If you ever wanted to see a movie featuring the Iron Giant, DC superheroes, Street Fighter, Battletoads, Master Chief and Halo, Chucky, the Delorean from Back to the Future, King Kong, the T-Rex from Jurassic Park, Tracer from Overwatch, Starcraft, Gundam, and MechaGodzilla; you’re wish is granted.

Ready Player One is the newest film by all-time greatest film director Steven Spielberg, based off the novel of the same name by Ernest Cline. What’s it about? Much like the book, it’s pretty much pop culture the movie.

The actual story is that in the future a virtual reality game called the OASIS, created by a brilliant but reclusive game designer named James Halliday (played by Mark Rylance), is the single biggest hit and most played game of all time. You can do anything and be whoever you want to be in this virtual world. After James Halliday passed away, he created a challenge for all the players that will grant them control over his video game. The hunt is on, and one of these players named Wade Watts (played by Tye Sheridan) is determined to find all the clues before a corrupt business official (played by Ben Mendelsohn) does.

This movie was an absolute blast to watch. It may be because of the nostalgia goggles I have on, or that I’ve recognized over a hundred different references so far while watching the movie. Either way, I had fun.

First of all this was just one gorgeous looking movie with all the CGI. If you’ve read the book, you know that there would have to be a ton of CGI everywhere in the OASIS, and Steven Spielberg is the only director that can make it all artistic. Everything brought to life in the OASIS looked so fantastic.

The acting was good here too. I think Spielberg knows just the right people for the roles of his film. Everybody does a good job. Even the villain was great. I think Ben Mendelsohn plays douchebag characters perfectly. He was one in the Dark Knight Rises and Rogue One, and he was just great in this film too.

I also like how the soundtrack to this movie had an 80s vibe to it. Tons of classic songs like Van Halen’s Jump and Twisted Sister’s We’re Not Gonna Take It. I wonder it’s available in stores yet. I would listen the shit out of it.

Also, gotta mention the awesome amount of pop culture references and easter eggs scattered throughout the whole movie. I giggled with pure fanboyisms every time I recognized something or someone I knew from different media, and I loved seeing it all come together on the big screen. Seeing that huge fight towards the end is well worth the price of admission.

I will say this however: one of the big takeaways, if you’ve read the book, is how the film greatly differs from its source. I won’t get into specific details since it will spoil both the book and movie. But if you have read it before, you’ll definitely notice the big changes. What they did was they basically Jurassic Parked it, meaning that the mains story and plot details are still present but do not happen quite the same context as the source material. And as the late author Michael Crichton co-wrote the film version of Jurassic Park, author Ernest Cline co-wrote the screenplay to this film.

But that’s the thing, I already expected something like this from Steven Spielberg. I’ve read both novelizations of Jaws and Jurassic Park, and both films heavily differed from their sources too. Yet they’re still critically praised films because of how they differed. While I kinda smirked every time something happened in the film that wasn’t present in the book, it never really bothered me because the film was too enjoyable to knit-pick all the details.

You’re not going to see this movie to see how well it adapts from the book. You’re going to see it for the nostalgia sense and the spectical awe that director Steven Spielberg can provide. I really loved watching this movie, and I’ll probably watch it again and again for the nostalgia and pop culture blast. If you’re a purist who has read the novel and is hoping it’ll be properly be adapted, you’re gonna walk out disappointed. But if you’re looking for a fun movie to count the number of cameos and references, this is definitely you’re film. It’s something for fanboys and girls of all spectrums.

Positives:

-References and Easter eggs

-Outstanding special effects

-Good solid acting

-80s Soundtrack

-Spielberg’s direction

-Nostalgia fest

Negatives:

-Greatly differs from book

Final Grade: A-

I also highly recommend reading the book by Ernest Cline too. It’s a really good read. With the new ads on Prose now I saw one for Audible. If I can make a suggestion, check out audible.com sometime and look up a copy of this book. It’s narrated by Wil Wheaton of Star Trek fame.

