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Friday, April 13, 2012

The Xbox 360 Is Ridiculously Old And Now We Can Prove It

April 13th, 2012Top Story

The Xbox 360 Is Ridiculously Old And Now We Can Prove It

By Mike Fahey

The Xbox 360 Is Ridiculously Old And Now We Can Prove ItThe Xbox 360 is very, very old.

It's older than the iPhone, which came out a year and a half after we got the 360.

It's older than Barack Obama's presidency by three years.

We got the Xbox 360 before three even-year Modern Warfares and the three Call of Duty games that came out in the odd years.

When the Xbox 360 came out in America, you were more than six years younger. And surely by now you figured you'd have a newer Xbox to buy?

The length of the current era of video game hardware is unprecedented in video game history. Nothing can express that better than an infographic.

So here's an infographic…

The Xbox 360 Is Ridiculously Old And Now We Can Prove ItClick here for the full-size image, suitable for framing and St. Patrick's Day parades.

Update: Fixed the 1985 PlayStation date. The correct date, of course, was July 4, 1776.

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Die, Dying, Death, Dead, Die: The Cabin in the Woods

April 13th, 2012Top Story

Die, Dying, Death, Dead, Die: The Cabin in the Woods

By Rich Juzwiak

Die, Dying, Death, Dead, Die: The Cabin in the WoodsWarning: I'm keeping it vague, but there are things here that could be considered spoilers.

Joss Whedon and Drew Goddard's The Cabin in the Woods has a 93 percent rating on Rotten Tomatoes at the time of posting. That amount of praise is virtually unprecedented for a horror movie. You could have guessed from the participation of Whedon (the mastermind of Buffy the Vampire Slayer) or you already know from the hype cloud that Cabin has been floating on since making its debut at South By Southwest in March to a rapturous audience response: Cabin is no standard horror movie. It's a self-conscious commentary on the horror genre and its tropes along the lines of Scream but with a more ambitious message than, "These things exist."

To Cabin's credit, it comes off as sharp about the superficial operations of its genre – I suspected Scream 4 (or Scre4m if you want to be dumb about it) annihilated such self-reflexive discourse with its opening scene, which was so meta, it was meta about being meta. (There's a movie within the movie in which a character bitches about how meta horror has become.) Cabin wants to assure us that there's still plenty of self-aware fun to be had.

The first two thirds of the film are a blast. Five teenagers retreat to the titular cabin for a weekend stay. The idea is specifically to get off the grid, so the horror movie cell phone dilemma needs no solving: the characters solve it for the movie. It's a great example of how conventions are ripped open and reassembled inside out in Cabin. The weed that Marty (Fran Kranz) smokes would be a hindrance in another film; here it turns out to be an asset in multiple, hilarious ways. Whedon's script is top-notch – it manages to be funny, current and juvenile without trying too hard.

Meanwhile, we watch as our group of archetypes (the jock played by the edible Chris Hemsworth, the ambiguously ethnic guy played by Jesse Williams, the virgin played by Kristen Connolly, the slut played by Anna Hutchison, the aforementioned stoner) is guided to their peril by a control room full of people (including characters played by Richard Jenkins and Bradley Whitford), who are not unlike the gamemakers of The Hunger Games. This remote group is responsible for setting the tone (pheromone mists are sprayed and moonlight is turned up to facilitate romance) and generally making certain death a sure thing. When a new guy takes exception to participating in murder, his coworker tells him, "You get used to it." "Should you?" wonders the dissenter.

The symbolism gets muddled the more The Cabin in the Woods attempts to explain itself. These men in the control room who hang on the dwindling group's every move seem to represent the modern-day horror movie audience in all of its states of arousal (from aghast to desensitized). We come to find that these control-room producers are working in the interest of preserving natural order, that the deaths they facilitate onscreen (and by extension, the ones that we the people have facilitated by purchasing a ticket) are a modern form of sacrifice to keep the "ancient ones" from rising. Those tropes we know so well are actually rituals.

