After the Jump: Late Night Jimmies

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Three Years of Utter Misery: A Charge Shot!!! Retrospective

It is with a heavy heart that Charge Shot!!! passes from my life. To think that was so short a three years ago that Andrew, Craig, and Rob asked me to join them on this little adventure of theirs. I was honored, of course, but confused. You see, as some of you may remember, in the turbulent era of Charge Shot!!!'s ascendancy, this was a strictly video game blog. Strange as that may seem now, considering how much "new millennium culture blog" has come to mean to me (with all its lack of meaning), we once had so narrow a mission. But that's the blog the Founding Fathers wanted to write, and hell if I would turn down such an laurel as being chosen to contribute.

But you see, I didn't really like video games anymore. Sure, I played Mario Kart and Smash Bros. even more than the average college student, but I hadn't put up the funds for a new game in years. I didn't even own a seventh generation system in my own right. I didn't feel like I had a right to spew my thoughts on these things at all. But hey, I liked to write, and my senior comps were almost done (mine were on the evolution of knightly roles in medieval literature and history) so why not take the excuse to hang out online with my nerdy friends?

What had started as a somewhat awkward social obligation blossomed into a hobby, and later into a genuine passion. And I couldn't do any less than thank the readers, editors, and fellow writers for the experience.

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Oh Hey…I Almost Didn’t See You There

In November 2008, three bored friends, recent college graduates, started a blog. As Andrew said Thursday, it was born out of both shambling careers and a desire for communication. We plugged away at our gaming blog, starting a few features, aborting a few others, until we felt the need to expand.

So we expanded. Widened the aperture of our discussion to include entertainment, technology and, most importantly, food crimes. Of course, this required fresh blood and renewed vigor, so we enlisted some good friends to bolster our ranks. They’ve served us well.

I wrote a lot for this site. Two years of Audiosurf Radio. A dozen or so Battle.blog entries. Countless op-eds on gaming, television, music, theatre. Reviews on everything from a book about bike-riding by David Byrne to a B-list fantasy game about turning into a dragon (copy provided by the publisher for review purposes). It wasn’t all gold, but it wasn’t all crap either. And I’ll take that.

I also regularly contributed to our podcast – even taking on the hosting duties after Robert departed. One regret is not having the time or resources to properly market it. We always felt it had immense potential but never quite found the audience it deserved. Also…I’m still waiting on that digital soundboard.

To our readers: thank you so much. We did our best to scare you away with overly-navel-gazing manboy game talk. We tried harder to win you over with in-depth interviews with bright minds from the indie gaming scene. Then we invited our friends over to write some stuff our non-gamer friends might enjoy. Thank you for joining us, whenever you climbed aboard.

To friends of the site – developers, PR folk, etc. – thank you for your time and respect. Despite much self-deprecation, we always tried to take our endeavors seriously (especially if someone else’s time or product were on the line). Some of the site’s highlights included interviews of generous length and kind retweets and links from a variety of outlets. The Internet can be a scary place, and it’s comforting to find kind strangers out there.

And to the staff: it’s been a blast. I am proud of the work we did here and of the work that it has either allowed you to do or will drive you to do in the future. And I’m honored and grateful that you etched out time in your schedules to contribute to our project.

Seeing that it may be a bit of time before I have a platform to “properly” review something, let me pass judgment on a few things real quick:

- Louie, now in its second season, still rules.

- You’re an idiot if you’ve never watched Deadwood.

- I still can’t believe The Killing got me.

- Monday Night Combat is an amazing way to turn one hour of leisure time into four hours of leisure time.

- The Pale King is book of great ideas with some confusing passages and bizarre editing choices – which makes sense ‘cause Yo It Wasn’t Finished.

- I work in theatre, I teach theatre to kids and young adults, and I like theatre: but I’m not a huge fan of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

- Turntable.fm is the shit.

- I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: go play Portal 2.

- The Kills. The Kills.

- And Ender’s Game is still my favorite, no matter what Orson Scott Card does.

So long and thanks for all the hits!

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Thoughts of an Aspiring Music Snob: Week 117 - Queen, and the Conclusion

Chris has been trying to compensate for his lack of musical knowledge by immersing himself in one new artist each week. At the end of the week, he would write up a brief summary of his opinions. You can read about the origin and parameters of this project here.

The final installment requires a bit of reflection. I'll try not to be too self-indulgent, but I am listening to Queen this week, so that might be difficult. 

It is with sadness and a tad bit of relief that I'm ending this written feature after nearly two years' worth of writing about new music (well, new to me, anyway). But it's also with not a small amount of pride; I've managed to go above and beyond the original point of this project, which was to teach myself a little bit about popular music. This is not to say that I'm a music snob yet, but I'm ready to advance to the next level. An "intermediate music snob" perhaps. 

When I started this project, it was to acquaint me with some of the bigger names in popular music and start to piece together its history. After 117 weeks and some change, the project has evolved to the point where I'm able to look into more niche genres and lesser-known acts, and start to connect the dots myself. I'd still hesitate to even begin to call myself an expert, but I realized when I could easily place Faust within the context of post-war German avant-garde music, or the Pretenders within the context of the post-punk era that gave way to 80s "alternative" rock, I was not really a neophyte any longer. 

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Art House in the Middle of the Street #0: The End's Not Near, It's Here

The end is here. The Earth is one continuous, blighted landscape. Fossil fuels are as distant a memory as the great prehistoric beasts from which they originated. The wastes are ruled by marauding psychopathic biker gangs. Either that or a somewhat minor culture blog is calling it quits. I can't quite remember.

Ending a feature mid-stream as I'm doing with Art House is a somewhat disappointing resolution. Then again, I really only proposed the thing so I could have an excuse to watch a Janus movie every week. And because I still own the box, I could ostensibly keep doing that. Chances are, though, that I probably won't.

Why not? With a few purely enjoyable exceptions (Hitchcock's The 39 Steps, Cocteau's Beauty and the Beast), the movies contained in "Essential Art House" aren't what you'd qualify as "easy watches." They can be agonizingly slow (Ozu's Floating Weeds) or terrifyingly sere (Ichikawa's Fires on the Plain).

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All Good Things...

Dear readers: It is with mixed feelings that I announce to you that Charge Shot!!! will cease updating this Sunday after the posting of our 100th and final podcast.

