Lupin the III: Dead or Alive

Still sick. My resolve does not falter. Further into the Sphincter of Madness do I venture.

Throughout TMS’s production of Lupin projects in the last 20 years, they’ve hit numerous highs (Miyazaki’s Castle of Cagliostro) and irreparable lows (Dragon of Doom, followed by my subsequent vomiting fit). Where DOA gets it’s most exalted distinction is that it is the onlu Lupin film to be directed by the man who created and drew the comics for over 30 years, a jaunty and flavorful Japanese gent who is known globally by the name “Monkey Punch”. Screenplay was done by a guy that goes by the name Hiroshi Sakakibara; I’ll be keeping a sharp fucking eye out for that name in the future.

The movie opens with a somewhat unorthodox sequence of events taking place in a maximum security rehab facility in parts unknown, as the administrative staff holds their annual “security drill”: Four prisoners are selected at random to be given a shot at freedom by running from the compound before the guards get to them. If they are caught, they are shot to death. However, it seems that the Warden has decided to put his own twist on the game.

From the twisting beginning, the story begins to sprawl like a city-sized hydra. Lupin and his gang of thieves want to discover the hidden treasure of a deserted island but he has to contend with it’s freakishly advanced security systems, as well as the demented despot of the totalitarian governance that lays claim to this island. However, a vagabond heir and his underground militia might unknowingly give the ambitious Master Thief his shot at the prize, if he can take advantage of the broiling political chaos and stay one step ahead of the game… as well as Inspector Zenigata and the Interpol.

Fuck yeah, that’s what I’m talking about!

So yeah, the story has many unpredictable moments and a level of political intrigue that I haven’t seen in too many Lupin films before. That’s all well and good, but how does Money Punch stand out as a director? Pretty damn able, in my opinion… but not without his flaws. The character designs are fantastic in that they resemble the rough-but-dynamic look of the comics more than past efforts, and the animation compliments the lanky quirkiness of the designs in pretty amusing ways. However, because of the team of contract animators no doubt brought in to work on this movie (it was reportedly produced at the 11th hour), it seems that most of the minor characters and Fujiko suffer from “anime standard”… big eyes, small mouth, pointy chin. And when these characters are on-screen, the animation degrades these less-than-inspired designs with some noticeable choppiness and fairly cheesy acting. Happily, this is all very minor and does little to hinder the overall experience. As far as comp and camera goes, GORGEOUS GORGEOUS GORGEOUS! And the acting for most of the main characters is well within what we’re used to feeling from Lupin and company. Some noticeable aspects of this particular flick: It’s much darker than most of the other films save for Walther P-38, which has not yet been released to the states. So prepare for a few unsettling scenes. Also, while the other FUNimation Lupin adaptations have been asstacular in large proportion, the vocal performances in this one do a complete about-face and stand up quite nicely. No more over-acting, Lupin doesn’t sound like Weird Al Yankovich and Zenigata isn’t pidgeon-holed as minor comic relief. I still prefer the Geneon cast, but fuck it! This film does it all, so the difference is moot. 4 out of 5, go grab it A.S.A.P.

Oh god, I just farted colors. Too much roughage. Grapes, why hast thou forsaken me?

A Monolith of Regret and The Death of Individuality

Most people won’t know it, but along with the life of Hunter S. Thompson, the soul of independence in this country was extinguished just as quickly. Thompson was one of the last true indigenous mutants on this continent and a gritty individualist, and his self-inflicted death comes at a time when genuine humans are needed the most. I mean “genuine”. Not people who manipulate others in order to get what they want, not people who put on a false face to gain the acceptance of others, not people who cowtow to gruesome “normality” just so that they can hit an ally up for a quarter if they’re feeling thirsty. I mean people that can feel, people that have emotion (a lot of it), people that can stay true to their own way and purpose without making themselves over to settle the nerves of the crowd. We know who we are, and we know that to sell ourselves would be to give aid to the ruling culture class and would also make my own existence dubious. I learned earlier this year that I may very well spend the rest of my life alone because I (begrudgingly) choose who I want to be and would give no compromise to those who are disgusted by that. I know of other people like this, and I know them because I talk to them on a daily basis. Their words are crude and often ignored, but they retain a purity of sense that is lost on the modern world: They are truth, unfettered, unfiltered and raw like the mouth of the Hudson River. Sometimes they receive hate for it. I know without a doubt that some people hate me very much for it.

