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[Editorial] ‘Resident Evil 2’ Remake, the Importance of Change, and Fear of the Unknown

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Whether it’s the 2002 Resident Evil remake altering level design and mechanics of the original, Resident Evil 4’s flirting with action rather than remaining purely survival horror, or Resident Evil 7 using the first person perspective as opposed to third person, change is persistent throughout the series’ history. That brings us to the Resident Evil 2 remake, a game that has been criticized by some fans for being too much of a departure, ironic as change instills an element of the unknown which is crucial to any major phobia. That willingness to opt for the unfamiliar is exactly why Resident Evil has remained atop the survival horror pecking order for all these years.

The desire for a Resident Evil 2 remake has existed since the remake of the original Resident Evil made its debut back in 2002. The aptly dubbed ‘REmake’ is a fan favorite, and often a contender in ‘greatest survival horror game ever made’ discussions, though a lot of fans forget why. Stepping into the halls of REmake’s Spencer Mansion is beautifully disorientating for players that are used to its counterpart in the original. A door that used to be opened with a lockpick now requires a key that’s tucked away in an underground passage below a cemetery. Zombies will reanimate as sprinting super-zombies called ‘crimson heads’ if you don’t properly dispose of their bodies by either burning or decapitating them. Perhaps the best change of all is the once unremarkable quest for the square-crank item is bookended with a visit to the infamous Lisa Trevor cabin. Not every puzzle, boss encounter, or sequence of events from the original is changed though, and that’s exactly why it’s such a strong horror game.

REmake is an exercise in misdirection, deliberately toying with the expectations of players that are familiar with the original by intertwining old elements with the new. Just when you think ‘this is a totally different game,’ it hits you with a familiar moment, refining uncertainty into that oh so necessary fear of the unknown that is essential in horror. If it was just a one to one recreation of the original game with better visuals, you would know exactly what to expect, and nothing kills horror more so than knowing what comes next. REmake isn’t just better than Resident Evil due to a visual facelift, it’s also better because Capcom was willing to alter what was there for the sake of making something scarier.

The buildup to Resident Evil 4’s release was filled with nervous energy because it looked like a betrayal of everything the Resident Evil name stood for. There were no zombies, no fixed camera angles, no Umbrella Corporation, and no T/G/X/Y/Z-Virus to be found; we had never seen Resident Evil like this before. Instead was a game that had an over-the-shoulder camera, a slew of weapons we could purchase from a comical merchant, and a hero that could literally suplex his foes. It looked like Resident Evil was having a midlife crisis, trying its best to appease a younger generation keen on action games. But the truth is that, if Resident Evil wanted to defend its title as the king of survival horror, it had to do away with those things we’d come to associate with it in favor of something new.

While it’s true Resident Evil 4 leaned heavily on the action segments, it didn’t forget the intent of its namesake was to make the audience feel fear. The opening village level was akin to that nervous claustrophobic feeling that arises when you’re in a crowd, only this time the crowd is wielding chainsaws and they want to lop off your head. It’s uncomfortable seeing a group of clearly sentient villagers actively work together in an attempt to kill you. Barricade yourself inside a house and they’ll set up ladders and come in through the second floor. Climb to the top of a tower to gain the high ground and they’ll start lobbing Molotov cocktails at you from below. Stay out in the open too long and one of them will grab you from behind and hold you just long enough for one of his buddies can impale you on a pitchfork. The villagers are a relentless swarm that’ll stop at nothing to overwhelm you, and they were all the scarier because they were so far removed from previous storylines or series lore.

This is why the notion that Resident Evil 4 isn’t a horror game has always been disingenuous; it’s just not going for the same kinds of scares the previous games were. Classic Resident Evil was like entering a dark basement, whereas Resident Evil 4 is like sprinting away from an angry dog. The frantic tone and steady pacing keep you on knife’s edge for the entire runtime. That tension instilled much more dread in me than the likes of Resident Evil Code: Veronica or Resident Evil Zero ever did. By the time those titles came out, the classic Resident Evil gameplay formula was losing its magic and became formulaic. There’s only so many times you can use the shield key to open the door and fight yet another giant spider before it stops being scary and starts being routine, and Resident Evil 4 was precisely the sort of shake up the series needed at that juncture.

