Waiting for the Gift of Sound and Vision

One of my favorite means of indulging my nostalgic needs of late is to peruse old gaming magazines that I had read in high school and some of college, late 90’s to early 2000’s. This is easy enough thanks to sites like Retromags and the Internet Archive. The scan quality isn’t always great and there’s a few gaps here and there, but the fortunate part about what I was looking for most recently is that advertisements tend to repeat month to month. If you’re very lucky, what gets advertised eventually gets featured in the magazine proper.

I don’t consider myself an audiophile. I don’t know enough about speakers to know my studio monitors from my bookshelves from my ribbons from my… whatever the speakers I was looking for are, but I know enough to know what sounds good to me. One thing I’ve learned over the years is that with the possible exception of the iPhone, the internal speaker on any electronic device is bound to be terrible. If you’re lucky, it’s terrible in a way that makes it good. The speakers in my PSP would crackle a little when sound peaked, such as during an explosion or a crash of some vehicle, but I found something oddly satisfying and reassuring about it. I know charm is an overused term, but I can’t think of a more apt term for this particular flavor of the warm and fuzzies.

Sidenote: we had our N64 hooked up to a TV whose internal speakers weren’t shielded from the cathode ray tube. Before I understood anything I just said, I was convinced the screen flickering during loud parts or bass-heavy sounds was the awesome power of the artificial intelligence written into the game’s code. The system (and specifically Shadows of the Empire) was just too damn powerful for our meager little television set.

Maybe I don’t read enough magazines, but it always felt like the ads in videogame magazines were especially creative. They were bold, edgy, funny, clever, and memorable enough that I found myself looking back through those old issues for a set of Sony speakers I saw advertised in an issue of Electronic Gaming Monthly. The ad was two pages, but it wasn’t a spread like you’d expect. The first page was a tall, narrow, black speaker with a few buttons and a green slit of an LCD. Its cord ran out from its back and to the right of the page. A few pages later, the second page showed the speaker’s mate, its own cord running in the opposite direction. The first page asks if you need a reason to get surround sound, advising you to keep flipping the pages. The second page observes that you’ve seen no shortage of reasons. A few more buzzwords about the quality of the speakers and an image of how the speakers are intended to be set up, with one on either side of a modestly-sized television. 

I think I was fascinated by these speakers, blandly branded the SA-VA7’s, because they didn’t fit any conventional models of audio setups I was superficially familiar with. It mentioned surround sound, but in my experience, surround sound required more than two speakers and they all had to be hooked up to a massive receiver under your VCR and/or DVD player. These looked more like the speakers you get for a PC, but they were so much bigger and imposing looking. Too insubstantial for the former and too over-engineered for the latter, I think the reason I didn’t inquire further into them was that I doubtless couldn’t afford them, be they a cheap surround system or an expensive PC speaker. Moreover, I already had a really nice stereo system that I’d gotten unexpectedly for Christmas, so they’d be redundant as well.

Sidenote: It’s worth pointing out here that I can be an exceptionally frugal person. My brother likes to tell this story about the time he asked me, “If you could have any car in the world, any at all, what would it be?” My response was a Geo Storm. He thought for a moment and explained that cost wasn’t an issue, that it could be any vehicle regardless of price. I stuck to my guns. In those decades since, my taste in cars has become more high roller than coupon-clipping, and I’ve also learned to distinguish between purchases and investments.

A few years later, something unexpected happened. The family computer, a Bondi-blue G3 iMac with a DVD drive, became my computer. This meant it wound up in my room on my desk, against the opposite wall of my TV, Playstation, and stereo. Obviously, hooking up my TV and Playstation to the stereo was easy and straightforward. If I wanted to hook my iMac to the stereo, I would have had to run a cord from my desk and across my floor to the entertainment center. Even if I wanted to deal with the tripping hazard, there’s the problem of the speakers being behind me while I’m at the iMac at my desk. In fact, they were behind me and to my left, so it was far from an ideal arrangement.

Along comes another issue of Electronic Gaming Monthly and with it the solution to my problem. If SA-VA7 was a bland name, these had the exact opposite problem. These had at least two names and from a brand that seemed to be in the process of restructuring, so there were two additional names. The full title of these little dynamos was the ScreenBeat Sound Station by SpectraVideo/Logic3. The apparatus consisted of two small speakers wired up to a subwoofer that was meant to sit on the floor (or on your desk if you wanted to the Jurassic Park thing with any cups of liquid you had). This made it what’s known as a “2.1” sound system, with the decimal referring to the subwoofer as that’s generally less something you hear and more something you feel. They retailed for about 70USD (I never found out what the SA-VA7’s cost) and their absolute best feature that stood out to me: they matched my iMac. 

