Warped Drive: A ‘Star Trek Into Darkness’ Review

By: Jared Greenspan

For the first 90% of Star Trek Into Darkness there is nothing overtly objectionable, save perhaps for the lack of a colon in the title. You might call that damning with faint praise, but what am I supposed to say? It is big, the characters are amiable, there is a pair of standout performances, the action setpieces are intermittently thrilling, the pace is brisk and the dialogue, though unquestionably dumb, is at least capable of moving things along. It’s nothing special, but it gets the job done.

And then comes the emotional and action climax of the film, a sequence so bizarre and wrong headed that I can’t even begin to comprehend why exactly the writers made the choices that they did. I can’t even say that I liked the movie now, because all I can think about is that ending. In order to properly dissect my reaction I will by necessity include some spoilers in this review, both in terms of plot and characters. These come in the latter half [Ed. note: advanced notice will be given]. But first, a review proper.

The villain wears a trenchcoat.

The villain wears a trench coat.

The plot: after a reckless survey mission goes awry, Kirk’s command of the Enterprise is taken away and given to his mentor Christopher Pike (Bruce Greenwood); Kirk is made his second-in-command, while Spock is reassigned to another ship. On the other side of the Earth a mysterious man who looks something like Sherlock Holmes (Benedict Cumberbatch) gives his blood to a dying girl, who’s father – as penance – blows up what is referred to as a Star Fleet archive. An emergency meeting of Star Fleet’s upper brass – led by Commander Marcus (Peter Weller, who looks like his face was replaced with a brown leather jacket) – is called, which for some reason involves both Kirk and Spock. At this meeting the mysterious man is revealed to be John Harrison, a former agent of Star Fleet who is for some reason now “waging a one man war against Star Fleet”. The statement proves more true than Marcus could have dreamed, for almost at that moment a small craft piloted by Harrison fires through the window, killing Pike and everyone else except (of course!) Kirk, Spock and RoboCop. Though Kirk is able to take the ship down Harrison transports himself to the Klingon homeworld of Kronos. Kirk asks Marcus to allow him to go after him to get his revenge for the death of his mentor. And so on and so forth, as action builds into intrigue into conspiracy and… well, and so forth.

Now. As I wrote earlier, I quite liked the first hour and three quarters of this movie. All of the performances were at the very least charming, and at the best damn good. At the lower end is Chris Pine, a fun actor who I always imagine as a kid in a toy factory rather than a captain of men, women and weird aliens; I simply can’t imagine this character as portrayed by this actor assuming as much responsibility as he does. The supporting characters are almost all marginalized, which is a real shame when it comes to Karl Urban as Dr. McCoy; he gives each moment onscreen at least a few volts of electricity. The two supporting actors who truly have a chance to shine are Zoe Saldana as Uhura and Simon Pegg as Scotty; only Pegg takes advantage of the opportunity. The playing field is not quite level however; Uhura might get a lot of screen time, but she’s given soap opera moments that are virtually unplayable.

The two actors who take the day are Zachary Quinto as Spock and Cumberbatch as John Harrison. I have no idea how Quinto, an actor who in other roles doesn’t even exist, is able to play this role so well. Cynics might say, “Vulcans have no emotion, so they found the perfect character for him.” But this is unfair to the character and unfair to the actor; Quinto hits the comic and emotional beats of Spock and is good enough that he is on the verge of getting himself type-cast. And then there’s Cumberbatch, who, let’s face facts, is the flat out best actor of the bunch in the first place. He elevates the sub-par to slightly-above par material and gives life to what lesser actors might turn into a cardboard character. So kudos to him.

J.J. Abrams once again proves that he can shoot action sequences as well as anyone. Is there anything else really worth saying about his direction in such an ephemeral movie? You want more? Fine. There are a minimum of fourteen lens flares in each scene, he keeps the pace brisk enough that in many cases he’s able to gloss over any logical gaps and, though the very final action scene is comedown (it’s a goddamn footrace/car chase in a space movie) there are moments that, though they perhaps didn’t wow me, at least made me say, “Cool”.

And here we come to my issue, and spoilers will come.

————————SPOILER ALERT LINE————————

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————————SERIOUSLY TURN BACK NOW OR FACE SPOILERS————————

Yes, look away now lest Star Trek be spoiled for you.

Zoe Saldana has the right idea.

Benedict Cumberbatch is not John Harrison. He is Khan. If you are oblivious to Star Trek then this means nothing; it is not a spoiler, and this reveal is meaningless obfuscation by the writers. If you are a Trek fan then this does mean something. Khan is the most famous villain in the Trek universe, the antagonist of a terrific episode and the eponymous villain of Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. That film is the apogee of the Trek megaverse, transcending the boundaries of the series’ alleged nerd-dom to become a classic of the science fiction genre. It likewise contains the two most iconic moments in all of Trek: Kirk screaming “KHAN!!!” and (SPOILER!!!) Spock’s death, as he sits calmly next to Kirk, twenty years of friendship ending in a beautiful sequence. I’d still argue that the reveal of Cumberbatch being Khan is not really a spoiler, because it doesn’t change anything we know about the character (except “hey, he might do something with eugenics later”) or the plot.

