Tag: film

Tron: Ares (2025)

Some quick thoughts after viewing the film in IMAX, as I’m starting to see that the IFC are telling me it’s a bad movie, in ways that I clearly don’t agree with. So let’s talk about what I liked about the film.

The graphics were hyper-stylized, in a way that felt was an homage to some of the sci-fi of the 70s and 80s, and in that way have a much stronger connection to the original Tron film. A lot of the work in that film used costuming and odd camera angles and set design to imagine the insides of the computer, and this was a return to form.

The ladder sequence during Dillinger’s hack was wild to me , a conceptual view of cyberspace, agents, and IC, that felt straight out of a cyberpunk novel in the late 80s or 90s. It’s hard for me to express how much I loved this bit, and the style that it had.

Similar was the return to the set pieces of the original Tron, which were recognizable and felt for lack of a better term “Lo Rez” despite being rendered on the IMAX screen along with the rest of the movie. Simpler, fewer things going on in the background, feeling like an early 3D rendered video game.

As for the tech, it took me a minute to come around, as I originally thoughts the constructs bursting out of the familiar black-carbon “supports” was a little… goofy perhaps, but I came to like it, and it definitely had an aesthetic to them. It left a bit to the imagination of what constitutes the objects – are they holograms, or built out of raw carbon and other elements? It was left undefined, and that’s okay, really. We are allowed to handwave some stuff in our sci-fi to prevent it from bogging down the story.

That being said, I found this approach to addressing the question of digital materiality really interesting. DM is that point where the virtual crosses over to the real world. If cyberspace happens at the point of connection where a telephone conversation takes place in the wires, DM is where our 3D constructs cross over into realspace (or meatspace, or objective reality, however you want to frame it).

Athena was effective in the film – I really liked her as a character – echoing our fears of current real world implementations of AI taking a command too far (“by any means necessary”) to disastrous consequences for Dillinger.

Ares, as an AI gaining emotional intelligence by doing the deep learning on the target of Eve Kim presents a different way. This EQ was what triggered his malfunction, but also pointed towards an avenue for growth for the AIs.

Regarding Ares as a construct in the real world, it’s interesting as he’s clearly Not Human, despite having a human form. He’s a construct , of whatever underlying form that takes, that just doesn’t decompose. We’re not given any indication that he is actually modelled after a human aside from in outward appearances. This provides a nice contrast with the various forms of post-humanity seen in the recent Alien: Earth series, where we had synthetics, cyborgs, and hybrids, in various shapes and forms. Ares represents an AI embodied within a synthetic body, more akin to the synths of Ash, Bishop, and Kirsh, but with significantly enhanced capability.

Ares in the real world is different in this way than the scanned and re-assembled Eve Kim, whose reconstituted body theoretically does not have this problem of permanence (though it’s interesting to ask why not?), but one can follow that her rebuilt body is her being reconstructed cell-by-cell. It’s much like the Teletransportation Paradox, from philosophy but also from Star Trek, as to whether the original body is destroyed and then rebuilt. Here the movie answers it with a clear “yes”, though with more intervening time in between.

The ending leaves open the possibility for further exploring what it is like for an AI to experience the world materially, in a way that is just hinted at in the postcard sequence from Ares. There’s room for some growth here.

Finally, I like how they portrayed the uses for the 3D printing technology with the permanence code enabled. Combating climate change, medical advancements, etc. – a really hopefully version of the future, and less dystopian that similar films like the Matrix and Terminator.

Overall, I enjoyed the film – no prior knowledge of the franchise was really necessary – and it seems odd that the most fantastic thing in a movie about AI, Virtual Reality, and Transhumanism, the most fantastic thing is that one can get across Vancouver in under 29 minutes.

Gaming Machines: Gaming as Allographic Art

(This post concludes the set of examples we began with the Cybernetic Machines and Science Machines over the last few weeks.)

We might call a gaming machine as something where a “game” is a set of instructions written by a “developer (or designer)”* fed into an assemblage (or cybernetic bio-technical machine) called a “studio” that outputs a “program”.

Hmm, that doesn’t quite work.

We need to spend a little more time with our construction here, to figure out what the roots are.

The generic version breaks down to: a Machine is a given Input (written) by a (Creator) fed into an assemblage called a (Mechanism) that produces an (Output).