It wasn’t a perfect color match, but close enough that, when I moved into my college dorm, my roommate’s dad asked if I was a computer science major. When I said I wasn’t, he asked about the tower I was setting up under my monitor. I explained that the monitor was the whole computer and the “tower” was just a speaker. That shows you how revolutionary the design of the iMac was; beige boxes were still the industry standard. The elaborate, Windows-based gaming rigs you see today were around, but they were almost rarer to see in the wild than an iMac. Simply put, it seemed like these speakers were made just for me.

A lot of time passed, I graduated college, the iMac was getting a bit long in the tooth in term of technology (and it was already admittedly a little bit underpowered for anything outside of video editing in Quicktime Pro, writing papers, making Powerpoint presentations, and simple 3D modeling in Poser), and Windows XP had fixed pretty much every complaint I ever had about previous offering from the House of Gates. So, the iMac went away and my proper PC tower became my monolith to all things media and productivity. The ScreenBeats had gone away somewhere in this timeframe, either before I graduated or just after, and I mostly stuck to using headphones if I was going to be immersed in whatever I needed the PC for.

A lot more time passed and the most elaborate sound system I had was a speaker bar for my TV and game consoles. If I was using a computer or a phone or a tablet, headphones were my default. They were also the default for when I listened to music as I was in an apartment and I didn’t want to be THAT neighbor blasting music through my speaker bar. Of course, I watched plenty of movies and played plenty of games through that speaker bar, but that just seemed different to me somehow, like it would be more forgivable or bearable than going through the entire Daft Punk discography. Also, my roommate has little to no concept of an indoor voice when she’s gaming on her PC and headphones were the best defense.

Toward the end of my time in that apartment, I was watching a YouTube video from a games reviewer named Caddicarus. This particular video was sponsored by a company called KOVE and the product on display was a cylindrical Bluetooth speaker that fit nicely into the cupholders of a car, likely hence its name of the Commuter. When I checked out the website, I saw KOVE had a new speaker on offer called the Commuter 2 (which they changed recently to a "K"), the sequel to the speaker I’d just seen. If you’re in the market for a Bluetooth speaker, KOVE is a little hard to recommend. I think they’re a drop-shipping operation. That is, KOVE is the branding middleman for a generic speaker you can probably find cheaper elsewhere under a different name. It’s also one of those sites that is running flash sales all the time, so it’s virtually impossible to pay the full advertised price for the speaker. I know there’s a name for this advertising tactic, but I can’t be bothered to look it up. Needless to say, the speaker was cheap despite being advertised on a massive sale, but like those iMac matchers from years ago, they had a little special something to them that intrigued me. I took the chance and got my 200USD speaker for a mere 64 (which is technically less than what I paid for the Sound Station if you consider inflation). 

The intriguing feature was the ability of the speaker to split into a stereo pair. It twisted in the middle with a bayonet-style locking system and this middle seam was actually angled in such a way that the two halves would rest with their drivers aimed slightly upward. 

Did I think this was an absolutely inspired piece of design? Very much so. Did I ever actually use it when I was writing on my iPad with my little keyboard and case that folded into a stand for the iPad? Maybe once. I mean, I wasn’t about to set this up in a coffee shop. An especially clicky mechanical keyboard? Yes, I’m THAT guy. Speakers? No, that’s just plain obnoxious. 

I ended up giving the speaker to my roommate. It wasn’t a hard decision because, despite the intriguingly cool design, the KOVE Commuter 2 had a crippling flaw: latency. If you were simply listening to music or an audiobook or a podcast, there was no issue. If, however, you were watching a video, you’d notice a bit of a gap between the lips flapping on the screen and the sounds hitting your ear. If you were using a music-making app like GarageBand or a digital instrument of some kind, forget it. It was at least a full beat behind, making it practically unusable. I have no idea why it has this problem; I don’t have this issue with Bluetooth headphones. My best guess is it’s something to do with the way the two speakers are tethered together, since you’re still only connecting one speaker to your source. It must simply be too much number crunching to receive the signal from the device and then beam the other channel to its mating half. Maybe this is why I’ve never seen another Bluetooth speaker like this one, why I don’t see this stereo splitting by other companies like SONOS or JBL.