Quite frankly I have no qualms about them reusing the character. No text is sacrosanct, and if a movie is good then it is good. Khan is a terrific villain, Cumberbatch is more than able in his portrayal, and at the end of the day the use of Khan was not pure fan service. However, the movie’s conclusion was one of the most bizarre instances of fan service I have ever witnessed, and though it exists to engender the goodwill of fans of “Wrath of Khan” it will at the very least take those people out of STID and, at worst turn them against it. For those who don’t want to know why this is true, turn away.

The emotional and action climax of the movie takes place on a wounded Enterprise. Khan has nearly destroyed it from his shanghaied mega-ship, and there is a power issue that is going to result in the ship crashing into a nearby planet. And so Kirk, running around the ship, jumps into action. He goes into the nuclear core of the ship – knowing he will probably die – to kick a gigantic piece of the ship back into alignment with another (how? Whatever). The ship is saved, but Kirk is not. Spock rushes to where Kirk is; he is dying of radiation poisoning on the other side of a glass door, and there is no way to save him (of course there will be because this movie has no balls, but again, whatever). They have their heart to heart, they press their hands to each others on the window and Kirk dies. Spock screams out the villain’s name, with multiple exclamation marks following his utterance.

This movie could have ended in any number of ways. I won’t suggest one, because I am not a screenwriter, but I can suggest one that they shouldn’t have done: as a fan of Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, I would suggest that THEY NOT DO THE EXACT SAME ENDING (well, the “Khan” yell came earlier in the movie, but we’ll leave that alone), only with the characters switched around. Same radiation. Same conversation. The hand on the wall as the character dies. The friendship bleeding away. I watched the scene wondering if I was in a dream, that I was simply imagining that they’d CGI’ed the faces of the new cast on the original film’s cast, pausing only to switch up Kirk and Spock. I realized I wasn’t dreaming. It was like hearing that Paul McCartney was starting a band called ‘The New Beatles’, only to see that their first album was called ‘Sgt. Pepper’s’, with the same tracklist. Haven’t we already seen this exact thing? And better? With meaning? In a classic movie to which comparisons will always be unkind, let alone when its most iconic moments are in direct alignment? It’s lunacy.

Vulcans feel no emotion, except maybe deja vu.

Vulcans feel no emotion, except maybe deja vu.

Hell. I mean I don’t really care about pilfering from old movies, or winks and nods (which this film has plenty of). I do care about lazy writing, and this is an example of some of the laziest writing I have ever witnessed. Orci, Kurtzman and Lindelhof (ugh) wrote an ending that is directly cribbed from another film, a fact egregious enough as is but even more remarkable when you realize that they section of the audience they plagiarized it for will resent them for doing it. Fan service is a dangerous thing to do in a film and can ultimately damage it for the public at large. In this instance, OKL have done the impossible: they have fan-serviced the climax so that the Star Trek fans THEMSELVES won’t like it.

So no. I didn’t end up liking the movie. Then again, that’s my opinion. My girlfriend isn’t a ‘Wrath’ fan, so she said that it was mostly fun but that the end was sort of weak. So there’s her review.

Also death can be cured. But that’s just a quibble.

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Mad Men Monday Recap – The Crash

By: Daniel Reynolds

Heading into its sixth season, the Same Page welcomes you each week to the Mad Men Monday Recap. A show as deep as this one needs a little diverse commentary so jump in and enjoy the irreverent breakdown of each episode. 

Mad-men-title-card

What’s Happening on Madison Avenue?

It is worth taking a minute to discuss what happened in each episode, right? If you’re looking for some straight talk on what we just saw on Mad Men, read this section (and then read the other sections because, why not).

So not to get too off topic here, but where was I? We’re a day late with this one, but I’ve been working so hard. Oh yeah, I’ve got an idea that will blow this whole column up. Let me just race my car across the city and I’ll dance right up and tell you all about it. Hold on, I’m getting ahead of myself, I just remembered something, what’s this? Man, I am tired. Let me just try to understand…

Welcome to the latest installment of Mad Men on Drugs. For a show that is known for exuding quiet control, confidence and clarity, when Mad Men gets rocking it can really careen into some unforeseen directions. But seriously, who knew working for Chevy could be so hazardous to your health? Also, go figure, who knew Chevy execs were so insane? One of them had a gun! And these guys represent the salvation of the SCDP/CGC brand? God speed and good luck, guys.

