Meewella | Fragments

The Life of P

Month: January 2019

Unplayer One: Gris

Unplayer One is a recurring feature exploring games in way that should appeal to those who enjoy art irrespective of the medium.  Unlike other review posts, these are likely to contain major spoilers so, if you have any intention of playing the game in question, please do so before reading.

Gris title screen

People often describe despair as an all-consuming black hole. Whilst that may be its crushing final act, for many people I suspect grey is a more appropriate colour than black. Rather than an oppressive force, it has a tendency to drain away the colour from the world, so that it loses its joy, its allure, and its meaning. Gris wordlessly explores this concept, following a strong-willed woman standing against the fears, doubts and depression that plague her mind.

“I slipped into a state beyond my usual grief and restlessness and anxiety and despair — one of not feeling anything at all. And when I felt nothing I became almost nostalgic for the grief; at least when you felt pain you knew you were still alive. I had tried to fight this, forcing myself into life and noise. I had gone, on my own, to a few of the new music halls, always sitting near the front, right in the heart of the noise and laughter, and I laughed or sang along, trying to feel some of the joy that filled the room. But I was immune.”

Matt Haig, How to Stop Time

At a basic level, Gris is a 2D platformer in which your progression is marked by restoring colours, one at a time, to an initially greyscale world. It is rendered as a flat cartoon against a layered, parallax scrolling background with swirling inks. The beautiful world is striking in both its initial stark simplicity and its colourfully detailed ultimate form. More impressive, however, is the inner struggle communicated solely through its mechanics.

Gris screenshot - running from grief

The eponymous protagonist awakes in the palm of a crumbling statue that acts as a clear analogue to her own eroded sense of self. Gris tries to sing out but chokes up, the statue’s hand crumbling and dropping her to the earth below. She trudges through a grey world, hunched body language conveying her emotional state. She is buffeted by winds that rise and dwindle, forcing her to hide behind structures to avoid being blown backward, undoing her progress.

“There are many fools, Sorwa, men who conceive hearts in simple terms, absolute terms. They are insensible to the war within, so they scoff at it, they puff out their chests and they pretend. When fear and despair overcome them, as they must overcome us all, they have not the wind to think… and so they break.”

King Harweel, The Judging Eye (R. Scott Bakker)

After a time she gains the ability to turn herself into a squared off, stone block. This cartoonish power serves not only to allow Gris to explore further by breaking through cracked floors when falling from a height, but the additional weight allows her to withstand strong winds without needing extrinsic cover. The metaphor of resilience is clear: Gris is learning to become more robust. You are not saving this woman; she is saving herself. The wind then shifts from an oppressive challenge to an enabling experience as Gris begins to use vertical gusts of wind to access new areas, previously out of reach.

Gris screenshot - forest

There is a button that, throughout the game, does nothing but cause Gris to exhale in a plaintive sigh. The sound design is real and touching, as pointless as this feature seems to be. However, once Gris has recovered the world’s colour, the same button serves an entirely new purpose as that sigh is replaced by song. We realise that this button has always represented her voice: muted and weak at first, but now rediscovered and liberated. With this discovery, her voice restores life to the world, causing trees to grow and flourish, carrying her higher.

It is the rediscovery of her voice that allows Gris finally to combat the formless, inky blackness that has been pursuing her. Her earlier attempts at passive evasion merely to survive now become a defiant challenge. This antagonist adopts at times the more stereotypical mental health motifs of a huge black bird, squawking angrily, and a giant face capable of swallowing Gris whole. When this finally happens, Gris finds herself ascending a tower to escape a rising ocean of toxic black sludge. As Gris sings, her statue self reforms and, moments before Gris succumbs to the rising tide, the statue sings back. This song banishes the creature and the sea of despair.

“Most things fail with age. Our hands and backs stiffen. Our eyes dim. Skin roughens and our beauty fades. The only exception is the voice. Properly cared for, a voice does nothing but grow sweeter with age and constant use.”

Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man’s Fear

The transition from a sigh to a song represents, to me, a shift from a sense of despair to one of hope. Gris’ ability once more to hope forges positive changes in the world around her. However, finding her voice is not itself the end of the game. It is a tool, and it needs to be taken actively out into the world and shared in order for it to change. Hoping for change is not an excuse not to act. Hope is a reason for not ceasing to act through despair.

