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Tag: recs-essay

  • 7 Days in Hell did Challengers before Challengers — threesomes and all

    7 Days in Hell did Challengers before Challengers — threesomes and all

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    It sometimes seems surprising that tennis doesn’t inspire more movies. Its one-on-one gladiatorial clashes are inherently dramatic and psychological, while the devious scoring system means no match is ever lost until it’s lost. Nail-biting climaxes and last-minute turnarounds are baked into the design. On the other hand, the fast-moving, seesawing action is technically difficult to frame in a way that’s both exciting and legible — and that same scoring system might drastically confuse anyone who doesn’t follow the sport.

    Or maybe there are only so many tennis stories to tell. It’s certainly true that after watching Challengers, the torrid, wildly entertaining new tennis melodrama starring Zendaya and directed by Call Me by Your Name’s Luca Guadagnino, I was struck by some surprising similarities to an earlier film. Only this film isn’t a proper sports movie, or even a pseudo-serious bit of prestige pulp like Challengers. 7 Days in Hell is a profoundly silly 43-minute HBO mockumentary from 2015, starring The Lonely Island’s Andy Samberg and streaming on Hulu and Max.

    It’s tough to prove my point without comprehensively spoiling either film. You should watch them both; they’re both lots of fun. Let’s just say that both feature a hotly contested, emotionally (and maybe sexually) charged match between rival male players that goes the distance — and far beyond. Both movies also feature varying degrees of hot threesome action; an absurdly extended, physically impossible rally at the net; and a certain gesture that takes things up a gear. And they both end in strikingly similar ways, even though the actual outcomes are very, very different.

    Image: HBO

    Kit Harington wipes sweat from his face with a pained expression, wearing tennis gear in 7 Days in Hell

    Image: HBO

    Tashi (Zendaya), Art (Mike Faist), Patrick (Josh O’Connor)

    Photo: Niko Tavernise/Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Pictures

    Above: Andy Samberg and Kit Harington in 7 Days in Hell. Below: Mike Faist and Josh O’Connor in Challengers.

    Perhaps the key to both films’ success is that they recognize that tennis, with its strange rituals, hourslong matches, hushed intensity, and soundtrack of echoing pops, grunts, and smacks, is actually pretty ridiculous. Guadagnino’s movie spends more than two hours edging along the border of high camp, urged along by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross’ pounding gay-club score. 7 Days in Hell is an all-out parody; it has no such restraint, if restraint is the word.

    7 Days in Hell spoofs an ESPN 30 for 30-style sports documentary. Its subject is the longest match in tennis history, a first-round clash at Wimbledon that lasted for seven days. The top seed is Charles Poole (Game of Thrones’ Kit Harington), a tragically dim Brit carrying the nation’s hopes on his shoulders. The wild card is Aaron Williams (Samberg), a washed-up “bad boy of tennis” in the Andre Agassi mold who happens to be Venus and Serena Williams’ adoptive brother. (In one of many talking-head cameos from famous real-world tennis figures, Serena explains that her father, Richard, adopted a white boy off the streets and turned him into a tennis pro in a “reverse Blind Side.”) Aaron is on the comeback trail after killing a line umpire with a 176 mph serve in the 1990s.

    7 Days in Hell’s prime target is the absurdly extended matches that the Grand Slam tournaments are known for — particularly Wimbledon, where rain often delays play into the next day, and tie breaks weren’t used in the final set until 2019, making endless matches theoretically possible. The movie delights in the absurdism and masochism of both playing and watching this sport, as rain, streakers, traffic accidents, conjuring tricks, and more conspire to imprison the two players and their audience in an agonizing weeklong death spiral.

    The fun comes from 7 Days in Hell’s extremely broad, even crude, humor (you’re going to need to enjoy dick jokes — this is a Samberg joint, after all) mixed with its savage parody of both the tennis world and the sports-documentary format. The film’s best gag is a brilliantly sustained digression into the history of Swedish courtroom sketch art, delivered with completely straight faces by tennis legends John McEnroe and Chris Evert, as well as the film’s stacked cast of comic actors. It’s a sly satirization of the way docs can use celebrity and misappropriated expertise as a vehicle for all kinds of barely relevant, unexamined information.

