Firstly, I dig your point on how bringing a physical camera to an otherwise animated world adds an element of realness to the fantasy. Knowing that at some point the sets and characters were solid objects that you could shape or take home sounds like the underpinning of every fantasy, be it by a child or adult.
Really, I take issue with this idea:
As one Web reviewer has already noted, nothing Pixar or Dreamworks could create can touch this painstaking attention to detail, as "the computers couldn't render it, or only ass slow." What's more, these details ooze with character and fascinating imperfection, adding quirk and charm to the film.
Writer/director Adam Elliot's 2009 film "Mary and Max" is proof that animation (claymation, in this case) is not always for children. Here, we have a film that deals with some very dark and adult issues, but looks at these issues through Mary, a very lonely young Australian girl, and her pen pal Max, an obese Jewish New Yorker suffering from Asperger's Syndrome. As Mary asks Max some of the most poignant questions in life, we see her adorable ignorance held up against Max's highly analytical and literal outlook on life.
Mary and Max are quite a pair, and through their 20 year-long correspondence, they face the world together--from the despair of isolation and loss to the joy of having everything they'd always wanted. There is much to say about the plot of "Mary and Max," and a number of reviewers I've run across have gone that route, but what really interests me about this film is the choice of claymation as a medium and what Elliot has done with it.
Firstly, I should mention that I have a soft spot for claymation, especially the classic strange, dry British wit found in Wallace and Gromit, for example. Regardless, "Mary and Max" is a breathtaking example of what can be done visually with clay. Though the film has a largely monochromatic color palette, save a bright orange-red that pops up here and there, the level of detail and pragmatism in dealing with "real-world" settings is fantastic. For example:
If you really give this image a close look at full resolution, you will begin to get a sense for the sheer quantity of detail in every scene of the film, both in the foreground and the background. As one Web reviewer has already noted, nothing Pixar or Dreamworks could create can touch this painstaking attention to detail, as "the computers couldn't render it, or only ass slow." What's more, these details ooze with character and fascinating imperfection, adding quirk and charm to the film.
But I think the choice of clay as a medium has deeper implications than the level and quality of detail for which it allows. Traditional animation (and computer animation, for that matter) is characterized by allowing the animator to create an imaginary world in which to set their story. This allows for the animation of anything that can be imagined, because even the most implausible characters, settings, and situations can be represented visually on screen. Contrast this with traditional live action filming, sans CGI or special effects, which requires real people in real places to create the illusion of the fictional characters and their fictional situations.
With clay, however, you are indeed creating your own fantasy world, but by introducing the use of the real camera to photograph your real clay models, a certain degree of tangibility or "realness" is injected into the product. The clay artist is free to create whatever they can imagine, as with animation, but in the end, a real model must be photographed by a real camera, as with live action filming.
Therefore, I'd say that "Mary and Max" does not take place in THE real world so much as it takes place in A real world--one in which the Statue of Liberty is a fat man and houseflies have strangely large, blinking eyes rather than creepy tiny segmented eyes.
Still, one does not need to know that this film is based on a true story to feel resonate it as such. Further, this is a film whose plot is based on a true story and whose setting is based on the real world, and that sort of symmetry is difficult to attain outside of the claymation medium.
"Mary and Max" may be a dark and even disturbing film at times, but the way in which it is executed is hilarious and absolutely charming, adding just the right amount of lightness for an enjoyable viewing experience. In my mind, a live action version of this film would be mostly without this humor and charm and therefore a much bigger pill to swallow, but a traditionally animated version of the film would lose that tangibility and resonance introduced by real clay and real cameras.
So, track this film down, give it a watch, post your comments and opinions, and as always, stay tuned for next week's follow up articles.
Art Star is getting ready to relaunch.
After a great run in 2008 and 2009, we trickled off on an identity search in 2010.
Like a great band, the core members of Art Star took a break to work on various side projects.
However, now we are coming back together again, under new leadership and with fresh talent.
It seems fitting though to sort through the 582 posts on this site and highlight why you loved us in the first place.
Without Further Ado here are the best series on Art Star.
The Boundary Series
Our last daring attempt before the diaspora. Simply as real as it gets.
Welcome to the Boundary
The Boundary: Babykicker
The Boundary: Serial Heartbreaker
The Boundary: Sunday Steaks
The Boundary: The Price of Doing Nothing
The Boundary: The Tao of Pooh
The Boundary: The Door
However, we weren't always so serious. The Spray On Condom Series is a humorous take on male/female relationships.
