Today I’m going to be looking at something fairly different from the usual simple-minded gore and explosions that usually tend to grace the movie reviews section of my blog: Человек с киноаппаратом (Man With a Movie Camera) is a silent documentary film made in 1929 by Russian director Dziga Vertov. While originally accompanied by live music, the score has been long-since lost, replaced instead by various iterations over the years — the version I saw over on Google Video features an original soundtrack by The Cinematic Orchestra, which seemed to fit the mood and theme of the film perfectly, aside from a minor quibble I’ll elaborate on below.

While I’m not nearly enough of a hipster to elaborate upon the more complex aspects of this film, allow me to at least cover the basics: In a nutshell, the film shows the people of the 1920s Soviet Union at work and play, the eponymous man with the movie camera making appearances everywhere from beneath moving trains to a hospital where a woman is giving birth, from a coal mine to a beach, and many other locales both mundane and exotic. Perhaps on its own, this wouldn’t be enough for a compelling experience, but the addition of numerous and varied film editing effects, many of which must have been highly original and advanced for their time, as well as the relaxing-yet-eerie soundtrack — which I know wasn’t part of the original, yet seems to compliment the experience so well — combines to produce something quite unlike anything I’ve seen before.

One aspect I found both surprising and intriguing was the fact that — aside from the occasional snippets of Russian language on signs and whatnot — it’s easy to mistake many of the people and places as being something from a similar era in America or Britain, and in a way, that struck me as being almost the ultimate anti-propaganda, the realization that regardless of geographical location, people really aren’t all that different at all.

My only real complaint was that after being absorbed into the somewhat dream-like atmosphere of the uniquely-edited scenes, a scene near the end drags the viewer out of this comfort zone with a disquieting abruptness almost reminiscent of something one would expect from Videodrome; attributable both to the original film and the soundtrack in equal measure, a camera assembles itself, ‘looks’ and moves around in a stop-motion animation sequence while accompanied by a quirky, electronic soundtrack — something I found vaguely unsettling for reasons that escape me — followed by a harsh discord of notes and a blur of black and white lines. It doesn’t fit at all with the rest of the film’s theme and feel, especially due to the vaguely menacing overtones.

Nontheless, an overall unique experience, one that I’d recommend to the curious, though be warned that the meandering pace, lack of commentary or cohesive theme may be offputting. I’d recommend watching the first fifteen minutes or so, at the least — if you’re not strangely hooked by that point, then perhaps it’s not for you.

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At this point, I’m fairly convinced that there’s something wrong with me. An ungodly streak of masochism, perhaps, or simply an insatiable curiosity with no regard for consequence. Regardless, we’re here again with another energy shot review, this time some cheap-looking product I picked up at the train station while waiting for some friends to arrive. Yes, lacking in any familiar brand name and inspiring little confidence, it’s Quick Energy. Feel it in minutes, apparently. Feel what, I dread to think.

Backtrack. When I was a kid, I used to take empty pill bottles — those little white ones with the snap-on lids — and mix up all kinds of disturbing concoctions in my grandparents’ kitchen, which consisted of all manner of ingredients procured from around the house, both originally edible in nature, and various cleaning products and the like. Into the cauldron they’d go until they became a grim, viscous green fluid which bubbled with sentience. I’d then bottle the stuff in those little white bottles, and try to sell them to relatives as weed killer, or whatever else I came up with at the time.

Quick Energy, beneath its inviting wrapper, comes in a bottle that looks an awful lot like one of those. Some small part of me wonders if I wasn’t the only one to have that idea.

Cracking open the little bottle reveals a vaguely bubbling (it did say to shake well) clear fluid with the tinge of used washing-up water and a distinct odour that reminds me of hospitals and… oh dear. Well, I’m not going to say what else it reminds me of, but it’s not something I’d want in an energy shot. As always, a quick, experimental sip reveals the blatant, terrible lies emblazoned upon the wrapper: Orange flavour? Perhaps if I was transported to The Matrix and the machines — with no sense of taste or smell of their own — did their best to recreate the illusion of citrus, it may be a similar sensation. As with the Relentless variety, there’s the aftertaste of dish-washing fluid, though it seems to linger and transform into something distinctly brackish and bitter in the back of the mouth.

Regret rears its head like an ugly, deformed whale bursting up from the surface of the ocean, as if to say, I told you this would happen! I told you! Part of me wonders if this is truly a karmic event, the scent of this pungent formula bringing back sharp, vivid memories of my potion-mixing childhood witchcraft endeavours. Surely the cost for this fluid is already enough to repay my ill-gotten juvenile gains?

