Editorials
“Born From a Wish”: Revisiting ‘Silent Hill 2’s’ Extra Chapter
A few weeks ago, I wrote a 15th anniversary retrospective piece about Silent Hill 2, Konami’s 2001 sequel that has since been hailed as one of the greatest video game sequels of all time. As I wrote, Silent Hill 2 offered me, “…a story that was so nuanced, so brilliantly thought out, that it would forever change my view of how games were approached.”
In late 2001 (for Xbox) and late 2002 (for PS2), a special “extended” edition of the game came out that featured some simple revisions and updates. However, the big draw for these editions was the extra chapter “Born From a Wish”, which followed Maria and her journey up to meeting James Sunderland. Relatively short – it could be beaten in well under an hour – the addition was a chance for players to learn more about the character who seemingly teases and tempts James through her almost doppelgänger appearance of his deceased wife, Mary.
Today, I want to revisit that extra chapter. I want to dive back into Silent Hill and focus on Maria and the journey she underwent.
The game opens with Maria sitting in a chair in front of a mirror. In a bit, we find out that she’s in one of the rooms above the “Heaven’s Night” strip club in the middle of Silent Hill. She is aware of the dangers lurking outside in the fog and she is trying to come to terms with her situation. Does she want to fight and live? Does she want to give up and die? She claims that she doesn’t have any, “…reason to go on living” and yet she’s afraid of dying, of pain. All she wants is to, “…find somebody” as she doesn’t like being alone.
Right away, the game taps into a primal instinct amongst people. No one wants to be alone in scary and tough situations. We all want someone to be by our side, to give us comfort and support. That’s why characters in Night of the Living Dead and “The Walking Dead” are so conflicted when they come upon survivors. It’s not just a situation of, “Can they be trusted?” They also, even if it’s not explicitly shown, are facing this dilemma of safety in loneliness but comfort in company. “Born From a Wish” immediately lays out Maria’s mindset and her conundrum, which are entirely human in the midst of her supernatural, almost alien surroundings.
What sets apart Maria’s journey from James’ is that James doesn’t necessarily feel alone when he goes into Silent Hill. Before he even enters the town, he’s met Angela in the cemetery, so we know that there is someone else outside of this isolation. But Maria is thrust into the middle of the fog, her opening monologue expressly stating, “When I woke up, I was all alone.” James has people in his life, even if they met fleetingly. Maria, meanwhile, has no one. Her reason to push on isn’t because of a desperate need for closure, like James, or to quell the demons inside, like Angela, it is simply because she chooses to.
Within a few minutes of gameplay, Maria meets Ernest Baldwin at the Baldwin Estate, where the majority of this chapter takes place. A man behind a door that he refuses to open, they speak briefly, with Maria commenting on the insanity of the town while Ernest offers the alternate theory that it is they who are insane. This theory is compounded when later on in the Baldwin Estate, Maria stumbles across a teddy bear that she thinks would be a great gift for Laura, the little girl in the main story. However, Maria has never interacted with Laura as it was Mary who saw her frequently. Either Maria is insane or, as many believe, she is a creation of James’ guilt and suppressed desires manifesting into reality upon his arrival into town.
Maria finds out that Ernest is the father of Amy, a 7-year-old girl who tragically died. Left in an perpetual state of mourning, Ernest refuses to be seen, asking for Maria’s help through a locked door. Only after she helps him and more confusing and cryptic clues are shared between the two does the door unlock, allowing Maria to open it and find…nothing. Aside from a small table in the center of the room, there is nothing and no one.
Saddened by the tale she helped conclude, Maria wanders the streets in a haze. She comes to the wall where James and Laura have their first real encounter and holds her revolver to her head. The sadness and despair on her face is all too apparent as her finger rests against the trigger. Slowly, she lowers the gun and suddenly tosses it over the wall. She will not take her own life. Rather, she will find James or let the town take her, whichever comes first. “Born From a Wish” ends with Maria walking into the mist, slowly fading away and blurring into the city. We then hear James and Maria’s first encounter where she identifies herself after his confusion. Unfortunately, we know the rest.
What makes “Born From a Wish” so meaningful is, as mentioned above, the difference in the impetus from James to Maria. James has a mission, a goal that he must achieve in order to find some measure of peace. Maria has none of that. Even her own stand-alone story ends with a feeling of “what’s it all for?” It is only when she joins with James that there is a connection and a need for them to be together, even if just for the comfort of being close to someone for a few minutes.
As much as Silent Hill takes away, it can also give back. I believe that the town and Mary felt both rage and sadness at James and the actions he took at Brookhaven Hospital. For all the violence thrown at James, Mary ultimately gave him someone that he wanted. Even in death, she sent her love.
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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