As for replacing my KOVE, I came across a slender little number from Sony, the SRS-XB23. It didn’t split in two, but could still play a stereo signal through its two drivers, requiring you to place the speaker on its side for best results. I paid roughly less than the Commuter 2, it fills the room quite nicely, and there’s no latency when I’m watching something on my phone or making music.

A few weeks ago, I was thinking about those old SA-VA7’s from the magazine ad and did a little investigating. I found exactly one YouTube video of someone showing them off, along with some scattered pages in various audiophile databases. Overall, they don’t seem to have sold very well, which may be attributed to Sony marketing them to gamers to use with their Playstations. If gamers are going to hook up their consoles to a sound system, they’re probably just going to do what I did and use the one I had for music anyway. That was when an idea hit me. The SRS-XB23 may not have had the ability to split into two speakers, but there is a feature that plays right into the devious marketing of those bigger audio equipment companies like JBL or Bose: Stereo pairing.

It’s simple enough in principle. If you have two of the same model of Bluetooth speaker, you can pair them together so that one is the right channel and the other is the left channel. This is the “that’s where they get you” of the scheme. Why sell one speaker that does the work of two when you can have two speakers at twice the price? The SRS-XB23 had been out for a few years and was still available as New Old Stock on Amazon. In fact, I got it from the same third-party seller for about the same price.

Although simple enough in principle, actually setting up the stereo pair is a little bit tedious. For starters, I’ve already got one SRS-XB23 saved in my phone’s Bluetooth settings, so now there’s another identical speaker to add to the mix and I can’t just nickname them like some other devices. Secondly, you’ve got to pair the speakers with each other first, which means you have to turn off Bluetooth on the device you’re ultimately going to tether them to. Tedious may be a strong word, but it’s not very intuitive and certainly not discoverable without consulting an online guide. Once you’ve got the stereo pair sorted, each speaker conveniently announces whether it’s the left or right channel. Finally, you turn the Bluetooth back on your device and hope you pick the correct of the two identical speakers and you’re off to the races in stereo and with no noticeable latency.

Am I going to use this setup? No. I don’t do a lot of writing on my iPad anymore since I’ve got a recently upgraded desktop setup that I plan to get as much use out of as humanly possible. As for using them with my desktop (music coming from my iPhone and to the speakers) my monitor is too wide and my desk is too narrow to place them at each side as intended. Did I waste my money? I don’t think so. I’ll still use the stereo pairing on occasion. They sound great in tandem, plus I’ve got one as a backup given the first is almost 5 years old at this point and with semi-regular use. Most importantly, after 30-some years, I finally have (the option for) two tall, narrow Sony speakers on either side of a display.

The Barbarians at SETI

 

Hey, who’s up for a little existential dread wrapped up in nostalgia by way of a 90-minute toy commercial featuring blood, body horror, and genocide? 

Whenever nostalgia-based content creators bring up pieces of media that “traumatized” us as kids, there’s a fairly familiar list of usual suspects and often with Jim Henson’s The Dark Crystal at the tippy top. Other entries on the list may include The Transformers Movie, The Neverending Story, and The Secret of NIMH, among many others of that particular era. I saw these films back in the day (or at least parts of them before turning off the TV in horror) and they certainly had an effect on me not unlike that on my peers. However, there’s one movie that it seems no one talks about that definitely had an impact on me as a kid, and that’s the G.I.Joe Movie from 1987. What separates this one from the others on those lists is a kind of double-whammy, scaring me as a kid and then unexpectedly giving me severe existential dread as an adult. 

Casting my mind back to around 1987 or maybe 1988, I was in my neighbor’s basement watching cartoons with their kids, and the G.I.Joe Movie was on. Originally slated for theaters, the poor box office performance of Hasbro’s previous animated outing (Transformers) led the film to be released directly to video and ultimately to television in a serialized format. The movie centers around the titular Joes going up against an ancient race hiding away under a dome of ice in a frozen wasteland. Called Cobra-La, these ancient serpent worshippers plan to launch a bio-terrorism attack on the whole of humanity. Massive spore-pods are launched into orbit. Upon ripening, the spores will descend upon the Earth, infecting everyone they come in contact with, reducing humanity to mindless beasts. I think this was my first exposure to the concept of a fate worse than death. Seeing these ordinary adults going about their day violently transformed into scaly, savage subhumans is pretty dark for a 6 or 7-year old kid. It was certainly a stark contrast to the Joes’ usual goofy conflicts with the ruthless terrorist organization Cobra, who only wanted to rule over the civilizations of the world rather than outright destroy them. I guess this was also my first introduction to the idea of different kinds of evil, those who wanted to take over the world versus those who wanted to watch it burn. 