A drug like speed (and I’m not speaking from experience here) suggests the ability to create a laser like focus on a task. The SCDP/CGC guys want it because they are preparing to buckle down for the weekend to crank out ideas. Roger wants it because, well shit, why not? And Don takes the shot because he has some serious fixating to do. Times are tough in the office, Ken Cosgrove is being run raggedly, the creative team is overworked, and Frank Gleason (the G of CGC) is dead. His friend Teddy, who also acts as the office dad (when not getting drunk, or hitting on Peggy), leaves the office in the hands of a bunch of cranked up wildmen. I wish I could have been on hand to explain to Teddy what was about to happen. Though at least we learned that Jim Cutler was just as creepy as we expected him to be.

At the forefront of the drug brigade is Stan and he is getting pretty focused. He gets to run around the office, compete in arm wrestling matches, hook up with hippies and, oh yeah, attempt to address his feelings for Peggy while grappling with his grief about his cousin’s death. It’s a nice moment, as Peggy deftly deflects Stan’s inebriated advances while doling out some choice bits of wisdom about dealing with loss. That such a touching scene can come after an incident involving a sharp projectile tossed into Stan’s arm is, quite frankly, astounding.

Also astounding? Don’s continued slide into quiet desperation. I’m not going to rehash Don’s misfortunes again, I swear. Don decides to use this chemically found focus to do what he does best: Obsess about himself and his problems. He has just been *gasp* rejected for maybe the first time. And as we bounce back and forth between his awkward young memories and his desperate attempts to regain the attention of Sylvia (under the guise of actually doing work for Chevy), all we see is the same sadness only this time cranked up to 11.

Despite all of the druggy hijinks, the exchange I keep coming back to is actually between Don and Wendy, the spaced out daughter of Gleason. She goes to listen to Don’s heart with a stethoscope but remarks that it’s broken. And Don, with clearly defined earnestness asks, “You can hear that?”. He assumes she means his heart. Sometimes, if we allow ourselves to take a long view, we can remember all that binding history. We can remember the image of a gawky Dick Whitman, living at a brothel, being deflowered by a prostitute and asking silently again and again: does someone love me?

The Symbolism Rankings

Enjoy, with minimal comment, the weekly rankings for whatever symbolism Matthew Weiner has heavily stacked into each Mad Men episode. A show set in the world of advertising is only as good as its symbolism, right?

1) Energy Serum

2) Beauty mark

3) Stamped out cigarettes

4) Soup

5) I Ching

Back in the Day

Remember the 1960s? Mad Men really values its sense of place. To that end, here’s where we make mention of whatever anachronistic or historical element popped up this week.

HEY, REMEMBER WHEN EVERYONE IN YOUR OFFICE GOT A NEEDLE IN THE ASS FROM A STRANGE DOCTOR LIKE THAT WAS A NORMAL THING TO DO?

Ahem. You have to understand, I am trying hard not to write this entire section in all-caps. I lack the ability to emphasize this strongly enough so bear with me here.

When Mad Men started it was all about drinking and smoking. The two were interconnected, they were simple to grasp, they worked. As the show has gone on, however, and broken from the orbit of its 1950s legacy, new ways to facilitate the magical world of advertising and human interaction have emerged. There were the episodes that involved smoking weed, and there was Roger’s famous LSD trip. Some bizarre Hare Krishna’s got involved and we’ll never really know what they were on (poor Paul Kinsey). Oh, the drinking never stopped either. Guys like Freddy Rumsen pissed their pants and then got sober. But still, people were drunk all the time! Now we are getting to the end of the decade. The lives of old school alcoholics and those sweet hippie summers of love are perhaps curdling into something else. When Teddy gets back to the office, after attending his best friend’s funeral, he sees only the next day’s comedown. He definitely does not see the running, the arm-wrestling, the William Tell games, or Don’s search for soup copy. Oh yeah, and he doesn’t see his pal Jim Cutler spying on Stan as he has sex with a freshly dead guy’s daughter.

I think I should have realized we were in for a new kind of trouble when Roger calmly strolls into the doctor’s makeshift office and mentions his heart condition. “Don’t worry about it”, says the doctor. I worry, doc. I worry.

This Week in Ken! (Cosgrove. Accounts.)

As the most likeable guy in the entire series, Ken Cosgrove deserves his chance to shine. Here’s where we discuss what everyone’s favourite earnest moonlighting sci-fi writer was doing or not doing on the last episode.

Ken(!) we need to talk. You see, Chevy is great for your career. We know this. We’re proud of you. But, well, we’re all a little concerned. Speaking for myself here, I don’t like what it’s doing to you. I mean, we see you three different times in this episode and each time you just not in a good way.

