Editorials
[Retrospective] Sci-Fi Horror Epic ‘Super Metroid’ Turns 25
Surprising, some people gloss over the fact that the Metroid series has its roots in sci-fi horror. Yes, in spite of the series owing a lot of its influence to the Alien series, most people still see the series as more sci-fi adventure, which is fair (given that this is Nintendo, after all). Yet with Super Metroid, a landmark title that celebrates its 25th anniversary today, horror still has a very real presence with the game, despite its more action-oriented leanings.
It’s no secret that the Metroid series was heavily inspired by the Ridley Scott and James Cameron films. The lone female protagonist forced to battle against a creature that relies on its host to survive. The very Giger-esque creature designs. The cavernous surroundings reminiscent of the derelict alien ship, or the claustrophic colony decks that descend deeper into the planet. It’s all there, and continues in Super Metroid.
From the very start of the game, there’s a very real Aliens feel. The intro recaps the events of the first to Metroid games against a background of Samus looking on at her screen, as her journal entry is typed out. All the while, the fantastically-atmospheric music by Kenji Yamamoto and Minako Hamano gives the intro a very unsettling feel. All at once, the Ceres Space Colony’s distress call abruptly ends the music as the unsettling feeling gives way to tension. The colony where Samus delivered the last Metroid is under attack. That tension ratchets up quickly after Samus flies back to the Ceres Space Colony, only to find it darkened, scientist bodies littering the lab, and an eerie silence. The callback to James Cameron’s classic couldn’t be more obvious.
The callback doesn’t end there, as after discovering the leader of the Space Pirates, Ridley (which yes, is a reference Ridley Scott) is in possession of the baby Metroid. After a brief battle, there’s a self-destruct sequence initiated, forcing Samus to flee the Colony before it explodes. Tailing Ridley, Samus returns to the planet Zebes to begin her hunt to recover the baby Metroid that Ridley has taken. Upon landing on Zebes, the game again uses the inspirations from Aliens to paint the atmosphere: It’s raining, with little to no music, and it’s disturbingly quiet. Really, it’s not unlike when the dropship arrives at LV-426 in Aliens. Samus traverses the eerily-silent corridors and down elevators, the area is devoid of all enemies. Once again, as the marines make their way into the complex searching for the missing colonists, there’s an eerie silence. The complex gives way to the hive, which is where the real nightmare begins.
Once Samus arrives and acquires her trademark morph ball, a security camera(?) activates and tracks her. In the next room following that, Samus comes face to face with the Space Pirates, which have now swarmed the area. It’s not unlike the discovery of the missing colonists by the marines, the disturbing of the hive, and all hell breaking loose. This mirroring of Aliens typifies the type of sci-fi action/horror Sakamoto was going for with Super Metroid.
Later on, Samus comes across a crashed alien space craft that’s been left to rot for over what appears to be an extraordinary amount of time (a nod to the derelict craft in Alien, perhaps?). Inside, the ship is haunted by the spectres of the original crew that disappear and reappear. Eventually, you make your way further into the ship, where Samus encounters the spectral Phantoon, which at first glance might not seem to ape one of Giger’s creations. However, Alien buffs will recall the Luigi Cozzi-directed Contamination, which is a blatant Alien rip-off. Phantoon looks suspiciously similar to the alien in Contamination. Or perhaps, given Phantoon’s supernatural and multidimensional traits (not to mention his overall appearance), could it be a reference to a creature out of H.P. Lovecraft’s Cthulhu mythos?
Another boss battle, the battle with Kraid, can be seen as another reference to Aliens. During the search for and rescuing of Newt, fighting off the Xenomorphs as she makes her way through the bowels of the complex, Ripley finds herself faced with the massive Queen Xenomorph, which towers over Ripley as it awakens and raises itself up. Similar to that is Samus’ approach to Kraid, where she fends off against Kraid’s spawn before coming to Kraid itself, which towers over Samus, requiring her to scale the beast to attack it.
All the references to the Alien franchise aside, Super Metroid does have more horror aspects than just tributes. Despite what you might expect from a first-party Nintendo game, Super Metroid does feature some bloody bits. Super Metroid was released shortly after the formation of the ESRB, the regulatory body that determines the age ratings for video games. There was concern that some of the more violent aspects of the game would cause a backlash for Super Metroid, which thankfully didn’t happen.
Still, the battle with the first Chozo Statue that unexpectedly comes to life after Samus takes the Bomb item is an intense and gory one (as far as a 16-bit Super Nintendo game goes). As Samus damages the now-living statue, its chest bursts open, with “blood” dripping out of the gaping hole. Eventually, Samus shoots off the statue’s head, but instead of dropping to the ground, the statue intensifies its attacks, flailing its arms around and running across the room.
Then there’s the battle with Crocomire, where Samus forces the creature backwards until it backs onto a platform that crumbles into the Norfair lava. Despite what you’d expect, Crocomire struggles in vain to climb back onto the platform, its flesh melting from the heat. Once it finally sinks down into the lava, you’d think you’re safe. Not so, as when Samus turns back to escape the room, the spiked wall gives way to the skeletonized remains of Crocomire, in a last gasp attempt to get Samus.
Finally, in the climactic battle with (sorry, spoiler alert!) Mother Brain, Samus once again forces her way into Mother Brain’s lair to take on the head of the Space Pirates. In a repeat of the first game, Samus destroys Mother Brain’s “jar” and apparently kills Mother Brain, only for her to reveal her true form: A one-eyed bipedal monster with drooling saliva and noxious breath. According to designer Toru Osawa, he modelled Mother Brain to look like an “old lady living in my apartment complex”. Upon defeating Mother Brain (with the help of the baby Metroid), Mother Brain’s head falls to the ground, withers and crumbles to dust. From there, it’s yet another callback to Aliens, mirroring the beginning of the game, where Samus must escape Zebes before it blows up.
But with all of that, even if you choose to believe Super Metroid was more action sci-fi, and you ignore the horror aspects, as horror fans, why celebrate the game? Well, three years after Super Metroid, Konami released a little game in their Castlevania series that adopted many of the mechanics found in the Metroid series in Symphony of The Night, which is widely regarded as one of the best Castlevania games ever. Sure, the perceived horror is different, but had the Metroid series not been as successful, or had successfully demonstrated even a little horror in its gameplay, would we have gotten SOTN?
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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