Obituary: The Character Assassination of Agent 47

“Names are for friends, so I don’t need one”.

This mantra calmly spoken by protagonist 47 in the early moments of Hitman: Blood Money is not only a succinct summation of the quintessential silent assassin’s core beliefs, but also a perfect example that less is sometimes more. It’s the videogame equivalent of Roddy Piper’s legendary They Live monologue.

THEY'LL NEVER TAKE OUR FREEDOM!

Hitman: Agent 47, another attempt at making moving pictures into more moving pictures, completely forgets this fundamental principle. Loosely based on the story - wait, did I say story? Because as any self-respecting gamer or pop culturist knows, subtle lore is insignificant against imperative visual subtexts such as spontaneous explosions and gratuitous slow motion scraps. 

 

"Whoever wins.....we lose"

Yes, I know. The old arguments concerning story in videogames are very old indeed, grotesquely wheeled out whenever somebody inevitably questions electronic entertainment’s rightful place in the larger creative pantheon beyond base gimmicks. But for every narrative lauded, there’s a thousand lamented; a poetic truth not simply limited to videogames.

If it ain't broke.....

Hitman is the story of 47. Fleeing an isolated mental asylum, 47 assumes the titular occupation a year later as the International Contract Agency’s newest field agent, finding a staunch ally and only confidante in strait-laced handler Diana. This darkly dynamic duo stumble onto a global conspiracy orchestrated by brilliant yet immoral geneticist Ort-Meyer after several successful - and seemingly unconnected - missions. Lured back to the asylum for one last hit, 47 finally learns his true origins.

"You wanna know how I got this barcode? My father was a drinker and a fiend..."

The product of an illegal cloning program designed to create superhumanly efficient killers cultivated from DNA donated by wealthy criminal investors - the very same recently liquidated - and Ort-Meyer himself, 47’s daring escape was nothing more than a ruse to eliminate the competition as, y’know, a private clone army isn’t necessarily something you might want to part with willingly.

Self-service checkouts aren't known for their accuracy either

Rescuing captive CIA double agent Smith - a humorously incompetent recurring character often requiring 47’s assistance to the latter’s eternal chagrin - yields crucial information on Ort-Meyer’s underground hideout. There, 47 narrowly survives an ambush, killing 48 - a mind-controlled prototype - and a heavily armed squad of inferior clones. In the aftermath, Ort-Meyer briefly mistakes his former masterpiece for 48, a fatal mistake. 47 comforts “his father” before brutally snapping his neck, ending the program.

A rare outtake from the ill-advised "Should've Gone to Specsavers" post-watershed campaign, made seven years before Assassin's Creed, no less

Presumed dead, 47 resurfaces under a new identity, working as a gardener at a secluded church in the Sicilian countryside. Another asylum, except this one is presided over by one benevolent father. Aware of 47’s notorious past, Vittorio allows the repentant uberassassin to live in solitude. That is, until Vittorio is kidnapped. Exchanging hits for ICA intel, 47 discovers he has been manipulated once more into cleaning up someone else's mess. Rescuing Vittorio from mobster Zavorotko and surviving clone 17 - out for good old-fashioned revenge - 47 abandons his burgeoning pacifism, determined to forever disappear into darkness.

"Hello....."

Further Hitman instalments depict 47’s continuing pursuits as a globetrotting assassin-for-hire. ICA traitors, numerous botched attempts to replicate Ort-Meyer’s research, and Diana’s dying wish for 47 to protect Victoria - a 14-year old wunderkind similar to himself - fuel his own legend while sparking compelling intimate stories. A bizarrely satirical slow-burning social commentary exploring the seediest underworlds, 47’s targets are pantomime villain-like, but still frightfully realistic enough to prompt thoughtful questions regarding necessary evils.

He really is behind you

Sounds mad? It is, though wonderfully so. 47’s web expertly combines schlocky pseudo-science with personal themes and international espionage to cultivate a coherent specimen effective at eliciting genuine intrigue. Framed in a curiously European noir atmosphere, not unlike TV dramas The Killing and The Bridge and both Ripley’s Game film adaptations, Hitman has a rich cinematic quality predating that of its fellow Scandinavian contemporaries despite differences in medium. Subtle injections of black humour and irony provide levity, indicating that the often morose circumstances and various opportunities in which 47 can influence them are not to be taken so seriously.