So there’s my thoughts on Ready Player One. Have you seen it? What were your thoughts? And if you’ve seen it, how many references did you catch? Please be kind, leave a like and comment, and check out more reviews here on my page or in the Review Portal, here at Prose.com!

Best Quote:

James Halliday: “The best thing about reality is it’s real.”

#harrysituationreviews #film #opinion #scifi #videogame #virtualreality #nostalgia #popculture #AGrade

I have always wished to be able to fly, to have my own set of wings. I would love to feel the air blow my hair as I glide among the birds. Maybe I would be given new friends, bird friends. I have felt connections to birds and flight, in air and water, since the day a raven landed and perched on my head.

If I woke up one morning with this power I would fly away. I would open the window and head for the clouds. I would try to escape reality for as long as I could without having anyone I know find out my new power. If I have enough time I would travel around looking for the ones I love. The ones that have left, those who moved on in their lives without me. I would watch over them. This would be my first action.

I see them everywhere,

but are they little bits of my life?

no, they are tiny fragments of my heart

scattered everywhere

particles and atoms

formed in pieces and fragments

that make a beating, bleeding heart

I see them, as I look at the ground

I see them everywhere

yet, I cannot pick them up

they slip through my fingers

they crack from my touch

my warm flash

turning those little bits into ice

I stare at them

and mourn what was once inside of me

in my very core and center

I still have my beating organ

I still have my life

the blood runs through me

the atoms move

yet I miss those pieces of me

that cared more

I miss that naive side

that believed

she is still there

she cares

she feels

but somehow she grows quieter

with every missing little bit

.........................................................................................................

From the moment I read this challenge, I heard this song :

https://youtu.be/D8JzwrD5dvk

The tall man walked into the coffee shop. The coffee shop, where all the forgotten go. No one knows why they go there. They just do. And they are called the forgotten because they have forgotten who they were in life.

Forgotten the very things that made them who they were, so when they arrived, they ordered vast amounts of food and drink to see which they liked.

But the tall man that came through the door this very cold spring day was not a forgotten.

He remembered, he remembered everything about his life. So when he came in the door, the people about him stared. They stared for they could tell he was different from them.

He sat at the counter and ordered a sandwhich and a drink. The ones closest to him, asked “what did you oder?”

He he looked at them and said,” a liverwurst and onion sandwich and a milkshake”. The two forgotten looked at each other and then back at the tall man.

”Excuse me, but what is livurwurst and what is a milkshake?” The one forgotten asked, most curious to find the answer.

As soon as the forgotten finished their question, a plate with a sandwhich, chips and pickle were set in front of the tall man with a tall glass of pink drink in front of him.

“My good people, this is a liverwurst sandwhich“ the tall man lifted his sandwhich“....and this is a milkshake” and lifted his hefty drink, “..and for me, it’s heaven...”

Below the spotlight's white heat, perspiration collected on Sam’s brow. He was going to die. Sam knew this because he had premonition dreams. The first was while he was at the New York Film Academy. He dreamt he was with his class on the backlot of Universal Studios and a vehicle hit him. The next day the sight of a dawdling shuttle bus made fear wash over him like a cold sweat and he froze. When he tried to move out of the way he stumbled backward into its route. Fortunately, the only thing hurt was his pride.

Recently, he had been having a reoccurring dream. It started with him walking through a gentle snowfall until he reached a set of steep stairs that led to a stage. He began to audition for a Shakespeare play, but he couldn't stop stammering. Right before he finished a spotlight fell and crushed him to death.

He thought about trying to evade death, but Sam believed in the canons of destiny. So, when he saw the audition call at The Bushwick Starr in November he felt compelled and resigned. On his way there it began to snow, the first snowfall of the year and premature. He ascended the steep steps leading to the theatre and entered.

Under the spotlight, ashen-faced, he began his dialogue. A stutter proceeded each word like the hands of death were already strangling him.

“That's quite enough,” said the Director, her face pinched like she was sucking a lemon, “You can go now,” she waved him away.

“That's it?” Sam asked, “I'm done?”