    Among those self-mocking talking heads, McEnroe is particularly good value throughout. (His best line delivery: “Aaron probably should have forfeited after killing a guy. But he didn’t, because he’s an asshole.” McEnroe remains undefeated at cursing.) David Copperfield also sends himself up beautifully. The pro performers are great, too, with Fred Armisen as All England Club chairman Edward Pudding, MCU veteran Karen Gillan as Charles Poole’s supermodel ex-girlfriend, Mary Steenburgen as his overbearing mother, Lena Dunham as a fashion CEO, and an unforgettable turn from Michael Sheen as Caspian Wint, a pervy, chain-smoking British sports broadcaster. The smooth narration comes from Jon Hamm.

    Before things come to a head on day seven of the match, the two players hold a joint press conference. A dispute starts, and they square up against each other, hurling insults, in an argument that briefly turns into a confused, thwarted embrace. Fundamentally, 7 Days in Hell and Challengers are saying the same two things. One: Sport may be about competition and dominance, but it’s a thin line between dominance and desire. And two: Tennis is absurd.

    7 Days in Hell is streaming on Max, Hulu, and YouTube (with a subscription) and can be rented on Apple TV, Google Play, and other digital platforms.

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    Oli Welsh

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  • Fallout: New Vegas endures because of big clunky story swings

    Fallout: New Vegas endures because of big clunky story swings

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    Fallout: New Vegas has endured in the cultural zeitgeist in a way that few other games have. Even within the Fallout fandom, it’s earned a prized position as a true classic of the RPG genre. That love is still reflected today, in goofy memes and fan art and enduring debates over which endgame is the right one. Even though the game has aged terribly in some respects — characters look rough, and not just from living in the apocalypse — it still persists as one of the high points of the Fallout franchise. The new Fallout TV series is set to premiere on Amazon, so there’s seldom been a better time to revisit New Vegas or play it for the first time.

    Fallout: New Vegas opens with an exploration of the Mojave Wasteland, setting up some of the factions vying for control of this region of post-apocalyptic America. This game builds off the lore of the first two isometric RPGs, returning to the West Coast. The New California Republic, a democratic attempt at building back an old America, has expanded too far. Here, at the Hoover Dam, they struggle to hold on to territory. Caesar’s Legion, an army emulating the empire of old Rome, has met the NCR here in a clash of ideologies. New Vegas, a sparkling city of progress run by the mysterious Mr. House, dominates the skyline with its neon towers.

    Unfortunately, the player character will need to work up to confronting these forces. The game begins with the Courier being waylaid by a smooth-talking group of goons. You awake in a friendly local doctor’s home, having miraculously survived being shot in the head and left in a shallow grave. You sort out matters in the small town of Goodsprings and then begin your trek into the Mojave.

    Image: Obsidian Entertainment/Bethesda Softworks

    New Vegas is built on the bones of Fallout 3, and the gameplay is honestly so-so. But the game is elevated by its fantastic writing. There are four possible paths the Courier can choose from: joining the NCR, allying with Mr. House, enlisting in Caesar’s Legion, or pursuing an independent Mojave. There’s a similar structure to Fallout 4, but I failed to connect with the various ideologies of the Commonwealth. They were a little too simplistic and flat. Fallout: New Vegas is anything but that.

    The questions posed in New Vegas are much more interesting to me as a player. At first, the NCR appears to be the default good guy faction. But one companion, Cass, openly expresses skepticism of the government. She critiques their expansion with the memorable line: “Nobody’s dick is that long, not even Long Dick Johnson. And he had a fucking long dick, hence the name.” Hanging out with Boone, a stoic and surly sniper I meet in the mouth of a giant dinosaur tower, complicates things further. After enough time working together, he shares the trauma incurred by his time with the NCR.