Riddick can kill with a teacup, but 47 can get the job done with a crudely-made balloon animal AND still entertain the kids 

What Hitman is certainly not, is a murder simulator. It has as much to do with actual murder as dairy-free ice cream has to do with pasteurised milk. Each game and individual mission is a set of increasingly tougher puzzles nestled inside a larger conundrum - a digital Matryoshka doll, if you will. The aim is to assassinate the target(s) in any way deemed necessary and get out alive. Notice I didn’t mention keeping your cover intact, because the complex non-linear mechanics mean even a high-profile shootout is a credible option. Remaining undetected however, may as well be a completely separate campaign. Demanding patience, observation, and cunning improvisation in infiltration and setting off the series’ signature accident kills, channeling 47’s professional skillset is only for the most capable and dedicated players. Or you could just seek out an open lift hatch.

Less "Ho Ho Ho now I have a machine gun" and more "Ha Ha Ha now I'm using piano wire to exploit the environment while wearing Hans Gruber's estranged second cousins' stolen hand-me-downs" 

Begging to be a faithful live-action character-driven thriller, screen or serialised, Hitman was first adapted as a big-budget movie in 2007. As is seemingly customary in these transitions, 47's revised backstory flaunted a few odd circumstantial changes. The ICA’s self-explanatory acronym became the vague all-encompassing Organisation and Ort-Meyer’s clone program a casually distasteful orphanage. It all felt like a flagrant attempt to reach a wider audience by a cautious and confused studio ultimately frightened of missing economical targets.

Because hitting them always works

Regardless, both Hitman films are adequate action-adventure fare. Confined to unfulfilling scripts, Justified’s Timothy Olyphant and Homeland's Rupert Friend (there’s the irony I was talking about earlier) fill 47’s expensive Italian leather shoes as best they can, comfortably treading the creaky stereotypical sociopathic anti-hero boards. Underneath, Hitman’s true form lay hidden and motionless, mould sprouting from amnesiac corpse suffocated face-down in an ironic existential twist. But let’s ditch the pompous rhetoric and instead investigate the ludicrous fact that Hitman already has a established actor tailor-made to fit 47's finery. 

If you see this man, RUN. After asking for a photo and/or autograph, naturally. Though in hindsight, possessing irrefutable evidence of 47's existence is probably a bad idea

Also responsible for 47’s surreptitiously soothing tones, David Bateson portrays 47 in every main Hitman game, including the eponymous episodic reboot due next month. An incident notorious among Hitman aficionados wrought furious die-hard ire when Bateson was replaced in favour of William Mapother (Lost’s Ethan) for Hitman: Absolution. Rehiring Bateson late into production, publisher Square Enix released Mapother’s performance as complementary DLC, and rescinded charges for its much-touted Contracts mode as a grovelling apology.

To be fair, they did offer a "deluxe collectable" vinyl statue as a pre-order bonus  

All's well that end's well. Except that, Contracts mode has always been free-to-play. A popular unofficial metagame invented for kicks by bored and passionate Hitman forumites alike looking to kill time between releases, the basic idea is to set challenges based around random NPCs not considered main targets. Macabre supplement of dares and Guess Who descriptions, the imaginary briefings read as some of the most outstanding and terrifying fan fiction examples ever committed to type.

I don't remember this classic pantomime

David Bateson is not the only actor to be stung by strange casting decisions. Look at the recent Metal Gear Solid V debacle. The David Hayter one, to be precise. Synonymous with Hideo Kojima's revered stealth saga, Hayter has voiced hero and Snake Pliskin double Solid Snake and extended family in virtually every single outing. According to an unverified source (ahem*Wikipedia*ahem) Hayter apparently sacrificed half of his expected salary for Twin Snakes, a GameCube remaster of the first Metal Gear Solid, to guarantee the reinstatement of the original cast. What a guy.

Konami still didn't ask him back for MGS V. 