Just as Resident Evil 4 put an end to the era that preceded it in favor of something new, Resident Evil 7 was poised at doing the same. The series slipped back into that territory where a proven gameplay formula had become predictable, especially with Resident Evil 6 dialing up the action set pieces and leaving horror by the wayside. The king of survival horror barely qualified as such anymore, but thankfully Resident Evil 7 reminded us exactly who sits at the head of the genre’s table.

The move to a first-person camera was the most contentious aspect of Resident Evil 7 upon its reveal. The decision for the change in perspective was probably made due to the success of the indie darling Amnesia: The Dark Descent and also to create a more accessible control scheme. Regardless of the why, it worked out because the game was able to present its horror in an intimate way. There wasn’t an on-screen character that acted as a buffer between the enemy and the player; this time everything was right up in your face. Whether it was Jack Baker grabbing you by the face from behind and twirl you around to face him, squeezing through a tight spot as bugs rained down on you, or peeking behind a corner only to see Marguerite Baker leering back at you, Resident Evil was claustrophobic in a way that it had never been before.

Obviously, first-person horror is not something Resident Evil 7 pioneered but it did do it better than most of its contemporaries. Encounters with Jack Baker are almost exclusively a dangerous game of cat and mouse, where you peek through floorboards praying he doesn’t notice you. Meanwhile, Lucas Baker’s labyrinthine of traps will make you duck under wires and solve escape room puzzles. Even when the game falters during the combat-heavy sections with the Molded enemies, the developers really experimented with this perspective. Capcom could’ve just picked any one of these scenarios and built a game solely around them like most of its ilk, but they never stopped shaking things up.

So when fans criticize the Resident Evil 2 remake for being a departure from the original, I’m quite puzzled as to why that’s considered a bad thing. The most universally beloved entries in the series are the ones where Capcom cast off expectations and opted for something new. REmake altered level design, added new storylines, and tweaked the gameplay resulting in a game that far outshined the original. Resident Evil 4 did away with virtually every trope associated with the series up till that point and it went on to be one of the most well-received games of all time. Resident Evil 7 brought the series back to its roots while simultaneously perfecting the first person horror formula on their first outing with it. Each of these games is distinct from one another in many ways, but their binding constant is that they all tried something new. This new version of Resident Evil 2 might be following in their footsteps, in time we’ll know for sure whether that’s the case.

Resident Evil 2 is a classic, so it’s understandable why some fans are quick to shun anything different about the remake. Thing is, though, that Resident Evil is always at its best when it shakes up an established formula because with change comes the unknown: a baseline for any major phobia. Horror is a lot like life in that there is no growth without change, no reward without risk. That willingness to risk it all for the sake of a good scare is exactly why Resident Evil has remained the at the top of its class for all these years.

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Editorials

André Øvredal’s ‘Troll Hunter’ Remains One of the Best Found Footage Movies

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André Øvredal's Troll Hunter

In this day and age, the wordtrollis often used to describe various online nuisances. Yet as abundant and irksome as the modern troll can be, they aren’t usually as fearsome as their mythological counterparts. I’m not talking about the small and gentler versions that have become more common to see in media. No, there are much bigger and scarier trolls out there—and André Øvredal’s movie Troll Hunter is one of the best places to find them.

It doesn’t take long for Troll Hunter (or Trolljegeren) to dump the Blair Witch Project-esque setup and aim for something a lot fresher. The trajectory of the story is augmented by Otto Jespersen’s character Hans, the titular Troll Hunter. The second he comes barreling out of the deep, dark woods and shoutstrollat the camera, this movie takes a turn into what feels like uncharted territory. Not only subject-wise, but also conceptually.

For fantastical and made-up subject matter in cinema, found footage is a fast way to add a guise of believability. After all, what we accept to be the most crucial aspect of documentaries—the truth—rubs off on pseudo-documentaries, despite our understanding of the pretense involved. That is what Øvredal delivered with Troll Hunter: a movie so convincing that some viewers wondered if trolls really do exist. So, had this been straightforwardly made, it likely wouldn’t have been as effective. Conventional narratives would be more inclined to treat something like trolls as flat out unreal, and never try to convince the audience to think otherwise.