    Every companion in this game has opinions, and they’re interesting. New Vegas has a bunch of wildly interesting ideas, and it’s not shy about running with them. Lily Bowen is a giant nightkin super mutant who wears a giant sun hat and shades. Raul is a ghoul gunslinger who’s been press-ganged into service as a mechanic for a hostile state of super mutants. Arcade Gannon is a doctor and scientist who automatically joins your party if you have an intelligence of 3 or less, because he feels like someone needs to take care of you.

    The NCR may be complicated, but Caesar’s Legion poses a serious threat — or opportunity, depending on your decisions — to the denizens of the Mojave. The player is introduced to the faction through Nipton, a sinful town sentenced to a gruesome ritual known as the Lottery. The encounter starts with a guy running at you, hysterically laughing and screaming that he won, he won! You quickly realize that his joy is closer to a wild hysteria, and something truly terrible has happened in Nipton.

    A player in Fallout: New Vegas confronts two security automotons, bulky robots with grasping hands that balance on one wheel, with a rifle.

    Image: Obsidian Entertainment/Bethesda Softworks

    Mr. House offers a potential third path, but as I quest around the Strip, I can’t help but realize how many impoverished communities have sprung up in its shadow. I can’t even get in — under penalty of being shot by a giant murder robot — unless I meet specific qualifications. Can I trust the reclusive master of the Strip and its casinos? Or is it worth forging a new path for the Mojave, with no masters or kings?

    Each of these factions have interesting characters. Caesar is definitely a bad guy, and I have journeyed through his camp to blow him up in new and satisfying ways many times over the years. But it’s also worth talking philosophy with him, and learning more about the Legion and the sort of civilization they would establish. He’s not a mustache-twirling villain, but a satisfying antagonist to face and defeat.

    This is all skimming the surface of what New Vegas has to offer. The cherry on top of this great RPG is a radio station that’s full of bangers, with a particular shoutout to Big Iron. But the game takes big swings, and the overall vision is able to balance both serious themes and some intense goofiness.

    Similar open-world RPGs have quickly faded from conversation after their launch. Even a recent big RPG epic like Starfield has fallen off most of our radars. But Fallout: New Vegas fans are still making memes, arguing about the endgame variables, and sharing build tips to this day. It’s a clunky game in many respects, the characters don’t look great, and there’s the occasional glitch. I don’t care. Fallout: New Vegas is still the apple of my eye, and showcases how brilliant the setting can be.

    Fallout: New Vegas is available to play on Xbox One, Xbox Series X|S, Xbox Game Pass, and Windows PC via Steam and GOG.

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    Cass Marshall

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  • Age of Empires 2 is more vital than ever in 2024

    Age of Empires 2 is more vital than ever in 2024

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    I spent the better part of my holiday break leaping from one real-time strategy game to another: a They Are Billions failed run here, a Command & Conquer: Red Alert skirmish there. I even dug up my physical copies of The Lord of the Rings: The Battle for Middle-earth and its sequel from my parents’ basement. The liminal space between 2023’s late releases and 2024’s January rush provided the perfect opportunity to zoom out (literally and figuratively) and enjoy the act of telling tiny little people where to go and what to do.

    At a certain point, my nostalgia morphed into curiosity. Age of Empires 2: Definitive Edition’s Steam news feed has been more active than those of many newer releases, and I finally decided to take a closer look. It turns out, developer Forgotten Empires and Xbox Game Studios have been releasing new DLC, updates, patches, challenges, and seasonal aesthetics on an almost weekly basis since the remaster’s 2019 release. This cadence, coupled with the fact that 26,000 people were playing the nearly 25-year-old RTS on Steam, convinced me to take a detour. (I played on Steam, but it’s also available via Game Pass.) And not only is Age of Empires 2 still pretty damn good — like many, I consider it one of the best RTS games of all time — it feels more vital than ever in 2024.

    To start, there are now 37 total campaigns. This count ignores the dozen discrete historical battles, the tutorial missions revolving around William Wallace, and the eight remastered campaigns from the previous game. (Did I mention Forgotten Empires also remastered much of the first Age of Empires and released it as an expansion for the sequel?) If, like me, you prefer narrative campaigns and skirmishes against the AI in RTS games, then Age of Empires 2 is tantamount to a single-player gold mine.