The editors and writing staff came to this decision unanimously after lengthy discussion, though we didn't do so lightly. Increasingly busy schedules and waning interest in the unpaid, weekly grind made it a necessary choice, if not an easy one.

And now that the time comes, I find myself not knowing quite what to say. This site started when three bored college friends, frustrated by lack of career options and afraid of falling out of touch, decided to spend their free time writing about video games.

It ends nearly three years and more than two thousand posts later, having carved out a tiny corner of the internet for itself, and having done some things I'm pretty damn proud of: we've done some great interviews with indie game luminaries, we've gotten press passes and sent some people to conventions, and we've done some very good op-ed and news writing that could go toe-to-toe with anyone's, anywhere. I used it, to my benefit, in my last job interview. I've gained some of the unique tightrope-walking skills that come from evaluating and critiquing the work of my close friends, while also maintaining my friendships with those people. It hasn't caught fire and it barely makes enough ad money to pay for itself (and neither of those things were really the point), but it has been rewarding in completely unexpected ways.

To the writers who made it all happen: it has been my pleasure. To the readers, especially those who have stayed with us for most of this ride: thanks for stopping by. Continue...

Movie Review: Captain America: The First Avenger

I received this poster as a consolation prize for
having to sit through the 3D version of the film...

I've never followed Captain America, either through the 210 million copies of his comic books that have flown off newsstand shelves since his first appearance in 1941, or through the various movie serial and television adaptations that have popped up since then.  Until a week ago, pretty much my only exposure to Captain America in any type of media was that one episode of the X-Men animated television series* that shows a flashback of Wolverine fighting alongside the First Avenger himself back in the "Big War." (You'll of course remember that Wolverine is actually much older than he looks, and that his mutant healing power keeps him young and fresh... insert nerdy guffaw here.)

* Before I continue, let me just say that I'm so happy that episodes from this solid show are easily available online, without having to trudge through the various incomplete bootleg versions on the YouTubes. The above-linked episode is from the latter half of Season 5 where animation quality suffered  as they were rushing to complete their various storylines before the show ended. But many of the earlier episodes are extremely well done and deal with more advanced and deep themes than you'd expect from a typical Saturday morning cartoon. I'd wholeheartedly recommend it; several steps below Batman: The Animated Series, of course...

Thus when I saw Captain America: The First Avenger last Thursday at the Arclight Hollywood (but not in the Dome), I was able to approach the story fresh, with no preconceived notions instilled by pesky, more original versions of the story. I was able to put myself squarely and firmly in the hands of Paramount Pictures and director Joe Johnston's 21st Century interpretation of the character. And I must say, I was not disappointed.

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Movie Review: Tekken: Blood Vengeance

Charge Shot!!!'s esteemed co-editor Craig and I made a man-date to see a dumb movie. The plan, originally, was to see Transformers: Dark Moon Rising (or whatever it's called). But it seemed the universe had other plans for us. Because yesterday, at 7:30pm, in selected movie theaters all across the nation a special, stupid, crazy, confounding film aired for one night only. Last night we happened upon Tekken: Blood Vengeance in 3D, and I don't know about Craig but I don't think I'll ever be the same.

Here's what I knew about the Tekken video game franchise before going to see the movie. 1. It was one of those serious fighting games. The kind where smashing buttons would only get you past the first round at an arcade. 2. There was some weird half-man, half-leopard guy you could play as. 3. There were bears. I went into the movie expecting to be somewhat confused. Luckily for me, the movie featuring characters from Tekken had very little to do with the video games! There wasn't even a Tekken Tournament!

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Thoughts of an Aspiring Music Snob: Week 116 - The Pretenders

Chris is trying to compensate for his lack of musical knowledge by immersing himself in one new artist each week. At the end of the week, he will write up a brief summary of his opinions. You can read about the origin and parameters of this project here.

"We're paying tribute to James Honeyman-Scott and Pete Farndon," the Pretenders' Chrissie Hynde announced upon the band's induction to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2005, "without whom we wouldn't be here." Honeyman-Scott was the original guitarist for the group; Farnon the original bassist. Both met with tragic, early deaths because of drugs, which is probably why Hynde went on with the observation that, "on the other hand, without us, they might have been here, but that's the way it works in rock 'n' roll."

"That's the way it works in rock 'n' roll" is a sobering statement, especially in light of Amy Winehouse's premature death over this past weekend. The music industry has always had an unfortunate closeness with a drug-induced brand of hedonism that is often too easily laughed off. But the Pretenders (and Winehouse) show that fame and fortune often come at an unfortunate price. The vast waste of talent, the sheer fucking uselessness of these sorts of deaths, are both tragic and infuriating. 

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After the Jump: Staned

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I CAN SEE THROUGH YOU

THROUGH TO THE REEEALL YOUUU

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Sunday Reading: Mac OS X Lion Review

As you may or may not know, Apple released a new version of Mac OS X this week.

Doing an in-depth review is a bit outside of the scope of what we do here, but I wanted to make sure y'all knew what I thought, so if you've got time you should read the massive review of it that I helped write for Anandtech. A quote that sums it up:

"For those of you worried that Apple's "back to the Mac" marketing push would result in an OS X version that sacrifices functionality in favor of imported iOS features and reduced capability: those fears are, by and large, unfounded. The iOS-inspired functionality is mostly laid over top of a foundation that's more or less OS X as it has been since Leopard - a solid, mature and full-featured desktop operating system. 

That said, the usefulness of individual Lion features will likely come down to your individual needs and work patterns. Most should appreciate solid new features like Versions, the new Mail, and the much-needed enhancements to FileVault, but features like Launchpad and the UI overhauls of iCal and Address Book are of dubious benefit to users, and other heavily-promoted features like multitouch gestures and the Mac App Store are already available to Snow Leopard users. 

Even so, at $29, there is really no reason not to buy Lion..."

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Saturday Morning TV: Baseball Friends

You know what I love more than home runs?

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Spotify is Here!

Before last week, you might have heard rumors of Spotify, the music streaming service that has taken Europe by storm. For the past couple of years, Americans have had to make do with vague stories of the Promised Land - a realm beyond the ocean where you could legally stream any track...for free! For those of us stuck toiling away in the United States, it was hard not to greet these tales with a healthy dose of skepticism. Is Spotify really all that great, or is this another case of our cultural inferiority complex?