Fast-forward many years, maybe to the last five or so. I’m a grown man in his forties watching random movie clips and reviews on YouTube. The G.I.Joe movie came up and reignited memories of the absolute body horror that was Cobra Commander’s origin story, among other things like the aforementioned mindless beasts. This time, though, something else caught my attention, something that went over my head back in the 80’s. Cobra-La’s main gimmick throughout the movie is that their technology is organically-based. In other words, they don’t build things so much as grow them. Nearly everything at their disposal is alive. Even door keys are odd-looking beetles and rolling out the red carpet involves a literal army of little crab-like creatures. Kind of puts the Flintstones in a new light, doesn’t it? 

Cobra-La is ruled over by Golobulus, voiced by the original G.I.Joe himself, Burgess Meredith. Around the halfway point in the movie, he gives us an exposition and lore dump about how Cobra-La came to be as it is. 40,000 years ago, they lived in harmony with nature, engineering it to their will and establishing an advanced civilization in this period of pre-human history. Climate change, specifically an ice age, brings their entire way of life to a screeching halt and forces them to take refuge under an ice dome. Following this is the rise of what Golobulus calls “the barbarians”. He’s of course talking about humans as we’re shown a pack of Neanderthals poking around a forest in search of their next meal. The flashback makes a time skip worthy of 2001: A Space Odyssey and shows humanity launching the space shuttle. Narration from Golobulus highlights a key difference between the age of Cobra-La and these pesky barbarians known as man. Whereas Cobra-La used organic matter as its foundation, human beings harnessed inorganic materials like stone and metal.* 

Let’s think about that a minute. There we were, eons ago, poking around the woods eating grubs and fruits and whatever else we could forage. Somewhere along the way, one of our ancestors had an epiphany. If we took a stick and sharpened it to a point using a rock, we could take on larger prey and enjoy a greater feast. Then, someone hit on the idea of taking those rocks and using the antlers and bones of that prey to shape them into whatever we needed to hunt ever-bigger prey. Following that, someone else noticed a special kind of rock, one that’s got shiny bits in it, and who doesn’t love a bright, shiny object? One discovery leads to another, and next thing you know we’re using spools of copper wire and these weird things called semiconductors to send messages over great distances. Needless to say, as far as we know, no other species on our planet has made these discoveries, much less built on them to a point of manipulating electromagnetic radiation to communicate. Some animals use tools, it’s true, and whales have a surprisingly wide-reaching communications network, but that’s hardly competition in the tech sector… unless we’re vastly underestimating the whales and Star Trek IV is dead on the money. 

Speaking of alien intelligences, SETI, the Search for Extra Terrestrial Intelligence, casts a fairly broad net in their search for life beyond our own world. Primarily, though, they’re interested in establishing communication with alien civilizations that have reached at least the point of sending radio waves through space. I mean, if you sank all that grant money into leasing time on a massive radio telescope, that’s where you’d focus the most of your efforts. That’s not entirely fair. There’s actually a decent precedent for the notion that our first contact with an intelligence beyond our solar system could be in the form of telecommunications, namely the famous Wow! Signal, detected in 1977 and originating from somewhere in the constellation of Sagittarius. While we don’t know what the signal necessarily “said”, the fact that it was such a strong signal indicates it being more than some natural phenomena like a charged hydrogen cloud or one of many other potential explanations floating around since the discovery. 

I’m firmly, ardently of the belief that we are far from alone in the universe. Given the billions and billions of galaxies, each with billions and billions of stars, with billions of planets in each galaxy, it would be an astronomical impossibility for our little blue marble to be some grand exception to the rule by having life on it. Of course, we have to talk about the word “alone” in this context. As for what kind of life is out there in the universe, I’m in Camp Sagan in that while there’s most certainly life beyond our home star’s Oort Cloud, the likelihood of that life having visited us and walking among us is a little sketchy. The distances are vast enough for radio messages to take lifetimes at best, much less spacecraft. That is, life could exist, just not the kind that’s followed the same path that we have. 

