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[Retrospective] ‘Castlevania’ is Still Vampire Killing at 35

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It’s ironic that we’ve only now gotten around to diving deep into the original Castlevania after delving into retrospectives for its two sequels. At 35, the series has seen its up and downs. The current trend seems to be to lament over “the good old days” of when Konami first bestowed greatness on Nintendo’s Famicom Disc System back in 1986, then porting it over to the NES. And given the current prospects of many of Konami’s classic series, it’s not out of the question. But hey, instead of mourning for what could have been, reminisce instead over what we’ve gotten in the original Castlevania.

Directed by Hitoshi Akamatsu, Castlevania (known as Akumajō Dracula in Japan) was approached with film in mind. Akamatsu wanted Castlevania‘s visuals and music to feel “cinematic”, with the idea that players would feel as if they were in a classic horror film. And while it’s not exactly horror, when the question arose as to why Simon wields a whip, Akamatsu replied simply that he was a fan of Raiders of the Lost Ark. Indeed, when you boot up Castlevania for the first time, the title screen mimics the sprockets you’d find in film reels. Pressing start to begin your journey presented a scene with Simon walking to up to the gates of Dracula’s castle in an iconic scene that’s since been replicated many times in the series.

Once the game truly begins, players truly experience the series’ iconic music for the first time with “Vampire Killer”. Kinuyo Yamashita worked with Satoe Terashima on the game’s soundtrack, which still remains one of the best soundtracks to any video game ever. As all good music does, Castlevania’s soundtrack enhances the gameplay experience, touching on a variety of emotions and feelings through each stage. Of course, in keeping with Akamatsu’s cinematic feel, Yamashita was credited as under the pseudonym James Banana for the North American version, which like many of the game’s end credits, is a play on real people’s names associated with the horror genre. In this case, James Banana was a reference to James Bernard, who composed the score for 1958’s Horror of Dracula.

Graphically, while Castlevania doesn’t quite hold up as well as the later NES sequels, the quality of the art is still readily apparent even today. There’s a lot of detail that’s been put into each stage, with each having its own colour scheme (limited as it is) to give each area its own unique look and feel. Obviously, there are no turning gears or swinging pendulums for you to jump on as in Castlevania III. But again, the journey through Dracula’s massive castle, through the claustrophobic caverns underneath, up into the clock tower and up castle tower steps is just as exhilarating, thanks again in no small part to Yamashita’s soundtrack.

One of the common themes at the time for many video games was the concept of “NES hard” difficulty. While Castlevania is no easy playthrough, it’s nowhere near the frustration of what something like Ninja Gaiden would produce. Part of the perceived difficulty is Castlevania’s control scheme, which admittedly feels stiff. Of course, you could counter that with players who have no problem with Mario’s slippery control in the original Super Mario Bros., which is perceived as being “easy”. Simon is admittedly slow and deliberate in his movement, with the inability to control your distance or direction once you commit to a jump. There’s also a “wind-up” for when Simon attacks, either in the air or on the ground. For novices, this can admittedly be a frustration. However, looking closer, Akamatsu and company have deliberately built the game around this limitation for players to learn the mechanics of the game.

Take the candles, for instance. Yes, they hold the whip upgrades and hearts for your subweapons, but their placement is the key. Castlevania forces you into a rhythm of sorts when it comes to jumping and attacking. It’s all a matter of timing. You’ll have to learn how and when to jump, whip a candle, grab the item, and continue onward. This is also adapted into enemy spawns in the later stages, where the platforms they reside on leave little room for you to land. You’ll have to again jump, whip, land, and in some cases whip again to defeat your enemies. Castlevania is not a game where you stroll through the levels. You’ll have to actively be thinking, and memorize when and where to jump. Eventually, it all becomes second nature.

Another component to the controls (and gameplay) is the use of subweapons. Much like with the whip, you’ll have to learn which subweapon is best for the situation, and hold onto it (don’t accidentally pick up another one!) while maintaining your heart supply. The other strategy is to kill enough enemies with your subweapons to pick up the multipliers that will drop from candles, or find the multipliers that are sometimes hidden in the levels. Each subweapon has their own uses. The Dagger (which Akamatsu intended players to use first in order to get around the concept of the subweapon) flies fast and straight across the screen hitting once, while the Boomerang (or Cross, as it’s shaped) can be thrown and can hit multiple enemies with a single throw, even hitting on return trips back to Simon. The Axe is primarily used for hitting enemies above Simon, given its arcing flight path. The Stopwatch freezes time, giving you opportunity to move around enemies. Lastly there’s the Holy Water, which can be tossed in front of you, erupting in a small flame. While it might not seem like much, grabbing the multiplier and learning how to stunlock enemies with the Holy Water can allow you to “cheese” your way to victory with some bosses, including Dracula himself!

