Reviews
[Review] ‘Control’ is a Weird and Wonderful Spectacle, Held Back by Technical Issues
Control should be a sure success. It is inarguably Remedy’s most stylish and confidently-written game for years, and arguably its best, but as with the game’s twisting narrative, it’s not quite that simple.
Developer Remedy (Max Payne, Alan Wake) combines its two signature styles, the supernatural and fancy combat, and gives us this near-majestic sprawling explorative adventure. If Max Payne teased us with its Matrix-style bullet time, then Control lays out a full-on Matrix buffet, with reality-bending fights, virus-like antagonists, and a lead reluctantly thrust into a position of power in a place they don’t fully understand.
That’s not to say Control is without an identity of its own. Remedy has built a world rich in its own personal lore, or rather it has built the Oldest House. Occupied by the Federal Bureau of Control, this building doesn’t conform to logic or architecture and has a genuinely fascinating backstory to uncover about why that is.
Your part in that is as Jesse Faden (Courtney Hope), a young woman who has somehow entered the building seeking answers about her past, but soon finds herself placed in the role of Bureau Director and having to tackle the intrusive enemy presence known as The Hiss. With the building on lockdown, and the answers she seeks somewhere deeper in its shifting walls, Jesse has no choice but to embark on a journey into the unknown.
Jesse works well as a protagonist because she’s got a purpose and a mission, but like the player, comes into the Oldest House with a blank slate of knowledge about what’s going on. Unfurling her story is just as enjoyable as that of the Oldest House, and though other uninfected humans are limited to just a handful of FBC staff with only a small amount to say, they are fleshed out admirably in that time and bolstered by the various files, emails, recordings, etc about them. Matthew Poretta (who played a previous Remedy protagonist, Alan Wake), who plays Dr. Casper Darling, shows up in video logs throughout the game and is a highlight as he goes from goofy mad scientist to something else entirely in the wake of the Hiss invasion. Caretaker Ahti is arguably the pick of the NPC bunch, speaking in strange broken English and appears to be more than he lets on.
These people season the Bureau of Control’s story, but the building itself is is the key ingredient. The Oldest House is something of a throwback in that its singular location plays out in a very Metroidvania fashion. It contains some static areas, where Jesse can cleanse a control point which acts as a fast travel point and upgrade station, and as Jesse’s abilities improve, survivors are met, and the story progresses, previously unreachable or locked areas open up. The powers behind the building have created some strange aberrations, however, and the very layout of it feels like a structural impossibility. It’s an absolute joy to explore because it blends normality and strangeness in a confident and consistent manner. The oddness always feels ‘right’ in Control‘s world. Even the existence of the puzzles, which can get pretty weird, makes sense within the structure of this world.
Hiss-infected areas are creepy, with FBC staff just dangling in the air as a collective voice recites an unnerving hymn. The lighting is phenomenal. It delivers an impressively ominous red glow to threats and otherworldly gloom to otherwise normal-looking environments. HDR hadn’t been implemented on PS4 Pro at the time of writing, but Remedy has already nailed effective lighting for atmosphere. Places can feel foreboding simply because of this.
Paranormal forces are a big part of what makes the Oldest House tick and while The Hiss is a constant threat, teleporting into an area as you enter with regularity, its presence has upset the natural order of the building, creating new threats from within. Many of these are hidden away as optional missions. You can miss them completely and still finish the game, but they provide some of the coolest moments, and the juiciest rewards. Exploration is encouraged rather subtly in Control, but I found it hard not to go off the beaten track and snoop around every nook and cranny. Not only are you likely to find out more about the recent history of the building and its prominent members of staff, but you’ll also likely find those aforementioned optional missions. Just make sure you’re well equipped and up to speed on Jesse’s abilities before engaging.