The group's fate gets the Evil Dead treatment with a twist of Friday the 13th. Most of the carnage is telegraphed by the control room in advance of it happening, cutting any potential tension into ribbons. As horror comedies go, this one falls most consistency into the latter category. And then, in the underwhelming third act, the two remaining survivors realize that they're being watched and they've been set up to die. Their self-consciousness and investment in destroying conventions such as the "final girl," it turns out, runs the risk of changing the world, blowing shit up. That a self-conscious, convention-destroying horror movie is suggesting this very point is self-congratulatory: Look at us, say Whedon and Goddard, blowing up your shit.

That was their goal, too. "We've had a growing disconnect between watching people getting murdered and 'horror,' which is not actually about murder," Whedon told Entertainment Weekly. "It can contain murder, but it's not limited to it. We wanted to go back to old-school thrilling scares." Cabin was devised as a response to the now-dismembered torture porn subgenre. (Had it not been tied up in the chaos of MGM's bankruptcy and come out closer to its 2009 shooting date, it would have been more pointed. In 2012, it serves as an alternative to the underwhelming current state of horror, which is focused on ghosts and found footage.)

The resolution is not just underwhelming - it's hypocritical. The idea that primitive bloodlust draws audiences to horror films ("Remember when you could just throw a girl into a volcano?" asks a producer) is disingenuous. There is at least a segment of the horror audience that doesn't seek catharsis or some kind of primordial thrill when watching depictions of death, but that sees them for what they are: depictions. For some of us, the real fun of horror movies comes from divorcing yourself from character empathy (here's a tip, as suggested by the trailer to The Last House on the Left: "To avoid fainting, keep repeating: "It's only a movie, only a movie, only a movie…") and, as a result, viewing this stuff as a collection of ways a group of movie makers are attempting to make you squirm, scream and vomit. The question isn't, "How will they scare me?" but, "What will they think of next to try?" One's relationship with the macabre doesn't have to be reflexive, and smart-talking characters aren't the only ones who are capable of consciousness.

As trope-excavators who are dealing with cinema as cinema, Whedon and Goddard get this. But Cabin ultimately betrays them in exposing that when watching a movie as a movie, sometimes the commentary just gets in the way.

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Detention director Joseph Kahn explains why genres need to die

April 13th, 2012Top Story

Detention director Joseph Kahn explains why genres need to die

By Charlie Jane Anders

Detention director Joseph Kahn explains why genres need to dieVeteran music video director Joseph Kahn has created a film that challenges the limits of genre, to a degree that will make your head spin. But Detention isn't just aimed at randomly being meta or ironic, Kahn tells io9 — rather, he's hoping to reflect the reality of youth culture in the age of Twitter and Youtube.

Movie genres are trapped in a pre-internet mindset, says Kahn, and it's time for them to die.

Detention is a hard movie to sum up — you can read our review here, but suffice to say that it's about a dozen different movie genres smushed together with Juno-esque ironic dialogue. There's time travel, there's a slasher, there's metafictional storytelling, and there are multiple layers of weirdness. Here's what Kahn had to say for himself when we spoke to him yesterday.

Spoilers ahead…

Detention director Joseph Kahn explains why genres need to dieHe's deliberately testing the limits of irony.
Kahn says this is not just irony for irony's sake but rather an attempt to capture something intrinsic to today's youth culture:

They say this is a meta movie. [But] youth culture today is super meta. It lives in a certain sort of retro world where ideas never go away because they have the eternal memory of the internet. So they have this constant sort of feedback with the past. So that concept of irony is a modern concept that all kids have. If you talk to any teenager today, they're ironic. That is the natural state of a teenager today. So could [a movie] be too ironic? Sure. But I guess we wanted to test the limits of it.

At the same time, there are characters in the film who are singled out as "trying too hard" or "weird" for their encyclopedic knowledge of older pop culture.

Detention director Joseph Kahn explains why genres need to dieTime traveling between 1992 and 2011 shows how much things have changed
One of the big conceits in the movie is that people travel back and forth between 1992 and 2011, and Kahn chose the early 1990s very carefully. He says:

If we went back to the eighties — which is essentially the 30-year span that Back to the Future had, from 1985 to 1955 — If we went from 2011 to 1981, I think that it's just so obvious of a leap that the comparisons between a person in 1981 versus someone in 2011 is so wide of a difference that you're not going to learn anything. It'll just become more of a farce. But if you shift it just a little bit towards 1992, which doesn't seem that far away, all of a sudden it becomes a statement. How different are kids today in 2011 [when compared to] kids in 1992? And the surprising answer is, very. Because in 1992 they didn't have the internet.