    Image: Forgotten Empires/Xbox Game Studios

    While I always hesitate to consider a breadth of content a quality in and of itself, it’s both surreal and encouraging to see this many new missions, cutscenes, and unique units in Age of Empires 2 this long after its initial release. Forgotten Empires’ remaster plays like a dream, with a bevy of quality-of-life improvements (I’m looking at you, farm queues) and enemy AI that actually knows how to exploit your weaknesses and bait you into vulnerable situations. Sure, pathfinding is still an albatross around Age of Empires 2’s neck — chasing one scout halfway across the map with an entire battalion of cavalry will never be fun — but it’s a much smaller albatross these days. I can actually maneuver an entire army across a river ford without half of it doubling back to find another crossing.

    When it comes to a game that feels this good to play, I’ll take all of the missions I can get. I kicked off this particular stint with one Vlad Dracula (aka Vlad the Impaler) and his campaign to lead the Turks, Magyars, and Slavs against the Ottoman Empire. Each of the five missions in his storyline involve vastly different scenarios. The third, titled “The Breath of the Dragon,” is as challenging as it is thrilling, tasking me with capturing the central Wallachian city of Giurgiu before defending it from attack in every direction. Its placement on the banks of the Danube necessitates building up a naval presence and sailing to numerous small settlements working to supply the main Ottoman citadel of Darstor. When my Slavic forces finally entered Darstor, destroyed its fortifications, and demolished its castle, I almost had to step away to catch my breath.

    A small army of cavalry approaches the castle at the center of a base in Age of Empires 2: Definitive Edition’s Mountain Royals expansion

    Image: Forgotten Empires/Xbox Game Studios

    My return to the 1999 classic begs the question: What about Age of Empires 4, the most recent entry in the series? I’ve been a fan of Relic Entertainment’s sequel since its 2021 release. That appreciation has only grown as the team refines and builds upon an already impressive foundation; I especially appreciate 4’s asymmetrical faction design, which makes playing the nomadic Mongols, for instance, feel vastly different than managing the complex dynasty system of China. Age of Empires 2’s civilizations, by comparison, feel much more uniform outside of their unique units.

    But in its slick mechanics, its stunning art style, its wealth of creative missions, and its strong content cadence, Age of Empires 2 remains atop the pedestal it climbed almost 25 years ago. I haven’t even touched “The Mountain Royals” or “Return of Rome,” its newest expansions, as of this writing — but I absolutely plan to soon. The game’s ongoing health is proof that, given proper time and funding, a team can revitalize a classic in a medium known for its ephemeral works. I booted up Age of Empires 2: Definitive Edition on the doorstep of 2024 in order to replay an enduring classic; I also found a vibrant modern game.

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    Mike Mahardy

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  • Rise of the Tomb Raider is still peak Lara Croft

    Rise of the Tomb Raider is still peak Lara Croft

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    It’s been more than a decade since Crystal Dynamics, the developer best known for the Tomb Raider series, first introduced players to its reimagined take on Lara Croft. 2013’s Tomb Raider painted Lara as someone capable of adapting and overcoming nearly any situation while maintaining a level of emotional depth and self-awareness, a quality the game’s sequels would go on to further explore.

    The original was an excellent game that I’ve completed on no fewer than three occasions, and while her most recent outing, 2018’s Shadow of the Tomb Raider, has its merits, I still stand by 2015’s Rise of the Tomb Raider as the most engaging and interesting version of Lara Croft for how it emphasizes her vulnerability. The result is a story that combines all the hallmarks of what you’d expect from a great Tomb Raider game: suspenseful supernatural elements and a thrilling and romantic notion of archaeology, all tied together with an intriguing and surprisingly emotional story.

    Image: Crystal Dynamics/Square Enix

    Following the events of the first game, Lara is still traumatized by her trial by fire on the island of Yamatai and her father’s recent disappearance. Her quest to find her father and restore her family’s legacy leads her to the frigid peaks of Siberia and into the path of Trinity, a “Knights Templar meets military contractor” organization with a pseudo-religious goal of world domination. Unfortunately, this places Lara alone in the unique position to foil their plot, by saddling her with a truth that no one else will believe.