Jesse has inherited the service weapon from the now-deceased former Director, a shapeshifting gun that can be upgraded to change into a variety of weapon types as you progress through the game. So rather than carry a salvo of guns on her person, Jesse simply switches the service weapon’s form from handgun, to sniper rifle, to shotgun, and more. As you explore the Oldest House, you’ll discover mods that can be slotted into each weapon form, enhancing aspects of it such as spread, recoil, and even amplifying damage as you rack up the kills. There’s a loot shooter-style system in place where you can find mods of different rarity, and any unwanted ones can be recycled to help purchase upgrades.
Jesse soon gets to put her new toy to the test against The Hiss. This malevolent presence has infiltrated the human workforce of all those at the Bureau who were left unprotected against it, and it manifests itself in its hosts in a number of increasingly disturbing ways. The standard footsoldiers are fairly easy fodder on, but a combination of smartly aggressive tactics and sheer numbers make a lot of battles something meatier than a simple shooting gallery. The variety of enemy types adds to the tactical variety as Jesse’s own arsenal grows, and with the odd notable exception, it provides a fair challenge throughout as a result. As noted previously, the optional side missions can offer some of the toughest tests in the game, and it’s expected that you’ll perish at least a couple of times trying to figure out the right combination of your gun types and your abilities.
Jesse finds that she has some otherworldly abilities, acquired through various means whilst exploring the Oldest House. It begins with a simple telekinetic blast, where Jesse can pull up objects and even chunks of the scenery to hurl at The Hiss, and eventually graduates to the likes of full-blown levitation. These abilities, like the service weapon, are upgradable, and all feel entirely useful. As you reach later stages of the game and The Hiss throws different combinations of glowing red bastards at Jesse, the full set of powers and weaponry can be juggled on the fly. Sometimes it’s fine to sit back, and methodically pick enemies off from a distance and behind cover with a combo of hurled projectiles and long-range firepower, and others its almost essential to zip around up close, ducking and weaving like a boxer, putting up temporary rubble shields to block attacks before unleashing shotgun death. It would be a masterful combat system if not for one rather sizeable problem.
Now, this could be far less of an issue in future, as it’s a fixable one, but Control currently has a real framerate problem. It falters when too much is going on, and given how hectic battles can get, things can get frustrating and the action judders, causing death through no fault of your own. Toward the end of Control there’s a hefty set of firefights which, if failed, send you right back to the start of the sequence. An entire tactical option is made very difficult because the use of projectiles and explosive rounds causes the framerate to tank, and that means a slow and methodical tactic works best, but that eats so much more time, and if you fail before getting to the key point, you’re back to the start of it again.
In most situations, I was able to get by despite this, but every now and again the combination of framerate drop, a tough fight, and an inevitable trudge back to where I needed to be after death, made me dread combat encounters, which is unfortunate because Control‘s combat is such great fun otherwise.
Framerate also dips after unpausing the game. Not once, not twice, but every single time. Pausing at the wrong time cost me more than one fight. I really don’t mind the backtracking to set-piece fights, but having to do so because of a technical fault does this system no favors.
Yet it did not dissuade me from playing Control. Yes, I had to continue because it’s a review, but I very much wanted to continue despite this problem. Remedy has made a truly engrossing game world that begs to be investigated and the need to know more about it spurred me on whenever things got difficult. Every time I thought things had got predictable, Control threw another curveball, be it in a kooky side mission involving a fridge or a bit of Kojima-esque meta trolling, Control consistently delivers the bizarre without trying too hard to be bizarre. It’s a weird, wonderful, and generally fantastic game that’s hampered by an unfortunate technical handicap.
Control review code for PS4 provided by the publisher.
Control is out August 27 on PS4, Xbox One, and PC.
There’s a strangeness hanging over Godhead, the new feature from writer/director Mark H. Rapaport, that’s not unlike the tone of a folktale, or even a Bible story rendered darker and weirder by millennia of retellings. It’s the film’s greatest asset, but it’s far from the only one.