This is tapping on the lid of a very, very big can of worms in terms of answering the question of whether or not we’re alone in the universe. The Fermi Paradox, The Drake Equation, The Dark Forest, and probably most concerning is The Great Filter. The Great Filter is the notion that there may be some great barrier in the progress and development of any intelligent species that’s either extremely difficult to overcome, or downright impossible. This barrier can be most anything from exhausting resources to self-destruction by warfare. Essentially, it’s a point at which a civilization cannot sustain itself and either needs a massive paradigm shift or collapses on itself in extinction. As far as humanity goes, there’s two possibilities, the Filter either being ahead of us, or hopefully behind us. Maybe harnessing those inorganic materials and developing technology was the Filter. Maybe leaving this planet or at least getting a start on asteroid mining is the Filter. 

Of course, that leaves the final question of whether or not we’re the first to get past the Filter. 

*I learned while writing this of a film from 1959 called The Atomic Submarine, which features humanity dealing with an aquatic UFO that is able to heal itself from attack by way of an organically-based technology. 

A July 4th Post About Videogames Because I Can

Nostalgia is not only a drug; it is the ultimate abusive relationship. You start out loving something before growing tired of it. Eventually, you stop caring about it potentially to the point that you hate it. Next thing you know, it’s been years since even thinking about it and suddenly you want it back to the point of putting tears in your eyes.

Believe it or not, there was a point in time when we collectively hated translucent casings on our electronics. We thought it looked downright ugly. It’s only been in recent years with the rise of identical-looking smartphones and samey notebook computers that we look back on those see-through housings with fondness. From the perspective of those old laptops and music players, we’re standing outside with a Bluetooth speaker over our heads blasting love songs via Spotify, only probably way more pathetic and certainly not going to end the way that movie did.

I was thinking about all this today having just beaten Monument Valley on my iPad, including all its add-on chapters. I know I’m about eleventy-billion years late to the party on these games, but they’re new enough to me to be interesting and old enough to everyone else to be retro. I got it through Netflix, who is delisting the game a few days from now. I’m probably not going to get to the sequels in that time, but maybe I’ll just buy the damn things from the app store after all.

Speaking of abusive relationships, puzzle games and I have a similar standing as RPG’s in that I love them dearly, but I don’t have time for them. I have a rather addictive personality, and as such generally don’t play games on my phone because of the distraction and time sink. If I want to play a game, I’ve got to work for it, fire up the Playstation or the Switch and sit my ass down on the couch. There are still games on my phone, mostly as a contingency plan if I’m stuck somewhere for a while and need my dopamine fix. The exception to that is Pokemon Go, which I’ve been playing religiously for some years now. In my defense, at least that game has me get up and out of the house when it isn’t exhaustingly hot or blisteringly cold. When it came to Monument Valley, I was certainly aware of the games, but I never gave them much thought. I saw a few screenshots and clips of gameplay and my response was a resounding, “It’s probably okay, but so what?” It reminded me of a game I tried out on my PSP called Echochrome. The games have a fair bit in common in that they both involve navigating Escherian landscapes using a combination of dream logic and lateral thinking. Echochrome predates Monument Valley by a few years, the former very much still a product of buttons and joystick gaming while the latter was born and bred to work with a touchscreen, be it a phone or, better yet, a tablet.

This led me to thinking of similar sort of puzzle games, ones that involve navigating a space rather than simply sliding blocks or matching tiles. One of these games is Crazy Castle for the NES. Specifically, and depending on what region of the world you reside in, Bugs Bunny in Crazy Castle (more on this in a moment). The game has you navigate a scene while dodging enemies in order to collect a number of carrots before moving on to the next level, of which there are 60. For a NES game, that number certainly seems crazy, until you realize each level only occupies about two screens worth of real estate and they employ a kind of modular construction. I remember my brother and I losing our minds at the idea of Bubble Bobble having some 100 levels, until we realized each level was only a screen and of a similarly repetitive level design. Although I do remember playing Bubble Bobble as a rental from a local grocery store in the suburbs of Madison, Wisconsin, I never actually played Crazy Castle. I don’t even think I knew it was a puzzle game. Frankly, in my mind, at that time a puzzle game consisted of falling blocks or sliding tiles. I do remember seeing the game at the same grocery store and reading the back of the box. What stood out to me most was this image of Bugs Bunny embracing a female version of himself in a blue dress. According to the text blurb, this is Honey Bunny, a character who has appeared in a few classic Looney Tunes shorts, though her design has never been set in stone. The image on the box baffled me because of how much like Bugs she looked. In fact, she looked like Bugs when he’s wearing a dress to fool Elmer Fudd. On the whole, it seemed weird to me to give Bugs a love interest at all, much less in a videogame, as if someone said, “It’s a videogame! You gotta rescue a damsel!”