First (and most harrowing), you are racing around with a bunch of drunk kidnappers auto execs as you chaperone them on their reign of terror across the Great Lakes region. I know you want to forge a strong connection with these guys but Ken, these people are not your friends. I don’t care what they tell you.

Second, you have to stand (that’s right, stand! With a bum foot!) in front of the partners as they tell you you’re not doing a good enough job. Don, naturally, thinks if he can just get in a room with the Chevy people he can convince them, persuade them. Hey Don, Ken is putting his life on the line here! Your mind tricks only work on the sane, the lonely and the bored. These Chevy guys, these monsters, are none of these things. They care not for the timbre of your voice. You alone, Ken, must shoulder this burden.

Third, you tap dance. Actually, I’ve reconsidered. This is the most harrowing scene. Ken, last week I asked for you to come back but not like this. Not like this.

Know Your Role

Since so much of Mad Men is predicated on minute character interactions, here’s where we discuss the top conflicts that happen in each week’s episode and decide on a winner.

Was I the only one that was either convinced that Sally had taken some drugs too or that the Draper kids did in fact have a Grandma Ida? Given the frenetic tone of the entire episode, I didn’t even bat an eye when some strange woman showed up in the Draper’s apartment to steal their stuff. I mean, I had my concerns, but I kept expecting her to disappear in a puff of smoke, or for Sally to wake up from whatever bizarre dream she was having. I didn’t expect a room full of police and parents.

Look, I don’t blame Sally for being taken in by it. Let’s stand in her boots (the ones Megan promised) for a second: Sally has a father who even she realizes she knows nothing about. The degree to which Don is removed now from his children is extreme, even for his standards. Meanwhile, there is Betty. Full stop. Now I can’t decide if it is better to have a parent that totally misunderstands you or one that makes no real attempt (and then shows up to do a header into the carpet). Ultimately, I have to remain impressed with Sally. She coolly looks Grandma Ida in the eye, even though she knows something is wrong. She calms her forever clueless brother Bobby. Hell, she even gets some scrambled eggs out of the deal. Don may admit to leaving the door open, but neither he nor Betty will admit embarrassment like that. You can practically see the resolve being formed, another lesson learned for Sally.

Winner: Sally (though I did like how Henry handled the whole thing.)

Actual Advertising

Between the drinking, the social commentary and the drinking, sometimes the people of SCDP and Madison Avenue actually do some work on advertisements. Here is where we sit in the seat of the client, trying to figure out what the hell these ad guys are talking about.

As it turns out, there is a reason why Chevy Motors wanted to go with a bigger agency for their advertising needs. Companies like SCDP and CGC are supposed to spend their days fighting over raincoats, floor polish and ketchup. They can help out with a foreign car company or even one of the smaller airlines but, be reasonable, there are lines to be drawn here. Merging companies like these together may give them more manpower, but it doesn’t give them anymore direction; they’re like a car with a bigger engine and no driver.

With half of the staff on a speed-induced drug high, the SCDP/CGC offices (that doc was right, that is a mouthful to say) are literally running around trying to come up with idea after idea for their new corporate overlords at Chevy. It ain’t a pretty picture: Stan comes up with a convenient 666 concepts, Peggy drinks and tries her best to remain in control, Ginsberg really wants someone to listen to him and those other two schlubs just try to fit in. Initially, I was thinking we’d reached our creative nadir around the moment when Ginsberg is chucking an xacto knife at Stan.

Leave it to Don, however, to really drive the point home. While purposefully marching around the office in his quest for the perfect idea, Don lays bare both his life’s mission and the futility found therein. Advertising is all about creating desire, presenting a solution to a presumed need. Poor Don feverishly talks up a strategy that is bigger than a car, maybe even bigger than his Sylvia problem. “It’s everything”, he says. By the end of the episode the SCDP/CGC gang don’t really gain any ground, and Don collapses in a heap.

A boisterous week on Madison Avenue.

A boisterous week on Madison Avenue.

Next Episode Predictions

This is where we watch the totally opaque preview for next week’s episode and make wild guesses as to what will happen next.

What is it about Pete Campbell offering to do a favour for someone? I don’t know, maybe this explains his kinship with Bob Benson. Both guys can load statements like “Can I walk you out?” with all kinds of icky intent. Now, for all his smiley creepiness, Bob is no Pete. Campbell wrote the book on sucking up, being a weasel and demanding restitution for unwanted assistance. I know Joan (who mercifully, I should add, dodged this entire drug trip of an episode) is wise enough to see through Pete Campbell. But if the intent of the Next Episode montage was to make me feel uneasy, well, kudos AMC because I’ll be on edge all week. I don’t know what else I can do, indeed, Pete. Indeed.