However, to downplay the difficulty in Castlevania would be foolish. It’s not an easy game. After the first few stages, the difficulty spikes upward, with enemies being more resilient and dealing more damage. In fact, in the final stages, you can only take four hits from enemies at most before dying. Returning to the idea of actively planning your moves, you’ll have to recognize and learn the enemy patterns, especially with the more annoying foes such as the Fleamen or Medusa Heads. Boss fights likewise scale up in difficulty, culminating in Death and his continual spawning of scythes that randomly fly at every angle, requiring you to have stocked up on hearts and the appropriate subweapon. In fact, Death presents more of a challenge than Dracula if you play your cards right.

In fact, when you think about it, the final battle against Dracula foretells the events of Simon’s Quest! After defeating Dracula’s first form, his head flies off and his body splits apart to reveal his demonic form. When asked by a former coworker as to the reasoning behind Dracula’s head flying off, Akamatsu replied that it was foreshadowing Dracula’s resurrection. As for Dracula’s demonic form, Akamatsu stated that it was not Dracula himself, but an “incarnation of the curse of man”. Hence, why after defeating Dracula, Simon is cursed. And we know what happens after that.

It’s certainly a testament to Castlevania and Konami that we’re still talking about the first game to this day, and how it’s still very much revered by critics and fans alike. Without Castlevania, there’s little doubt that Konami would have been as big of an influence in the following decades. Nor would we have had things like the recent Castlevania Netflix series, or the eventual concept of “Metroidvanias”. While Konami seems content with releasing collections of past glories for the present time, one hopes that one day the series will be back in a meaningful way. Action-platformer games like Castlevania are still very much popular today, as is the idea creating a “retro throwback” that expands upon the classic mould while adding modern touches. Whatever the case, Castlevania remains the epitome of the genre, and one of the greatest games ever.

Big thanks to Shmuplations for the info!

Writer, Artist, Gamer from the Great White North. I try not to be boring.

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Editorials

Before ‘The Blair Witch Project’, ‘Alien Autopsy’ Showed How Real Found Footage Could Feel

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Alien Autopsy: Fact or Fiction

The line separating artist from con man is a lot thinner than you might initially believe. While I think we can all agree that lying for the sake of profit is actively malicious behavior, isn’t it also true that the faux documentary aspect of The Blair Witch Project is half the reason why that film became such a cultural phenomenon? After all, if there’s one thing filmmakers have in common with stage magicians, it’s that misleading and misdirecting audiences is simply part of the job.

That’s why I’ve developed a habit of mostly ignoring the moral quandaries behind many of film and television’s biggest “hoaxes” in favor of appreciating the narrative elements that drive productions like Mermaids: The Body Found and even Animal Planet’s highly underrated The Cannibal in the Jungle. However, if there’s a definitive case of a highly publicized broadcast fooling the world into taking it seriously, it has to be Fox’s infamous 1995 TV special Alien Autopsy: Fact or Fiction.

It’s been over three decades since that eerie footage first haunted television screens right at the peak of the ’90s ufology craze, and in that time, the video has taken on a life of its own. From countless parodies and references in everything from The X-Files to Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater (as well as John Dower’s recently released tell-all documentary The Alien Autopsy Scandal, which I’d highly recommend to genre fans everywhere), there’s no denying the legacy of the Alien Autopsy video. However, I rarely see the tape discussed as what it truly is: a highly convincing found footage film directed by a passionate stage magician and brought to life by masterful practical effects work.

That’s why I’d like to invite readers to join me on a deep dive into one of the most infamous broadcasts of all time in an attempt to reevaluate the footage as a fascinating narrative experience rather than a complete hoax.

