Editorials
Looking Back at ‘Manhunt’ and its Unique Take on Video Game Violence
Even before the release of Manhunt, Rockstar Games was no stranger to controversy. Grand Theft Auto III was a lightning rod for debate when it was released in 2001, being criticized for the freedom it gave the player to commit gleeful acts of violence. Everything in that game was so cartoonishly over the top in a way that made the violence fun, no matter how extreme it got. The same was true for their follow up Vice City, but with 2003’s release of Manhunt, it took a different approach to their presentation of violence.
Right off the bat, the premise of Manhunt is unpleasant. For those unfamiliar with the setup, you play as James Earl Cash, a death row prisoner who is mysteriously spared from execution by the perverted “Director.” From there, you are dropped off in an abandoned section of the city, surrounded by bloodthirsty gangs and commanded to kill them as part of The Director’s large scale snuff film that you are forced star in.
The contrast between the two games is immediately apparent. Even though both games cast you as criminals, Cash seems far less sympathetic than either GTA protagonist. The tone of the settings is also wildly different. Manhunt‘s Carcer City is perpetually night, broken down, and covered in a layer of filth. The starkest difference comes from its presentation of violence. In GTA, things can escalate to over the top rather quickly, starting with a simple car chase and ending with you shooting Army tanks with a rocket launcher, and it all stays rather playful.
When playing Manhunt, your options are always more realistic in nature. You start out armed with simple items like plastic bags and glass shards that often kill people in messy, visceral ways, and unlike GTA, killing is basically your sole objective in each level. The presentation of the kills is also purposefully grimy, shot through a CCTV-like filter, making it look like something out of Faces of Death. It’s disquieting to watch, but the player is required to perform more violent kills, each weapon has three increasingly brutal executions, in order to get a higher score in the level.
This is where the true magic of the game lies. These kills are violent. Uncomfortably violent. As you go up in level of execution, things escalate from quickly stabbing someone in the neck with a shard of glass to slashing them in the back and brutally stabbing them straight in the face twice. And just because you’ve done the kill before doesn’t mean you get the opportunity to skip the animation. Each time you have to watch it through all its brutal glory, and the CCTV presentation of each kill makes it feel even more like you are a voyeur to something horrible.
Mechanically the game rewards you for doing these higher level kills, but as a person having to watch the actions on screen, I would rather not have to watch these brutal killings over and over again. This tension between the game telling us to do it and the feeling of discomfort created when watching what you’ve done creates something incredibly unique in the medium.
Video games require the player to push on for the action to continue, unlike a movie which will continue playing independently of the viewer. No matter how much a game is trying to scare you, it is still trying to give you a hint of hope, because without that it’s easier to give up and not continue. Manhunt seems to actively try to push back against the player with its brutality, forcing you to stare into the abyss as you trek further into the hellish world of the game.
Instead of using violence for excitement like GTA, it instead presents you with such horrific images that it makes you question why you would enjoy participating in something like this? Is it worth the extra points at the end of the level to watch this execution again? We identify the director’s wishes as disgusting and vile, yet we are actively participating in making them come true.
This type of confrontation with the notion of violence wasn’t seen often in mainstream games of its time, and it’s entirely possible that the effect was lost on many who played. In their review of the game, the Chicago Tribune called Manhunt “the Clockwork Orange of video games, holding your eyes open so as to not miss a single splatter – asking you, is this really what you enjoy watching?”
When examining a piece of media, it’s important not only to interpret the message of a work encoded by the creator, but also to look at how the work is decoded by those consuming the work. Do fans of this game remember it as the Chicago Tribune described it, a challenging work that forces us to confront what we think about violence, or did it become more like GTA, a murder simulator where the acts of violence were performed with joy?
In this day and age, the word “troll” is 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 shouts “troll” at 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.
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.
Otto Jespersen as Hans the Troll Hunter.
There is always a small risk whenever using the term “mockumentary” to 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 call “found footage“.
A bridge troll reaches up for food and finds Hans decked out in armor.
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