    Lara fully understands the gravity of the situation, but never lets this inflate her ego. Instead, she’s more preoccupied with the specter of death that inevitably follows her attempts to do the right thing. Lara can never fully atone for how her choices led to the deaths of so many close to her in the past, regardless how well equipped or tough she is. This theme is so pervasive, it even echoes in Rise’s gameplay by presenting us with a Lara who needs to be more resourceful and cunning to overcome her environment.

    Lara Croft in a red winter jacket walking up the snowy steps of a temple in Rise of the Tomb Raider.

    Image: Crystal Dynamics/Square Enix

    Rise of the Tomb Raider doesn’t quite elevate Lara to the level of apex predator we get in Shadow of the Tomb Raider, but she’s clearly far more capable than she was in her first adventure. The result is a character in the midst of becoming the Lara Croft known to players around the world, a more confident and prepared protagonist who can still be humbled. This version of Lara shines when she’s on the back foot, and Rise of the Tomb Raider does everything it can to keep her off balance with a more capable foe and a relentlessly adversarial environment.

    I’ll admit that on its standard difficulty, Rise of the Tomb Raider doesn’t present much of a challenge. Because of that, I consider Survivor Mode, the hardest difficulty, to be the definitive Tomb Raider experience. While you won’t succumb to starvation or dehydration, at this difficulty, the player’s health doesn’t regenerate, checkpoints are disabled, and foes are far more deadly. As if that wasn’t enough, by default, the game also will not highlight interactable items in the environment. While you can turn on the “Survival Instincts” at any time during your playthrough, dialing down the difficulty isn’t an option, which further reinforces that there’s no going back once the journey starts.

    Lara Croft perched on a tree branch overlooking an enemy camp in Rise of the Tomb Raider.

    Image: Crystal Dynamics/Square Enix

    This dialed-up difficulty has the benefit of making the game more immersive and forcing you to carefully consider and prepare for every encounter. A handful of bad guys normally wouldn’t be an issue, but when just a couple of bullets can put Lara in the ground, things get a little more tense. For an added challenge, I like to rely almost exclusively on stealth kills and Lara’s trusty bow during combat, resorting to firearms only when absolutely necessary.

    Rise of the Tomb Raider still keeps some of the Metroidvania elements of its predecessor to guide you along its critical path, while the world feels more open and encourages exploration of its various regions. This is further reinforced by a more robust crafting system, which forces you to scrounge and hunt for many of the materials you need to upgrade your gear. The tomb puzzles hidden throughout the world aren’t quite as challenging as those found in Shadow of the Tomb Raider, but still do a great job at shaking things up between scavenging and combat encounters.

    2013’s Tomb Raider did a fantastic job of establishing Lara as a character, and Shadow of the Tomb Raider makes for a fitting capstone to the latest trilogy. But for me, Rise of the Tomb Raider was the peak of Crystal Dynamic’s trilogy. Beyond its challenging gameplay, Rise offers a robust and complex narrative that shows us that the personality archetype of badass archeologist doesn’t have to constantly revolve around snappy one-liners.

    Rise of the Tomb Raider is available on Xbox Game Pass.

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    Alice Jovanée

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  • Dimension 20’s Coffin Run is a nearly flawless Dracula adaptation

    Dimension 20’s Coffin Run is a nearly flawless Dracula adaptation

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    Stories, especially beloved stories, have a tendency to bleed past their borders and escape their original bodies. Bram Stoker’s Dracula is among many well-loved works that have long since taken on new shapes, shifting forms constantly. The epistolary tale of vampires has hundreds upon hundreds of adaptations, with one domineering throughline: Stoker’s lasting characterization of the elegant, verbose, vampiric count himself.

    Given the breadth and variety of the landscape, it can be difficult, at this point, to iterate on Dracula in a way that feels fresh — which is why Dimension 20’s Coffin Run was, and continues to be, such a delight.

