Monday, July 14, 2014

Stuff Turning 20 This Year You Should Either Revisit or Check Out for the First Time: Part 1


While the year is half over, that doesn't mean we can't celebrate what it means. For those of us fortunate enough to have come of age in the 90s, it means a lot of great things are encroaching upon their 20th anniversaries this year.

Jeez, that's kind of depressing, isn't it?

So considering this, I've found myself, as of late, browsing lists of things that came out in 1994 on Wikipedia and such, trying to decide what things I really wanted to go back and revisit, or perhaps things I'd missed that I felt I should catch up on. The list I came up with was a delightfully random amalgam of works from several mediums that run the gamut from poignant works of art to silly, self-indulgent bullshit.


Let me be clear, here: this is by no means a list of the best things from 1994. I think that's most likely been done plenty of times inside and outside of 1994 itself. This is, rather, just a list of things I think you should really check out, because they're great, fun, or otherwise noteworthy. They might not all be food for the affluent--on the contrary, some are simply worth poking fun at with a group of well-lubricated friends, but regardless, I'd give them a go.


The Crow

The Crow was one of those seminal fixtures of mid-90s culture. It represented everything grungie, rebellious young kids were about at a very particular, needlessly-miserable time in our lives. It was a superhero movie made for the children of the Nirvana revolution. Based on the graphic novel that acts almost as a highly-embellished autobiography of the troubled life of James O'Barr, it stands as one of the greatest, most committed comic book adaptations in all the industry. The film launched the careers of director Alex Proyas, who would go on to helm the fervor-inspiring cult-classic, Dark City, and DP Dariusz Wolski, who would lend his cinematic eye to films such as Sweeney Todd, Prometheus, and the entire Pirates of the Caribbean saga. But sadly, as the film set some out on their careers, it also ended one. Much like the eerie circumstances of The Dark Knight, a lot of the initial attraction to The Crow came from the untimely death of its lead, Brandon Lee, killed on set by a malfunctioning prop gun. Rather than inspire controversy, the death of Lee was the ultimate boon for the film, luring people in with curiosity for the "Lee family curse", young girls morbidly swooning over the idea of such a beautiful visage lost so tragically, and the general idea that his death was oddly, poetically appropriate for the content of the film. Regardless the motivation, The Crow has survived its place in time and is still a great film that stands up incredibly well. 

Why it was good back then: It has a dirty, gritty, almost oppressively dark atmosphere that manages to stealthily avoid slipping into the undertow of self-parody like films such as Sin City or a pandering sense childhood-wish-fulfillment fantasy and blind jingoism such as The Matrix. 

Why it's worth visiting now: Everything, from the writing, the special effects, the aesthetic, even (amazingly) the soundtrack, hold up. This film has barely aged and actually looks superior to a lot of the genre pap we're drowning in today. 

Sonic the Hedgehog 3

After a monumental rise to power and prominence in the mid-late 80s, video games took center stage as the premiere form of entertainment for kids coming of age in the 90s. Just as the decade began, however, war broke out. After years of reigning supreme over the industry, Nintendo finally clashed against another company too titanic to be budged. That company was Sega. The Genesis vs. Super NES era was a wellspring for some of the most hotly contested arguments ever seen on an elementary school playground. Nintendo was viewed as more established and astute, while Sega found its footing in with a more punkish, against-the-grain fanbase, often boasting bloodier, edgier content. At the helm of these two behemoth companies were, as it had to be back then, mascots, and few mascots have ever been more ubiquitous than Sonic. After two immensely successful outings on Sega's 16-bit hardware, the development team behind the Sonic franchise pulled out all the stops for the 3rd game, pushing the Genesis to its limit and creating what is one of the fastest and most intense platformers of all time. 

Why it was good back then: It was Sonic at its apex. It represented everything the adolescent mind of a kid in the 90s wanted: speed, attitude, and an overall sense of youth-in-revolt against all things lame and established. 

Why it's worth visiting now: There's no denying that Sega's 16-bit hardware was inferior to Nintendo's in a lot of ways. That said, Sonic 3 really does crank just about everything out of that system, and it's aged a lot better than most of the games it shared its launch window with. Besides that, it's Sonic. Chances are, you've already played it. If you haven't played this one specifically, you've most likely not escaped adolescence without at least playing one or the other, and this is just about the best one. 

