In the most recent issue of TIME, Dr. George W. Rebok, a professor at the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health, is mentioned for saying that after the age of 70 age-related brain degeneration can speed up dramatically. He adds that good ways of countering this degeneration involve "activities that engage and stimulate" the brain. After reading this, I couldn't help but think that an activity which often engages and stimulates the brain, sometimes to the exclusion of all other stimuli and frequently to the dismay of my mother, is playing electronic games.
Given that both scientific research and conventional wisdom advocate engaging mental activity not only for people at risk of mental degeneration, but also for people who will not be at risk of it for years to come, it is interesting to consider what the effect would be of regular (but not excessive) electronic gaming on a person's long term mental health. Concerning short-term mental ability, although there does not yet appear to be a consensus, you need only type "video games mental health" into Google to find a growing amount of research indicating that playing electronic games can improve everything from a person's concentration to their social skills.
Research, let alone agreement, on the long-term mental health benefits of playing electronic games is even sparser. That being said, researchers will soon find themselves in an optimal position to find out about this subject as the younger generation, whose membership includes a growing number of people who regularly play electronic games, grows older. I, for one, would be surprised if not a single study emerges saying that it wouldn't hurt grandma and grandpa if they picked up the Playstation controllers every now and again.
When a friend and I decided to buy tickets to see 1984 at the Playhouse Theatre in London, I was excited, but skeptical. After having been thoroughly impressed by Orwell's novel earlier in the year, and thoroughly unimpressed by the 1956 film adaptation shortly afterwards, naturally I was afraid that the play would not be able to do it justice. I was happily proven wrong.
While I would have a hard time saying the play was on an exact par with the novel, it was certainly able to capture much of what made Orwell's original work so entrancing. The actors, bolstered all around them by the plays's costumes, sets and special effects, were able to convey and instill the powerful sensations from what is a profoundly emotional story. Highlights included the momentous shock which Winston feels when he receives his first note from Julia, or the sensation of absolute terror he experiences during his initial torture and later, in Room 101. It should come as no surprise then that, much like the novel, the play was also able to keep its audience engaged throughout its entire duration; no mean feat considering it lasted over an hour and a half with no interval. The trailer below will give you a good taste of all the above:
Despite facing the relative time constraints encountered by all theatrical adaptations of novels, the play was nonetheless also able to develop 1984's key themes to provide a truly stimulating intellectual experience. While the classic topics of sanity and surveillance were well developed by the play, it was its treatment of memory as a theme which completely enveloped my mind. The dialogue and scene changes really helped to create a distorted sense of recollection which added layers to the characters' musings over the age-old but perpetually relevant question, "Can we truly know anything?"
My friend and I left the Playhouse Theatre mentally exhausted in the best possible way, barely able to discuss what we had just seen as we attempted to finish processing it all. I'm quite frankly stunned that I even had it in me to write this review so soon after seeing the play. Perhaps Winston's exploration of the fleeting nature and consequent significance of memory compelled me to just sit down and write it before it was too late.
It's quite apt that the topic of memory should be so significant to 1984 and my experience of the story's theatrical adaptation. After a brief tube ride home, during which I collected my thoughts and listened to Big Brother over the PA system, I realised I had enjoyed the play so much precisely because of the way it interacted with my memory of the original novel. This is not to say that if you have not read Orwell's work you won't follow the plot or enjoy the play overall, but I would argue that you won't enjoy it as much as if you had read it beforehand. The play was able to bring the story of 1984 to life for me, but largely because Orwell had already made the story so vivid in my mind to begin with.
Now I'm perfectly happy to admit that I love the action films. Don't get me wrong, I can't express how much I appreciate an intricate plot, fascinating characters or a thought-provoking message in a film. That being said, I can still love a film that possesses none of the above and redeems itself purely though good action. It is for this reason that I am often the only person in a given group of people who is willing to defend the Transformers film series. After the most recent installment, however, I fear the franchise may have lost one of its most casual champions. Before I launch into why that is the case, I should say that the point of this post is to help moviegoers decide if they would like to see Age of Extinction or not, and it will not contain any spoilers.