Gris screenshot - aural glow

Granting Forgiveness

Richard E. Grant is, in conversation, as affably charming as you might expect, garrulously spilling forth anecdotes but always to praise others rather than himself. He was visibly excited yet humbly grateful at his Academy Award nomination earlier in the day, for the performance that had just been screened in Can You Ever Forgive Me? He describes the project’s success, for which he has already received twenty-odd awards, as the culmination of many pieces falling into place. He was drawn to it by scriptwriter Jeff Whitty (who wrote Avenue Q) and director Marielle Heller (for Diary of a Teenage Girl). His only concern was whether this would be a vehicle for Melissa McCarthy’s comedy, fears that were allayed over a two-hour planning lunch with her (there was otherwise no rehearsal before filming began).

Richard E. Grant being interviewed after a screening of Can You Ever Forgive Me?

Grant realised McCarthy had not seen Withnail and I when she complimented with some surprise his ability to act drunk. Whilst he acknowledges comparison between the performances is inevitable “when you play two alcoholics in period coats”, he is glad that the roles were thirty years apart and was not consciously channelling anything of Withnail. That may come as a slightly surprise given that he plays Portland-born Jack Hock as English, but this was a directorial choice rather than his own (in fact an earlier, failed incarnation of the project had Chris O’Dowd cast in the role).

Having come off what he described as the “Testostoworld” (coming soon to theatres) of Logan‘s massive, male-dominated set, he loved the intimacy of a small picture with rarely more than three people conversing in a scene and predominantly female crew. That is not to say he dislikes working on big movies: he is enthusiastic about appearing in Star Wars at the end of the year, although he perhaps misread the room a little when looking for excitement at JJ Abrams directing.

Richard E. Grant

When asked what convinces him to take on a role, Grant prefaces his response by noting with self-deprecation that he appeared in Spice World: The Movie. Like the plethora of British talent to appear in the film, he was instructed to take the role by a family member, as his daughter wanted to meet the Spice Girls. I wonder how many others are, like him, finding on the flip-side that it now opens doors with younger talent like Lena Dunham who wrote him into Girls because of that movie.

He reminisced about acting alongside Daniel Day-Lewis in The Age of Innocence, joking that he prostrated himself in thanks that the legendary actor had turned down the role of Withnail, thus providing Grant with a career. After the first day, however, Day-Lewis blanked him on set, and it took Michelle Pfeiffer to explain that the method actor would continue this throughout shooting since their characters disliked one another. He finally broke character on Grant’s final day of shooting to envelop him in a hug and tell him it had been an honour working together. Which understandably, after weeks of being ignored, simply felt surreal.

I could not say unequivocally whether Jack Hock is Grant’s best performance, but when a long-serving character actor finally receives that elusive recognition, it is hard not to root for him to win.

The Photogenic Side of 2018 (Part 2)

Concluding the visual synopsis of 2018 with painted figurines, the BAFTA and pogonophobia.

In late 2017 Ben I each brought a couple of friends to form a monthly D&D group, having been discussing the idea for years. For all its geeky reputation, D&D is essentially a structured framework for collaborative storytelling. As our adventures continued through 2018, I decided to paint a miniature to represent my rogue Sestina (the redhead in the middle). When we adopted a pet shadowhound, whom Ses named “Goodboy”, I painted him too. And then I ended up painting the rest of our party as well. Above is the newly christened “Shadowhound Gang”. I expect to share a little more about Sestina in the coming year.
The BAFTA chose to celebrate women’s contributions throughout 2018. This included an exhibition early in the year and a series of screenings later in the year, two of which I attended. Rosamund Pike selected Oscar-winning director Kathryn Bigelow’s “Zero Dark Thirty”, with Jessica Chastain’s driven performance. Gemma Arterton veered indie with Andrea Arnold’s “Fish Tank”, with the freshly discovered Katie Jarvis in the lead. The interview afterward led to an interesting discussion about the the responsibility to support working class actors who are found in open castings but are often discarded once the film is complete.
My regular cocktail haunt continued to be Merchant House, with its two bars specialising in whiskies, gin and rum. The beautiful new menus were themed around aspects of the British Empire. The installation of a Lillet smoothie machine was a wonderful summer addition. I also tried my hand at gin infusion when Guangzhou bar Hope & Sesame took over. As is often the case, I took the most pleasure in naming my concoctions: the thyme-infused “Interesting Thymes”, and the Chinese osmanthus fruit inspiring “Ozymandius”. In addition to other Londoners, this year I introduced overseas visitors from the USA (Jeff) and Belgium (Gloria). It is with a heavy heart that I hear some of my favourite faces from the other side of the bar may be disappearing, leaving the future a little uncertain.
I like plants. I just prefer them in their natural habitat. Outside. Fifi nevertheless decided that a peace lily was an appropriate birthday present (in reference to Angel’s plant in Hot Fuzz, which was itself a reference to Léon). Conceptually I find it a little strange for a gift to consist essentially of “here’s a thing – now it’s your responsibility to keep it alive”, although I appreciate one could accidentally achieve the same result at a drunken birthday party. Anyway, I named him “Restin” or, to use his full name, “Restin Peacelily”. It may surprise you to hear that Restin remains alive and well four months later, and I will admit that he has grown on me. He has even encouraged me to open my blinds more frequently.
Probably my favourite show to shoot this year was the delightfully subversive “The Sex Ed Special”. A wonderful burst of creativity with its tongue firmly in cheek (so to speak), it featured important messages about consent, emotionally healthy BDSM, “period drama”, motherhood and more. For it to come from new performers delivering on a limited budget was doubly impressive.
Angie threw another Thanksgiving dinner for university friends this year. Despite a last-minute venue change due to the minor setback of a broken oven, it was a fabulous meal and an excellent evening. Following prior success, I was put in charge of “thankfulness” which meant effecting my concept of a “Wall of Thanks”. Rather than an American round-the-table series of declarations (which for Brits would be horribly uncomfortable rather than heartwarming) people could make anonymous submissions online which I drew up into a series of Post-it notes. More were added over the course of the evening. The results varied wonderfully between funny, touching, passive-aggressive and incomprehensible.
The environmental argument in favour of recycled and recyclable brown paper wrapping won me over easily, though I was less convinced about how it would look. I was pleased to find that some colourful penmanship made them look rather smart. I then travelled back with a bunch of sharpies on Christmas Eve and proceeded to add illustrations too. It is something that I am likely to continue.
And okay, I know I already included three pictures of David last time, but here’s another one at nine months because… just look at him. In the final month of the year, David became a little uncomfortable around family members with beards. Rather than waiting until his vocabulary improved to the extent that we could discuss pogonophobia, I decided that immersion therapy over the Christmas period was a better alternative and he noticeably relaxed. Hopefully semi-regular Skype calls will keep him on side between visits.

