9.5.24 Bloodborne and More
The Ruptured Screen Revival Begins Now
Ah, the newsletter revival. The obvious move for both optimistic and desperate writers. Which am I? Between the constant degradation of writing and writing platforms, the threat of AI slop, and the broader turn toward output that only exists to flatter algorithms and advance the idea of art being nothing but salable, corporation-owned “content,” I’m not sure there are any optimistic writers left.
This go-round has a simple premise and a lofty goal:
The premise? If it’s media engaged with via a screen, it’s fair game. Video games, movies, TV shows, the internet. Etc. So on. You get a newsletter, you read about 2-4 things that fit within those categories. They’ll only ever be as relevant as I am, which is to say don’t hold your breath for frequent hot takes on new releases.
The goal? Writing that feels alive and unique to me. If a post feels like someone else could have written it, or if it feels “optimized” for Google or some other dumbass algorithm, I dropped the ball and I’m sorry (no refunds).
Today’s newsletter covers a video game (Bloodborne), a film (2021’s Hong Kong crime/horror hybrid Limbo), and a weird, profane trend of chopping and screwing over films and TV shows to make attention-grabbing pablum for social media accounts.
Video Game
Bloodborne
It should tell you everything you need to know about my connection to the gaming zeitgeist that when Elden Ring released its Shadow of the Erdtree DLC, I decided to finally pick up and play Bloodborne.
It should tell you plenty, if not everything, about my hesitation to engage with the “Soulsborne” branch of gaming that few things irritate me in gaming like hitting a damn game over screen. Yet here I am, nine years late to the grimiest, bloodiest, most generally fucked party Old Yharnam ever threw, getting my butt soundly and repeatedly kicked by all manner of foul monster. And I’m somehow loving it?
As of this writing, I’ve sunk roughly six hours into my first Bloodborne run, all of which have been spent on the first level. I am playing as Hank Hill (he has glasses and what may or may not be the right body type, but in all other respects I straight up whiffed his depiction), a Hunter’s Axe wielder whose backstory is that he has a Violent Past (seemed apt considering Hank Hill played high school football). Hopefully all that tackling and locker room horseplay hardened poor Hank enough to withstand the hunt, which so far has not been kind.
Bloodborne has accumulated a pile of accolades so large it can be seen from space, so I’m not adding much to the world by praising the game’s (first) level design, world building, and addictive combat. What I will add is that no one prepared me for how unsettling the game can be, or how vile it it is to explore—Old Yharnam, which is all I’ve seen to date, seems like it was probably an awful place even before this blood curse or whatever descended upon it. A note for the odd Old Yharnamites you can engage with: Dying from a mysterious hell disease is no excuse for rudeness. Also, the architecture throughout the city is about as friendly as its denizens. All heavy, dreary stonework, towers and spires extending like middle fingers, and statuary that feels like a glimpse of what Catholicism would be without the notions of grace or guilt, just all suffering all the time. Awful city. Incredibly fucked vibes. Would not recommend as a vacation destination. But as a video game experience? Fantastic.
I’ll return to the game periodically as I make progress, but I have two parting observations:
First, the sound design is incredible and borderline cruel, with the screams and asides and shuffling noises generally making even a passage I’ve committed to memory feel unsafe and unpredictable.
Second, I feel like I’m at a special disadvantage with Father Gascgoine, whose encounter is where I’m currently stuck.
Sure, he’s the informal gatekeeper to the game, the force that forces you to lock in, refine your play style, and take things seriously, but I feel like he’s mocking me specifically and I don’t know what to do about it.
He has the same base weapons I do, which is weird, and it’s annoying how much better he is at using them than I am. Also, and this is the main thing, why is his name the French version of my name? That’s not okay.
How did this happen? What does it mean? How far will the game take this? I hate him in a way that is personal and enduring.
Current Take: Fantastic. Painful. Humbling. Fun. Scary. Would recommend to anyone who is also terminally out of touch. I look forward to seeing the second level, which based on my current progress I should reach in Q1 2026.
Movie
Limbo (2021, dir. Soi Cheang)
(NOTE: I’m keeping this spoiler-free to protect readers who haven’t seen it yet and to encourage those who plan to do so to feel safe reading ahead. You can watch the film on Tubi of all places—no disrespect to the service, I love its deep and unpredictable library, I just think of it as the go-to streamer for sillier fare than this.)
Even after watching Twilight of the Warriors: Walled In, a solid Hong Kong action spectacle that enjoyed a recent theater release here in the states after a huge domestic windfall, I didn’t have its director Soi Cheang’s Limbo on my personal watch list. Fortunately, a different 2024 highlight, Longlegs, brought it to my attention. Some movie-loving Twitter users who had seen both posted about it as a companion to the summer’s crime/horror creepfest from Oz Perkins, as both fit the “police procedural as descent into hell” subgenre.
