It's just a _____!

I didn't intend to write a separate post on this topic. I'm no authority on philosophy and can't claim that I adhere to some superior standard of rationality in daily life. I wanted to leave the "just a game" thing alone, and let my comments on the relevant post at Dan Bruno's site be my final word. But then someone left a comment at my Tin Man post, attempting to blunt the criticism with the idea that it was just entertainment. Now, despite the fact that I happen to think that some things really do fit into this category, the use of this phrase as an argument annoys me, because it is no argument at all. So here's my position. It's probably not art, but you might be entertained.

"It's just a game," or "It's just an action flick," and other statements of their ilk almost always betray a mental sloth, an unwillingness to actually engage the arguments presented. When someone responds to an argument in this way he displays a fundamental disinterest in the discussion, but also a foolish pride in that disinterest. Because he does not view the subject as worthy of discussion, he concludes that this viewpoint must be valid for everyone else, and proclaims it as a fact. However, even if it is true that some games are "just games", then that must be proven, not simply asserted. The statement incurs a burden of proof, and anyone unwilling to try meeting that burden probably shouldn't be saying anything at all.

Leaving aside for the moment the question of just how that statement can be proven, everyone ought to know that proving it doesn't put a close to the discussion. That a particular game is "just a game" doesn't preclude meaningful and interesting discussion about the way the game is made or the values that went into it. An example of this came up in the comments to Dan's article. Few people would dispute that a golf simulator is "just a game", and I am not one of them. Nonetheless, Michael Abbott says some very interesting things in comparing the presentation of the Tiger Woods games to Hot Shots Golf, and about simulations generally. Of course, we can also address the quality of the entertainment experience, i.e. its artisanship, which I tried to do in the Tin Man piece: I thought it didn't actually do a very good job of entertaining me because of its inconsistency. Even if everyone in the universe agrees that Ballistic: Ecks vs. Sever is so far from being art that it might not even deserve italics, we can still discuss whether the boom mike drops into the scene and what that does to the entertainment value of the film.

This brings me to another point: the failure of a piece of media to achieve anything artistically is a valid criticism of its entertainment value. We all accept that different people are entertained by different things. Gamers, whose tastes are often fragmented along genre (or even subgenre) lines should be especially aware of this. The other night I came across this fundamentally fair review of Baroque, which sent commenter Gen Eric Gui over the edge. His problem was that the author did not judge it strictly on its merits as a Roguelike, and he really likes Roguelikes, and thus loved Baroque. Everyone who has ever discussed games with any regularity has had a conversation just like that. Well, here's what I really, really like: games that do something interesting artistically. That plays a significant role in deciding whether a game (or book or movie, for that matter) entertains me. There's not some mystical wall dividing art on one side from entertainment on the other. Art does entertain, or at least it can; otherwise we probably wouldn't have it. So when considering whether a piece of media succeeds as entertainment, it's reasonable to ask whether it has some artistic merit that can help entertain people who get turned on by that sort of thing. Tin Man didn't have it, or at least not enough. Neither, in my opinion, did Baroque.

So does it matter that something is "just a game"? I think it does; achieving some kind of consensus on that point gives us a good idea of where to direct our mental energies. If it is true that a particular game (movie, etc.) is entirely without artistic merit then we ought to focus our discussions of it on the artisanal aspects of its construction. Halo probably isn't art, but it contains art, as well as artful design, from which much can be learned. Shadow of the Colossus is art, and we could do worse than discussing its artistic qualities, in addition to or instead of studying its artisanship. Directing the discussion into a particular area, however, shouldn't exclude efforts to see whether there is some merit.

Here we get to the question of how we can prove, or at least support, the statement that something is "just a game". I have to admit, I use a pragmatic rather than an analytical standard here. My experience is that it's virtually impossible to prove that a particular piece of media (let alone an entire medium) is art. My standard therefore is not analytical proof, but simply whether the premise "X is a work of art" leads us anywhere interesting. In plenty of cases, including Halo (Roger Travis' view notwithstanding) and sports simulations, I think it doesn't. We can say very interesting things about these games, but those things don't need the premise that the game is a work of art. In contrast, I think you would need to accept that No More Heroes or The Two Thrones are art in order to fully appreciate them. That doesn't mean that we have to uncritically accept every attempt at artistic discussion, but we are obligated to reply, with more than just "nuh-uh, it's just a game".

Sometimes a game is just a game, and I honestly don't have any problem with that. Plenty of games (and other media) are very entertaining without having much artistic merit at all. But the statement that a work is just entertainment is not a rebuttal of reasoned argument to the contrary, nor is it a valid way to deflect criticism. And really, because artistic content is (or at least can be) part of the entertainment value, it's not any kind of response at all. "It's just a game" isn't a response that's automatically invalid, but saying those words doesn't make them true. It's a statement that must be substantiated and shown to be relevant, just like any other argument. If you're not willing to go through with that, then perhaps you don't really have anything to say at all.