The Photogenic Side of 2018 (Part 1)

For a third year, here are some illustrated moments from the past twelve months. In a world creaking under the strain of social media’s artificial expectations, I want to remind readers that these are merely the pretty highlights and not representative of the everyday experience, albeit that my photography tends to reflect the way that I see the world.

I learned a few years back that London really has to be photographed with some altitude. St Paul’s Cathedral is one of those tourist attractions that, living in London, I routinely walk past without ever venturing inside. A few days into the New Year, climbing the dome provided an elevated opportunity, with a view over Paternoster Square and out to my firm’s new offices in the distance.
A recent tradition has been an annual trip to Amsterdam, usually coinciding with work events in the region. This year was particularly special as the canals froze over, drawing the locals out to ice skate.
My nephew David was born in March. Here he is pictured at roughly zero, three and six months. A long while ago Alexis and John Michael had a arranged trip to visit Romina and Chris in March, with the questionable timing of the new addition being the sort of thing that Jenna would usually accomplish. In fact, in strange synchronicity, Jenna’s new daughter Rose was born just one day after David.
Keggfest (the annual chocolate celebration) continued this year with a Keggstack taller than Angie. The destructive creativity of my friends resulted in this mutant monstrosity of chocolate that was legitimately slightly disturbing to wake up to the following morning.
The new screen at Piccadilly Circus completes the combination of all the advertising screens into a single ultra-high definition curved LED screen. It would become a familiar sight this year as I spent several evenings at both the BAFTA and Picturehouse Central.
Ravi, Angie, Nick, Leila and I attended Secret Cinema’s production of Blade Runner this year. As the price steadily increases, I am increasingly selective about buying tickets, but Blade Runner and its sequel are amongst my favourite movies, and a world in which I am happy to immerse myself. They transformed a warehouse into a rain-soaked dystopian Los Angeles, with a narrative inspired by the “Blackout” briefly mentioned in Blade Runner 2049. Sadly their camera policy means no shots inside, a space I would have loved the chance to photograph.
House of Burlesque celebrated its tenth anniversary this year, with a Revue show on the Southbank that featured a number of upgraded acts with new costumes and visuals that were wonderful to shoot. Taking some colleagues to see it later in the run, I had not counted on being dragged up on stage, although I am told I looked entirely too at home…
Just in time for summer, I purchased a finely machined glass ball to expand my photography repertoire with a phone camera, having found I was regularly shooting with my Google Pixel. Early experimentation produced some wonderful results with both portraits and landscape photography.

More to come next time…

"Lack of imagination is an occupational hazard for an apex predator."

(CC) BY-NC 2005-2019 Priyan Meewella

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