Last week saw the long awaited debut of Spotify in the United States, and now we Americans can judge for ourselves. It's currently invite-only, but it's relatively easy to garner an invite (I got one in thirty seconds after a quick Google search led me to a Spotify promotion on the Coca-Cola website). And it turns out that our European counterparts were not wrong, and Spotify has a lot of promise. If it really takes off, it could conceivably change the way we listen to music in the same way Netflix changed the way we watched movies. 

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A Decade of Dreck #59: Modigliani

Charge Shot!!! is celebrating the end of the decade in the most masochistic way we know how - by watching and writing about the 100 worst movies of the last ten years as defined by film review aggregator Rotten Tomatoes. Click here to see RT's complete list, click here for more about the Decade of Dreck project, and click here to see all of the movies we've done so far.

Ah, the starving artist: you are torn between your passion for your art and a world that doesn't understand your genius. Must you compromise your vision to stay afloat or will you die knowing you've changed the world? Nobody makes movies about the former, so if you please, you may begin hacking up blood due to Consumption at your leisure.

Yes, it's that very fact, nobody makes movies about sell-outs, everybody makes movies about crazy artists who upend their field, that doomed Modigliani from the start. Sure, it could be relatively easy to make a movie about the life of the Italian painter, he certainly has a decent enough life story, but why do it well when you can just do it? That might require something like giving some thought to it, having some talent, and scripting interesting characters we care about for reasons other than that their works hang in the MoMA!

Amadeo Mogigliani certainly deserves a fancy historical biopic as much as, if not more than, any other modern artist. It has all the elements that make the fancy historical biopic film interesting: doomed love, genius, a captivating setting, famous friends- it should be pretty simple to make a halfway decent one of these things, just take the formula for Frida and change the names and you've got it!

I jest of course, this was probably exactly what the people behind Modigliani did, and this was the crappy end result.

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Album Review: Black Lips - "Arabia Mountain"

"Dude, they are conjuring up those demons. Basically they're taking spells out of that book, or they're taking demons out of that book and working it into a song that basically conjures up these demons, man." This is a quote from what sounds like a found audio clip, spoken by a guy with a 1991 California accent. It comes in as the music fades on a song about Spider-man getting molested as a child. It's the third track on Arabia Mountain, the newest release from the blissfully sloppy, lo-fi, "flower" punk band Black Lips.

 

Black Lips hail from Georgia, coming of age and popularity in the Atlanta scene that fostered bands like Deerhunter, Mastodon, The Coathangers, and King Khan and the Shrines. They're notorious to a certain extent. Their live shows have included vomit, blood, piss, etc. They are, as one of their earlier songs proclaims, Bad Kids. But their live shows are only an extension of the raucous, wild good time that is a Black Lips record. Arabia Mountain is no exception. And even though they collaborated with famed producer Mark Ronson the album is still uniquely Black Lips. In other words: It's still a slime-covered gem!

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What If Rupert Murdoch’s Empire Were Hacking All The Way Down?

Rupert Murdoch owns a lot. That sentence doesn’t even need an indirect object. He simply owns a lot. Of newspapers, of movie studios, of television networks, of television programs, of websites, of magazines, of record labels. He even owns fifty percent of Australia’s National Rugby League. Chances are that of the thousands of pieces of content you interact with everyday, a good third to one-half of them link back to him in some sort of gold-plated game of Six Degrees of Rupert Murdoch.

He now owns one hell of a scandal. Murdoch’s News Corporation is the parent company of News International, which published the British tabloid News of the World. It’s recently come to light that News of the World engaged in phone hacking to illegally obtain information. Earlier this month, British prime minister David Cameron called for a massive government inquiry into the affair, hoping to address claims of hacking and police bribery.

High-ranking British police officials are stepping down. Members of Murdoch’s empire are being arrested. The United States is now getting involved: the FBI just began investigating whether or not News Corp’s violated the Foreign Corrupt Practices Act with the alleged hacking and bribery. Oh yeah, and they might have accessed the voicemails of victims of the 9/11 attacks and the 7/7 London bombings.

Rather than wade into this quagmire and attempt to report on it (there’s plenty of that going on already), I’d like to speculate on what the world would be like if such underhanded behavior pervaded the furthest reaches of Murdoch’s empire. Cue the dream sequence music.

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The End of the Midnight Madness: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

"Expelliarmus!"

"Alohomora!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

Hearing those pretend, faux-magicky-language spells shouted out by tween voices, watching them flick their substitute wands (anything from a twig to a drumstick to a chopstick to a sewing needle) with grandiose flourishes, checking out all the robes, cloaks, scarves, glasses, lightning bolts drawn onto foreheads... let's just say it takes me back.  I was there, nine years and four months ago, when the first installment of this storied seven-book, eight-movie franchise exploded onto America's silver screens.  I was standing in line (in those barbaric times before assigned seating), waiting anxiously to rush in and claim the best seats for our group of young, fresh-faced aficionados of witchcraft and wizardry.  I was watching with wonder as Harry Potter's bespectacled face first filled the screen and I was listening as John Williams's majestic score first filled my ears.  And I haven't missed one film since.

Looking out over the sea of eager fans, the old and the young, the costumed and non-costumed, those desperately trying to hold onto one last shred of dignity and those who had long ago abandoned all hope - you could tell it was the end of an era.  Now, almost 20 hours and more than $7 billion later, we were all about to take part in the last midnight showing of the last Harry Potter film EVER.  And you could tell that everyone was thinking the same thing:  IT'S FINALLY ABOUT TO END!

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Thoughts of an Aspiring Music Snob: Week 115 - Björk

Chris is trying to compensate for his lack of musical knowledge by immersing himself in one new artist each week. At the end of the week, he will write up a brief summary of his opinions. You can read about the origin and parameters of this project here.

Yup, it's a picture of the swan dress. It's the first thing that comes to mind when I think of Björk. Admit it: it's the first thing you thought of too. 

Björk is one of those musicians whose fame as a celebrity has somehow managed to eclipse her fame as a musician. In the United States of America, where she was never as popular as in the rest of the world, it's possible that many people only know the singer from her exotic-sound monosyllabic moniker and her famous cygnine Oscar garb. Until this week, I don't think I had ever heard a piece of music by Björk, even though I totally knew who she was as a public figure.