    Coffin Run, a Dungeons & Dragons actual-play series, premiered in the summer of 2022. The six-episode run, described on Dropout’s website as “a tale as old as many lifetimes,” was helmed by storyteller and game master Jasmine Bhullar and starred Zac Oyama, Erika Ishii, Isabella Roland, and Carlos Luna. Coffin Run emerged from Bhullar’s love of Stoker’s novel, she told CBR in 2022, as well as comedic source material like Young Frankenstein and What We Do in the Shadows.

    The cast of the series shines as archetypical members of Dracula’s retinue, brought together to ferry the Count (who sustains undeath-threatening injuries at the top of the series) home to Castle Dracula in his coffin. Oyama plays Squing, a Nosferatu-like vampire who is Dracula’s “firstborn,” turned as a child and preserved forever. Roland plays Dr. Aleksandr Astrovsky, a brash, invigorated mad scientist figure. Luna plays Wetzel, a young human who lives as Dracula’s plaything in hope of becoming a vampire himself. And Ishii plays May Wong, one of Dracula’s vampire brides, who used to be an actress in New York.

    Image: Dropout

    Coffin Run unfolds as a love letter to Dracula, both the form of the novel and the vampire himself. The story roots itself in Stoker’s work from the start, anchoring the narrative in the epistolary form. It’s letters all the way down, really (and not just inside Squing, who has a tendency to eat them). The series opens on Dracula himself standing over a writing desk, penning a letter to Squing. The letter takes a journey across the sea before it arrives at the Gold Crona Inn — much like Jonathan Harker at the outset of Dracula. From there, letters guide the narrative, arriving for the players at key moments.

    Letters, as a kind of delivery system for the story, are adeptly wielded by Bhullar — because of the fickle nature of their author, Dracula, when heartfelt sentiments are poured out in the letters there’s a lingering sense of unease, perpetuated by the arrival of letters that reveal that the Count’s feelings for his coffin-bearing friends and family might not be what they seem. Wetzel, for example, becomes disillusioned with the Count as the series goes on, slowly beginning to distrust him, while May realizes that her own adoration for Dracula may be more one-sided.

    Materially, Coffin Run pays beautiful homage to the Gothic lushness of Dracula. When players are handed letters, they receive actual letters at the table, passed along with a glowing candlestick. In the final fight, Dracula’s vitality is measured by vials of “blood” poured into a crystal goblet by Bhullar and then consumed as the vampire comes back to himself. Black-and-white film adaptations get a nod in the grayscale miniatures and the monochromatic set. The special effects all come together to create a world that feels incredibly familiar to horror fans as well as uniquely new — Rick Perry, production designer and creative producer for Dropout, gets heaps of nods throughout the series for his work on the sets and miniatures, as do the crew in a talkback episode post-series.

    Miniatures in Coffin Run depict Dracula’s castle, a tiny steam engine with cotton ball exhaust, and figures riding atop a stage coach, all built in greyscale lit with tiny sickly green lamps.

    Image: Dropout

    From the Scooby-Doo-like title sequence to the performances, the crew and cast of Coffin Run perfectly hone in on the comedic influences Bhullar cited for the series, as well as the inherent ironies of the source material. May, the classically gorgeous vampire bride, is played by Ishii with a gleeful, over-the-top accent, as is Roland’s Dr. Astrovsky. Squing, as Dracula’s firstborn, is constantly baffled by modern technology, referring to the train that delivers Dracula’s coffin as a “metal tube.” Seemingly, his lack of understanding stems from apathy, rather than access. Castle Dracula, when the story eventually arrives there, is similarly frozen in time, preserved by caretakers who eventually end up ceding the castle to antiquers and “Lairbnb” opportunists.

    So much of vampiric representation in pop culture is rooted in Dracula’s particular brand of allure. Even Dungeons & Dragons has its own storied distillation of Stoker’s Transylvania and the titular count in the enigmatic Strahd von Zarovich and the land of Ravenloft. The cast and crew of Coffin Run do a fantastic job of preserving the larger-than-life presence of Dracula in the story, from adding a silhouetted batwing shadow over Bhullar when she speaks to characters as Dracula to character arcs that nod at the ubiquity of the Count and his story. In discussing his place with Dracula at the end of the tale, Wetzel says, “It’s like everyone in [Castle Dracula], they’re just gonna be in there for a while, you know? It’s like the same thing over and over again. Same stuff.”