Don't let the critical tone of the previous paragraph mislead you, Age of Extinction wasn't all bad. Like in previous installments, Michael Bay and the film's writers were able to introduce a host of cool new transformers without severe continuity issues. Among these new characters, two are worthy of mention for being particularly badass.The first of these is Drift, a samurai-themed autobot armed with more than one obscenely huge sword. The second of these is Crosshairs, an autobot paratrooper whose metal exoskeleton includes a long, flowing coat to keep him looking sharp while he fires away with his pair of transformer-sized handguns.
I'd buy that coat if it came in my size.
And its not just the robots; a couple of the human characters weren't half bad either. Mark Walhberg's performance as Cade Yeager, the struggling single father and inventor, makes his character far more likable as the human hero of the film than the hysterical Sam Witwicky (performed by Shia LaBeouf) had been in the previous three installments. Additionally, Stanley Tucci's performance as Joshua Joyce, the initially arrogant technology manufacturer, ever so slightly improves the clunky and strained character development Joyce briefly undergoes during the film.
It is a little known fact that Bay
was the original choice to direct Titanic
However, if we have to point to character visuals and actor performances as the redeeming features of a film whose previous franchise installments were saved only by their action scenes, things start looking pretty bad for Age of Extinction. Indeed, the film failed to do the one thing it was expected to do: entertain the audience with some mindless action. This failure can be summed up in a sentence I never thought I'd say: Michael Bay finally went overboard with the explosions. This is by no means a new criticism of the director, and it should not be taken to mean that I think the previous Transformers installments were short on gratuitous explosions. However, Age of Extinction lacked some of the cinematography which made the action of its predecessors far more entertaining. The clip below from the third installment, Transformers: Dark of the Moon, shows what I'm getting at:
At around 0:40, Optimus Prime goes off on one of the best action rampages I've ever seen in a film, given how he effortlessly switches between a variety of weapons to seamlessly defeat multiple enemies. A variety of camera shots are used to help bring this out, such as the long-distance shot at 0:57 of Prime bringing down two decepticons with his sword in quick succession, shortly followed by a close up of him deploying some sharpened brass knuckles at 1:04 to tear open a final opponent. Finally, the background music for the scene, composed by Steve Jablonsky, adds to the impression of power created by Prime and helps make his rampage a minute of epic screentime.
Bet you never thought you could analyze a Transformers film like that, could you? Well you can, and while you might find that only a handful of scenes from the first three installments match up with the clip above, you certainly won't find anything from Age of Extinction which compares. Any potential for good action is masked by enormous explosions. Plus, as much as I like him, Jablonsky fails to deliver a score with engaging tracks. This is pretty bad news considering that Age of Extinction is the longest installment in the film series, with a running time of 165 minutes. As a director, if you're going all in on action as the means of engaging an audience, you better make sure the action makes up for the simple plot, relatively flat characters and time-worn messages. Sadly, the action in Age of Extinction fails to do this, so it doesn't take long for the film to start dragging as soon as you begin watching it.
Bay is no stranger to criticism, and the box office performance of the Transformers series has usually allowed him and the series' producers to simply shrug it off. The series currently stands as the 4th highest-grossing of all time when averaged to its gross per film of $653m. However, Age of Extinction has experienced a slower box office performance than any of its predecessors. According to Box Office Mojo, on the second weekend following its release, the film had accrued a domestic gross of only $175m. The three previous films, on the other hand, had secured domestic grosses of $224m, $293m and $261m, respectively, after the same length of time. Age of Extinction's slower performance become all the more noteworthy when you consider that its $210m budget is the largest of any film in the franchise.
Age of Extinction's slower box office performance is quite telling. The figures suggest that so far more people have been dissatisfied with the film and, crucially, convinced their friends and family not to go watch it than with any of the previous Transformers films. I would agree with those people: Age of Extinction is not worth the watch. What remains now is to see if this attitude will last long enough to have an impact on the film's lifetime performance at the box office.
