Sunday, October 10, 2021

Polybius (2017).

There's a kind of trick involved here.  I'm not talking about the gimmick at the heart of tonight's entry (at least not yet).  The problem I've got to find some way of addressing right now is that of public awareness.  It's an issue that both artists and critics have to deal with.  This goes double for anytime that a writer or filmmaker decides to take the plunge and create an artwork that is new or original, and therefore has no built-in pre-awareness to it.  In the case of the critic, what this means is that if there's this neat, old, antique piece of literature or cinema that you're a fan of, and yet the odds are even that few to no one else has ever heard about it, what that usually amounts to, in practice, is that you have to go out of your way a lot more on explaining just what the forgotten artwork is, what it does and where it came from, in addition to what should be just a simple task of explaining why you either like or dislike it.  With a familiar franchise like Star Trek or James Bond, this issue doesn't exist as much, because they are pieces of entertainment that most audiences are still familiar with.  If you then turn around and mention someone like Algernon Blackwood, or Frank Belknap Long, then most people have no choice except to wonder who in the hell you're even talking about.  That's when the real trouble begins.   

I think something very much like this problem is in play right now.  It explains why perhaps a bit of context is in order.  There's also a bit of irony thrown into the mix as well.  That's because in one sense, the artist I have to talk about can at least be considered something of a known quantity.  He's got a popular following on his own, and he is a contemporary show business personality, at least of a sort.  Confession time.  I'm not real sure just how far the influence of YouTube personalities, or internet celebrity is able to extend, and what kind of effect it has at the cultural level of popular awareness.  Going just by my own experiences, the whole phenomenon of YouTube filmmakers is, at best, a curious combination of vague ubiquity, combined with a free-floating sense of anonymity.  When you decide to click on a video link by guys like MattPat, or Markiplier, the results always maintain this curious sense of the familiar and the unknown combined.

On the one hand, there's always the possibility that you might just wind up enjoying their work, and become something like a casual, regular viewer; at least here and there, on occasion.  At the same time, even if this happens, it remains very hard to tell what kind of impact they are having on the media and audience landscape at large.  It's like you know you might be looking at something of importance, yet it's hard to tell just how far that importance extends.  For instance, not long ago, one YouTuber named Patrick Willems did a retrospective on Francis Ford Coppola that helped me re-evaluate the entire cinematic generation of which he was a part.  That was a viewing experience with an ultimately positive sort of outcome.  I guess its as a good an example I can give of the best possible results this collective endeavor can have on the audience.  At the same time, I seem to have been an outlier.

The fact is I'm not real sure how much of an audience awareness or impact this kind of endeavor is able to generate.  It can be considered a shame in a few cases, as people like David Rose, or In Praise of Shadows have proven themselves capable of making legit documentary features exclusive to the internet.  There may be a sense in which such efforts point the way toward at least a hopefully vital aspect of the future.  However, I'm not sure we've arrived there yet, or even whether or not the majority well ever take notice.  The whole thing seems to amount to a collective problem and/or conundrum.  How do you leave an impact, and barely get noticed in the process?  The whole thing sounds like a demented, self-canceling zen koan.  It's also a challenge that every YouTuber will have to struggle with, even a nominal trendsetter like James Rolfe.

As of this writing, his popularity fluctuates between 50 and 75%.  What that means, in practical terms, is that a sizable half of the audience has a pretty good idea of who he is.  At the same time, there's an equal yet opposite majority who've never even heard of the guy.  He got his start a while back, yet not too long ago, incredible as that may sound.  His breakout performance debut was in 2004, by appearing in a series of YouTube comedy sketches, under the persona of the Angry Video Game nerd.  Since that time he's managed to build up something of a reputation for himself.  The nature of his act is interesting for the way in which it combines two elements which seem commonplace now, yet which probably looked revolutionary back in the early 2010s.  What Rolfe does is take the idea of critiquing a piece of artwork, in his case a video game, and then fitting it into the formatting and performance of sketch and/or stand-up comedy.  The result was and (at least as of this writing) remains: The Nerd.  


He's this hyperactive, hard drinking, profanity laden man-child of a figure.  Someone whose whole existence is predicated on not having much of a life outside of hiding in a way in a roomful of grade-Z video games, and then torturing himself by playing and reviewing them for our viewing pleasure and pop cultural schadenfreude.  At least I think that's the gist of it, anyway.  The premise itself seems to be very basic, and yet its what Rolfe has been able to do with the format that seems complex.  His early videos where very crude, bargain basement affairs.  Usually each video consisted of Rolfe in the Nerd persona filming both himself and recorded consul footage of the game he was reviewing.  He would riff off various aspects about it that happen to piss him off.  This can range from poor graphic design, faulty control functionality, all the way to various, weird, in-game creative choices that just don't amount to much in the way of common sense.  Granted, since most of the old consul games were geared more toward gameplay rather than anything like an actual story, I'm not sure how much its worth it to get upset over.  It wouldn't be until later that developers found ways of incorporating actual narrative into the gaming experience.

In addition to his profanity laden comedic riffs, Rolfe would often try to add variety to his endeavors by creating any number of comedy sketches, and wrapping these around the main riffing segments of his videos.  This sort of thing could range from toilet level crudery, to some material that could be actually pretty clever.  I think the one that's destined to stick with viewers the most is the constant creativity Rolfe is able to either draw upon, or in some cases just plain make up out of seeming thin air whenever he allows to Nerd to give any and all shitty games a good and thorough verbal abusing.  There's not any one example of what I'm talking about right now that would stand as the pinnacle of things.  It's all so much of a piece that Rolfe is even willing to include his curse word poetry in the main theme song to his show.  It's one of those things where either a positive or negative reaction goes a long way to determining whether you're willing and able to go along with the kind of idea Rolfe has got going here.  Based on the following he's been able generate from it all, I'd have to say that audiences have been quite willing to go along for the ride, for the most part, anyway.

There's probably a lot more to say about Rolfe's style of humor, and the particular YouTube culture and format that's grown-up around it.  For the moment, however, I think it's more important to note that one of the interesting things about Rolfe is that it turns out he doesn't seem to be just a one-trick pony.  One gratifying surprise is to discover that the guy is something of a Horror movie buff.  He's not the sort whose knowledge can't go any further than the year 1978, either.  This is the sort of Terror Geek that actually knows who Vincent Price and Boris Karloff were.  No offense, yet that kind of pop culture knowledge is the rarest commodity in an era that by and large can't seem to realize that any real history existed before Spielberg made a film like E.T., and even that film seems in danger of falling through the cracks.  Rolfe, however, isn't one to forget.  Even when its a film that he can't quite get behind (and there have been times when I have to disagree with him on certain cinematic texts), you can tell his love for the genre as whole is what allows him to be able to have at least some kind of appreciation.


Nor does Rolfe's fandom for the Horrific stop at just mere appreciation.  It seems to be enough of an inspiration for him to try his own hand at the genre.  It's a subject he's even willing to talk about at length at Cinemassacre.com, the site for the company he and his friends and family have formed just for this purpose, and of which the AVGN is just part of a greater, indie filmmaking whole.  It's on that site where you will find Rolfe sharing a lot about his love for the Horror genre, and how it has impacted him as an artist and movie maker.  Once you start to listen to him as he goes on, sometimes at eager and enthusiastic length, about a subject in which its obvious he cares passionately about, then perhaps it begins to make sense why one of his initial efforts as a film school graduate was a spin of on the Horror Mockumentary sub-genre.  In fact, you might say it's this love of Horror that is responsible for the topic of discussion today.