For one thing, kids in the early 1990s had a much harder time finding out about older pop culture — if a kid in 1992 wanted to learn everything about the history of Led Zeppelin, he or she would have to dig up old books or go to the library, with your parents driving him/her there. Whereas now, you just have to look up the Wikipedia page via your phone and get the Cliffs Notes version. So kids today are much more knowledgeable about the past than kids in 1992 were, thanks to the internet.

Detention director Joseph Kahn explains why genres need to dieHe's trying to break genre forever, because genres are relics of another era
Says Kahn:

The conceit from the very beginning was… to do a high school movie that contained all the genres and mixed them together, and cohesively tell a story out of it. I also wanted to challenge the audience to question the concept of genre itself. If you really think about it, what is a genre really? It's a way of telling a story with a certain set of rules. And those rules are dictated by setting and location and time frame. Like, a Western is very distinct from a science fiction film, versus a romantic thriller. Whatever. Sometimes they do tiny little mixes or something like that. But today's mashup society, where the internet has advanced people to a completely different level and people are not even viewing societal norms the same way they did before, what does it mean to be gay and in a romantic comedy any more? The rules changed, and that's becoming more normal. Back in the day, you had a certain set of genre rules, because society had a certain perspective of, "These are the rules of human beings." Well, the rules of human beings are changing, so genre rules have to change. So this is an experiment in terms of finding a new way of telling a story about kids today, using genre [to reflect] who they are.

Detention director Joseph Kahn explains why genres need to dieNot only are kids today more comfortable with mashups when it comes to music and sampling lots of different types of pop culture, they're also the least racist, least sexist, least homophobic generation of teenagers ever, in Kahn's view. Also, geek culture has gone mainstream, and there's way less stigma about liking geeky stuff. Says Kahn:

I hated growing up in the eighties. And these kids today — I'm not saying they're all they're all like this — but for the most part, they're so much more advanced than they were before. So you can't give them the same rules, because their rules are different… We are a much more blended society… Genres don't reflect the society today. Genres are like some sort of formula that the studios use to market. They don't even care if it reflects society at all. They just want to four-quadrant their movies [and appeal to the broadest possible mix of demographics].

Detention director Joseph Kahn explains why genres need to dieHe's playing with teen culture he helped to create.
Kahn has had a long career as a music video director, creating clips for everyone from Britney Spears to Lady Gaga to Blink 182. So in Detention, he's taking apart a youth culture he helped to put together in the first place — except that he doesn't see it as lampooning that culture — if anything, he's celebrating it. In one crucial "throwback" sequence, he features some big pop song tracks that he's actually done music videos for, because those were the songs he could get the rights to use. And because of his job as a music video director, he hears every bit of pop music six months before everybody else, making him a "freak" — a 39-year-old man who's hyper-aware of youth culture.

Detention director Joseph Kahn explains why genres need to dieThis movie has almost too many layers to count.
It's a movie that acknowledges it's a movie early on through an egregious bit of fourth-wall-breaking. And then inside Detention, someone is watching the fictional Cinderhella movies, which in turn feature someone watching the fictional Slashing Beauty movies, which in turn feature someone watching early 1990s porn — so it's a movie inside a movie inside a movie inside a movie — that acknowledges it's a movie. And thanks to the movie's time-travel aspect, there are also multiple timelines and versions of reality.

This is a movie that's designed to be watched more than once
You won't get all of the narrative strands and all the connections between the different segments in the film the first time you watch it, says Kahn. Like, for example, a girl named Riley loses her shoe early on and that's linked via a kind of "dream logic" to the slasher villain Cinderhella. The film feels like an anthology of linked stories, but once you rewatch it you'll see how everything connects up. Because this film is a love letter to youth culture, it's also intended to be consumed and re-experienced over and over, the way young people generally consume pop culture nowadays. "What I'm trying to do is make something that's so compelling, that I know you're going to watch it again — and when you do watch it again, you get something new out of it every single time... when you watch it again, you'll see thematic statements come in... It's like a music video in that way."

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