It's nice when my musical ignorance yields these surprises, and a figure I dismissed as a mere European novelty actually turns out to have talent, a willingness to experiment, and some great music to back up her image. I had assumed Björk was some sort of faux-classical easy listening - an Icelandic Yanni, if you will. Instead, she stocks up her influences to Stockhausen, Brian Eno and Kraftwerk, which is a pretentious list but also a surefire way to make me take notice and realize that I'm really going to enjoy this week's music. 

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After the Jump: The Many Emmys

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Hey, look at us being all on time with the podcast this week! As long as "10:00pm on Sunday" counts as "on time" for you guys. Probably it does.

This week! We talk about the Netflix price hike, Canada's Internet caps and the legislation surrounding same, the Emmys, the possibility of an Android tablet from Amazon, and more!

Thanks for listening! See you next week! Continue...

Sunday Reading: A Prank Customer Letter

In the generational shift from letters to email, I fear we’ve lost something. It’s not the care with which one chooses words while writing in ink. It’s not the intimacy of sending someone a physical manifestation of your feelings, be they love, anger, worry, etc.

We’ve lost a good deal of pranking.

Think about it. Pranks rely on anonymity, something social networking and modern email etiquette have slowly eroded. Anything you don’t recognize immediately gets sent to your Spam folder before being deleted.

You have to physically deal with a letter. Sure, you can throw it away afterwards, but it’s likely that you’ll at least tear open the envelope, read the handwritten or typed text, and then discover that someone was playing a joke on you.

Just check out some of this letter from R.J. Bumpass, sent to the Blum Manufacturing Company, a cowbell producer, in 1957.

“By golly everything has happened to me expect a spudnixt falling on me. Several evenings, couple weeks back was flagged by some indians, were broke down. Did not get to bed untill 2:00 or 3:00 o’clock. As far as I am concerned, people better be where they are headed that time of day, I am not stopping.”

This is either the rant of a crazy person looking to buy more cowbells, or it is a well-crafted prank letter sent for the amusement of the Blum Company. You can read the rest of the letter here. Meanwhile, I’m off to locate a functioning Underwood. I’ve got some letters to write.

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Book Review: George R.R. Martin - "A Dance With Dragons"

"It has been a while between books, I know," George R.R. Martin admits in the introduction to his new novel. One can only imagine this line being delivered wearily, the response to thousands of fans clamoring for the next installment in the epic fantasy series A Song of Ice and Fire. It's been six years since the previous book, and that book only featured half the main cast. Long-time readers haven't met up with certain characters in A Dance with Dragons since 2000. That was eleven years ago. Bill Clinton was president. It's been a long time. 

So it's hard to approach reading A Dance with Dragons as one would a regular book. The build-up, both from the long wait and the exposure from the HBO series, has led to increased expectations and a reader base large enough to single-handedly revive the fortune of some bookstores. It's hard for a book to live up to that sort of anticipation. Additionally, there's the personal element to consider. When I last read about some of these characters, I was fourteen years old. It's a bit jarring to pick up the new book and realize that absolutely no time has passed for these characters I left eleven years ago. 

After three immensely enjoyable books, Martin ran into a bit of problems with A Feast for Crows in 2005. The book featured only half of the main cast, and they happened to be the least interesting half. Fans missed their favorite characters, questioned the slowing pace of events, and wondered if publishing a half-book wasn't just a way to sell something while working around some sort of writers' block. Excited as I was about Dance, I was also a tad nervous. Martin's been writing these books for close to two decades. What if he's lost his touch? 

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The Uplifting Pessimism of Louie

We all have dark spots in our brains. Dimly lit corners out of which the nastiest, most unseemly, deplorable thoughts emerge. Like vermin, they scuttle back to darkness the second we shine light on them. We prefer them that way. Few of us have the courage to go in after them, even fewer have the courage to invite them into the light.

Louis C.K. has such courage.

At forty-three, Louis C.K. (née Szekely) has lived a more thorough life than most of us ever will. He’s written for The Late Show with David Letterman, Late Night with Conan O’Brien, The Dana Carvey Show, won an Emmy in 1999 for his work on The Chris Rock Show, written several screenplays, created a sitcom on HBO, starred in several comedy specials including the Emmy-nominated Chewed Up.

Why call C.K.’s life ‘thorough’? He’s also gotten married, gotten divorced, and shares custody of his two daughters with his ex-wife. He’s been through enough crap to know that every bright sun comes with its own dirty gray lining, and he’s unafraid to share that truth with his audience.

You’d know all this if you watched his FX show Louie, for which C.K. recently received Emmy nominations in acting and writing.

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All-Star Tuesday: One Year Later

About a year ago, I was fortunate enough to attend last year's MLB All-Star Game in Anaheim.  Yesterday I was fortunate enough to liveblog the Home Run Derby, which featured an exciting, last-ups victory complete with a record number of home runs hit in the final round by the Yankees' Robinson Cano.  Just when I was beginning to think of the #HRDerby as dull and repetitive, they come back with an exciting nailbiter - kind of like how whenever MythBusters starts to get too stuffy and science-y, they pull out a sequence featuring Kari Byron running through some obstacle course or something.

And yet even after all the fun I had last year, and all the fun the fans in attendance have, and all the fun players appear to be having on the field, getting the chance to fraternize with the best and brightest in the sport, there's still a contingent arguing that the All-Star Game is obsolete?  Because of TV ratings?  Come on!  Everybody knows that TV ratings only exist for the benefit of advertisers and every advertiser knows that the climate of the industry is gravitating away from the 30-second TV spot and towards more new-age, interactive means of reaching consumers.

The All-Star Game is about so much more than TV ratings and showcasing the world's best commercials (the same cannot be said for events of other major sports).  It's all the things Mr. Fetter notes in his "Atlantic" article: a break from the grueling baseball season, and a (better) way to decide home field advantage in the World Series (than simple alternation).  But it's also about so much more.  It's about... well, I won't spoil it in the opening; you'll have to hit the jump to find out.