Technically Konami didn't ask Kojima back either, yet here he is in MGS V,  masterfully utilising the 4th wall to slyly mock their increasingly bad decisions   

Behind this unprovoked joke on voice actors named David, is a serious issue concerning the exclusion of loyal fans and employees who devote a large slice of precious time to a world holding a special place in their hearts and minds, and who don't give two damns about petty real-life contract feuds, marketing spreadsheets, and budget restrictions. They just care about the continuation of that world in a high-quality manner. Recasting of roles and reinterpretation of a series can work, but the fans, actors and series itself must be respected.

 Fans can afford to be vocal, and they can't be silenced

Keifer Sutherland is a tolerable Big Boss. Jason Statham is an hypothetically entertaining 47. But as much as I enjoyed The Transporter, it's just not quite right. Something feels off. It's almost akin to.....I don’t know, giving Mad Max a strong American accent when he’s clearly a grizzled iconic Australian export. Oh, that almost happened by the way. Just Cause developers Avalanche Studios partnered with WB Games on a fantastic, if slightly repetitive, Fury Road prequel. Only loyal road warriors stopped Max's forced localisation.

Witnessed: How fans feel

Adrian Askarieh, enterprising producer of the upcoming Just Cause film, owns the rights to several Square Enix properties including - you guessed it - Hitman. He's previously suggested that a shared universe incorporating Deus Ex, Thief, and Tomb Raider could be on the cards if the former achieve substantial box office success. That's a fair amount of genre juggling, even by comic-book standards.

As opposed to comic-book juggling, a fair amount by genre standards

The (long-winded) point is that Hitman: Agent 47 - and all adaptations, live-action or otherwise - deserve better. What should be an enjoyable, unique experience is often a bland exploitative genre exercise in crushing reality. Cynically engineered to steal a quick buck out increasingly worn pockets, the end product is the encroaching demise of a brooding industry with the massive potential to elevate storytelling as an interactive medium. Getting the right balance of authenticity, artistic license, fanservice, and experimentation is essential. Mimicking 47’s intrinsically intertwined DNA, these tiny multiple strands must pull together to create something greater than the sum of its parts.

This isn’t an overzealous rant. It's a grievance of bad business.

And 47's is great

Dredd 3D - The Verdict - Spoiler-free

June 1995; The Space Shuttle Atlantis docks with the Russian Space Station Mir for the first time, Jacques Chirac resumes nuclear testing in French Polynesia, Stuart Maconie is busy scribbling down notes about what he's watching on television for his inevitable appearance on "I love 1995", South Africa has just won the Rugby world cup and a 24 year old me sits down in the Odeon cinema in Coventry with his friend Gary to watch Judge Dredd.

The cinema darkens and (after being handily informed about the availability of cold drinks in the foyer by an anthropomorphised drink carton and the proximity of local curry houses which I might like to try) the credits roll. The awesome swell of the (underrated) Alan Silvestri soundtrack plays over a backdrop of a flickering montage of Dredd panels, and then we see The Cursed Earth (also known as Bigg Market) and some exposition read out by Darth Vader.  "It is a period of civil war. Rebel spaceships, striking from a hidden base..".  Or something like that.

A H-Wagon approaches a city from the Cursed Earth, docks inside the City Wall and then we see our first glimpse of the metropolis of Mega City One - at first crowded streets which then open out onto a huge vista, a megascape of vast city blocks and flying vehicles. "This is it", I think, tears of emotion welling in my eyes, "This is Mega City One. This is the city I've been reading about since I was six years old, the city I've had countless roleplaying adventures in. This is soooooo cool. (Or 'wicked' as may have been a popular colloquialism back in the mid nineties).

And then the vehicle we're following descends (and in hindsight, so did the quality of the film) and we find ourselves at ground level watching two Judges caught in the crossfire of a block war awaiting backup.

Hershey and Brisco in position outside Heavenly Haven! We're under fire from the upper floors. Request backup! Cell "B" in Heavenly Haven, on the corner of Abbott and Costello - request backup!

Cue a dreadul slow motion shot of a lawmaster bike approaching through flames and slowing to a halt. And then the driver dismounts, only his huge ridiculous boots in shot. This has to be Dredd.

Holy crud! He's a sitting duck out there!
He knows what he's doing.

And then.. wait for it.... It's Sylvester Stallone!

Armour designed by Gianni Versace. I shit you not.