With a small cast, intimate setting, and black-and-white photography meant to evoke something Rod Serling might have conjured in his heyday, Godhead has all the ingredients for remarkable low-budget horror. What makes the film special, though, is not its intimacy, but its eye on grander concepts which shift the film into almost cosmic territory. It’s a small movie with big ideas and even bigger ambitions, and that makes it one of the most compelling indie breakouts from this year’s Fantasia Festival.
In a small rural parish church, a priest known only as Father (Al Warren) spends his days tending to his congregation and, more importantly, sheltering his adopted son Matthew (Luke Speakman) from the wider world. The boy, who showed up in a basket on the church doorstep not unlike Moses on the Nile, is Father’s only secret, a being entirely sheltered from the outside world and guided only by the principles of God’s teachings, which the lone adult in his life shares with him.
The boy’s presence means that Father doesn’t like it when people pry or overstay their welcome, and a pair of newly arrived twins seem primed to do both. Calling themselves simply Firstborn (Sarah Coffey) and Seconborn (Kimball Farley), they arrive with a very direct charge for the priest: They believe that one of them is the physical incarnation of the Holy Spirit, the entity that completes the Godhead (the essence of God), and that they need a “judge” to determine which one of them is actually divine. How? Well, he has to take the gun that they provide and shoot whichever one of them is the Holy Spirit, so they can attain divine form.
Father, naturally, protests this very strange request, first and foremost because by its very nature the Holy Spirit shouldn’t have a physical form, but the twins persist, and what starts as an effort to humor his strange visitors soon becomes a taut philosophical struggle between two very different visions of Faith.
Rapaport’s script begins masterfully, layering these characters together in a vision of the world that feels deliberately lonesome, then forcing them into a battle of wits with their own versions of reason. The conflict comes from a basic disruption of what “reason” means to each of these people. Firstborn is all bluster and confidence, certain that she’s the herald of a new age of divine power, while Secondborn is withdrawn, childlike, pliable. Matthew is smart but limited in his knowledge of the world, and then there’s Father, who believes he understands the world completely. It’s why he’s locked his son away in a back room, playing apocalyptic sounds through loudspeakers to make sure he stays compliant, because the world outside is frightening and uncertain.
Father does this because of faith, but what kind of faith drives a person to such a sheltered way of being? How strong is your God if you can’t open yourself to new possibilities?
These are the underpinnings of what becomes a dread-laced psychological thriller with cosmic implications. The script asks all the right questions – Why can’t the twins simply kill one another? What makes them think they have this holy connection? What drove Father to hide the child in the first place? – but the answers are not always direct. The film follows the logic not of science or narrative reason, but of faith, making its journey far more twisty and unpredictable.
The moment you think you see the reasonable outcome, the film swerves, blending elements of crime thrillers, religious horror, and existential terror into something juicy for its cast. It’s a puzzle box that just keeps opening to reveal new layers, new questions, and new threats.
The cast all savor it, particularly Warren, who feels like a William Faulkner character with his shades of light and dark and his heavy Southern accent. The damaged priest with a point to make, he’s masterful in the leading role, and the supporting cast back him up wonderfully, particularly Coffey, who makes a perfect foil.
The craft behind Godhead is potent stuff. It’s a well-written, beautifully shot, stripped down indie feature with lots of big ideas about human potential, the limits of absolution, and how faith shapes our worlds even when we’re not believers. It falls short of absolute greatness, ultimately, because the answers at the center of the puzzle box emerge neither ambiguous nor narratively satisfying.
Its third act gets murky, taking leaps that the characters can’t quite follow and landing in a muddy space that feels a little too haphazard given the care and potency of what came before. But even in its murkiness, it still finds ways to be compelling, making Godhead an indie horror showcase well worth seeking out as soon as you can.
Godhead made its world premiere at the 2026 Fantasia International Film Festival. Release info TBD.
You must be logged in to post a comment.