It turns out the reason for the love interest is rooted in the game’s origin. This was around 1989 and in Japan the game originally starred Roger Rabbit (his wife Jessica being the captive Honey Bunny). As for bringing it to America, there was a problem. There was already a Roger Rabbit game on the NES and not produced by Kemco. So, the game was reworked graphically to feature Looney Tunes characters.

More games would be released in the Crazy Castle series, at least 5 depending on how you set up your spreadsheet, with multiple versions of each one depending on the region of their release. For the Japanese version of the second game, Roger Rabbit was replaced with Mickey Mouse. North America would still get Bugs Bunny right up until the 5th game in the series, which would star Woody Woodpecker. As for other regions, intellectual properties varied, from Garfield to the Ghostbusters to a Danish troll named Hugo.

It’s interesting to compare these titles to Monument Valley and Echochrome in terms of their presentation. In Echochrome, the character you have to guide around the impossible objects is an articulated artist’s mannequin, going with the game’s ultra-minimalist aesthetic, almost as if you’re playing a prototype rather than something finished. Monument Valley has you take on the role of Princess Ida, a small and silent little girl in a white dress and conical hat as she traverses a sea of soothing color gradients and isometric architecture. While the game has a story, it is not emphasized beyond some cryptic lines of text, the ending being almost symbolic more than anything concrete. Ironically, Crazy Castle has an equally anonymous quality about it, so much so that any number of characters and scenarios can be swapped out as needed, leaving the game with no real identity of its own. The closest thing the game had to an original character was in the Japanese version of the third game, with Mickey Mouse being replaced by Kid Klown, who would go on to have his own series of completely different games from Kemco. This game would see a release in North America, though its connection to the Crazy Castle franchise was nowhere to be seen as it does play a bit differently than the Bugs and Woody entries.

Having a major IP attached to a game creates a number of problems when it comes to preservation. While an original cartridge of Bugs Bunny Crazy Castles is neither rare nor fetching some high price on auction sites, it’s not been made available through any current console platform, namely the NES library of the Nintendo Switch. I don’t know how exactly the licensing deals work for that particular service (notably they haven’t removed or retired any games from the library, unlike Netflix), but having to deal with both a game developer/publisher as well as the owners of the license, in this case Warner Bros., has got to be a nightmare. This is the unfortunate fate of many licensed games, especially older games from the 8 and 16-bit era. They’re made to cash in on name recognition, they sell as many copies as they can, and then they fade into the haze of memory until suddenly they’re wanted again.

If Gex can come back, maybe there’s still hope for Crazy Castle.

A Random Thought To Keep The Light On

I've been abhorrent in terms of keeping this blog updated, barely sticking to my monthly pledge. In my defense, it's not for lack of trying, only a lack of motivation. It's been a rough few months on a personal level, a lot of travel, a few happenings, some emergencies here and there, and the stress gets to me. I've got at least three drafts for the past several months, but they haven't gone beyond that, mostly because the "moment" of investment passed. Nobody cares about Brightburn and I've said plenty about Far From Home elsewhere. Movie reviews simply aren't that interesting to me most of the time. What I do want to talk about in relation to movies is a movie I've been searching for for years and haven't gotten a single clue about. 

I only saw the trailer. It had to be at least 20 years ago. Part of the reason it sticks in my mind is that although I saw it on television, it was completely in a foreign language, even the narration. I want to say it was in French, but I can't be sure. It was so out of the blue for this totally foreign advertisement to insert itself into the airwaves. I remember I even saw it more than once, so clearly this was a thing that someone somewhere wanted to hype to high heaven. There was no release date beyond what I can only surmise was a "coming soon" or some other vague time frame. 