Uuuuh uhhhhm.. thuuuuuh luuuurrrrh!
Druuuuhp yuuuuuh wuuhpuuuns!
These bluuuuuhks.. are uuuuuhnder.. uhhrest!

Somehow Stallone achieves the impossible - with every single unintelligible word he utters, the film becomes noticeably worse. It's a rare talent. And you see he's got a gleaming codpiece. And it gets worse. And says the catchphrase, "I knuuuh yuuuud say thuuuut". And it gets worse. And a comedy sidekick is introduced - and it's Rob Schneider - who has never been funny. And it gets worse. And then you think "Man, this can't get any worse", and he takes the helmet off without batting an eyelid and the film achieves what you'd thought impossible - It gets worse.

Flying lawmasters that only work when the plot dictates Dredd killing more Judges than any of the villains. Dredd kissing Hershey. Rob bloody Schneider.

And you end up sitting through a Judge Dredd film assembled by a committee - a melting pot of disparate plot lines. It's like a Jive Bunny megamix of what Dredd should be. Hey, lets throw in the Angel Gang! And somebody can go on The Long Walk! And lets have an ABC Warrior!

And I came out of that cinema, blinking into the daylight, and did something I never did again until I went to see Star Wars: The Phantom Menace.  I convinced myself it was good. I'd gone in with such expectations and couldn't quite come to terms with how bad it was, so tried to convince myself - but it never quite worked. Luckily it never put me off Dredd himself though, a fact that regular readers of this blog (and friends of mine on Facebook) are probably bored sick of.

Thing is, with hindsight, Judge Dredd is quite a reasonable throwaway eighties movie. Unfortunately, it was an eighties movie made in the mid-nineties.

But, by Grud, let's put aside memories from 1995 and fly kicking and screaming into the year 2012 and the release of Dredd 3D.

Expectations for this have been high, with only a trickle of publicity surrounding the film. The trailer was released only recently - but was well received - as was an exclusive showing of the movie to fans at San Diego Comic Con. For all intents and purposes Karl Urban makes a great Dredd, and - most importantly - the helmet stays on, as it has done throughout the characters illustrious comic career.

So.. last week I received an email from Michael Molcher, the PR coordinator for Rebellion (publishers of 2000ad) asking me if I'd like to attend a private screening of Dredd 3D for fans in Soho on the evening of the 30th of August, with a meet-and-greet with Karl Urban (Dredd) and Alex Garland (the writer) before the screening. How could I refuse?

And then the nerves sank in. Days passed without hearing anything. Did they get my confirmation? Had I been forgotten about? Was my invitation a huge, ghastly mistake? And then the email arrived, and what a relief - 1 seat for the screening, arrive at 6:30 for a 7 p.m. showing at the private screening in London. So, with train and hotel booked, off to That London again with the missus (who, despite not being able to see the film - despite trying to win a ticket via competitions - can catch up with some of our old friends in London.. which I'm off to do now). I seem to be making a habit of travelling to the capital on the days following Olympic Opening Ceremonies.

And I've literally just left the screening and am on the way for drinks now. It's 17 years since I saw Stallones Dredd and here I am again, blinking back into the real world.

When I arrived at the screening, it was a relief to see some of the Minty crew there. John Wagner and Carlos Ezquerra were there also (who both graciously signed my dredd travel pass holder, the only Dredd related thing I had) and after a brief intro from Alex and Karl, the film began...

And then 95 minutes later drew to a close and was met by rapturous applause... Which must have come as a relief to the writer Alex Garland who had already said in his intro that this was one of the most nerve-wracking screenings he had ever attended.

The verdict? Amazing. The Dredd film that we should have had back in the nineties. Urban has absolutely nailed it. Incredibly (and brutally) violent but with a satirical sense of humour and a firm grounding in reality.

There are plenty of little touches in there to keep the seasoned 2000ad fan happy, but it is also an incredibly well written introduction to the character.

Face off.

The ghost of the Stallone version has finally been wiped out, presumably by Karl Urbans Dredd armed with an exorcist bullet. This is the definitive Dredd movie.

I for one cannot wait to see it again.