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The New World of Board Games

It's been a beautiful week and a half here on the coast of the Delaware Bay. I've tanned. I've been chased off the beach by those fat, biting flies that crave ankle flesh. I've floated in the dead calm brackish waters. And, seeing as I'm the oldest of three, I've played board games. A lot of board games. In fact, it feels like I've taken a trip through a board game museum this week.

And all this play time has, in some small way, been enlightening and sad. I've played the games of my youth, the games of my parents' youth, and brand new ones released in the last decade. They don't make these games like they used to. But if they did my seventeen year old sister probably wouldn't play them. Let's talk a walk through the water-damaged and dusty cardboard halls of board game history. I mean come on, it's the summer, what else are we going to do?

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Art House in the Middle of the Street #16: Fists in the Pocket

There's no grand philosophical project behind Charge Shot!!!'s new feature. Jordasch's mom got him Janus Films' absolutely untouchable Essential Art House box set, and he's going to watch the whole thing. It's a behemoth set, collecting 50 films released since 1956 by one of the first distributors to bring honest-to-goodness world cinema to U.S. shores. The films contained in the collection serve as a crash course in world cinema, encompassing everything from major works of the French New Wave and the Italian Neorealist period to films from lesser-known corners of the filmmaking world, including Brazil and Poland. The collection is 50 discs, weighs 16 pounds, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses. Hit it.

Fists in the Pocket (1965; dir. Marco Bellocchio)

Why It's Important: A bit tougher to tell with this one. It's easy to point at films like The Bicycle Thieves or Vertigo and explain the cataclysmic impact they had on the history of film. But with the lesser-known films in Janus' box set - and Fists in the Pocket is assuredly one of them - it's a tougher game. The film's Wikipedia entry tells us that author Rex Pickett (Sideways) cites it as a big influence, though similarities between Alexander Payne's 2004 version of Pickett's novel are tough to spot. Rovi hails it as one of the last great classics of the Italian neo-realist period, but the film's bracingly experimental editing and grim absurdity are a far cry from the level-headed reality of a film like The Bicycle Thieves. But other than that, the film is little-known outside of a small circle of dedicated film buffs and the filmmakers it influenced so heavily (Pier Paolo Pasolini, Bernardo Bertolucci). But they sure seem to love it.

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Thinking with Soundtracks: The Music of Portal 2

Two Month in Reviews ago, I alluded to our lack of a proper Portal 2 review. Andrew and I both completed the game’s stellar single-player offering within a week or two of release, but neither of us felt compelled to pen anything. Perhaps the glut of creative reviews intimidated us. Or maybe it was each of us lacking a proper co-op partner (he purchased for the PlayStation 3/PC, I for the Xbox 360).

I’ve also been worried to even talk about the game with someone who hasn’t played it. On the off-chance that they ever get around to it, I want each and every moment to be as fresh as it was for me. Portal 2’s puzzles are challenging and offer many “A-ha!” moments, but they offer little in replay value. To even discuss them would diminish their appeal.

Portal 2’s plot is nowhere near as complex as your average Japanese RPG, nor is it as sweeping as Valve’s Half-Life 2. But the writing is top-notch, and the story beats twist and land with the nimble precision of an Olympic gymnast. The story offers a handful of truly satisfying surprises, and I feel like dancing around them is even a bit too close.

What I can tell you, however, is that the music is amazing. Yes, there’s a song by The National tucked away as an easter egg, and yes, indie folk rocker/cruise captain Jonathan Coulton recorded another closing track. What’s more impressive, and definitely worth your time regardless of your relationship with Portal 2, is Mike Morasky’s score.

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After the Jump: Featured Footlong

Subscribe to the podcast via the feed, find us in the iTunes store, or download the MP3 directly!

Chris, Andrew and I regroup after taking a holiday weekend off, covering Google+, Netflix, Italian BMTs, failed social media, and Dropbox security concerns.

We also debuted a new segment, Quick Hitz, in which we burn through a handful of stories that don’t really deserve much airtime. Spoiler alert: we gloss over Rebecca Black’s upcoming single, “My Moment”.

Thanks for listening, and we’ll see you next week!

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A Decade of Dreck #58: The Celestine Prophecy

Charge Shot!!! is celebrating the end of the decade in the most masochistic way we know how - by watching and writing about the 100 worst movies of the last ten years as defined by film review aggregator Rotten Tomatoes. Click here to see RT's complete list, click here for more about the Decade of Dreck project, and click here to see all of the movies we've done so far.

As a bookseller, there are two types of people I loathe more than all others (the people who buy Amish romance novels I believe to be beneath my hatred): first are the Self-Help people. I really, really dislike having to show someone all the books about "getting motivated" and "dealing with difficult people" and "turning your life around". All I want to say to them is "This is a scam to dupe you out of your money. Get a hobby and stop being so fucking sad all the goddamn time." but of course, that's how you get fired.

Higher up on my shit list (okay, maybe somewhere below the old people who buy books about how the "Moslems are gunna impose Sharia law on America") are the New Age "spiritual" people. There's way too big a market for this sort of shit out there; my store only got rid of the "Crystals" sub-section in the New Age department last week. I already have a pretty dim view of religion in general, but I will say this for Christianity and the others, at least they have their shit together. New Age people are just wackos.

So it is with great delight that I was assigned this week's entry, the king of the Self-Help/New Age hill: a film adaptation of James Redfield's The Celestine Prophecy.

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Thoughts of an Aspiring Music Snob: Week 114 - Wilco

Chris is trying to compensate for his lack of musical knowledge by immersing himself in one new artist each week. At the end of the week, he will write up a brief summary of his opinions. You can read about the origin and parameters of this project here.

There's a fine line between subtle and dull, between the album that's a "grower," and the album that really isn't worth a second listen. The problem is that it's often hard to identify the difference right away. Some albums I'm convinced don't have that much to hide yield surprises in the weeks and months down the road, while others that I'm convinced will grow on me actually turn out to be kind of bore. 

Wilco straddled the line between the two this week, and even now I'm still not sure which side is going to win out. I think I've written before how my "artist-a-week" schedule frequently rewards the novel, the new, and the easy-to-like. Those bands don't knock my socks off right away are often harder to appreciate by the end of the week, which is not to say that I won't grow to love them. But I ended up being less enthralled with, say, Being There, and more intrigued. 

