I’ve been slowly getting back into video games over the past year. While an alarming amount of that time has been devoted to Animal Crossing New Horizons (be quiet), I’ve also been looking for games that might appeal to me in the way a movie does. The cinematic qualities found in video games is quite impressive these days, although a video game will never be a completely agreeable substitute for a movie, or vice-versa.

I guess I’m interested in video games that can potentially evoke some of the same feelings I get with movies, but without losing the distinctive essentials that are unique to the medium. I don’t really want to play a movie, so visual grandeur is only but so important to me. Movies and video games should still try to focus on what makes each of them unique, but I’ve enjoyed the opportunity to experience a handful of games that connect me to many of the same things I like about movies. To a degree I never thought possible.

I’ve become impressed with horror games in particular. Indie titles like Little Nightmares has given me new aesthetics to enjoy in the genre, with stories that are unique, steeped in their own lore, and capable of borrowing from other mediums without sacrificing the fundamentals of a good video game. Likewise, games like Nostalgic Train don’t leave me feeling as though video games have suddenly passed movies by on ambience or storytelling.

There are other game genres adding to my perception of quality storytelling combined with singular style, but horror has been the most interesting to me so far. I don’t want these games to become movies, but something like Oxenfree seem to borrow elements from cinema in a productive fashion. Atmosphere and dialog are crucial, and it will be fun to see the continued evolution of the relationship between games and film. Particularly when it comes to horror.

In the meantime, most movies based on actual video games continue to be mostly terrible.

Calm down, I liked Sonic. There are almost always exceptions.

And before we get to the actual reviews, do me a favor, and read this piece of flash fiction horror at Black Poppy Review by Drunk Monkeys Film Editor Sean Woodard. Sean edits this column, adding photos and making the whole thing look darned professional. He’s also one of the best film writers I know, and his creative works outside of that aren’t too far behind.

The Batman (2022): A+

My mood going into The Batman was a little mixed. The cast and director certainly interested me, but as time went on, I found my enthusiasm waning in the face of what increasingly seemed like another grimy, stern Batman movie. Maybe that would be fine, but I knew I was ultimately in the mood for something at least a little different from the last couple of reboots.

The Batman surprised me completely. Performances by Pattinson as Batman, Zoë Kravitz as a particularly impressive Catwoman, and Paul Dano as The Riddler were exceptional, as I expected. What truly took me aback with The Batman was in how it managed to insert genuine, clever humor, as well as a deeply committed approach to bringing Batman himself to at least some sort of light, into a splashy comic book story with breathtaking cinematography by Greig Fraser, against a neo noir soul of sights and sounds expressed by an enormously talented team. Also worth noting are the powerhouse, strange villain performances from the likes of John Turturro and Colin Farrell as The Penguin (another highlight in a consistently enjoyable career).

And don’t forget Jeffrey Wright as the best Jim Gordon we’ve seen in the movies to date. Possibly in all media adaptations of the character. Wright’s performance on its own is a striking element of humanity and steeled determination to actually fight corruption. Combine that with the evolving relationship he shares with Batman, and we have another element to this film that distinguishes it so nicely from previous Batman movies.

If there was any way to sum this up quickly, and without getting into spoilers (which I at least try to respect) it would be this: I never expected to see a Batman movie with so much optimism.

Whiskey Mountain (1977): B-

William Grefé, one of the best exploitation filmmakers to ever come out of Florida, is in of himself not for everyone. Films like Whiskey Mountain piled on the violence, the general madness of circumstances that were often too bizarre to be believed, sex, murder, and were powered by the relentless enthusiasm of the man who made them. Whiskey Mountain is a rape-revenge story, involving two men (one of the is Christopher George, which will be exciting to at least 8 of you) who must rescue their wives from crazed hillbillies. You already know exactly what you’re going to be getting with something along these lines.

Whiskey Mountain is fairly brutal, although probably lower on the spectrum of ugliness for this kind of story. There is significant creativity and personality to be found here, which I think can count for a good deal. The film is pretty well-made for its budget and other limitations, with Grefé proving here that he could make a lot of movie with a minimum of resources. The film is generally well-paced and exciting, with at least the benefit of believable characters in a completely ridiculous story.

Whiskey Mountain is far and away Grefé’s most enjoyable film. An example of an exploitation film whose appeal can be explained by simply saying it’s more than the sum of its parts. It’s only going to take about 15 minutes of this film’s running time for you to decide if you agree with that or not.