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Hans petrifies the three-headed Tusseladd troll.

The viewers, like the characters trailing Hans, are quickly thrown into the deeper end of that extraordinary story. They have to process all this new information while staying on the go. So, although there is no significant amount of meandering, narratively or physically, there is still a good amount of atmosphere, not to mention tension building. It’s never anything frightful, but then again, Troll Hunter isn’t your standard offering of horror; it’s more on the low end of the dark fantasy spectrum. We aren’t ever spirited away to a faraway world—we stay in rather familiar surroundings, as well as dip into those less so. The outcome is a movie where you’re constantly more in awe than in terror.

As fantasy fiction might do, Troll Hunter prefers not to deal with incredulity. There is no time to waste on doubt, as interviewer Thomas (Glenn Erland Tosterud), soundperson Johanna (Johanna Mørck), and cameraman Kalle (Tomas Alf Larsen) all follow Hans around, recording whatever this character is willing to reveal about his bizarre job. Of course, the Troll Hunter himself is not an open book; in that respect, the diegetic documentary fails to fully capture and unpack the more interesting of its two subjects. Yes, all those giant, monstrous trolls are indeed incredible, but understandably, your mind wanders to their pursuer. What kind of person signs up for this gig and then chooses to stick with it for so long?

Reviews have called out Troll Hunter for its lack of character development. In regard to Thomas and his fellow documentarians, that criticism is valid, but bear in mind, they aren’t the focus of the story, either. Meanwhile, Hans is a well-crafted character. At least better than first realized. Before he was introduced, Hans had already grown tired of the troll grind. Fed up with that low compensation for his services, resentful of the bureaucracy, and wanting to expose his employer on a large scale, Hans’ discontent is glaring.

Then there are those finer details about the Troll Hunter, such as that indifference to both the natural splendor of his everyday surroundings and the affections of an obviously smitten colleague, that also suggest some level of despondency. So it is fair to say this movie doesn’t feature any sizable growth for its characters; however, the namesake isn’t underwritten. No doubt, putting a real-life character like Otto Jespersen in that role is partly why Hans is so fascinating—maybe even relatable.

Troll Hunter

Otto Jespersen as Hans the Troll Hunter.

There is always a small risk whenever using the termmockumentaryto describe a found-footage movie, as the word could imply humor where there is none. In the case of Troll Hunter, the term’s usage is appropriate. Some folks have claimed the English-dubbed version has the more comedic tone, however, the Norwegian cut isn’t exactly humorless. Apart from the trolls’ absurd appearances, this is a movie where the characters nearly choke on the monsters’ farts, and Christians are like walking targets. Hans’ complete apathy towards everything is another cause of laughter. Overall, the comedy is intentionally dry and inconsistent. Unfunny, though? Absolutely not.

In a movie where endemic creatures are maltreated, as well as disavowed from living freely and peacefully, it’s hard not to notice the ecological message buried beneath the story. In addition to that is the unmistakable political satire. There is this whole business about intrusive and unsightly power lines—like trolls, they’re big blemishes on the land—that leads to what is perhaps the movie’s funniest moment. The scene in question is that one where certain electric lines, the ones secretly being used to keep the trolls at bay, go in a loop and don’t actually send power to any residents. Yet the monitors of said lines don’t find this at all weird. So it stands to reason that Øvredal was having a go at those who accept the government’s doings without question.

Looking past the fact that trolls aren’t actually real, this movie is an enlightening source of information. And not just for international audiences; Norwegians, too, get schooled about their homeland’s own mythology. It’s also evident from everything on screen that Øvredal and his crew were enthusiastic about the topic. The creature designs are the most indicative of that zeal; those imaginative yet myth-accurate manifestations are equally amusing and grotesque. One second you’re laughing at their phallic noses, the next you’re white-knuckling during a hairy sequence. Most surprisingly is how well the trolls’ visual effects hold up after fifteen years. It’s not all spotless, but on the whole, they remain impressive.

Vouching for a mockumentary about trolls isn’t easy, but those who do come around and give it a shot will more than likely be grateful for the recommendation. For Troll Hunter is a real find in that vast and varied genre we callfound footage.

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A bridge troll reaches up for food and finds Hans decked out in armor.

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