"But why?" asks the concerned reader in you, and rest assured that it's a question I've asked myself more than once before sitting down to write this. After all, let's consider what someone would actually be able to accomplish by joining a political party. For starters, let's assume I don't see it as a simple route to personal power (which I promise you I don't. Trust me, it's not like I'm a member of a political party or anything...) and that I genuinely want to use it to spur positive change for as many people as possible. Given the very nature of political parties, the odds are stacked against me. Any noble intentions I might have stand a good chance of being whittled down as I make endless compromises to secure the support of my fellow party members. And for what? To complete objectives who probably wouldn't be able to recognize themselves in a mirror after all that wheeling and dealing?
Despite being faced with this rather pessimistic view, I believe Paul Rudd provides an eloquent response.
A criticism is only really worth the breath needed to say it if it comes with a solution. Political parties have become such an integral part of most democracies that any attempt to bring about change through government without them is going to run into some serious walls at best. Sure, staging a revolution could be another possibility, but anyone attempting to do so would sure as hell need a pretty clever alternative to replace the democratic system they'd just chucked out the window (not to mention that, historically, quite a few revolutions haven't had exactly what you'd call a well-considered follow-through). Now, I'm not saying that this is a reality that should or will last forever; resolving the problems that spring from political parties should be high up on the agenda of any society. However, what I will say is that the citizens of a democracy, somewhat ironically, have little choice in this matter. If we want to makes changes to and through our governments, joining a political party is our best bet.
Obviously, this leaves the issue of which political party to join, but I'm sure this post has given you enough fun for today, so I'll leave that issue for another time.
During a trip to New York last year, I decided to visit the city's Museum of Natural History. Of course, it was no match for the Natural History Museum in London (a.k.a. my second home during my childhood), but it was definitely a worthwhile visit, not least due to an interesting exhibit on space travel which exposed me to this book:
After finally finding the time to do so, I turned its last page a few days ago. I will say that, in some respects, it wasn't quite my cup of tea. To summarize, the author, John S. Lewis, discusses the economic possibilities offered to us by outer space for increasing humankind's material and energy resources. Throughout the book, he argues that the mining of various celestial bodies (such as planets and asteroids) could provide us with the ingredients needed to fuel human civilization for decades, if not centuries, to come.
The planetary scientist himself
Despite my growing interest in the topic, several chapters of the book were lost on me due to their highly technical approach. Lewis spends a great deal of time referring to the geological and chemical nature of celestial bodies and the processes required to effective exploit them, which isn't surprising given his position as a professor of planetary science. Although the book was published in 1996 and could be seen as a bit dated, I'm sure its meticulous approach means the chemical and geological analysis is relevant even today. Unfortunately however, while his writing was usually clear enough to allow a layman such as myself to keep up with his arguments, a good understanding of Lewis' field of study would have been necessary to perform the sort of active, critical reading which the book clearly deserves. Moreover, when Lewis moves into discussing the social and political aspects of 'mining the sky', the resulting chapters seem tangential to the rest of the book. The sheer number of pages he dedicates to the scientific component of the topic makes his discussion of the human element seem shallow and lacking by comparison... and then you have some some parts where you can't help but think he really should've saved them for another book (see pages 249-250 for a brief discussion of the philosophical issues surrounding robotics and AI).
I don't want to come across as too harsh towards Mining the Sky though. The book is, after all, a piece of scientific literature at heart, and it would be unfair to judge it as anything else. Furthermore, I'm sure Lewis develops his discussion of the human side of the topic elsewhere (such as his own blog, see link below). The book's geological, chemical and economic analyses are broad and all-encompassing. It provides the reader with a serious introduction to the topic, but preserves the element of the fantastic which makes space exploration so fascinating.