If we were to extract those terms from the examples in our previous posts, we’d get this:

Machine, Input, Creator, Mechanism, Output
Science, Method, Scientist, Laboratory, Experiment
Game, Game, Developer, Studio, Program
Film, Script, Director, Production Company, Movie
Music, Composition, Composer, Orchestra, Symphony
Building, Blueprint, Architect, Construction Company, Building
AI, Context Model, Prompt Engineer, AI, Virtual World
AI2, Prompt, Prompt Engineer, AI, Experience

So now a gaming machine looks like this:

A “game” is a set of instructions written by a “developer (or designer)” fed into an assemblage (or cybernetic bio-technical machine) called a “studio” that outputs a “program”.

And we can talk about…

Gaming as an Allographic Art

Back when we started with Cybernetic Machines, we brought up the concept of an “allographic art”, from Nelson Goodman (1962). An allographic art is an art that is crafted by others based on a set of instructions. The artist in this case is the creator of the work that is replicated, like a composer or architect.

So by this definition, a game – either tabletop or electronic – would fit as an allographic art form.

Granted TTRPG rules rarely rise to the level of “art”, often seeming content to aim for “technical manual”, but things are improving. A lot of smaller indie games, have been focusing on the presentation and the while package – games like Root, Mork Borg, and others – to say nothing of the beautiful games released within the boardgaming space (Canvas, Sagrada, Azul, Hues and Cues, and a host of others).

But there are competing visions of “art” here, as art in game design may occur irrespective of the aesthetic appeal of the components, and a dry technical manual with pretty pictures may still not make for an engaging or artful design. However, there is no reason why a black and white typed zine might not contain artfully designed gaming systems either.

And while we previously also discussed how a scripted performance like a symphony or ballet would count as an allographic art, gaming as performance – again, either tabletop (e.g. Critical Role, Dimension 20) or electronic (e.g. Twitch, YouTube, etc.) is a different form of art.

To be clear: both design and performance can be art. Both count.

In the same way that Mozart of Composer and the London Symphony Orchestra as Performer are artists, in different ways, of the same work. And while this is commonly accepted in those art forms, in others it rarely occurs.

Take film for example: one of the very instances of this in film is Gus Van Sant’s 1998 shot-for-shot remake of Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960). Here we have the same script, and much of the same direction, attempting to remake a film in much the same way that we would see with other allographic art forms. Psycho (1998) is a performance of Psycho (1960). Or rather, both Psycho (1960) and Psycho (1998) are performances (or interpretations) of the original script. I.e., allographic art.

But it is so rarely done in that medium. What would it look like if it happened more often?

This discussion of film brings us back to gaming, hopefully. Here we can have artistry in the play, of the code or rules created by others for the gamers to showcase their interpretation to the world, and we can have artistry in the design, in the instructions as they are created, with the elegance or aesthetic appeal of the rules and their presentation showcasing that form of art.

Which leads us to the implied question: is gaming art? Of course!

Though there have been many arguments that video games aren’t art (with some stating that they are incapable of becoming so), these arguments have been always been false. Gaming is art.

And gaming machines can make it.

Sinners (2025, R. Coogler)

I hold to a rather simple opinion : you can’t be movie of the year if the audience is looking at their watch at the 60 minute mark and wondering if they should leave.

And this is where I found myself at that precise point while watching Sinners (2025).

Don’t get me wrong: Sinners is a fine movie, but the pacing – especially in the first half – was atrocious. Reflecting on the movie after it finished, this was the overall feeling I got. The music was fantastic, and I would have loved to see more or it; the effects were well done. But the slow build and unnecessary bloat brought it down. The denouement felt interminable, on the levels of The Return of the King as well.

I enjoyed seeing the Buddy Guy cameo (which I don’t think is much of a spoiler at this point), and wish he had been present throughout, in some way, shape or form. But overall, I thought getting to the Juke joint faster would have made for a better flick as a whole. Let’s give it a 7/10, as far as ratings go.

The WYCU

This has been on my mind for a little bit, ever since last summer when seeing Alien:Romulus in the theatre. Of course, that along with Deadpool and Wolverine led to our exploration of the Nostalgia curve. But following Romulus a discussion with a friend led to the discussion of the shared timelines of the Alien and Predator franchises, and the realization that I haven’t actually seen most of the Predator films, save for the first two, and still hadn’t gotten around to seeing the well-regarded Prey either.

I was due for re-watch, or watch in many cases.