Hunter once wrote of an invisible mental territory he called “The Edge”. Live to teeter. When you’re there, you feel it tapping your shoulder, trying to get you to answer back, but you feel obligated to stay on the other side for your friends and family. So there’s only two ways to go about it: You can’t live a life of normality, because you’ll be thinking about ripping open that telegram every waking minute. That leaves you with going over into the pit or balancing along the cusp of that vivid, swirling maw for the rest of your days, slowly marrying madness without glory.

Yeah, I often think that I hate it here.

But me and others like me dwell upon this precipice to remind others that they have an inner certain walk and certain talk that makes them wholly valuable. This, however, renders their character negotiable as they would never risk accepting and displaying their true nature for fear of losing their place in the Big Social Magazine Rack.

This year has been a major cauldron of shit so far. To lose to your sociopath girlfriend is one thing, but to lose one of the biggest ideological influences in your life is another. I know that I’ve come close to falling over The Edge. I almost did a few days ago. But for that stalwart furnace of character to erode himself in such a dishonorable way is too close to heart-rending to keep wondering about, let alone acknowledge. I really am sad and much to my chagrin, I am holding back tears for this.

As a true student of life passes, another considers his position.

I don’t want to see tomorrow, but I know I will. Let the record show that I am probably just that crazy. We’ll miss you, Doc.

Mucous and Boobies: My Week

I’ve been seriously ill since Wednesday. I missed two days of work, which is crap because of my car fucking out on me at the beginning of January. So yeah, I might be hurting for cash for a little bit. Other than that, not much is going on. Well, maybe just a quick game review.

Has anyone here ever played a game that they were just completely ashamed of taking back to Blockbuster? No, not because it sucked… but because of the subject material it dealt with and exploited? No? Well, how can I get this idea across… ah.

Greatest. Screenshot. Ever.

Don’t click on me!

Okay, by now you probably know what game I’m talking about. Rumble Roses is a wrestling game developed internally at Konami, featuring an all-female roster and some of the most extravagantly prurient graphics you’ve ever seen this side of DOA: Extreme Beach Volleyball. It features a pretty tight and slow-paced wrestling engine, so those of you who dug into games like No Mercy would feel right at home. It also has a number of interesting ideas that I haven’t seen before in any wrestling game, such as the Vow system, which lets your character commit good or bad deeds that affects your wrestler’s attitude (face or heel) as the game progresses. Also, you can unlock two personas for each character, but either identity is only available to you during the storyline… as a face or a heel. This changes by the end of the campaign mode, depending upon the actions you’ve taken throughout.

Gameplay is like most any decent wrestling game: Complicated, but not so complicated that it disrupts the flow of play. It mainly consists of how you use your grapple and punch button with the d-pad. For instance, triangle button by itself will do an Irish Whip, but triangle plus Left on the d-pad will do a grapple. Same as with strikes on the square button. Sadly, the game does not seem to have any acrobatics and for a fan of luchas like me, it kind of soured the experience a bit.

So it’s a very “pick up and play” type of affair. One hour and you’ll finish story mode, but hell… you’ve got more than enough characters to work through until the end of the month. There are no CAW options, but what can you expect for a stripped down title like this, honestly? What the game does, it does well.

The style will be the major deciding factor in making your purchasing decision. It’s openly exploitative, obviously. And it does have style to spare. Hell, the intro opens to a CG montage of the various wrestlers set to a cover Van Halen’s “Yankee Rose”. SWINGIN’. The turn offs? This game has the worst dialogue. Now, I’m not talking about the voice acting, that’s passable. But the written dialogue in the game itself wouldn’t pass muster in a low-budget porno: “Your teats are greater than my sheep!” Oh, yeah. I’ve got your Bill Goldman right here.

I would give it a 6 out of ten, though. A sure pick up say, if it ever drops to about $10.00, which it invariably will at some date. Should that time come, snag it. It might be written like a b-lister, but at least it’s better looking and there’s a different way to watch every time you pop it in.