The TV Special That Convinced Millions It Was Real

Ray Santilli next to Extraterrestrial replica in ‘The Alien Autopsy Scandal’

For starters, regardless of whether or not you believe that there was in fact an extraterrestrial crash in Roswell during the summer of 1947 and that some form of autopsy was performed on the victims, the producers behind the black & white recordings, Ray Santilli and Gary Shoefield, insist that their video was a “restoration.” Though I’d argue that the proper word is “remake”of genuine footage that was too damaged to air on television. That’s why the duo went on to recruit filmmaker and eccentric magician Spyros Melaris and sculptor/monster designer John Humphreys to bring their version of the autopsy to life and sell it to the highest bidder.

This is where the story of the Alien Autopsy as a narrative experience really begins. Melaris claims that his approach to the faux recording consisted of striving for extreme period accuracy in both shooting equipment and setting while also planting subtle details that would initially seem like mistakes but could later be revealed to actually fit the time period. That being said, the filmmaker was under the impression that the short would be released for free as a PR stunt, with the team later producing and selling an informative documentary chronicling exactly how the footage was faked and commenting on how easy it is to manipulate public perception with a good old-fashioned magic trick.

This obviously isn’t how things went down, and that’s likely the reason why Melaris has since distanced himself from everyone else involved with the project. Yet, no amount of behind-the-scenes drama can undermine the genuine effort that went into making the short as impressive as it is. From the sourcing of real animal organs from a local butcher to make the organic part of the creature more lifelike to the highly detailed sculpt that made use of a hollowed-out underlayer that could be filled with fake blood and assorted viscera, there’s a reason why so many Hollywood specialists are still impressed with the artistry on display here.

Of course, the believability is only half the story, as I think that the best part of the autopsy is how Melaris builds on the existing tension by obscuring certain details and often embracing the chaos of what a real examination of extraterrestrial life could feel like. The camera often goes out of focus at just the right time to make certain effects hit even harder, and we can only speculate as to what the hazmat-suited doctors are gesticulating about during the operation. There’s a real air of mystery to the whole thing that almost makes it feel like a cosmically terrifying, cursed film containing forbidden knowledge that civilians were never meant to see.

So when Fox’s Fact or Fiction brings in the specialists to comment on the film and its otherworldly subject, it’s no surprise that we end up with one of the most memorable mockumentaries of all time – albeit one where the participants are unaware that the footage they’re commenting on is basically a large-scale practical joke. A joke that the network was obviously in on, as many participants claim that the TV special cut out significant portions where guests point out that they believe the footage to be an elaborate hoax.

The Lasting Impact of the Hoax Turned Cultural Event

Regardless, I remember going to bed terrified after watching reruns of the special and thinking about the respected pathologist who claimed that the body was almost certainly inhuman, with even effects maestro Stan Winston commenting on how difficult it would be to recreate some of these visuals through practical puppetry. That’s not even mentioning Jonathan Frakes’ dramatic hyping up of the disturbing imagery as if he was talking about the tape from The Ring, with his spooky demeanor here likely being responsible for his later role as the host of Beyond Belief: Fact or Fiction a few years later.

Personally, I’d argue that the Alien Autopsy phenomenon had just as much of an impact on me as a horror fan as The Blair Witch Project, a film that was almost certainly influenced by the success of this immensely popular hoax (to the point where they even produced their own TV special commenting on Heather’s found footage). Even if Fox didn’t intend to produce a narrative feature about the aftermath of the Roswell crash, the end product still holds up remarkably well as a highly entertaining mockumentary exploring the idea that we may not be alone in the universe.

While neither Santilli nor the rest of the production team has ever commented on this, I also think it’s very likely that the idea of a faux Alien Autopsy could have been influenced by Dean Alioto’s The McPherson Tape/UFO Abduction. I’ve already written about how this granddaddy of found footage was co-opted by rogue ufologists who began selling bootlegs of the tape at conventions as if it were real evidence of a close encounter, so it’s not that much of a stretch to imagine that Santilli and company could have heard about this phenomenon and been inspired to come up with their own highly profitable hoax.

At the end of the day, it’s unlikely that the Alien Autopsy film is recreating any real footage from Roswell, but I can still appreciate the short and the accompanying television event as a standalone horror story that still influences the way we see found footage to this very day.

After all, the possibility that something could be real is often much scarier than finding out for sure – and that’s why I think Alien Autopsy: Fact or Fiction is still worth revisiting three decades down the line.

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