Thunderheart (1992): A-

Michael Apted is another director whose versatility doesn’t get as much credit as his contribution to the documentary. The Up series is deservedly his greatest achievement, but I would also point out that he directed a number of other exceptional narrative films and other docs. The underrated Thunderheart, largely forgotten 30 years after its release, would be one example.

The story of a half-Sioux FBI agent (Val Kilmer, hitting his stride at point) investigating a murder and ongoing civil war between Native American factions on a reservation in South Dakota might make you cringe. While that’s fair, and while Thunderheart is not perfect in this regard by any means, it manages to mostly avoid mysticism, portraying Native Americans as props for grief, or fully embracing a white savior trope. Indeed, as we watch Kilmer’s FBI rediscover his true self, which never descends into something crass or cheap, Thunderheart also treats its story and characters with profound respect. We see daily lives unfold. We meet characters who are more than just beats for the story of our protagonist’s journey.

The best performance in the movie doesn’t even belong to Kilmer, as good as he is. That distinction belongs to Graham Greene as Walter Crow Horse, whose character is just centered around the fight for justice as that of Kilmer’s. Made with the full cooperation of the Oglala Sioux people, the narrative largely stays on the utter cruelty of what the U.S. Government has done to Indigenous Americans. The film is extremely clear about where to look for the real villains in this clever noir. References to The Wounded Knee Massacre are included, and even the act of mentioning that colossal evil in our history doesn’t feel like the film is just trying to be shocking. The anger is very genuine, perhaps productively so.

Worth noting is the fact that Apted also directed Incident at Oglala, the real incident upon which this film is based, that same year.

Licorice Pizza (2021): A+

Licorice Pizza is a weird comedy. That’s really saying something when it comes to us from a guy known for weird comedy, sometimes of the very darkest variety. Paul Thomas Anderson has written and directed a film that is at times a wildly fantastical speed run through youth and the emotional chaos thrust upon someone who finds themselves in love. The movie veers from this to moments and characters that seem to be a direct commentary on the world in which these memories were created. It can be a lot to run with, especially as the movie presents a fairly controversial romance between a teenage boy (Cooper Hoffman) and an older woman (Alaina Haim) in the most straightforward terms possible.

I wouldn’t say we’re supposed to root for them, although it’s easy to get swept up in their strange relationship. I also wouldn’t say the movie’s depictions of things like racism were done with an eye towards laughing at the jokes themselves. These elements did work for me, but it’s understandable to see why they might not for others.

Licorice Pizza can seem dumb, or as a shallow series of vignettes from a freewheeling period of boundless dreams of the future. I don’t think it’s either of those things. I just believe that like most movies from this director, there’s a lot of things being thrown at you at once. The pacing of this movie is such that I will absolutely need to watch it again. The best part about that is that I may have a completely different experience, even disliking it. How can you not appreciate a movie like that?

Absence of Malice (1981): B-

I don’t want to crush Sally Field’s feelings, but I’ve never been the biggest fan of her work. However, as time went on, I realized a lot of that was because I really hated her character in Mrs. Doubtfire. That seemingly informed much of my opinion of her, although I’ve found several performances in recent years that I appreciate.

And in fairness to her character in Mrs. Doubtfire, almost everyone in that film is insufferable. That wasn’t really her fault. Absence of Malice was a movie I put off watching for ages, even as the basic concept of a neo noir (I guess that’s the unintentional theme for most of this month) focused on political intrigue and directed by Sidney Pollack (who had a knack for these movies) all sounded pretty great to me. Paul Newman’s in it, along with Bob Balaban, Barry Primus, and Melinda Dillon? What’s my problem?

Absence of Malice is the perfect movie to throw on when you can’t quite settle on something.

Anyway, sorry, Sally Field. As a viciously ambitious reporter who must deal with the consequences of that, Field holds her own against Newman’s uniquely flawed protagonist, a man who is at least innocent of the crime he’s been accused of. I’m sorry Mrs. Doubtfire of all things (I like Mara Wilson and Robin Williams in it, but come on, guys, that movie is terrible) kept me from watching a perfect film for a rainy afternoon.

Gabriel Ricard writes, edits, and occasionally acts. His books Love and Quarters and Bondage Night are available through Moran Press, in addition to A Ludicrous Split (Alien Buddha Press) and Clouds of Hungry Dogs (Kleft Jaw Press). He is also a writer, performer, and producer with Belligerent Prom Queen Productions. He lives on a horrible place called Long Island.