The book's greatest accomplishment, I feel, lies in its capacity to stimulate interest. Granted, I'm biased with a preexisting disposition towards this stuff, but the predictions which Lewis makes in his work inevitably invite questioning and critical thought. For instance, one of the book's central arguments states that the incentive to mine celestial bodies for alternative sources of energy will increase as fossil fuel reserves on earth begin to dwindle. However, I find that this argument does not sufficiently consider current research into renewable energy sources; research which already benefits from growing political support and could certainly offset our desire to grab a shovel and fly off towards the nearest asteroid. Mining the Sky might not be for everyone, but the topic it discusses can certainly spark anyone's interest.
Seriously, if you don’t want me to ruin Oblivion for you,
don’t read the rest of this post. Or do. Whatever. Have it your way. Jack
Harper would be proud of you.
It’s good to be writing here again after eons of neglect. I
probably could’ve picked a better time to do this than exam period, but then I
figured that, seeing as they both involve writing, composing a blog post and
revision is effectively the same thing. Conscience cleared.
I was initially quite sceptical about Oblivion. I don’t hold
Tom Cruise’s acting ability (or life choices) in the highest regard, but the
whole sci-fi theme managed to hook me. After getting through the first 10
minutes of the film, characterised primarily by a robotic performance from Mr.
Cruise, his acting began to shape up, along with the rest of the movie. I left
the cinema quite impressed with the film.
Seriously. Just look at that cape.
And it wasn’t just Morgan Freeman’s badass cape which
impressed me; the film was actually able to dish out a little food for thought.
Spoilers ahead! Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Director Joseph Kosinski kicks off the movie with a dream
sequence in which Jack Harper (Cruise) struggles to remember his past in a
manner not unlike your average tequila enthusiast. When Harper wakes up, we are
introduced to his partner Victoria (Andrea Riseborough) and their swanky pad,
which I can only describe as Apple’s latest product, the iHouse. Between all
this, Harper conveniently fills us in on the backstory.
The Earth has been ruined as the result of a nuclear war
between humanity and an alien race known as the ‘Scavengers’, who apparently
thought the best way of say “Greetings!” was to blow up the moon (not kidding).
In somewhat blazing efficiency, the remnants of the human population were
relocated to Titan, one of Saturn’s moons. To ensure the survival of the
species, we began sucking up the Earth’s oceans with rigs which and used the
water to fuel fusion reactors to provide us with energy (because everybody
hates it when a little nuclear war knocks out the WiFi). Harper and Victoria
remained on Earth as a glorified maintenance crew for the rigs; their efforts
co-ordinated by a shiny space station known as the ‘Tet’. But wait! To make
sure they didn’t leak any information to the Scavengers who survived on Earth,
both Harper and Victoria had their entire memory prior to their mission erased.
Super-fun twist time!
Harper discovers that the Scavengers who roam the Earth are,
in fact, the planet’s human survivors! Humanity never waged a war against
hordes of alien invaders. Humanity actually got its ass handed to it by the
Tet, which is revealed to possess AI (Skynet anyone?). Harper and Victoria’s
retirement plan on Titan is but one of the space station’s many deceptions.
Another big one is that the pair are in fact clones of human astronauts
abducted by the Tet and brainwashed into turning the spanners on its rigs,
which are actually sucking up seawater for its own energy purposes.
Don’t worry if the idea that the near-destruction of the
human race was caused by an unmanned space station left your head spinning
slightly. There’s more to the story than that, but I’ll leave it for now.
Apparently the rigs were designed by Apple too.
One part of the plot which I thought was actually quite well
done was the role of the Titan survivor colony. Initially, Harper’s maintenance
of the rigs stems from the idea that they are being used to power humanity’s
efforts, which he will eventually be able to enjoy when he retires to Titan. I
thought this bore a neat resemblance to the way actually manage/mindlessly consume our resources in the present, as if we too have a nice moon we can all
retire to when things run out on Earth. Of course, Harper realises he was
wasting his time when he discovers that Titan was just one of the Tet’s big fat
lies. Unfortunately for us, we won’t have a shiny orbital scapegoat to pin
things on after we’ve consumed every last resource on the planet. Once we’re
out, we’re out. No Titan to save the day.
