DeathBecomesDavid

I saved your best friend’s life

Work in a set lighting warehouse. ADHD man. All about B movies, media crit, and the odd video game. Active on Letterboxd

posts from @DeathBecomesDavid tagged #john carpenter

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Assault on Precinct 13 Review

Carpenter once said "the 80s never ended", and his oeuvre in general and this film in particular are a striking example of why that is. Although this predates the Reagan presidency by five years, it's hot on the heels of his governorship and very directly reacting to the same social forces that brought Reagan to power: gang violence as organized-but-uncharistmatic crime, the dissolution of the suburban ideal, the conflation of the communist bloc with internal challenges to the status quo (see how directly the gang leaders' outfits recall Che Guevara!).

The aesthetic and political focus on the 1980s USA orbits these concerns, and Reagan's articulation of them and vision to address them specifically. Even the counterculture to which Carpenter indisputably belongs is fundamentally reactionary, with principled leftism eviscerated by J. Edgar Hoover and the western PR front, leaving only liberal anger to fill the gap left by the absence of theory and analysis. This liberalism permeates Carpenter's work, and it's already on clear display here in his second film. All critique of the system of policing that's almost made by the circumstances of Wilson's and Wells's incarceration is totally overshadowed by Bishop's role as the "good cop". In turn, the humanization of Wilson and Wells is relies upon to excuse the representation of the gang as a faceless, goalless, mob who are as intrinsically evil as they are devious.

The 80s never ended because American culture—or at least the slice of it that Carpenter sees and participates in—can't muster up a real answer to Reagan or to the anxieties to which he gave voice. Films like this have no power to challenge that because they fundamentally agree with those anxieties, even if they rail against the specific ways they're introduced. You cannot tear down Reagan or his legacy until you stand with the people willing to put their lives on the line to tear down Precinct 13.



A Christmas gift from an aunt who didn’t know any better. I remember seeing censored footage on a late night show or maybe CNN, & my dad’s disgust as he instructed my brother and I not buy this game. Most retailers would sell M rated games to teens, but I could imagine getting denied this time; this was different. This game made the news, after all. Then I saw uncensored footage accompanied by pained howls from the cast and crew of Unscrewed with Martin Sargent and knew I needed to play it.

Unlike fully half my peers, my formative stealth game wasn’t the erudite Metal Gear Solid, but the clunky, bloody Tenchu: Stealth Assassins. The abstracted gore of PSX shockers like Tenchu and Nightmare Creatures sank into me like the cold, maybe even contributing to the arrested development of my gaming tastes. So along comes a game clearly saddled with an engine made for wide, open spaces applied to the inherit claustrophobia of stealth action, and yet still more lifelike than anything I had experienced and it trades in the urban hell of childhood favorite, Escape From New York? Sold.

Even at the time, Manhunt was noticeably stripped down, cheap feeling. All tank controls and linear design. Just the year before Splinter Cell was knocking our socks off with allusions to realism and stunning shadow FX. Manhunt instead traded in a different kind of realism, devoid of moral fantasies, even mocking the growing militarism of post 9/11 era by tossing weekend warriors in with the skinheads you butcher. They’re all the same meat to grind away to a 5 star rating at the end of each level. Even the instruction manual commits to the bit, presented as a home video catalogue, but ya know, for snuff films.

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It was that base, self hating rot absent any convictions beyond taking a mud, piss, and shit bath as if to prove there’s no real difference between before and after you set toe in the ugly which felt realer than real. Manhunt’s brand of nihilism is a kind of conservative emotional honesty I seldom recognize in liberal art. For every game that self flagellates hoping to spring a tear from the player is any empty space with instructions to meet the text “half way”. Manhunt was and is different. It maddogs you into a submission of morbid curiosity, like a sight seeing tour thru every banal inner city fear dreamed up in the suburbs come to life.

I bought it a second time, now on PSN. Even the obligatory 1080p treatment can’t fully diffuse the muddy visuals of their horror and nothing can replace the ambient sounds FX of distant traffic on unseen highways that echoes in my head when even I replay the level “White Trash”.

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