This isn't a bad thing. Nearly all the classical music I listen to takes a few spins in order for me to grasp what's going on. It's the difference between love at first sight, and slowly developing a crush. Some music is there to wow you from the very beginning, and the minute it comes on you can't believe what you're hearing. Others (possibly like Wilco) only reveal their depth in time. 

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Sunday Reading: A Sordid Cast Around Casey Anthony

I didn’t follow the Casey Anthony trial that closely. There was even a period of time where I thought Casey was the child’s name, and all the talk of nannies led me to believe for a short while that a nanny was the one on trial.

The information mess was cleared up for me in the last week as the country sat through the trial, listening to 911 calls, reliving the horrific details of a little girl’s disappearance. This story didn’t just dominate the news, it smashed through newsroom walls and grabbed microphones away from anchors, demanding it be discussed.

And it’s not surprising we listened, or that the trial itself whirled into town like a travelling circus. Harming children has for ages been represented in our culture as the ultimate crime. The Greeks had Medea. Shakespeare sprinkled his tragedies with scores of child-murderers. Films like Rabbit Hole weave narratives out of normal, twenty-first century people’s primal reactions to an incredible loss.

Writing for the New York Times, Frank Bruni elaborated on the Anthony trial’s dramatis personae. There are the defense lawyers: bird-flipping Cheney Mason and the boastful Jose Baez. There’s Casey Anthony herself, who will the burden of this nightmare long after the relief of a Not Guilty verdict fades. What I found so refreshing was Bruni’s indictment of HLN anchor Nancy Grace:

“No wonder he so thoroughly riled Nancy Grace, who doesn’t need any riling. While other commentators, responding fairly enough to what they were seeing and hearing, put their chips on Anthony’s guilt, Grace bet the whole house on it. Crusaded for it. Brooked no alternate outcome. Ever certain, ever merciless, she’d give 25-to-life to an alleged jaywalker based on the testimony of a 99-year-old with cataracts.

After the Anthony verdict, her wrath was biblical: “The devil is dancing.”

She doesn’t serve the cause of victims with such histrionics. She serves the cause of Nancy Grace.”

Bruni concedes that Grace is a bit of a chicken and the egg question. She wouldn’t be so successful if there weren’t 5.2 million people willing to watch the verdict on HLN. But her ascent is still unsettling, as it represents more people turning to “news” networks for affirmation rather than information.

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Saturday Afternoon TV: Must Have Marshmallows

I’m sorry. I just can’t enough of these hungry hungry kids.

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A Decade of Dreck #57: Because I Said So

Charge Shot!!! is celebrating the end of the decade in the most masochistic way we know how - by watching and writing about the 100 worst movies of the last ten years as defined by film review aggregator Rotten Tomatoes. Click here to see RT's complete list, click here for more about the Decade of Dreck project, and click here to see all of the movies we've done so far.

I must have already commented on this, but the Decade of Dreck throws me up against a lot of niche-marketed films I would have zero interest in save their officially-rated irredeemable crappiness. For example, was there ever a chance in Hell that I could have liked The Perfect Man, Yu-Gi-Oh!: The Movie, or Johnson Family Vacation? Of course not. I'm far outside the target demographics on these (and many more) films in multiple quadrants. Sometimes, this knowledge can help one approach the movie they're about to see ("There's no way I could possibly like this, so I'd better settle in and prepare for shit.") but sometimes, nothing can stop the malaise that a film like Because I Said So can inflict on a human being.

If you couldn't tell by reading and/or viewing anything about this, Because I Said So is explicitly aimed at groups of mothers and daughters going out for a girls' night at the movies. Diane Keaton plays Daphne, a mother of three grown women who can't help but meddle in their private lives. Having seen the elder two married off, she now shifts her attention to Milly (Mandy Moore), her youngest. Having just broken up with her boyfriend, Milly is, in Daphne's eyes, in critical danger of dying alone. She thus sets out to set her up with two potential love interests only to find everything crashing down for humorous effect as her terrible interference spurs her brood to rally against her. Jesus, this is bad.

After every laugh line in the trailer, you can tell some Universal executive said "Ok, now the women in the audience should say something like 'OMG, that is totally something Mom would do!'" at a board meeting. Just watch the embedded trailer down there. Seriously watch it. Try not to kill your family afterwards.

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Ghosts from Charge Shot!!!’s Past: Tattoos on the Heart

Charge Shot!!! has been around for two and a half years now - amazing, we know! - and in that time we've amassed a lot of posts. Much of our writing is in an editorial vein, simply because we don't have the time or resources to report on every news item that flies across the Interwebs. Therefore, we feel that our output has a better shelf-life than you might expect from some run-of-the-mill news blog.

This feature, Ghosts From Charge Shot!!!'s Past, aims to bring some of this stuff - both good and embarrassing - to the eyeballs of our newer readers, while taking long-time constituents on a trip down memory lane. Enjoy!

Summer is upon us. For some that means vacation, afternoons in the sun, and hot hot heat. For others that means working, cranking the air conditioner, and catching as many blockbuster movies as possible.

A Better Life is not a blockbuster movie. But Entertainment Weekly did go so far as to call it “2011’s first awards movie”. This film from About A Boy director Chris Weitz charts the relationship between a struggling Mexican gardener and his Americanized son in Los Angeles. A Better Life marks Weitz’s return to “serious” film after a vacation in blockbuster land with The Golden Compass and Twilight: New Moon, and reviews indicate that it should receive some recognition in awards season if anyone can remember it six months later.

But this Ghosts post isn’t about A Better Life. It’s about the book Tattoos from the Heart, which Chris reviewed last year. The author, Rev. Gregory Boyle, founded Homeboy Industries, a gang-member rehabilitation program in Los Angeles. Boyle, along with Homeboy Industries, helped Weitz select shooting locations and capture an authentic L.A. gang atmosphere.

Tattoos, like the program it chronicles, is meant to be inspirational. Chris had this to say about that:

“You can probably guess by now what sort of book this is. You wouldn't be wrong. Each chapter is organized by some sort of inspirational theme, as Boyle stitches together anecdotes and stories of the people he's encountered and helped (or tried to help). Many of the stories end in tears and hugs; others end in tears and funerals. Boyle peppers these anecdotes with Bible quotes and references to Scripture.