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The Least East: NBA Conference Final Preview

By: Daniel Reynolds

INT – DEEP IN THE SAME PAGE BUNKER, SOMEWHERE OFF THE COAST OF A SMALL ISLAND IN THE SOUTH PACIFIC OR AT A CAFE IN THE ANNEX

Reynolds: Alllllll by myseeeelf!!!

Grant: Ahem.

Reynolds: Oh, ummm, hi Dan. How long you been standing there?

Grant: ….

Reynolds: Heh, that long huh?

Grant: You think you know a person, but then…

Reynolds: Basketball! Playoffs! NBA! AMIRITE?!

Grant: I’ll see myself out.

Reynolds: ….. phew…. thought he’d never leave.

Sing it with me now, guys!

Sing it with me now, guys!

MIAMI HEAT vs. INDIANA PACERS

Is this the matchup the Indiana Pacers wanted? Do they strike you as a team that was secretly hoping that somehow the irradiated Chicago Bulls would manage to topple the Miami Heat? Or that some Space Jam-like situation would siphon the talents away from Dwyane Wade and Lebron James (Chris Bosh would keep his talent in this scenario)? I ask because I want to confirm the answer I have formed in my mind. I think these Indiana Pacers want the Miami Heat. I think it is a matchup that they have craved for years now, dating back to the infamous Lance Stephenson “choke” incident, the signing of David West for toughness, and the grooming of Paul George. When you can seen the tsunami of your destruction gathering within view, you start preparing, right? The Pacers have been preparing.

In the NBA playoffs, a lot is made of team identity. Oh sure, it’s the kind of thing used to sell T-shirts to fans, but it also sells the team to itself. It gives them something to buy into, something to unite around, something to (as cheesy as this sounds) fight for. In the Eastern Conference, the Chicago Bulls had an identity, and were lauded appropriately even after getting beaten in five games. Conversely, the New York Knicks had an identity but suffered defeat after going all Memento-like on their game plan. The Pacers, who were busy last weekend putting the Knicks to bed, have an identity. They play big, they play in the passing lanes, they rush to the perimeter, they take away the easy shots, and they funnel, always funnel the action into help defense. They are not lights out shooters (I mean, they employ DJ Augustin AND Tyler Hansbrough), but they have just enough savvy to understand which shots to take. If I’m being honest with myself I can announce I have a little soft spot for the Pacers. They are a team of mostly late round draft picks and secondhand parts (the immortal Augustin was their highest ranked, drafted ninth). They know who they want to play, and how they’ll win because they know themselves. And in an ideal universe, maybe that would be enough.

But how do you solve a problem like the Miami Heat? Look, the NBA is a certain way now: defenses collapse on the paint, efficiency is high rewarded, three-point shooting is at a premium and players should either be highly skilled in diverse areas of the game or super skilled in specific skills. You can hide a Steve Novak on defense if it means 45% three point shooting from him on the other end. Now, did the NBA sway this way as a result of rule changes? Was it a renewed quest for identifying market inefficiencies with statistical analysis? Or, more simply, has a player like Lebron James completely warped the game around his era defining skills? Did the path of the NBA shape James into the player he has become or is the league merely scrambling to match him?

Let’s take a step back. Minus James, the Heat are a solid basketball team. They have all of the key building blocks: veteran role players (Udonis Haslem, Ray Allen, Shane Battier, Mike Miller’s corpse), useful young players (Mario Chalmers, Norris Cole), and, as a cherry on top, an All-Star calibre perimeter player (Dwyane Wade) and post player (Chris Bosh). The Heat team just described is still dangerous (a huge caveat: Wade may be playing on one leg right now). That they are also coached by an innovative young coach in Erik Spoelstra is, well, I’d say gravy but I’m mixing food metaphors. My point is: the Heat are a well-balanced basketball meal.

And then you add the best basketball player on earth. Good luck Indiana.

The Pacers are going to need a lot of moments like this one.

The Pacers are going to need a lot of moments like this one.

Keys to the series: For the Pacers I won’t even say something obvious like ‘play defense’. At this point, the Pacers can only really rely on their defense to get them anywhere. The enduring image (besides a shot clanging off the rim, or being dribbled off somebody’s foot out of bounds) of the Pacers/Knicks series was man-giant Hibbert completely walling off Carmelo as he came in for a clutch heroball dunk. That’s the kind of back breaking play that ends teams, and it had to be hugely encouraging for the Pacers that it was Kindly Roy Hibbert (his official full name) providing that kind of toughness.

As with last year, the Pacers can physically challenge the Heat. David West can push Bosh around (OK, OK, everyone can push Bosh around), and Hibbert can theoretically be that aforementioned wrecker on both ends. Paul George can, let’s say, affect Lebron at least a little bit. And you just know Lance Stephenson is ready to jump through some Wade shaped brick walls. But, the King stay the King. The Pacers will need their offense (which has been turning in shooting percentages that look more like summer temperatures) to soar to the level of their defense. It will still not be enough.