The Spray On Condom: Art Stars Official Relationship Column
The Spray On Condom: Beware Of Cups
The Spray On Condom: How To Make Friends In A New City
The Spray On Condom: The "Pretty" Girl Syndrome
The Spray On Condom: Meeting People On The Internet
The Spray On Condom: Too Beautiful To Fuck
When Art Star wasn't being self absorbed, the backbone of the blog were our legendary interviews.
Exclusive Interview With The Co-Creators of Bittersweet Design House
Smart Is The New Gangsta
Omar Miller is a Fucking Giant, Part 1
Omar Miller is a Fucking Giant, Part 2
Clicking Around With Music: Paleface
Clicking Around With Music: The Big Sky Project
Clicking Around With Music: The Solo's Unit
Clicking Around With Music: Lori Kirk
Clicking Around With Music: Hot Vegas
Clicking Around With Music: The Roseburys
Clicking Around With Music: Teen Wolf
Clicking Around With Music: Which Way Is Home
Clicking Around With Music: Samantha Crain
Clicking Around With Music: Grand National
Clicking Around With Music: Savage
Clicking Around With Music: DJ Bam Bam
Art Star Interviews: Cederic The Entertainer
Get to know the real Brian Famous (Brian Gallarello)
Interview with Amy Bruce
Clicking Around With Music: PFLAMES
Cavata Clothing: 2010 Is Coming And They Are Ready
Interview With Jamie Derringer
Clicking Around With Music: Ze!
Clicking Around With Music: Kid Koala
Clicking Around With Music: The Iveys
Behind The Pink Hair: An Interview With Jen Shu
Behind The Freedom: An Interview With Raymond Butler
On The Other Side: An Interview With Sherry Smith
Also we were fond of reviewing various things, most notably our series of dueling film reviews, where two of our writers would both review a film, and then respond to the other person's review.
Dueling Film Review: JDUB on "Moon"
Dueling Film Review: WHayes on "Moon"
Round Two: WHayes on JDUB
Round Two: JDUB on WHayes
Dueling Film Review: WHayes on "Inglourious Basterds"
Dueling Film Review: JDUB on "Inglourious Basterds"
Round Three: Whayes on JDUB
Round Three: JDUB on WHayes
Dueling Film Review: JDUB on "Up"
Dueling Film Review: WHayes on "Up"
Round Four: JDUB on WHayes
Round Four: WHayes on JDUB
Dueling Film Review: JDUB on "The Hurt Locker"
Dueling Film Review: WHayes on "The Hurt Locker"
Dueling Film Review: WHayes on "Chasing Amy"
Dueling Film Review: JDUB on "Chasing Amy"
Round Five: WHayes on JDUB
Round Five: JDUB on WHayes
Dueling Film Review: WHayes on "Where The Wild Things Are"
Dueling Film Review: JDUB on "Where The Wild Things Are"
Round Six: WHayes on JDUB
Round Six: JDUB on WHayes
Dueling Film Review: JDUB on "Funny People"
Dueling Film Review:WHayes on "Funny People"
Round Seven: WHayes on JDUB
Round Seven: JDUB on WHayes
Dueling Film Review: WHayes on "Wait Until Dark"
Dueling Film Review: JDUB on "Wait Until Dark"
Finally we have the Bar Tales series, reflections on relationships and things that happened to one writer in Dallas bars.
Bar Tales Chapter 1: Slow Fuck
Bar Tales Chapter 2: Glynetta
Bar Tales Chapter 3: Longing
Bar Tales Chapter 4: Goddess Of The Hunt
Bar Tales Chapter 5: The Paradox Of Strength
Bar Tales Chapter 6: Lulu
Bar Tales Chapter 7: Muses
Bar Tales Chapter 8: Mirrors
Bar Tales Chapter 9: Mountains
Bar Tales Chapter 10: Falling In Love
Bar Tales Chapter 11: Rooster Feathers
Bar Tales Chapter 12: Vida Dulce
Bar Tales Chapter 13: Pumpkin
Bar Tales Chapter 14: Tea Cup
Bar Tales Chapter 15: Bottles
And just for kicks the top 10 most viewed blog posts of all time:
1. Compare and Contrast by CtotheB
2. Living With Bi-Polar Disorder:Three Lessons by smartblackboy
3. Am I The Baddest MOFO Low Down Around This Town? Sho' Nuff! by CtotheB
4. Who Plays Punch Buggy? Art Star Plays Smart Car! by PicMuse
5. Comedian Spotlight: Charlie Barnett by DJ NY
6. Building An Ark In Atlanta by PicMuse
7. Megaman, I Feel Your Pain by PicMuse
8. Bar Tales Chapter 7: Muses by smartblackboy
9. How To Use Machines For Good -RJD2's "GhostWriter" by JDUB
10. Behind The Pink Hair: An Interview With Jen Shu by smartblackboy
Thank you so much for reading Art Star and we look forward to launching our next iteration, October 2010.