And God bless them for doing so, because few works have stirred and wrecked me quite like Limbo.
Unlike Longlegs, which allows for one uncanny element before pulling us into a harrowing scenario of impossible evil, Limbo keeps its plot and its primary villain shockingly mundane. That’s not to say the fantastic isn’t present in the film, we’re just forced to reckon with the realities reflected in the plot more directly through the absence of the supernatural or preternatural.
Part of why Limbo sings is because that commitment to the real in its story contrasts beautifully with its aesthetic flourishes. The black-and-white film, the labyrinthine settings, and the way the filth the characters are frequently dropped in seems to sprawl outward into infinity all contribute to a surrealism juxtaposed with the stark depictions of everyday cruelty, both in direct violence and indirect social violence that allows for slums and robs people of both shelter and dignity.
Another reason it works is because Limbo, while grim to the extreme, has fantastic action sequences. Dizzying, elaborate, and often brutal, these moments ratchet up the tension and quicken the pulse. But seriously, while it can be exhilarating, it would be wrong to call this movie “fun,” as at its darkest, it will test your endurance even if you’re practiced at watching rougher fare. So tread lightly, sensitive viewers.
As excited as I am to be here proselytizing for the movie, I’m even more keen to explore Cheang’s filmography. He directed SPL 2, popular among action aficionados and something that’s been on my radar for too long to let myself keep ignoring it. He’s also a student of Johnnie To, one of the world’s elite directors and someone who’s made multiple films that earned spots near the top of my list of favorites. So expect to see Cheang’s name in future newsletters, and doubly expect to read my thoughts on multiple To films.
Final Thoughts: Limbo is incredible, a film that’s hard to watch in the most complimentary way. Technically spectacular, punishing, and keen-eyed, especially in its takes on social neglect and the willingness of people to hurt each other (again, both directly and indirectly).
(You can see my Letterboxd review of the film here.)
General Internet Observation
I technically have an Instagram account, but it lies dormant, not one post to be found, because I only signed up out of necessity because of an old job. They made me get Instagram and they laid me off. I won’t let it go.
When my phone is in my hand and I’m bored, there’s a real risk of opening the app and scrolling, and that means getting exposed to a lot of faceless slop accounts that exist to make money off your attention.
Should I care that digital dirtbags are out there siphoning seconds from our lives with their glossy, hollow crap? Yes, because they stain the human condition. But also no, because I’m supposed to have better things to do. Unfortunately, some of them have gone and made it personal by fucking with television and film: I keep encountering this style of out of context clip that’s been butchered to both fit a phone screen and fit the phone-first experience.
It’s not always clear what work is being stolen, but whatever gets taken is processed into slurry. The content is almost always new, or given the glossiness of something recent, and the most work we’re ever asked to do when engaging with a clip is to either look for the payoff that’s made explicit via text (something on par with “Wow! She stood up to her bully!”) or see the premise of the scene laid out as flatly and obviously as possible.
The laziness and contrived quality of this would be bad enough on its own, but the offenders take it a step further by manipulating the editing of the scene to speed things up and amplify the key-jangling quality of whatever we’re looking at. In some cases, they sneak flashes of light into the scene at regular intervals to further keep our attention.
You can glimpse the horror for yourself. I considered leaving out an example, as complaining about it and then sharing it anyway feels like saying, “Hey, check out this disease I discovered,” then sneezing in your face. But…hey, check out this disease I discovered:
I try to be patient with the modern world, I really do. You might not see much evidence of that in these newsletters, but it’s the truth—there’s a scene in The Worst Person in the World where a character laments having given in fully to the art of his youth and not engaging with what’s currently being made, and it was basically a simultaneous visit from all three Christmas ghosts in terms of straightening me out on that sort of thing.
With that said, cheapening existing works of art for easy likes and views is abhorrent in a way that makes me reconsider my opposition to the death penalty. What’s especially galling is that so many of these clips come from works that already seem deeply mediocre and easy to follow. Further infantilizing fluff with intrusive retooling is like choosing Velcro shoes over laces, then taking the extra step of stapling your Velcro straps to keep them in place.
And yet it keeps happening, which suggests it’s working. It worked on me well enough to make me aware of it, and for reasons I’ll never fully grasp, the attention economy is satisfied with negative attention. Hell, it seems to prefer it. Maybe it’s a relief our attention spans have been whittled down to a nub, as we’re less likely to catch onto the patterns suggesting we’re already too far down the path to perdition to turn back.
Ultimate Takeaway: Social media is a sewer, and this kind of aggressive retooling of real works of art (even works of art that are forgettable or downright bad) should get you struck by lightning the moment you post.