“If you were attending the same audition I was, yes, you're certainly done,” she said.

“B-but I had a premonition. I'm supposed to die here, now,” he said squinting up at the spotlights, “a light will fall and crush me. It’s got to happen. There was the snow, the steps, and dammit you're doing a production of Shakespeare!”

“Suicide by premonition, ha! I've never heard such a thing,” She said dismissively, “listen, kid, this is a classy theatre, lights don't fall. Furthermore, this is an annual Shakespeare production, you've probably seen advertisements for it. As for the snow, well, that's just a coincidence. Now get off my stage or you'll be removed!”

Sam mumbled an apology and left. He walked down the steps glassy-eyed, certain that it had been his destiny to die. So consumed was he by these thoughts that he stepped out in front of an oncoming bus.

#flashfiction #premonition

Alex dug in his pocket, trying to find the money for the coffee. It hadn’t been very good, but at least it had been warm. His camera knocked against the formica table as he leaned forward to search the back pocket of his black jeans. Cursing under his breath at his carelessness, he removed the strap from around his neck and placed the Nikon in a padded camera bag beside him on the bench.

On the table in the booth next to him, he spied a tip someone had left between a plate of half-eaten eggs and an empty juice glass. The eggs, although congealing, made Alex’s mouth water. He looked around. The waitress was gone. The only other person in the coffee shop was a man reading the Wall Street Journal, a few tables over.

Alex put the coins he did have next to the bill and slid out of the booth, holding the camera bag protectively. He looked left and right before taking one of the crumpled dollar bills from the other table. He added it to the coins on his table, smoothing it out in an attempt to disguise it.

On his way out, he passed the man with the newspaper.

“Why don’t you just sell that fancy camera if you’re so hard up?”

Alex pretended not to hear him. The man repeated his question, louder, with authority.

“I make my living with it.” Alex wasn’t sure why he had felt the need to answer, but the man was hard to ignore.

“Looks like you’re doing a bang-up job.” The man patted the table in the space across from him. “Have a seat.”

Alex hesitated.

“You want to make some real money with that camera?”

The man promised to pay Alex ten thousand dollars for a compromising picture of a woman. Alex wondered why he didn’t just hire a private detective to do it. Maybe he had, the man knew exactly where she’d be, what time she’d be there and how Alex should get the shot.

Now that he’d heard the details, Alex could understand why a P.I. would have balked.

“Get to the top of the Stanislas building at sunrise,” the man said. “She always has her coffee out on the balcony, unless it’s raining. Take at least 20 pictures, make sure the guy is in every shot.”

He said “the guy” like the words themselves smelled bad. The businessman filled the booth, his barrel chest wide under the elegant blazer. Alex wouldn’t want this man angry with him.

And so it was that Alex made it to the rooftop of the Stanislas building the next morning, just as the pink tinged clouds gave way to the promise of blue sky.

Alex stepped out onto the ledge, relishing the crispness of the air. He hadn’t felt this close to nature since he climbed the butte in Arizona. He’d never been afraid of high places, and this one just reminded him of the cliffs he’d grown up on.

He sat down, letting his legs dangle. The balcony was twenty feet below. A light in the kitchen illuminated the two people inside preparing breakfast.

Alex raised the camera. As he zoomed in on their faces, he noted with surprise the resemblance the man in the kitchen had to the man in the coffee shop. Alex took the first picture.

As the man opened the door to the balcony, he looked up at Alex, gave a brief nod and called back inside to the woman.

It was the same man.

Photo Links: https://unsplash.com/photos/nGwhwpzLGnU and https://unsplash.com/photos/PM_VwL2ypes

No one in my home knows what I am about to say nor many that know me. There are only 3 people alive who know what I am about to say. I will share it with all who read it, but this story must never be told outside of here.

When I was 14, I had this job as a nanny. I had known the family my whole life, so they werent strangers to me. I stayed at their home from. I had my own room with this big window looking out to the front yard.