And we haven’t even talked about the NBA nightmare scenario of an Indiana/Memphis final. David Stern just put a hit out on me for even suggesting it

Prediction: Miami in 6

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Reynolds: And finally, keep checking the site for our final Three for 3 of the season in preparation for the Finals.

Grant: Gonna be a good one.

Reynolds: Dan! Glad you’re here. You ready? [cues music]

Grant: I’m not gonna sing.

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Look to the West: NBA Conference Final Preview

By: Dan Grant

INT – DEEP IN THE SAME PAGE HQ, SOMEWHERE IN THE WILD TUNDRA OF THE NORTH OR AT A QUAINT BRUNCH SPOT ON COLLEGE STREET

Grant: Hello? Is this thing on?

Reynolds: Dan, what are you doing here?

Grant: It took some doing but I’ve got my Western Conference predictions done.

Reynolds: Wait, has the series started yet?

Grant: It starts tonight.

Reynolds: And… and… you have it done already?

Grant: Ready to go!

Reynolds: But… but… it’s Sunday. Don’t you realize the Internet is closed on Sundays?

Grant: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! [runs off screaming]

Reynolds: Well I hardly think that’s necessary.

Tim Duncan would like a hug.

Tim Duncan would like a hug.

SAN ANTONIO SPURS vs. MEMPHIS GRIZZLIES

Oh man. This is going to get ug— wait? I’ve said that about every Memphis series so far? Well they play ugly! It’s a deserved reputation! It’s also a good thing and the way they’ll need to play if they’re going to beat the Spurs. San Antonio and Memphis have met before, and recently. In 2011, the top seeded Spurs were knocked off by the 8th seeded Grizzlies in the first round of the playoffs, only the third time an 8 seed has beaten a 1 seed, ever. If you think San Antonio isn’t looking for revenge as much as Memphis is looking for validation, well, then I have a DeLorean that just needs a flux capacitor to sell you.

Memphis’ road to the conference finals has been that of a wrecking ball smashing through an abandoned K-Mart (the store, not the guy). I’ll cop to the fact that I initially thought Chris Paul would carve the Grizz up in Round 1, and through 2 games, that looked like it would be the case, as the Clips went up 2-0. Some injuries and terrible coaching later, Memphis took the next 4 in a row, essentially sweeping the Clippers out of the playoffs. Mike Conley Jr., who had shouldered a larger load after the Rudy Gay trade, showed that he was up to the challenge of competing with the elite point guards in the NBA, which vaulted this Memphis team from fringe contenders to real contenders.

The Russell Westbrook injury threw open the door to the Western Conference and Memphis has taken full advantage. I’ll pat myself on the back, as I predicted a Grizzlies victory over the Westbrookless Thunder, although I did think it would go 7 games. The fact that Memphis disposed of the former Western Conference Champs in 5 shows just how well they’re playing right now. If you throw out those first two Clippers games (which I will, because this is my article and you can’t stop me!) Memphis is 8-1 in these playoffs and have knocked off two division champions, including the top seeded OKC squad. They’re rolling right now.

The San Antonio Spurs are a paradox, seemingly, every season. They finished 2nd in the West this year, winning 58 games, going over 50 for the 15th time in Tim Duncan’s 16 seasons. But they’re the Rodney Dangerfield of the NBA, despite having one of the best ten players of all time in the aforementioned Timmy D, an all-world point guard in Tony Parker and the best non-Phil coach in NBA history (yeah I said it) in Gregg Popovich. And still, they’re nobody’s pick to win the Finals; they weren’t even when they won all FOUR of their titles. In 1999, they won in the lockout shortened season, so people discounted the title then and still do. In 2003, nobody thought they would be able to beat the Lakers, who had just completed a three-peat; when they won, the Shaq-Kobe feud was blamed. In 2005, when they beat the defending champion Pistons, a Dwyane Wade injury was blamed, as the pundits loved the Shaq-Wade combo in Miami and thought they were the front runners, something that was validated when the Heat won in 2006. And in 2007, people were already talking about Duncan being washed up and all the storylines were about a young upstart named LeBron James dragging his misfit Cavaliers to the finals. That was six years ago!

Does Tim Duncan look washed up to you? A finalist for defensive player of the year this year at age 37, Duncan has benefited from his minutes being managed beautifully, and still being able to find a sixth gear from time to time, which the Spurs need from him. The development of Tiago Splitter has been astounding, as has the emergence of Danny Green. Kawhi Leonard has become a force of nature on the perimeter and though he’s looking old, Manu Ginobili is still an incredible weapon to have coming off the bench.
The team finished tied for 3rd in the NBA in defensive efficiency this year and 7th in offensive efficiency. They finished 5th in the league in 3 point percentage and 3rd in overall FG%. They finished 3rd in assist % (the percentage of their baskets created by an assist. Essentially this shows how good a team is at passing) and 3rd in defensive rebound rate, grabbing nearly 75% of available rebounds on their own end.