Mobile Fighter G Gundam

In the mid-late 90s, anime was really starting to take hold and carve out a dedicated niche of fans in the U.S. Then, in 2000, Cartoon Network aired a little show on it's Toonami programming block called Gundam Wing, and things would never be the same again. Wing was a phenomenon. It was like nothing the ignorant, entry-level anime watcher had yet seen. Little did we know that there was a whole universe of Gundam mythology we'd missed out on leading up to Wing, and sadly, cutting our teeth on it meant that we'd never quite be as impressed again. And so, Cartoon Network brought other Gundam shows overseas, but none of them ever found purchase here quite like Wing did. G Gundam was one of those shows. The first of many "alternate timelines" of the Gundam franchise that broke off from the main continuity of the Universal Century (the timeline the original 1979 series and all of its sequels/spinoffs/side-stories took place in up to this point), G Gundam was as much a departure from its predecessors as anything bearing the name of something that proceeded it could possibly be. Gundam often takes place in worlds grounded in reality and tells stories about the horrors of war and the ordeals the young soldiers caught in it must endure. G Gundam tosses that out the window in lieu of manly speeches, special moves, and an unshakeable sense of hyperbole and optimism. 

Why it was good back then: It was very unexpected, especially after the extremely dark Victory Gundam, which ended only weeks before G Gundam's premiere. In that moment, G Gundam was the perfect tonal upshift after years of Tomino (the Gundam franchise's creator) bringing us down. 

Why it's worth visiting now: It's a profoundly silly show that still manages to celebrate Gundam whilst having a very distinct identity amidst the now countless entries in the franchise, and its infectious enthusiasm makes it impossible not to love. If you like anime, especially mecha, you'll love this. 

Forrest Gump

Through a combination of pre-release hype and post-release over-exposure, Forrest Gump has been all but barred from being a film anyone will be able to take seriously. It sort of (inadvertently) became the template for all the inspirational pap that suffocates a good chunk of the film industry, and for a long time, it was referenced, mocked, and parodied to the point that it was impossible to enjoy. Only now, I think, are we getting to a place where we can watch this film and think about it critically, examine its narrative, and decipher what it's trying to say. It truly is a good film, even if its sweetness and overbearing sense of spirit almost feels saccharine or needlessly suggestive of divinity at times. When purely looked at for its own merits and not its cultural impact, for good or ill, however, the film holds up and is still quite poignant and moving. 

Why it was good back then: Forrest Gump was BIG. It had a scope and sense of history few films it shared the box office with in its day could match. Even though it's a very personal story of one man and his awkward relationship with the world, it still feels like an epic adventure almost on par with Zemeckis' previous work in the time-hopping Back to the Future.

Why it's worth visiting now: In an era where everything wears this snarky, tongue-in-cheek facade of self-awareness, it's refreshing to go back and watch something that has genuine feeling and enthusiasm. Films like Forrest Gump are a dead art. Given, it's a dead art partly because of how successful Forrest Gump was, but nonetheless, the film just feels good. 

Super Metroid

Metroid was never a top-tier franchise for Nintendo. The original was one of the more impressively complex games early in the NES's lifespan, but it never garnered the critical acclaim nor mass attention that Mario or Zelda achieved. Metroid's second installment was relegated to Nintendo's pea-soup tinted handheld, the GameBoy. However, in 1994, Metroid made a return few could have foreseen. Taking Samus back to the environment of the first game on planet Zebes, we set a course through some familiar but delightfully maligned territory from the first game, and completely alien areas unlike anything the franchise had seen even in spite of its sci-fi trappings. While it only enjoyed modest success at the time of its release, Super Metroid has since become legendary and is probably the most unanimously celebrated video game of all time with almost no detractors to speak of. 

Why it was good back then: Super Metroid was one of the first games that really encapsulated the idea of an atmosphere. It felt like playing an action movie, with brilliant set pieces and a story that unfolded through in-game action rather than a traditional, text or dialogue-based narrative. The graphics and music were and still are stunning and the game represented the utmost level of refinement in every facet of its design. 

Why it's worth visiting now: Seriously, if you've gone through life this far without playing Super Metroid, you are an incomplete human being. Super Metroid is just about as close as we'll ever come to a perfect game, and it came out in the only era where a perfect game could truly exist. Behind Super Metroid lies a wake of games tailored to impress children. Ahead of it lay an awkward, 3-dimensional developmental period, an angst-and-boob-ridden era of ultra violent fantasy, and now a self-celebratory era of games that are too aware to truly believe in what they stand for. All of that might sound like gibberish, but what I'm trying to say here is that Super Metroid is a game that does not care about other games or an industry of people who make them. Super Metroid is a game that exists solely to be the best game it can possibly be. It's not trying to impress you with what it knows or remembers and it's not trying to win any awards. It would be as monumental and peerless a work of art if no one had ever played it. It is a factually great and confidently superior game regardless of your opinion of it or interaction with it. It is a game that has transcended. It is more significant than us. For you to play it is an honor, whether or not you enjoy it. And by God, you should, you fuck.

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