious within the first few minutes, and the “romance” itself evokes a bit of Twilight: it’s idealized, expected and fluffy. Hell, Teresa Palmer (as Julie) even looks and acts like Kristen Stewart, albeit with more ability and charisma towards her “dead boyfriend.” Maybe this was intentional, maybe not, but the idea that this movie is “zombie Twilight” isn’t that far off the mark.

Nevertheless, Warm Bodies is a solid date movie, and hella fun. If you’re one of those folk who love a good zombie yarn, this will satisfy you. If you like sweet teen comedies, this will satisfy you. If you like zombie philosophy (like me) this will definitely satisfy you. But if you’re a diehard zombie purist, look elsewhere. The brains you find here will not appease your hunger.

Addendum: I want to give kudos to a scene-stealing Rob Corddry. Usually I reserve these kudos for John Malkovich, but since he’s playing himself the entire time, it’s up to Corddry to ham it up and deliver the best performance in the film. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, then you’ll shoot him in the head…maybe.