That was a lot of statistical mumbo jumbo, but it all adds up to one thing: THE SPURS ARE REALLY FUCKING GOOD! Offense, defense, everywhere. They’re well coached, intelligent and ruthlessly efficient.  It has been forgotten or dismissed too many times and I had to mention it here.

This is the best picture I could find of Marc Gasol.

This is the best picture I could find of Marc Gasol.

Keys to the Series: As I just mentioned, the Spurs are incredible at controlling the defensive glass. The Grizzlies are going to have to do their best to break this down, and they have the personnel to do so. Zach Randolph and Marc Gasol have been absolutely punishing throughout the playoffs, using their unique combination of physicality, soft hands and basketball IQ to punish the big men of both the Clippers and Thunder.

But they haven’t played Tim Duncan yet. The Z-Bo/Gasol vs. Timmy D/Splitter matchup is going to be a war. The Spurs were able to overpower the Warriors in Round 2, a team that tried to use Harrison Barnes as a small-ball four, the new NBA trend. While Barnes certainly isn’t of the ilk or calibre of a Carmelo Anthony or LeBron James, the Spurs showed the blueprint for beating the rudimentary version of that system. That matchup doesn’t exist in this series. It’s going to be a more traditional battle and the Spurs are going to need to use all their veteran savvy to stop Memphis.

Another matchup that will be absolutely key is that of Mike Conley vs. Tony Parker. While they likely won’t guard one another, they’re both going to have to dictate the will of their respective teams. I expect Memphis defensive specialist Tony Allen to take on Parker on the defensive end, not because Conley can’t but just to get him some rest. Conley can handle a Danny Green, more of a corner shooter, or a Manu Ginobili on the perimeter, though Allen and Conley are a ferocious tandem that will be able to mix and match based on the situation. Green and Kawhi Leonard will likely try to cover Conley for San Antonio, as Parker isn’t a great perimeter defender and Conley’s speed and ambidextrous ball handling might give them fits.

I think that while I gave my shout out to the Spurs above, that was out of respect. The Grizzlies are younger, stronger and on a roll.
That leads us to our final matchup: Gregg Popovich vs. Lionel Hollins. I love Pop and if I could choose any coach in the NBA to start a franchise with, it would be him. He’s the master of making something out of nothing, of finding diamonds in the rough and of constantly tweaking his system to fit his personnel. He’s a Hall of Famer. But Lionel Hollins is no slouch either. He took a team that traded its leading scorer and turned that into a positive thing, giving the squad a true identity and taking them further than they’ve ever been before. Unless Gregg Popovich can pull an all-time coaching job on Hollins, the Grizzlies are heading to their first NBA Finals.

Prediction: Memphis in 6

———————

Reynolds: Wait, who is going to write about the Heat vs. Pacers matchup?

Grant: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Reynolds: Well then.

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Tales of Nostalgia: A Trip to the Ontario Science Centre

By: Daniel Reynolds

In my elementary school there was this tiled L-shaped dividing wall inside the basement bathroom doors. For us hyperactive four and five year old boys at the time, it existed not as a barrier but a challenge. We would take turns sprinting the length of this cavern, making attempts to leap up and grab a hold of the ledge that seemed so impossibly high. There was a graceless physics to our efforts, a meager understanding of momentum and gravity, but we had kinetic energy to spare. And potentially hitting the top of the wall, even after failing again and again, felt so significant.

Fast forward a couple of years and now that energy has translated itself into video game-centric activity. Those same principles of nostalgia still apply. The tactile wall of memory becomes something of a digital leap. My mind remembers running in the bathroom trying to jump higher and higher, and it remembers those afternoons spent trying to guide Mario across the Mushroom Kingdom, similarly bouncing along towards a hard fought goal.

The Ontario Science Centre.

The Ontario Science Centre.

When I read that the Ontario Science Centre was holding a six month special exhibit of video games and their history, I was drawn in by those old sly remembrances of endless competitions and challenges, of repetitive attempts to climb, jump, shoot, explore and achieve. I wanted to remember what it felt like to play some of those old games again but also, I wanted to re-experience the old Science Centre again. This may sound funny, but it felt vaguely like jumping for the top of that wall again. In my mind’s eye, the Centre was a distant complex, built in another land, housing untold scientific puzzles, wondrous devices and confounding demonstrations. I wanted to attempt a two-fold trip back in time.