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Tin Man: recycled

As Tin Man, the Sci-Fi Channel's "re-imagining" of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz entered its fifth hour, I found myself wishing that I was watching The Wiz instead. I don't mean that The Wiz was a better piece of cinema than the new mini-series, though arguably it was more visually inventive. However, it shared an important virtue with the book and the original movie musical that the present adaptation lacks: it knew what it was. The Oz story is not a sophisticated adult story about contemporary morality, it is a child's story about wonder and adventure. It can be turned into something more sophisticated, with enough effort, but that's a task at which Tin Man manifestly failed.

The presentation looked more sophisticated, I grant. But dressing people up in black leather does not, in fact, make for a sophisticated story. All this dark, steampunk set-dressing looks pretty cool, but it doesn't really fit with the theme of magical little girls who save their world with the power of love. The more adult visuals simply didn't mesh with the story that was presented. As a result, I felt a certain dissonance, as if I were seeing Strawberry Shortcake depicted as a dominatrix.

And while the story was unsatisfying on its own merits—a tale of a counterproductive MacGuffin fetch quest that heavily involves amnesia, of all damn things—it was even less satisfying as a re-imagining of Baum's original. When you re-imagine something, you ought to say something new, otherwise you're just making fan fiction. But Tin Man is essentially childish in its presentation of good and evil, and the only adaptations it makes to Baum's world are to insert stock elements from other sci-fi worlds and movies, as well as importing Nurse Ratched's hair. You can read Wizard of Oz crossovers at fanfiction.net if that's what you want; there's no reason to make a movie out of them.

Don't misunderstand me, Tin Man isn't bad. It looks nice, and the actors largely do a good job (although the child who plays little DG was not very good). The music leaves something to be desired, but doesn't offend. But Tin Man just feels unnecessary, a superfluous bit of fluff trying to staple a grown-up look onto a childish and irrelevant story.

The Sci-Fi channel is a curious contradiction. Most of its original series (at present, anyway) are actually pretty good, and their re-imagining of Battlestar Galactica may be the best scripted show on television. Their original movies, however, are largely pathetic drivel starring actors that have washed up on this shore after fading from better careers. And then there are the mini-series, which are typically of very high quality, probably because many of them are adapted from books. In this case, it seems, the movie quality bled into the mini-series. Although the production values of Tin Man were high, the writing was poor, and in the end, you'd be better off watching the original, rather than this fanfic.

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"Jealousy among men is a terrible thing..."

Last night I rented and watched Taboo, or Gohatto if you use the original Japanese title. I don't think I would have found it on my own, but the Netflix recommendation algorithm spat it out and I gave it a try. Taboo is a fascinating, well-acted gay samurai mystery art film, and you cannot be any more surprised by reading that than I was by writing it.

The conceit of the film is that an exceptionally pretty boy named Kano Sozaburo joins a samurai military unit towards the end of the Shogunate (the politics of this era play a minor, but substantive role in the story). Many of the men become infatuated with him, and their jealousy starts to tear the unit apart until a bloody episode that ends the film. Beat Takeshi stars as the unit's second-in-command Hijikata Toshizo, who is the one that has to deal with the problems Kano creates. These are many, as Kano seems to catch absolutely everyone's eye, including the commander, at least one lieutenant, and even perhaps Hijikata himself.

This is not the best movie I've ever seen by any standard. The plot seems to come and go at times, and the tension builds only unevenly towards the final confrontation. While the movie centers on Kano little is done to give the viewer a real handle on his character. He blows hot and cold, and Matsuda Ryuhei at times just doesn't seem equal to his task. Takeshi does more with less; Hijikata is much easier to grasp, even though he has his own set of unresolved questions. In the end the viewer is left to resolve most of the movie's central mysteries.

The directing is very interesting. Oshima Nagisa's camera tries to let action speak for itself, which works splendidly in some scenes (Kano's embarrassing kendo bout against his lover) and not so well in others (an extended entrance by a geisha). As is often the case, color features prominently in the film (Kano's frequent wearing of white against the black of the militia's livery), but it bears thinking about what the colors mean in the cultural context.

Some cultural context may also be needed for westerners watching the film. An American might find it strange that all these men are attracted to Kano, who seems by our standards pale and rather pinched. The seeming lack of romance in the love scenes (there is one sex scene, but barely anything is shown) may also seem a little odd. These aren't flaws but rather important components of the historical and cultural setting, ultimately helping to build a fairly accurate picture of this world.

Taboo isn't easy to understand and just isn't for some people. I don't mean this pejoratively; you aren't a better person if it is for you. It's the strangest case ever made against gays in the military -- beware, all the straight men might become infatuated! And yet, though some of the plot seems totally alien, it works, even the slightly strained ending. Beat Takeshi is to be credited for this, as he grounds a film that could have easily flown off into space. Sakagami Jiro, Takeda Shinji, and a few others in the supporting cast also do great work, propping up (in my opinion) Matsuda, who just doesn't seem to have quite enough poison in his eyes for this role. If you think a gay samurai mystery art film might be for you, then try to get your hands on it, at least for a rental.

I also watched Hot Fuzz; all you need to know about this film is that it is very funny and you should rent it.

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