Nonetheless, I press onwards and chug this fateful elixir with whatever vim I can muster. And that’s when the regrets hit me with the force of a ten-ton hammer. Imagine, if you will, the antiseptic stench in the air from hospitals, the machinated pseudo-orange of a faux world, and the bitterness of dry, brackish sweat combined into a single overpowering flavour, a flavour which seems content to linger and cling to the taste buds as long as possible, before slowly sinking like a heavy wave of lead-lined nausea to the stomach.

If it was possible to experience something worse than the Relentless Energy Shot, then surely this must be it. Next time, I’ll take the blue pill.

"My son, the day you were born, the very forests of Lordaeron whispered the name, 'Arthas'."

It’s no secret that I usually find myself rooting for the bad guys in movies and games, and there’s nothing I like better than a well-defined and likable villain — even if it’s one you simply love to hate. In lieu of decent content lately, I’ve decided to start a new section highlighting some of my favourite villains from TV, movies and video games, starting with one I’m sure many of you will recognize: Arthas Menethil, better known as the Lich King, whose exploits spanned no less than three games — starting in Warcraft III: Reign of Chaos, stealing the show in The Frozen Throne expansion, and finally the rise and fall of his master plan in Wrath of the Lich King, the second expansion to World of Warcraft. I think what makes Arthas such a great villain is that he’s both devious and cruel, tormenting and evading the players time and time again in Wrath, while at the same time being a truly tragic figure, manipulated and coerced into becoming a tool of evil while his intentions were originally pure — albeit misguided.

Arthas was the son of King Terenas Menethil and heir to the throne of Lordaeron, a paladin in training under Uther the Lightbringer, and an all-round pretty nice guy. There’s not a great deal to tell about this part of the story, but unfortunately for him — and fortunately, perhaps, for us — things weren’t always to be that way. Hot on the heels of the necromancer Kel’Thuzad and his demon-master Mal’Ganis, whose twisted plans included tainting shipments of grain with a deadly plague of undeath which would turn unfortunate citizens into grotesque ghouls, Arthas was faced with the ultimate dilemma: After arriving just a little too late to the city of Stratholme, where the infected plague had already been distributed to the peasants, he felt the only course of action was to purge the city before the citizens were turned, to spare them a fate worse than death and cull the undead threat before it got out of hand. Uther was understandably horrified by this, determined to instead seek a way to help the afflicted people, but nothing could sway the young prince from his mission.

"This kingdom shall fall, and from the ashes shall arise a new order that will shake the very foundations of the world."

Things went from bad to worse, and rather than regale you with the full story — which you can find more details on over here, if you so choose — I’ll wrap it up in a digest: Arthas pursued the demon Mal’Ganis with reckless fervour to the frozen shores of Northrend, stranded his loyal troops by burning their ships and then blaming the act on local mercenaries, inadvertently slew his friend and mentor, Muradin Bronzebeard while claiming the cursed blade Frostmourne, which then drove the prince to madness and the soul of the former Lich King, Ner’zhul — which was entombed within the sword — fused with that of the fallen paladin, creating not the first, but certainly the most well-known incarnation of the Lich King. He then found his way back home to Lordaeron, slew his father, and brought the kingdom crumbling down.

I feel that Arthas is one of the most memorable and influential villains in video gaming, partly because of how his story and actions can evoke such a variety of feelings from the player — he begins misguided but well-meaning, descends into the ranks of villainhood and builds up a great deal of animosity especially throughout the events of Wrath, tormenting and taunting the would-be heroes at every turn, a looming figure of doom whose machinations have wrought countless horrors and innumerable sorrows. It seems like it’s hard to go anywhere or do anything in Wrath without running into the Lich King himself, and while he has plenty of opportunities to simply end your attempts outright, he seems content to merely toy with the heroes, much like a cat playing with its prey.

"You speak of justice, of cowardice? I will show you the justice of the grave, and the true meaning of fear."

The greatest culmination of this is during the battle of the Wrathgate, a great siege at the very gates of his infernal citadel by the combined forces of the Alliance and the Horde, in an attempt to bring the villain to justice. Again, the Lich King displays his typical villainous arrogance, standing tall in the face of an army and mocking their challenge before being abruptly interrupted by a threat that none present could have expected (and perhaps the focus for a future Villain Spotlight). Still, he shrugs off the attack and retreats into his fortress, to fight another day.

However, in the words of the late Terenas Menethil, “No king rules forever.” The culmination of the Wrath expansion leads to a siege upon the lair of the Lich King and, after battling many of his unholy minions, the great villain himself is finally put to rest. For those who play the game and have not yet seen the outcome, I shall remain fairly coy with the details, though the events can be seen over here, for the curious. While wrapping up Arthas’ storyline, it also brings us full circle with regards to how we — the players, and observers of the story — feel about the villain. In his dying moments, he is finally freed from his curse and is portrayed once more as a tragic character who never intended to fall so far.