As for what it was about, I have only images and flashes, so it's entirely possible my memory has substituted certain details for others. Anyway, the central "event" the trailer harps on is two people bumping heads in a pool. That's the most concrete thing I can recall, a man and a woman, underwater, swimming straight into each other. There's a scene of one of them in a hospital bed (the woman, I think) talking to a nurse or orderly, with the camera very, very far back. The title was something rather long, practically a sentence, and it was overlaid on the same shot as the head-bump, looking up from the bottom of a swimming pool. For all I know, it's either a barebones romantic comedy with an exotic location or it's some magic realism farce about people swapping bodies Freaky Friday-style. 

I wrote a description slightly less detailed than what I've got above over on Yahoo! Answers but didn't get a single bite. I even remember asking a South Korean friend I've since lost touch with if she recognized anything because she's a colossal French film buff. Nobody seems to know a damn thing about this movie and I'm almost wondering if I could have made it up. Funnily enough, Quora isn't exactly set up for long, detailed questions, but jumping off my point about a possible false memory, someone on Quora shared with me that they were convince for years the movie Space Jam was just some dream he had. It's one of those quirky little things about our memories, how they can be so vivid and at other times so fuzzy we literally can't tell them from dreams or even our own imagination. This is where I'd also bring up the Mandela Effect, but I'd rather focus on this mysterious foreign film trailer from the forever ago. 

Maybe someday I'll tell you all the tale of how for years I never knew there was a second half to Logan's Run beyond Logan and Jessica ascending the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. 

Instagroan

I'd avoided Instagram for a time, mostly for the sake of efficiency. Between Twitter and Flickr, my photo sharing platform needs were covered. There's also the hipster part of me who turned up his nose as Instagram's whole "we make vintage/experimental photos easy" modus operandi, presenting themselves as a digital version of Lomography. As someone who owns a Holga 120S and has developed his fair share of film, I felt a little disgusted at the pushbutton setup of Instagram. Over time, this bias cooled down to a tolerable indifference, though I still never bothered signing up.
Recently, though, after downloading Nintendo's Miitomo app, I ended up giving in and expanding my Facebook account into the virtual Lomo service. My impression: yeah, it's all right, I guess.

Going back to the "Lomo App" image, it is somewhat comforting that Instagram has admittedly never tried to offer themselves as a replacement to gimmicky film cameras like Holgas or old Polaroids (that was more the work of some of its fans, for which no one can really be blamed), but rather a tribute to the medium, one that embraces the flaws of vintage/amateur photography and, much like Lomography, markets those flaws as features. Light leaks and poor color and double exposures are considered technical shortcomings that would have been the bane of any pro's career, but to artists and people less discerning of their photos' presentation, it's character. It's rough and unrefined, yet authentic and honest. This nostalgia even extended to their logo, a brown-and-cream-colored box camera complete with rainbow sticker. Right away, from that logo, you knew you weren't getting some high-end "unleash your phone's true potential" sort of app. You were getting a virtual version of that old Polaroid or Instamatic you or your folks had growing up, and that's okay.

So, what the Hell happened?

A few months ago, Instagram changed out the off-white bakelite logo for something that not only looks like the lazy byproduct of someone trying out the gradient tool in a drawing program, but also completely deprives the app of any sort of identity. I think it's a mistake for your app to be partly cut out or translucent in any way. App tiles always look their best when they look like plaques or badges or buttons. The old logo was especially cute because it looked like a physical object. Specifically, it resembled an old instant camera from around the late 60s to early 70s, the kind where you had to wait a few seconds before peeling away a bit of sticky tissue paper away from your photo. The new logo looks like nothing. It doesn't resemble a real camera, and doesn't evoke any particular time period. The magenta and yellow gradient has an early 90s vibe to it, but the die-cut, simplified outline is distinctly of this decade (which, bear in mind, we've only got four years left in). It simply reeks of pandering and compromise. It plays it safe and tries to be liked by everyone at the expense of its personality.
What I suggest is that if we use the original logo as a baseline, why not simply push forward ten years? Sure, some of us might be sick of the 80s retro love heralded by Adam Sandler's Wedding Singer and the more recent Far Cry spin-off Blood Dragon, but maybe Instagram is the one place no one would mind it. Hell, they might even embrace it.

Bring on the chrome, Tron graphics, and neon cursive.