I've seen enough high praise heaped on “Grand Theft Auto IV.”
Having recently wrapped up 25 hours of running drugs, stealing diamonds, kidnapping mob bosses' daughters and playing big brother to a horribly stereotyped homosexual, I'm bewildered at the bevy of perfect scores this game collected upon release.
But one review irked me more than the rest.
Rolling Stone film critic Peter Travers recently graced the game world with a sterling review of “IV's” story and its “plot development, character depth and moral ambiguity.”
For the sake of a focused argument, I'll leave my issues with the game play out of this response to both Travers and “IV.”
There will be no mention of the aggravating mission structure that requires several minutes of mindless driving to return to a critical point in the action. Nor will I harp on the redundancy of “shoot every dude in the room” errands. The sticky targeting and cover systems, neglect of iconic New York City scenes as set pieces and oblivious AI will be spared as well.
This is a critique of the game's story and the shallow compliments Travers gave it.
As a regular reader who respects the longtime movie critic's opinions, I was quite surprised to see him drop platitudes on a game marred by token mob movie characters and the dialogue of pre-teens play-acting their way through those movies.
The “character depth” Travers cites amounts to two words of description for each Scorcese movie mainstay in the game: Troublemaking relative, lecherous underboss, atoning ex-convict, cocky gangster, crazy boss, etc. And wouldn't you know it, but the Jamaican character deals as much marijuana as he smokes, while the gay character runs with flailing arms and features a painting in his apartment that appropriates “The Creation of Adam” to show him reaching for male genitalia.
The “plot development” is a more valid credit to attach to “IV's” developers at Rockstar Games, but much of that movement is spurred along by the whims of these poorly drawn characters. For instance, Niko Bellic - the Eastern European immigrant anti-hero of the game - meets a woman who immediately and implausibly falls for him. It turns out she's a federal agent, so her glib interest is given context. But the oddity of her shadow government organization selecting some random ex-soldier immigrant straight off the boat from Eastern Europe to do their dirty work continues to dog that segment of the narrative.
Later, Niko is attracted to the wholesome sister of a criminal Irish family who knows full well Niko's a sociopath, yet she blithely dismisses the body count in his past like it's no big deal. At the end of the game, provided the player chooses a certain path, that woman is killed. Niko's muted affection for her suddenly motivates him to wage a suicide mission against her murderer and his small army of mob goons.
Throughout the game Niko demonstrates a tendency toward violence at the slightest provocation - whether it's the request of a complete stranger or the death of a girl he dated once or twice. Too often this violence moves the game along in a way that feels cheap and forced. It's also counterproductive to the sympathetic bond the game designers clearly want to build with Niko when he reads e-mails from his mother at home or ponders the possibilities of a fresh start in America with wide eyes.
The “moral ambiguity” is perhaps the most laughable of Travers' laudations. By the end of the game I killed in the neighborhood of 500 people to pass its missions, all while Niko taunted his fallen foes and screamed that he loves Liberty City. What Travers was most likely referring to with his absurd praise was the game's presentation of several choices between whether or not to kill someone, and then whether to kill one person or another. In the former case, Niko had already amassed a huge body count, so one more number hardly feels like a momentous moral quandary. The latter type of choice forces the player to weigh the lives of more developed characters, but either path spills someone's blood and ultimately charts high on the immorality scale regardless.
Finally, Travers remarks that “Grand Theft Auto IV” represents “the vid version of film noir with dialogue that crackles even in the film's darkest shadows.” Dashiell Hammett and Raymond Chandler would roll in their graves at this statement. The numbingly profane speech of the game lands with the grace of a fifth-grader playing a gangster in a school play. Characters dryly discuss their criminal activities like they're strangers to it and regularly refer to “the drugs” or “the bomb” so conspicuously you'd think they wanted to be caught by the police. Playboy X boasts of his criminal success like his only brush with it is watching “Cribs,” and Dwayne's mopey lamentations of being locked up lead you to question whether anyone on the design team has actually met an ex-convict.
Should Travers wish to watch a video game movie that not only feels original but builds a player's connections to deep, conflicted characters with a compelling story carrying contemporary messages, I'd suggest he play “Metal Gear Solid 4.” By comparison, “Grand Theft Auto IV” feels like just another summer movie.