I can’t speak for everyone, but I personally felt a great deal of pity for the fallen prince, the one who I had grown to despise through my Warcraft adventures, but here at the end, realized that he was merely a pawn all along, being used by forces much greater. And this, I think, is what makes Arthas such a memorable and unique villain — how many others can you name, which manage such an extensive full-circle spanning many years, and after all of the relentless villainy and vexation, finally turns out to be a poor, misguided soul who deserves not hatred, but pity?

Other than Darth Vader, I suppose.

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I’m going to regret this. I just know it. After my abhorrent experience with the Relentless Energy Shot back in January — and Relentless is a brand I’ve grown to enjoy a great deal — I’m actually quite worried about trying the Monster version, especially given the angry warning labels and absurd concentration of stimulants. Similarly, my associate over at Transmundane had typically bad experience with the Lucozade Alert Plus, prompting me to believe that “energy shots” as a whole are simply the wretched concoction of the devil, a trade-off between horrid taste and an infusion of stimulants.

For those who care, we’re looking at 1000mg of taurine, 200mg of panax ginseng, 141mg of caffeine, 100mg of L-carnitine L-tartrate, 5mg of guarana, 5mg of inositol, and 5mg of glucuronolactone. This thing truly lives up to its name of being a monster, and I can see why they recommend not exceeding one per day.

On the other hand, my experience with Monster in the past has been unwaveringly positive — both the standard green can and the yellow variety combine the best aspects of soft and energy drinks, while the new (or, at least, new in the UK) Monster Kaos is what I could only describe as a Monster-ised version of Relentless Inferno, almost the sort of thing I’d expect if Fanta were to make their own brand of energy drinks. But enough hesitation, it’s time to crack this baby open and see what lies in store for our hapless hero.

Other than the disturbingly black-on-black bottle that lies beneath the protective outer layer, the initial odour is — dare I say it — pleasant, if tinged by a slight acrid edge that I’ve come to expect. It certainly has the distinctive Monster smell that I know and love, so all’s good so far. An experimental sip to ensure this isn’t going to be some substance that’ll cause me to retch violently, and– oh my. The sharp, harsh edge is still there as with the Relentless variety, but masked heavily by the kind of syrupy sweetness that one might find in the yellow and orange cans of Monster. The lingering aftertaste is fairly pleasant, and fades away to a relieving neutrality in a matter of seconds.

Time to chug.

Being a comparatively large vial, it takes a couple of gulps to get the whole lot down, but the overall pleasant flavour makes it go down with ease. At this point, I’d recommend leaving one in the fridge before trying it, which is what I did with mine — the chill blends wonderfully with the sweet, ever-so-slightly-acidic taste, and makes the whole experience surprisingly enjoyable.

Call me crazy, but I think this one stands head and shoulders above the last, and has changed my outlook on energy shots entirely; in fact, I’d be more than happy to buy in a dozen more of these little bottles, to live in the fridge for times when they’re needed. Once again, Monster comes through ahead of the pack, managing to perfect what others have clumsily attempted, and that’s why they remain my #1 favourite brand of energy drinks to this day.

No philosophical discussion is complete without stick-figure diagrams.

Yesterday, I had a discussion on theology/philosophy with a couple of Mormon missionaries, largely concerning the issue of omnipotence vs. the fallacy of free will. I don’t think they were really expecting me to whip out the whiteboard and dry-erase markers, but it seemed to go over pretty well. I was actually surprised by the outcome — they stumbled a little at first, clearly not expecting the question, but managed to formulate a fairly adequate response. The gist of the conversation ended with the conclusion that even though God knows what choice I’m going to make (the little stick-man in the box with the branching paths represents me), that doesn’t influence or affect the fact that I still had the choice in the first place.

Now, I could have gone more philsophical and argued that knowledge of the future does in fact invalidate any possible notion of free will, and even without the presence of some heavenly overlord, this concept troubles me from time to time purely from the perspective of science (we are, after all, composed of matter which acts in predictable and logical ways). But I’ll give them credit for trying, especially as I’m sure neither of them expected to have such a thing thrust upon them without warning.

Maybe next time.

The rest of the conversation pretty much went as could be expected, and I had time a-plenty to clarify a few things I’ve been hazy on. I’m not about to be “converted” or choose a religion any time soon, but I like to think I keep an open mind, and this is one angle I simply haven’t given much attention to in the past. I know plenty enough about Catholicism, I’ve read into Taoism and Buddhism, but those Mormons always just seem so damn happy, and I want to know what their secret is. And then I’ll ask one of those monks in orange robes who always hang out on streets and seem to constantly act like they just won the lottery last week and things could not be better.

Somewhere along the line, I just decided that I was tired of life being predictable, dull, and largely falling into the trap of same shit, different day. There’s something fundamentally satisfying about just breaking out of that routine and walking down a path you’d never normally take, just to see where it leads you.