So with learning today about Alien: Earth, a new TV series set in the Alien universe will be coming to streaming in the summer of 2025, I thought it was time to start that re-watch. However, that’s a lot of movies to get through before summer, and we’ve still got Andor season 2 and some other projects going on too.

(Yes, my media consumption occurs at a glacial pace; I get enough free time to get through maybe one or two movies a week.)

But…

What if we watched our way through the WYCU chronologically?

The WYCU is the Weyland-Yutani Cinematic Universe, of course, one of the key pieces of memetic connective tissue between the two (aside from the xenomorph skull inside the predator ship in Predator 2. It’s amazing how much inspiration comes from a little piece of throw-away set dressing.) Weyland Yutani, W-Y for short, is the interstellar megacorp behind much of the machinations of the Alien franchise, and they have their hand in the going on of the Predator-verse as well. Much like CHOAM from the Dune franchise, they’ve spread across the galaxy, and have their fingers (or talons?) in pretty much everything.

I think I’ve we’ve mentioned it in passing when talking about our EvilCorp series, a look at the MegaCorps that permeate the science fiction settings of the future, showing up in everything from present-day cyberpunk settings like Shadowrun to the aforementioned Dune 20000 years in the future.

(If I haven’t mentioned EvilCorp yet, then here’s where we started.)

But we digress: what about the WYCU chronologically? The list has been laid our by others (find a link), so we’re by no means the first, but the nice thing is with Alien: Earth set 2 years before the original 1979 Alien film, it means a chronological re-watch mostly involves the Predator franchise (and about an hour of Prometheus).

Sorry, by chronological I mean by within the continuity, not release order. This, this has some potential. There’s only 9 movies or so to “catch-up” to the continuity before Alien: Earth comes out in “summer 2025”. We can do this.

For fun, and future reference, here’s what the WCYU chronology looks like:

WCYU Chronology

Title‘VerseYearChrono Order
Prometheus *A20121
PreyP20222
PredatorP19873
Predator 2P19904
Alien v PredatorX20045
Alien v Predator 2: RequiemX20076
The PredatorP20187
PredatorsP20108
Predator: Badlands***P20259
Prometheus **A201210
Alien: CovenantA201711
Alien: EarthA202512
AlienA197913
Alien: RomulusA202414
AliensA198615
Alien3A199216
Alien: ResurrectionA199717
*: the first bit of Prometheus, in the distant past
**: the rest of the movie, as it appears in the main timeline
***: there's also a rumored stealth Predator movie slated for 2025 that may come out before Badlands, but we probably won't see that until it's too late

Flow (2024)

Mentioned as an aside in an earlier post on The Lost Tower, Flow (2024, d. Gints Zilbalodis) is a delightful little film made entirely in Blender by a small team of creators from Latvia.

I caught it at our local theatre on the Sunday night of the Oscar’s, jumping at the opportunity to see something new rather than the endless parade of speeches, gowns, and jokes, all of which would be diced up into content sized chunks in the coming days. And it was the right call.

Flow is truly a delight.

It is a narrative entirely without (human) dialogue, though one that is not without communicative action (and I think this needs to be stressed and has mostly flown under the radar in online analysis), and it is thrilling and engrossing throughout it’s runtime, even when the focus is on naps in the sunshine. (Or perhaps especially when the focus is there).

So it’s through this lens that I want to take a deeper look.

Communicative action is a very human-focused view of communication developed by Jurgen Habermas (who we’ve talked about before at length in our podcast episode on the Public Sphere), where the ‘argument” (discussion) is how rational actors deliberate on what actions to take.

And when we start talking about “rationality” our anthropic bias makes us hesitant to see this in animals at all.

But as the ethologists would argue, this isn’t the case: the animals exist in their own lifeworld, and are making rational decisions based on the events and environment around them.

(And before we go too far off on a tangent, yes, that mention of lifeworld, in the Husserlian, phenomenological sense of the world was intentional).

This world, filled with life, reacting to the events around them, filled with inter- and intra-species communication, conveyed without any dialogue, solely through camera angle, sounds samples, and stunning visuals, provides a stunning panorama on which the story can be followed even by our own pets viewing the movie on a TV screen.

It’s a marvelous work.

And the vibe is good too. If you get a chance, check it out in the theatre, where the experience of total cinema can engulf you in the world. But if it’s not playing near you, check it out on whatever streaming service offers it.

And make sure your pets can join you in watching it too.

Highly recommended.