Staff writer David Wilcox reviews video games for The Citizen. He can be reached at 253-5311 ext. 245 or david.wilcox@lee.net
But one review irked me more than the rest.
Rolling Stone film critic Peter Travers recently graced the game world with a sterling review of “IV's” story and its “plot development, character depth and moral ambiguity.”
For the sake of a focused argument, I'll leave my issues with the game play out of this response to both Travers and “IV.”
There will be no mention of the aggravating mission structure that requires several minutes of mindless driving to return to a critical point in the action. Nor will I harp on the redundancy of “shoot every dude in the room” errands. The sticky targeting and cover systems, neglect of iconic New York City scenes as set pieces and oblivious AI will be spared as well.
This is a critique of the game's story and the shallow compliments Travers gave it.
As a regular reader who respects the longtime movie critic's opinions, I was quite surprised to see him drop platitudes on a game marred by token mob movie characters and the dialogue of pre-teens play-acting their way through those movies.
The “character depth” Travers cites amounts to two words of description for each Scorcese movie mainstay in the game: Troublemaking relative, lecherous underboss, atoning ex-convict, cocky gangster, crazy boss, etc. And wouldn't you know it, but the Jamaican character deals as much marijuana as he smokes, while the gay character runs with flailing arms and features a painting in his apartment that appropriates “The Creation of Adam” to show him reaching for male genitalia.
The “plot development” is a more valid credit to attach to “IV's” developers at Rockstar Games, but much of that movement is spurred along by the whims of these poorly drawn characters. For instance, Niko Bellic - the Eastern European immigrant anti-hero of the game - meets a woman who immediately and implausibly falls for him. It turns out she's a federal agent, so her glib interest is given context. But the oddity of her shadow government organization selecting some random ex-soldier immigrant straight off the boat from Eastern Europe to do their dirty work continues to dog that segment of the narrative.
Later, Niko is attracted to the wholesome sister of a criminal Irish family who knows full well Niko's a sociopath, yet she blithely dismisses the body count in his past like it's no big deal. At the end of the game, provided the player chooses a certain path, that woman is killed. Niko's muted affection for her suddenly motivates him to wage a suicide mission against her murderer and his small army of mob goons.
Throughout the game Niko demonstrates a tendency toward violence at the slightest provocation - whether it's the request of a complete stranger or the death of a girl he dated once or twice. Too often this violence moves the game along in a way that feels cheap and forced. It's also counterproductive to the sympathetic bond the game designers clearly want to build with Niko when he reads e-mails from his mother at home or ponders the possibilities of a fresh start in America with wide eyes.
The “moral ambiguity” is perhaps the most laughable of Travers' laudations. By the end of the game I killed in the neighborhood of 500 people to pass its missions, all while Niko taunted his fallen foes and screamed that he loves Liberty City. What Travers was most likely referring to with his absurd praise was the game's presentation of several choices between whether or not to kill someone, and then whether to kill one person or another. In the former case, Niko had already amassed a huge body count, so one more number hardly feels like a momentous moral quandary. The latter type of choice forces the player to weigh the lives of more developed characters, but either path spills someone's blood and ultimately charts high on the immorality scale regardless.
Finally, Travers remarks that “Grand Theft Auto IV” represents “the vid version of film noir with dialogue that crackles even in the film's darkest shadows.” Dashiell Hammett and Raymond Chandler would roll in their graves at this statement. The numbingly profane speech of the game lands with the grace of a fifth-grader playing a gangster in a school play. Characters dryly discuss their criminal activities like they're strangers to it and regularly refer to “the drugs” or “the bomb” so conspicuously you'd think they wanted to be caught by the police. Playboy X boasts of his criminal success like his only brush with it is watching “Cribs,” and Dwayne's mopey lamentations of being locked up lead you to question whether anyone on the design team has actually met an ex-convict.
Should Travers wish to watch a video game movie that not only feels original but builds a player's connections to deep, conflicted characters with a compelling story carrying contemporary messages, I'd suggest he play “Metal Gear Solid 4.” By comparison, “Grand Theft Auto IV” feels like just another summer movie.
Staff writer David Wilcox reviews video games for The Citizen. He can be reached at 253-5311 ext. 245 or david.wilcox@lee.net
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