In truth, the Science Centre has always felt like the odd man out on the roster of institutions in Toronto. The theatre and entertainment scene is unimpeachable, the ROM has always been the most prominent (and controversial) installation, the AGO operates as the most graceful of necessities, the Zoo is earthy and approachable. But what of the Science Centre? Like the nearly shuttered Ontario Place, the outward appearance of the Centre, all brutal hard angles and poured concrete, is one of a lost artifact from a different time.

It still boasts a great location, though. After paying the entrance fee, my compatriot and I (yes, I convinced someone to join me on this solo trip down memory lane) took the stroll down a glass-sided hallway, overlooking a ravine. The windows have those black bird silhouettes pasted across them, useful – as I remember learning for the first time – for keeping birds from an ignoble death. Keeping with the macabre, you start your descent down into the facility itself.

I definitely did not remember all the escalators. The Science Centre is actually split into various pods that are positioned down the sloping side of the ravine. You descend multiple escalators to get to the special exhibits and science arcade located at the bottom. Sort of a low-level journey to the centre of the earth. The ROM and AGO may want you to feel like you are soaring through skies of light and air; the Science Centre insists you go down, to the root of it all.

Past a construction zone to the right, and the Weston Family Innovation Centre, with its mix of science feats and DIY gizmo area (including a stop-motion animation station!), there was the real reason for our visit: the Game On 2.0 exhibit.

Basking in the glow of nostalgia (and CRT monitors).

Basking in the glow of nostalgia (and CRT monitors).

In a series of winding hallways, the Game On 2.0 exhibit houses a remarkable collection of video and computer game consoles. I’d be lying if I said I couldn’t spend a long time wandering through these setups, from the earliest days of the rudimentary one-person Pong device (controlled by a single knob) to the latest in motion control technology. The exhibit actually starts with a series of unplayable arcade cabinets, allowing for a brief history lesson on some of the old world circuitry. I admit, this part feels like a blur because upon turning the corner I was greeted by some solid banks of old games.

There was our misguided attempt at a tank battle on a malfunctioning Atari 2600, and a Mario Kart 64 race. I tried to explain the sarcastic humour of Portal, and then reminisced on the experience of playing The Secret of Monkey Island for the first time. There was a corner for PaRappa the Rapper, and a Lara Croft statue. I played Sonic the Hedgehog for the first time in ages, and then remembered that I hate Sonic the Hedgehog. My companion went on a search in vain for a Pokemon Snap console, though an overwhelming number of Pokemon games were demoed. A dude was bogarting the NBA Jam machine, as you’d expect. Then, the Virtusphere appeared, with its promises of “the ultimate, within-the-game locomotion interface” that is, according to the Discovery Channel, “a virtual reality tool that comes closer than most to the Holodeck of Star Trek fame”.  Despite the breathless promises of virtual reality and motion machines since as long as I can remember, it was out of service. There was not one hint of a Virtual Boy, either. Turning the corner into an isolated square room, we found a solitary kid bouncing around in front of an Xb0x Kinect, the look of joy and concentration on his face was something to behold. Lacking the writerly ability to describe it, I submit the following:

Shown here: Xbox Kinect, Innocence.

Shown here: Xbox Kinect, Innocence.

Eventually, after being dragged away (I had just found the Super Smash Bros. terminal, things could have gotten ugly), we wandered back upward through the remnants of the carnival-like science arcade. Though it looks a little drab now, there were buttons to push and physics principles to be delightfully explained. These sections of the Centre feel inevitably smaller, somehow. I could remember more of what was no longer there than what was present. Gone was the wild old school room of puzzles and science feats, with its tables of small devices and computers with trackballs. Missing was the sports science section and the ‘try to land like a cat’ exhibit. The man-made jungle zone remains, and some of the animals, and you can still stand on a scale and watch a cylinder fill with a volume of water corresponding to your mass.

We made our way finally to a Rube Goldberg-esque setup in one of the lobby spaces (near the Kidspark zone where “Adults must be accompanied by a child”). The contraption is a loosely connected series of tracks and tubes, ups and downs. Wooden balls are entered in at one end and roll through a small series of slides, hitting xylophones, clanging through mini-Plinko boards, spinning along funnels. There are a half dozen entry points to the contraption; six points where kids can pick up a sphere and let it loose.

After reflecting on all those old video games, this setup felt quaint. Of course, I was still thinking in 8-bit memories, remember the running and jumping of a different time that was not without its own sepia tint. Standing back from it, I could see that despite its scale and presumed intricacy, the machine was not overly complex. There were just a few simple interactions. Metal clanged, balls rolled, a large pendulum swung overhead. Physics and science did their thing. There was no sky reaching challenge to it but the kids stood entranced anyway. I, however, could now see over the top of the wall.

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