Another part of the film which I thought was quite
interesting was the characters of Harper and Victoria. To me, they seemed to
represent two opposing forces in our minds. Harper’s the force that questions
things, and ultimately unravels the truth about that big ol’ phony space
station. On the other hand, Victoria’s the force that happily obeys orders and
tells Harper to stop dicking about before he ruins their vacation to Camp
Titan. Even though Harper’s the hero of the story, it made me wonder how often
one force ‘wins’ over the other, and which one usually does the winning.
All in all, not a bad run from Oblivion in the philosophy
race. You could say I read a little too much into the movie, and you’re
probably right. What can I say? As a history student, reading a little too much
into things is kind of my specialty.
I’ll be frank, whatever the Invisible Children filmmakers
did, it worked. I cried watching the Kony 2012 documentary, and, in a surge of
emotion, carefully typed in my credit card number and ordered a Kony 2012
Action Pack.
Only afterwards did I decide to actually do some research on
the topic, and what I discovered made me want to kick myself. For example, a
short blog post written by Grant Oyston, a sociology and political science
student at Acadia University in Nova Scotia, Canada, expresses accusations of
less-than savoury financial activity by the Invisible Children organization.
You’ll be hard-pressed to find anyone who’s squeaky-clean these days, but the
possibility remains that the accusations are true and I was furious with myself
for allowing their video to manipulate me in the way it did.
Oyston also describes Invisible Children’s strong support for the
Ugandan Army and military action in general, citing a photo of the
organization’s founders posing with Ugandan troops and weapons. While I think
the photo itself is pretty pathetic and reminiscent of the behaviour of some of
Facebook’s most braindead male users, I am not unsupportive of Invisible
Children’s advocacy of military intervention, foreign or domestic. Joseph Kony
has repeatedly failed to respond to diplomacy, leaving those affected by his
atrocities, as well as the international community, with few remaining options.
I would like to return to Invisible Children’s financial misdemeanours,
since they almost led to me booting myself in the skull. However, as I put on
my heaviest shoe and prepared to perform a feat of gymnastics worthy of an
Olympic athlete (or a Jackass member), I realized something: people and ideas
are discrete categories. We are not prohibited, by any law whatsoever, from
separating a noble idea (such as the Kony 2012 campaign) from its questionable
origin (the Invisible Children organization). As such, it is entirely possible
(and in my view, advisable) to support the Kony 2012 without supporting
Invisible Children.
Oyston himself advocates something similar in his own blog post, urging
us to “keep it about Joseph Kony, not KONY 2012.” I take his point,
not least because of the strong manner in which Invisible Children associates
itself with its own campaign. After all, how can we stick up posters which
boldly proclaim “KONY 2012” and yet have “Invisible Children” strategically
written below?
Nonetheless, I think it is entirely possible, and once
again, advisable, to create some distance between Kony 2012 and Invisible
Children. The Kony 2012 campaign has already gained so much momentum, it would
be a waste of energy and an insult to all the noble-hearted individuals who
helped drive it if we dismissed it altogether. But from this point onwards, let
the Kony 2012 campaigners (myself included) explicitly state their
disassociation from Invisible Children. Let us point to Invisible Children’s
financial activities and state our disapproval. Rather than merely prompting
defensive comments from Invisible Children, a large-scale disapproval from Kony 2012
supporters will urge the founders of the organization to clean up
their act. We will be able to swiftly execute the internal reform needed to
re-align the people with the idea, thereby emboldening both.
Whether you choose to buy Kony 2012 merchandise from
Invisible Children is your call. If you are not comfortable doing it, don’t do
it. Don’t let the absence of merchandise be a barrier between you and Kony
2012. The T-shirts are a bit overpriced anyway.
In the most recent issue of TIME, Dr. George W. Rebok, a professor at the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health, is mentioned for saying that after the age of 70 age-related brain degeneration can speed up dramatically. He adds that good ways of countering this degeneration involve "activities that engage and stimulate" the brain. After reading this, I couldn't help but think that an activity which often engages and stimulates the brain, sometimes to the exclusion of all other stimuli and frequently to the dismay of my mother, is playing electronic games.