It was a beautiful home with great neighbors. Down the road, maybe a block away, was this park. I took the kids to this park all of the time. Behind the park, there were train tracks for the Metra. I remember being able to see the park from my window and seeing the kids play.

The kids I was watching had this friend that would meet them at the park. One day, when it was time to go home, I met the new boy's parents. They seemed to be a happy and sweet couple. Turned out, they lived in the house behind the one I was staying in. I remember seeing the mother of the boy jogging in the morning. She passed the window every morning. Every morning except one.

This story must never be told.......

I remember feeling something was wrong. I woke up because I thought I heard something. The parents had gone off to work already, so it was just me and the kids I was watching. They were sleeping still, so I knew the noise was coming from outside. I walked to the back door and remember seeing the shadow of a woman. The mother of the boy from the park. This shadow was followed by the shadow of a man. The father. Her body fell and was no longer moving. I look to see a face, and made eye contact with the father. I remember seeing the look of madness. He looked away and quickly moved the body.

In shock, I made sure all the doors were locked and hid in my room. I didn't know what to do. I thought that I was still sleeping and tried to wake up. None of what I just saw seemed to be real. I crawled back into the bed and tried to wake up from this dream like state, but I was not sleeping.

I looked out of the window a little while later and noticed that the husband was at the park now. I watched carefully to try and figure out what he was doing. He looked scared. I watched as he dragged his wife's body to the tracks. Farther and farther away he went. He was finally out of site. I was so scared, I passed out.

I remember waking up later on to a knock at the door. At this time, I was convinced what I saw was a dream, but when I opened the door, it was the police. They were asking me about my neighbor. The mother. The one who was found in her jogging outfit on the tracks dead.

I told them a few things, but I didn't want to believe what I had seen earlier, so that was all I told them. Just I didn't see her jog passed my window that morning.

They didn't arrest the father right away. I refused to let the kids leave the house because I knew he saw me. He would stand in his backyard and seemed to wait for us to come out. When I let the dog go outside, he would wave at me, but I would keep watching the dog. Eventually I started to carry a knife to take the dog out. I felt safer that way.

When he was finally arrested, I felt relieved. The family was in shock because of what they heard, but I was and still am scared from what I have seen.

I still havent told my family. The 3 people I have told are the people I felt can handle this secret. People who I also know will probably never see me again in a year.

When I was 14, I witnessed the murder of a woman and watched her husband drag her body onto the track.

This story must never be told.........

Trust me when I say, this can never reach the press. It is too dangerous; even now I take this risk in telling you.

I consider you to be a friend, someone I can confide in, so give me your word you will never tell a soul.

Then let me continue.

It started in 1977. Two people died in what was called an automobile accident, but the truth ... their brakes were partially severed and snapped when the car went down the far side of a mountain pass in Colorado.

In 1979, there was a house fire. Killed five people. It was originally ruled faulty wiring. It happened at night.

In 1981, seven people were shot to death at a private party. It is still an unsolved murder.

By 1998, fifty-six other people died in what would be called strange and unexplained deaths, although that same year, two others died from gunshot wounds to the face. Again, unsolved.

There was a break until 2016. Four people in different houses in the same city were found dead. One by gunshot, two by being beheaded, and one by strangulation. None of those deaths were related to each other.

I tell you all this so that you understand I cannot change what I am, or who I am. I have this animal living inside me that comes out, and then all I feel is rage, and the need to feed on the pain of others. I enjoy watching them die and bleeding out. I derive a huge amount of gratification, almost like an intense sexual release, but even better.

And even though I call you friend, I have you tied to that chair, so you cannot run away from me as I told you this story. Tonight, you are my sole captive audience. And I need this badly. By telling you, I am relieving my soul of what I have done.

When I walk away from you, my soul will be cleansed, as if nothing I have done in the past ever existed. I walk away with my hands clean, almost pure.

What? Will I still set you free? Of course I will. Right after I slash your throat and taste your blood.

There, now you are free, my friend. My secret is safe with you. I can begin over again. I am reborn.

Now, I feel much better; knowing this story will never be told.