But even though Tattoos on the Heart clearly has a religious agenda, I found for the most part that the stories speak for themselves.”

I never thought we’d ever review a book like Tattoos on the Heart, but I’m glad we did. It’s a window into a specific, challenging life that few would enter if they had the choice – not that different from Chris Weitz’s A Better Life. 

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Yellowed Pages: The Wilk Are Among Us by Isidore Haiblum

Buried under piles of pulpy, yellowed copies of sci-fi and fantasy lit. Giaco reads and waits. The first Thursday of every month he’ll attempt to review an ancient relic from an ancient time (aka crappy genre fiction from the 70’s and 80’s). Stay with him as you journey into space, caves, voids and dungeons. Unfortunate side effect: from this point on you’ll smell of old books. 

Origin Story 

This month I'll be talking about another oddity I found at a dusty old used book store. Crammed into the "fantasy" section The Wilk Are Among Us beckoned to me. And judging by the cover this could, potentially, be a fantasy novel. Is that guy with the tentacles some mystical creature? Some wizard shifting shape? I had hoped so, but it was  hard, strange sci-fi all the way.

The most interesting aspect about my review of this book is that it's, in a way, an exclusive. Well, as much as you can call a review of a book from 1971 an exclusive. But I've searched far and wide and I see no reviews of this book. No one's talked about it. No one's reviewed it. I've only found one synopsis and Amazon only has two copies for sale (without even any user reviews). In a world where even a book like The Flying Sorcerers has a wikipedia page, this is a rarity. So join me as I talk for the first time online about this weird little book about aliens, tentacles and Earthlings.

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Google+ Impressions

Between moving and packing and unpacking and starting a new Real Life job, I'm afraid my presence around these parts will be sporadic at best this month. I'll still try to make something happen up here on Thursdays, though.

Today: a loose collection of off-the-cuff thoughts on Google+, Google's newest stab at the whole social networking thing.

The Good:

• My very, very first impression of Google+ was that this is sort of what Facebook was like back when it started - streamlined, uncluttered and filled mostly with people I know and the people they know. Where Facebook has become a den of aunts and People You Knew From High School, Google+ still has that exclusive-new-thing vibe that so many people like. I mean, part of that is probably because of its semi-closed beta status, but still...
• Google's minimalist interface is hit-or-miss depending on the product: it works for Gmail, where a long list of chronologically-sorted items makes the most sense, but it works less well for Google Docs or Google Buzz, which dump a bunch of information on you stream-of-consciousness-style with too few effective ways to sort it. In Google+, the simplicity and the open white space on the pages work mostly in the service's favor.
• Google+'s "circles" give you convenient ways to group your friends and control what they can and can't see, getting over that age-old social networking bugaboo of staying connected with both personal and professional contacts using the same profile. Many of the other privacy controls in Google+ exist in Facebook, but are often obfuscated.
• Integration with other Google services makes it easy to bring in media and find people, depending on how deeply you (and they) are invested in Google services.

The bad:

• Social networking sites thrive on interpersonal interactions, and frankly there just aren't that many people on Google+ to interact with (though the few who are are generally pretty active users). It's early days yet, but Google will need to capitalize quickly on its early, um, buzz to build and maintain a userbase.
• While finding people and associating Google-hosted pictures and videos is pretty easy if you and your friends use Google stuff all the time, there's no automated way to pull in media and information from the other social networking sites that you're almost assuredly using already. If the point here is to chip away at Facebook's dominance (and that's got to be at least part of it), you need to make it as easy as possible for Facebook users to make the jump.
• Don't fool yourself: Big companies don't care about your feelings. Google may not be as openly apathetic about user privacy as is Facebook, but the company is collecting information from and about you all the time. Their "don't be evil" mantra is famous and oft-repeated, but they're a huge company built mostly on advertising revenues, and in pursuing those revenues they're bound to be at least a little evil, inadvertently or otherwise. To those of you looking to flee Facebook in exchange for better privacy, Google+ may scratch that itch, but only to a point.

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Videogame Music: The Ambience of Gaming

Because of various circumstances in my life right now, I'm in the midst of a break from playing videogames.  What with work and family and friends and personal projects, I just can't devote the time I feel is necessary to fully enjoy all aspects of the gaming experience. I was never the kind of person who played games casually or just to pass the time - I prefer to make my way through slowly, appreciate every detail, and give my respect to the time and energy it took to create the game.

I like to think of people's relationships with their interests as a pair of feet walking on a well-manicured lawn, and I think it applies directly to gaming as well.  Most people wear sneakers: they provide good support and leave a firm footprint.  These gamers will play through a game once, sticking with it until the end credits, and then put it on the shelf.  Others wear snowshoes, which cover a wider area with the pressure evenly distributed.  Snowshoeing gamers have interest in a wide variety of titles, playing many of them at the same time, until they get bored or something cooler comes out.  And still others walk while wearing lawn aerator shoes, which penetrate down past the surface to the cool, refreshing, nutrition-packed dirt underneath.  I consider myself one of these gamers.

One aspect of the games to which I pay specific deep attention is the music.  I think it's fascinating to see how the feel of a particular game is impacted by what you hear as well as how you control the action onscreen.  And since my current break only covers the playing of videogames - and not the reading about, writing about, or listening to the music from videogames - I'd like to say a few words about the music from the two games I'm currently playing/aerating: Mortal Kombat and L.A. Noire.

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The Allure of a Great Summer Movie

I'm spending the next two weeks with my family at a nice little beach near Milton, DE. The sun rises and sets beet red on the horizon. Warm bay water laps softly at the sandy pebble beach. This is all fine, ideal, actually, but there's no boardwalk, no nearby amusements, nothing really to do at night outside of the house. So we've taken to watching movies that everyone can enjoy. Movies that must appeal to vacationers between the ages of 17 and 45.

Yesterday alone we watched both The Birdcage and Apollo 13. These two very different movies had more in common than you might imagine. Both were perfect, in some intrinsic way, beach watching movies. Yes, one was a humorous look at the struggle constantly facing the GLBT community while the other was about this time we didn't make it to the moon but we also didn't kill anyone. Yes, one is a comedy while the other is a period piece. But something thread those two together and when it hit me I was a little shocked. Both involved one-time masters of their craft, in their prime, acting their hearts out to tremendous results.