The Girl with the Powerbook Pro

Firstly, a quick mention about how amazed I was by the success of my last blog post regarding the recent remembrance service poppy burning by Muslim Extremists and the ridiculous level of media coverage it received (and the subsequent "I'm not racist, but.." response on web forums).  It got more than 800 page views and was shared nearly 200 times on facebook, which is frankly remarkable.  However, this blog post will see things quickly return to normal as I remove my rarely worn 'champion of social injustice' hat and replace it with the all-too-commonly-worn 'reviewer of something what I watched' trilby.

Last Saturday afternoon I watched The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (Män som hatar kvinnor – "Men Who Hate Women").  It's a Swedish crime thriller currently being remade for Hollywood for those small brainers who don't like reading subtitles, but I've whinged about that in the past.  It's based on the first book of the bestselling Millennium Trilogy by Author and Journalist Stieg Larsson, who sadly died before seeing the success of either the novels or the subsequent film adaptations.

I'll admit I didn't think it was really my thing as I've never been all that interested in detective thrillers - If it involves detection but doesn't include Batman or Columbo, then count me out.  Tara, however, is currently on the last book of the trilogy and was constantly recommending the series (even though I would never have thought that crime novels were "her thing", as it were).  I came to the conclusion that seeing a film that is not really my thing is a damn sight easier and quicker (and a damn sight lazier) than reading a book that might not really be my thing.  And hey, it's got subtitles, right?  That's almost like reading.

And I'm glad I watched it - It's a gripping thriller with an array of intiguing supporting characters.  The premise is interesting enough; Mikael Blomkvist is a disgraced journalist awaiting a prison sentence after making damaging allegations about a billionaire Swedish industrialist, and is given the task of investigating the 40 year old case of an elderly former CEOs' vanished (and probably murdered) niece.  His investigations cause him to cross paths with the mysterious Lisbeth Salander, an expert hacker and researcher - the eponymous Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.

After a slow start, the plot is gripping enough with all the appropriate twists and turns that are associated with the genre.  Blomkvist and Salander make an interesting (and unlikely) pairing, but they're both painted with sufficient depth that you genuinely care about them.

So what began as (to be honest) a chore to see what all the fuss was about, turned out to be a genuinely exciting, gritty, brutal and intelligent film.  The investigative procedures carried out in the film are nothing short of brilliant, computers are used throughout (more on this in a bit) but in a realistic manner and the dénouement is surprising, yet satisfying.  I'm genuinely looking forward to seeing the sequels, because these are characters I want to find out more about.  They're not that likeable, certainly, but they're deep enough to captivate my interest.  And, in absolute honesty, one particular scene involving a dildo will have you punching the air and cheering - and there aren't many films you can say that about.  Unless you've seen the deleted scenes from The Little Mermaid.

Despite my point about the realistic use of computers earlier on, the slightly odd thing is that the film seeks to take place in an alternate universe where PCs don't exist, in much the same way that you'd think Sony were single-handedly responsible for manufacturing every single thing on the planet in the recent "remake" of the Bond film Casino Royale.  Everybody has a Mac, and not just a Mac but a shiny Powerbook Pro.  The reason for this is presumably revealed in the (now forever) unpublished sequels, "The Girl who met Steve Jobs", "The Girl with the overpriced peripherals" and "The Girl with the smug sense of superiority".

Pixelmash Movies

After promising I wasn't going to bother again, the urge is increasing to do another Pixelmash movie as it's been more than a year since my last one. In case you don't know what I'm talking about (or simply don't care) all of the past ones can be found here.

The criteria is probably apparent from the ones I done so far; I seem to have subconciously stuck mostly with films made in the eighties - I'm not sure of my reasoning for this. It could be that this was the decade in which I really got into movies, or it could just be that films were better back then. The film has to have a lot of action, or at least some memorable set pieces that everybody remembers about it. Driving Miss Daisy would NOT a good pixelmash make.

Also, despite having done Star Wars Episodes 4 to 6 I refuse to do episodes 1 to 3 - mostly because they were all utter shite.

I've toyed with the idea of Terminator, Predator or even Tron but need some decent inspiration. These things take me a good couple of months and I really need an idea to give me the suitable drive to get it completed - I'm also grateful for any help if anybody wants to contribute.

Meh, just thoughts flying about at the moment. We'll see what develops, if anything at all.