    No adaptation is perfect — with Dracula in the public domain and vampires back in the zeitgeist (hello, Interview with the Vampire, and the resurgence of Twilight, and a million other fanged options), there will likely be hundreds more distillations in the future. Coffin Run takes a pile of well-known, over-offered ingredients — Dracula, the undying bogs of Transylvania, letters, a carriage ride through wolf-stalked trees — and makes something wonderfully new from them.

    At the very least, it’s worth sinking your teeth into.

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    Madison Durham

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  • The Lost Boys paired vampire camp with real teenage fears

    The Lost Boys paired vampire camp with real teenage fears

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    The Lost Boys’ poster made the prospect of becoming an undead creature of the night pretty attractive: “Sleep all day. Party all night. Never grow old. Never die. It’s fun to be a vampire.” But the movie’s story is full of teenage terrors: an older sibling in the grips of addiction, divorced parents, starting over in a strange new place, and contending with adults who won’t listen to your real, valid teenage problems.

    Released in 1987, The Lost Boys isn’t particularly terrifying as a horror film. With its gaudily dressed vampires and long-flowing mullets — plus its iconic, extremely sweaty saxophone man — it reads more camp than straight horror three decades later. And despite its R rating, it’s fairly tame. Its single sex scene is pretty chaste and the film’s gore is limited to gushes of blood from dying vampires.

    The Lost Boys succeeds as an enduring piece of vampire fiction because of its stars, with Kiefer Sutherland standing out as vampire gang leader David, and the strong bones of its story. In that story, recently divorced single mom Lucy (Dianne Wiest) moves to the fictional Southern California town of Santa Carla, “the murder capital of the world,” the film tells us, with her teenage sons, Michael (Jason Patric) and Sam (Corey Haim). The displaced family moves in with Lucy’s dad, an eccentric taxidermist known only as Grandpa.

    Image: Warner Bros./Everett Collection

    As they settle into the town, which appears to consist primarily of a densely trafficked beach boardwalk, Lucy gets a job (and a potential boyfriend) at a video rental store, while Michael and Sam seek new friends — Michael’s comes in the form of a group of young vampires, while Sam bonds with comic book store geeks Edgar (Corey Feldman) and Alan Frog (Jamison Newlander). When Michael falls for Star (Jami Gertz), a seductive vampire in the making and apparent partner of David, peer pressure compels him to become a vampire himself.

    Opposite Michael’s path, Sam throws in with the Frog brothers, who warn the new kid in town that Santa Carla’s whole murder-capital-of-the-world problem stems from a nest of vampires. The Lost Boys doesn’t shy away from established vampire fiction with the Frog brothers; they use horror comic books as a field manual to identify and kill vampires. (Refreshingly, unlike far too many modern zombie genre stories, which refuse to use the word “zombie” at all, vampire fiction isn’t afraid of calling its monsters what they are.)

    While Michael’s story of becoming bewitched by both Star and David is at the center of the film’s story, The Lost Boys is also Sam’s story of watching his brother slip into a metaphorical addiction during the “just say no” era of the Reagan administration’s war on drugs. It’s also a story set during an era of skyrocketing divorce rates; The Lost Boys plays masterfully on the fear of watching your parents split and the inevitable replacement father figure coming into the picture.

    Brooke McCarter, Kiefer Sutherland, Billy Wirth, Alex Winter in The Lost Boys

    Photo: Warner Bros./Everett Collection

    Sutherland and Patric hold The Lost Boys together as rivals ostensibly competing for Star. As David, Sutherland channels Billy Idol as a spiky trickster, making Michael hallucinate that he’s eating worms and maggots — when, in reality, he’s eating Chinese takeout — before David presents him with a taste of real vampire’s blood. As Michael, Patric plays it both cool and disaffected, but also earnest in his love for Star and terrified of his new vampire powers. There are strong set-pieces involving the two male leads, including a moment where David and his vampire gang convince Michael to hang out underneath a moving train, compelling Michael to let go and embrace his ability to fly. It’s the movie’s strongest allusion to its inspiration, J.M. Barrie’s Peter Pan.