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Thoughts of an Aspiring Music Snob: Week 113 - Fatboy Slim

Chris is trying to compensate for his lack of musical knowledge by immersing himself in one new artist each week. At the end of the week, he will write up a brief summary of his opinions. You can read about the origin and parameters of this project here.

It was probably only a little over ten years ago that the music of Fatboy Slim sounded like the music of the future. This is funny, because it's impossible to listen to "The Rockafeller Skank" today without hearing an incredibly dated sound. The first pangs of "Right about now...the funk soul brother" are like a time warp takes you back, because when the song talks about "now," it will always and forever refer to 1998. (Remember when Osmosis Jones was a viable film concept? "The Rockafeller Skank" made an appearance there). 

Part of the reason for Fatboy Slim's brief moment in the sun was probably the broad appeal of this song, which was also marketed to death in movie trailers, television shows, and commercials. It has that sort of indescribable quality in which you can't help but smile when listening to it, even if you normally shy away from electronic music. "The Rockafeller Skank," and most of Fatboy Slim's hits, were electronic club music for those people who dislike electronic club music. It took the genre and gave it a goofy personality and some genuine character. 

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A Fourth of Fireworks

I hope you had a delightful Fourth of July.

If it was a good one, I bet you didn’t have to work. Perhaps you caught up on some sleep. Cooked a real breakfast for once. Who has time to cook bacon and sausage and then cook your scrambled eggs in the pan still glittering with bacon-sausage residue? On the Fourth of July, you do.

Maybe you watched some television that you’d never allot time for: Law & Order reruns, History Channel specials on how states were formed, that new buddy-lawyer show starring Zach Morris and a short guy, a sporting event. Crazy contract fights have left baseball and hockey as the only popular American sports not locked out – and they don’t play hockey in this heat. Oh, the Women’s World Cup, you say? Yeah. Have fun with that.

By about mid-afternoon you were likely planning for a get-together. You were throwing one, your friend was throwing one – it doesn’t matter. You found a shirt that looks good and won’t make you sweat too much. Picked up the beer/soda/BBQ chicken/deep-fried-whatever. Grilled, tossed the old pigskin, and socialized in ways not afforded by office cubes or retail counters or telephone lines.

Then night started to fall. Lazily, as summer nights tend to do. What better way to cap off the day than with some fireworks?

[Author’s Note: There’s an outside chance your Fourth of July was not this delightful – you had to work, you hate freedom, or you aren’t from the United States and couldn’t care less. You can still hit the jump and read about fireworks. Just pretend you had a patriotic day filled with safe drinking, relaxation, and brightly colored explosions.]

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Month in Review: June 2011

June is over. The Fourth of July is here. That’s crazy. Only eighteenish months left until the end of the world/the new Batman movie.

Now would be a good time to catch up on what we reviewed in June – just in case the world ends a year-and-a-half early.

Hit the jump already!

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Shakespeare a Pot Smoker? [Insert Witty Weed Shakespeare Pun Here]

“To toke or not to toke?” “Doobie or not doobie?” “Is this a reefer which I see before me?”

Let’s cut to the chase: William Shakespeare may have smoked pot.

Ten years ago, South African palentologist Francis Thackeray analyzed some pipe fragments found in Shakespeare’s garden and found trace amounts of cocaine and cannabis. Though the pipe pieces are nothing but circumstantial evidence(they were in his garden and that’s all we know), the chemical findings basically hold up. Cannabis was cultivated in Britain during Shakespeare’s lifetime, and coca leaves had been imported to Europe by the Spanish from the West Indes.

Thackeray then decided to find literary evidence that Shakespeare enjoyed recreational drugs, citing the phrases “noted weed” and “compounds strange” from Sonnet 76. This is an incredible reach. Weed didn’t become slang for marijuana until the early twentieth century; it’s likely that Shakespeare was using “weed” to mean “garments” or “style” (more here). The “compounds” are verbal, not herbal, ones. A sonnet that starts “Why is my verse so barren of new pride” isn’t about drugs. It’s about finding new words to express love.

With his physical evidence circumstantial and his literary evidence circumspect, Thackeray’s turned to the body of the Bard himself for answers. He recently applied for permission from the Church of England to examine Shakespeare’s body. Thackeray told Fox News that he plans to use “laser-surface scanning” to determine gender, cause of death, and whether or not marijuana played a role in Shakespeare’s writing process.

It’s a long shot, though. The Church of England has spent centuries honoring the inscription on Shakespeare’s grave in Stratford-upon-Avon:

"Good frend for Jesus sake forebeare,/ To digg the dust encloased heare;/ Bleste be the man that spares thes stones,/ And curst be he that moves my bones."

To get his answers, Thackeray needs the Church to follow Shakespeare’s lead: just light a pipe and relaaaax, man.

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Saturday Morning TV: Batdance

GET THE FUNK UP! 

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Film Review: "The Tree of Life"

Terrence Malick is often cited as an example of the classic Hollywood auteur, and he does his best to cultivate his eccentric image accordingly. So he does things like listen to Green Day in the editing room, crow about the merits of Zoolander, and, most nostably, disappear for decades at a time. So when it was announced that The Tree of Life, a movie that Malick had been purportedly working on since the 70s, was finally being shot, film buffs reacted with anticipation and the remarkable patience that is required for any Malick endeavor.

Now the director's possible magnum opus is slowly wending its way to a hippie arthouse theater near you, with a marketing campaign by Fox Searchlight stressing how trippy the whole experience is. If you're wondering what this movie is about, you're already asking the wrong question. It's not really "about" anything, but in the same way that a painting or a symphony is not "about" anything - the movie prefers to dwell on themes and recurring images, rather than going through the standard narrative motions.

 

But, briefly, The Tree of Life spends the bulk of its time showing the lives of three young boys growing up in Waco, Texas in the 1960s. Their father is strict; not abusive, but terrifying to the young boys all the same. Their mother is quiet, submissive, and loving. In between these dreamlike sketches of growing up, we see one of the boys living the modern day, coping with the death of his brother and his relationship with his parents. Oh, and there's the creation of the universe. And dinosaurs. And a bunch of barefoot people on a beach hugging. And a wavy thing of light that may or may not be God. This ain't your standard coming of age story.

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