By John Lichman
[Max Payne opened nationwide last Friday.]
We're introduced to Max Payne (Mark "Talks to Animals" Wahlberg) through disjointed jump-cuts, as he's gasping for air in a frozen river and grumbling,"I don't believe in life. I believe in pain. I believe in death." Somewhere in the first 120-seconds, screenwriter Beau Thorne manages to completely and utterly deviate from a video game script by Sam Lake that followed traditional noir and graphic novel formats so completely (in structure and as storyboard) that to deviate from it seems insane.
Instead of sticking to the preferred plot device of "beginning at the end," Max Payne the film opens 20 minutes from that point to give a false sense of impending doom. (Even in the original Playstation 2 game, we opened on Manhattan in the midst of a slowly dying blizzard as Max lies on his knees atop a skyscraper—drained, surrounded by a SWAT team, happy to be at an end.) Cut to a bold red-on-skyscraper text intoning "One Week Earlier," lazily taken from Panic Room: we're introduced to generic gray buildings and generic cops, the least of which being Max Payne, who works the Cold Case division—itself loosely referenced as the place where people who "have all done something" end up. Payne spends his evenings tracking obscure leads to addicts who hallucinate about winged creatures (Valkyries if you're familiar with the game. If not, prepare to wait 45 minutes.)
Unsatisfied, Payne crashes his snitch's drug party, briefly meets up with Natasha Sax (the rather sultry Olga Kurylenko, reliving her earlier Hitman role) before she's brutally murdered by Jack Lupino (Amaury Nolasco phoning it in, unlike on Prison Break). Payne is framed; we find out he is merely trying to solve his own wife's mysterious murder; Payne's partner (Donal Logue!) may have a break in the case, but he soon dies, and guess who gets blamed?
For the first hour, Max Payne pretends it is a hard boiled detective story. It ignores the original game, which began with a subway station shoot-out, and only gets worse as Payne literally stumbles into gunfight after gunfight until he's facing down para-military units. Subtle references are kept: every time a character is "hurt," the screen flashes red; Lupino's hide-out is "RagNaRock," and the junkies still mutter insane phrases. Payne's wife is an employee of the pharmaceutical corporation, whereas in the game she was a member of the District Attorney's office investigating them; the game begins with Payne coming home to find his wife and child murdered, but the film lets this go for at least twenty minutes; Payne uses "painkillers" to restore his health, but the film has him using drugs to fully enable killing "the bad guys."
Payne won't do any good for previous video game films, as it has even less shoot-outs than other Wahlberg films like The Big Hit, which also try to play off the "shoot 'em up" franchise. It is odd that a game like "Max Payne" was altered so radically in the transition to the big screen: here, Payne isn't a DEA agent, nor is there any potential for a sequel. They even manage to remove the mildly interesting aspects of Mona Sax (played here by Mila Kunis, who can even butcher her lines in Russian) such as her being the twin sister of the mob boss' wife. That doesn't exist in this version.
While perfectly acceptable for winning opening weekend box-office, this is a complete disappointment for those familiar with the original game. To those just joining the crime scene in progress, you won't be that disappointed, but the original game and sequel are far better. Then again, say hi to your mother for us.
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John Lichman is a freelance writer who contributes to The Reeler, Primetime A&E [print only] and anyone with cash. He works odd jobs to afford his vices, sleeps on couches and can drink Vadim Rizov under a table.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Lost in Adaptation: Max Payne
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6 comments:
Great to see somebody who's both a good writer and knowledgeable about videogames write about game adaptations. I'm weary of critics who haven't played a game in the last 20 years using "videogame" as an epithet for everything vapid, loud and shiny that falls across their path. Exhibit A here: Roger Moore of the Orlando Sentinel's presumptuous claim that "nobody has ever shed a tear over a video-game character's death," then see the 82 comments on his review at Rotten Tomatoes ( of varying levels of articulateness), most of which by people who have wept buckets at some point or another over a videogame character's death. I can name a few games that have moved me in one way or another: Shadow of the Colossus, Ico, Bioshock, Metal Gear Solid 3: Snake Eater. The latter's last couple hours transcend the Metal Gear series' bombastic, needlessly verbose cheesiness to become really deeply moving (while also being bombastic, needlessly verbose, and cheesy). I'd be interested to know if you've played any of them or not.