    Despite strong performances and great character twists, The Lost Boys rushes toward its ending in clumsy and unsatisfying ways. Dianne Wiest’s Lucy has too little to do outside of reacting to the men in the film, and Grandpa seems to have much more going on than the film reveals. Its 98-minute run time needed a little more time to breathe.

    But The Lost Boys, much like ’80s kid-heroism movies E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial and The Goonies, is about its young people. As an oft-campy time capsule of ’80s-era hopes and fears, it will never get old.

    The Lost Boys is currently streaming on Max.

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    Michael McWhertor

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  • Netflix’s Kingdom is like if Game of Thrones and The Walking Dead had a TV baby

    Netflix’s Kingdom is like if Game of Thrones and The Walking Dead had a TV baby

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    Kingdom opens ominously, with two attendants walking across a Joseon-era Korean palace’s courtyard to bring the king his meal. Once inside, the older attendant warns his young companion not to look into the king’s bedchambers while passing the food underneath the curtain. The young attendant can’t resist, and when he opens his eyes he’s dragged under the curtain by a snarling beast. It’s a dread-filled scene that grabs your attention, but Kingdom also uses that moment to set itself apart. Most zombie shows are centered around characters thrust into survival mode without knowing what caused the outbreak in the first place. In Kingdom, the original zombie is not just a known entity, he’s also being tended to by a royal staff.

    The rest of the intro reveals a lot of information in a short amount of time. A group of scholars has been posting flyers that the king is dead and it’s time for Crown Prince Lee Chang to ascend to the throne. But there’s an issue: Prince Chang’s mother was a concubine, and his current stepmother, Queen Consort Cho, is very pregnant. Her family has seized power with their new royal status, and they’ve rounded up and tortured these scholars to find out who’s behind their support of the prince. Meanwhile, Prince Chang has grown suspicious, and decides to find out the truth about his father’s mysterious recovery from smallpox.

    If that sounds more like a Game of Thrones plot than a zombie show, well, you’re right. Kingdom is really, at its core, a political thriller set in medieval times. The zombie stuff, well, that’s just part of the politics — until, you know, it isn’t.

    Photo: Juhan Noh/Netflix

    The brilliance of Kingdom is that it doesn’t rely on twists and aggressive plot machinations to drive the show forward. The core conflict is laid out in 15 minutes flat: The king is a zombie, the queen is pregnant with his baby, and the queen’s family has seized power that would be threatened if the crown prince were anointed as the new king.

    It doesn’t take much to realize who’s behind the zombification of the region’s ruler — but knowing the truth isn’t the same as proving it. Kingdom follows Prince Chang as he tries to collect evidence that he’s the rightful heir while avoiding the Cho clan’s guards, who are actively pursuing him. That alone would make for an exciting show. And then, of course, there are the zombies. As Prince Chang leaves the palace to find the doctor who treated his father, he discovers something even more terrifying: The king bit one of the doctor’s young assistants. We all know how that goes.

    With a tight two-season story written and directed by Kim Eun-hee, Kingdom plays out its political games in conjunction with a growing zombie threat. It’s gripping, smart, and subtle, pacing its story in snippets of dialogue for viewers to stitch together. It’s also full of incredible action, painful suspense (characters in the daytime walking over dormant nocturnal zombies under floorboards, etc.), and truly terrifying horror: Victim by victim falls to brutal isolated zombie attacks, until a proper horde grows big enough to assault the entire royal city. Kingdom is truly an equal mashup of two different genres, and the fact that it’s done so well feels like a miracle. Just be prepared for things to get gnarly — two guards are beheaded in the opening sequence for being traitors, and if that’s the sort of violence that’s unleashed in a human-to-human conflict, just wait until the undead come into the picture.

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    Jesse Raub

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