I love the Max Payne series, too. The first Payne game is amateurishly written and plotted and desperate to seem "mature" and "dark" while not having the gall to have the mobsters actually say "fuck" or identify the drug the story centers around as the heroin we all know it really is, but atmospherically it gets a lot right. And the second game is some kind of masterpiece, much better written and designed in a way that borders on genius. In particular I'm thinking of the funhouse levels, the dream sequences, the nonlinear narrative structure, the hilarious TV shows that all comment indirectly on the story. Max actually becomes more than just a one-note avatar and you get a sense of how lonely and sad he is. I've played it through a few times. Quality stuff.
Oldboy: Oddly enough, I'll be talking very briefly about Shadow of the Colossus, Bioshock, Passage, and Braid in my next Comics Column. Just happened to come up that way. I'm not the right person for heavier game coverage, though.
Passage is kind of amazing. I've seen it diminished as a banal emo poem, but it's rare to find such clarity of purpose in a game, even if it's only five minutes long.
I'm actually of the opinion that Bioshock is somewhat overrated. Parts of it are amazing and as a piece of atmosphere and visual design it's nonpareil, but beyond the aesthetics it's just a typical first person shooter, albeit with the ambition to be a gory rebuttal to Objectivism (as if Objectivism needed rebutting).
Oldboy:
It's just odd. The Payne series is extremely formulaic, but it works. In more capable and trustworthy hands, Mark Wahlberg could've shined as the lonely revenge-driven cop that--through innuendo--has a drug problem as bad as the addicts he fights.
Yet the ignore everything. Even the set-up for Max Payne 2, which given the box office, would be instantly greenlit.
I wonder if game-to-film adapations are redundant now: bring up Metal Gear and you have a series that spans multiple platforms from a top-down RPG (I'm stretching there) that blossoms into one of the first film games with Metal Gear Solid.
Bioshock I haven't played, but heard wonderful things about. But has me overly worried after that too is in talks to be translated to film.
I've played through Shadow of the Colossus and MGS:Solid through 3 (can't afford that damn PS3) and found them to be rather revolutionary. And it shows that games have--as it was Clive Thompson, I think--become films themselves.
And I'm curious to see how Michael looks at those.
Yeah, I can't afford a PS3 either. I've heard Metal Gear Solid 4, beyond the spectacularly sophisticated presentation, is just inane fan service that comes up with all sorts of half-assed ways to exhaustively answer any question anybody could ever have possibly had about the series' story while tripping all over itself and retconning incessantly. Which is a crying shame, since I think the three games preceding it are fascinating, audacious, crazy stuff. I wish Hideo Kojima (who by the way is undoubtedly an auteur, so suck it, Ebert) had either quit after 3 or made something really daring and personal with 4 in the mold of 2, which is often misunderstood and maligned and undoubtedly led to the collapse of the story in 4, but is really all kinds of brilliant. The Metal Gear series at its best is like watching a precocious 10 year old Japanese kid lying on the floor of his room playing with Snake Plisskin and Gundam action figures all day and making up a story about them that somehow evolves into a mind-bogglingly complex metanarrative about life, the universe, and everything. They're a ridiculous, creepy, singular experience.
I've never played Max Payne, but I certainly agree a videogame can reach levels of complexity and emotional involvement deserving to be called art.
I did rather enjoy the movie, however. Maybe, as you suggest, because I don't know how watered down and confused the story I was watching had become. It's certainly no masterpiece, being rather brazenly indifferent to the cliches it trots out. And nothing can excuse that laughably long slow-mo shot of Payne leaning back to fire the shotgun. But I liked the aggressively generic look of the thing, its delight in glaring neon and shadow and snowfall. It reminded me more than a little of Blade Runner in its style.
And the images have an idea or two behind them, it seemed to me. I like the grim joke of constantly showing signs ("Homicide," a bathroom sign for "Men" that flickers ominously as our hero enters to kick some ass), as if Payne were surrounded by all the clues he needs but couldn't crack them. I like how for the first 3/4ths of the film the snow does about everything but fall vertically, drifting sideways or eerily hovering like glitter in a fishbowl, and how in the last quarter when Payne's frozen grief is replaced by consuming rage the white flakes become red cinders, swirling in accompaniment to the final rampage. Hell, I like the Valkyries.
So it's flash and trash, sure; but considered flash and trash. (That's probably what brought Scott to mind.) The low-angle spin around Payne that reveals the Christmas lights seems Michael-Bay-bad, till the shot ends with his old home the only one on the block dark and unwelcoming. When Payne gets his revenge, the ricochet sloughs the ice off his pistol, a union of action and meaning worthy of Fuller.
John: "...here, Payne isn't a DEA agent, nor is there any potential for a sequel."
Again, I don't know the game's storyline, but a post-credit sequence in the movie explicitly (and, yeah, rather lamely) sets up a sequel.
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