It is hard to watch a film like director Terence Young's 1967 suspense/thriller "Wait Until Dark" without being unfairly critical, especially if the film has 20 years on you like it does me. Audrey Hepburn is iconic even in current terms, but I still wasn't expecting the kind of strength, grace, and resolve she brought to her role as a (not so) helpless blind housewife.
There is no denying that this is a truly excellent film, but there are some interesting ways in which it shows its age, and this is where the unfairly critical stuff starts coming out. A modern movie viewer with modern expectations will find that some of the dialogue seems contrived and poorly delivered--especially in the early scenes.
WHayes says that he hesitates to call Funny People inconsistent. I, however, do not hesitate to do exactly that. The movie's title tells us one way to approach interpreting each scene as they relate to the film as a whole. Perhaps one focus of Funny People is on the comedians, comedic actors, and other celebs in the movie and how they act and interact with fans and one another on day-to-day terms. For me, that would net a sufficiently light-hearted and entertaining film.
Then there's George's disease and his having to cope with his apparent mortality which demonstrates the dehumanizing effect of one's celebrity status. George's fame, in a way, has driven his so far away from meaningful human interaction that he's forced to pay Ira to keep him company. All of a sudden, George finds himself helpless and alone surrounded by an enormous house filled with expensive things. His audiences are so far disconnected from his reality that they cheer him no matter how depressing he is on stage. This conflict, and his building a relationship with Ira, add a pleasant amount of depth and struggle to the sufficiently light-hearted and entertaining film.
The problem for me comes when we discover that Funny People is actually supposed to be about how George let Laura get away and how his terminal disease stirs up his feelings for her. The way I see it, we've now taken a nice, light-hearted, entertaining comedy with sufficient depth and struggle (and romance between Ira and Daisy, to boot) and essentially Frankensteined a third arm onto a film that already had two perfectly good ones, thank you very much.
For this, I would absolutely call Funny People inconsistent because the film itself cannot seem to decide what it wants to be about. If it should indeed about George's attempt to rekindle his romance with Laura, then I agree with WHayes' notion of the cameos becoming "clouding and distracting." One of the movie's three arms must go.
I find myself wondering why I find Laura and her husband Clarke to be the two least interesting and/or believable characters in Funny People... and what the hell is wrong with the movie having only those first two arms?
So lets keep with the "we'll call it meta" motif for this second round. In his review, Jon cites Funny People's main faults as its length and inconsistency in taking what could have been played as a straightforward drama (with occasional comic relief, like the Saul Goodman character in Breaking Bad) and instead shoehorning in random lighthearted moments, many of which dependent on a celebrity cameo to play well.
Does he reject them outright as Jon says? Not entirely, as he still indulges in the occasional groupie (even when she tells him to do soul-crushing impressions from older movies during coitus). Rather, I think we just get a window into what the character always felt about his life, be it the terrible movies, copious amounts of pointless promotional swag, or his 'bucket list' of people to reconnect with before the end. The swag is still pandering bullshit (yet he finally has a reason to give it away), the groupie's are still a generation removed from being people he could form a real connection to, and the bucket list is still the mix of refreshing (like with Andy Dick), and tediously embarrassing (like with his sister) that it always would have been.
Funny People has been in our pipeline for a while, but I was never sure of the right context to review it. Everything I knew about the movie before seeing it put it on a tough pedestal. Finally seeing it left me with one question: I wonder if its possible for us to have simply too much baggage to make real, lasting catharsis?
If you're anything like me, you hear of a film coming out directed by Judd Apatow and starring many of his usual suspects in Seth Rogen and Jonah Hill, plus Adam Sandler, and you get a little excited. Apatow is a quintessential auteur, and because of this, I personally find myself going into his films with certain expectations.
Namely, I expect anything he's written, directed, and/or produced to be funny, basically light-hearted, and not terribly deep. These usually aren't the kind of films you'd expect to see win very many awards with the Academy, but you know they'll be fun and entertaining none the less.
At a very basic level, Apatow's "Funny People" seems to follow right along with these trends. I find the dialogue hilarious and less contrived than it could have been. But don't be fooled: in fact, this film is a drama masquerading as an Apatow comedy. Yes, it's funny, and yes, it's generally light-hearted, but it's also nearly two and a half hours long, and deals in noticably heavier subject matter than one might have expected.
Most Apatow films celebrate casual sex, the use of drugs and alcohol, materialism, and generally deviant behavior, but it is all of these things which Adam Sandler's character rejects when he learns he has a terminal form of cancer. Sandler is excellent in the role: snarky, jaded, and yet totally oppressed by his momento mori. Contrast this with Seth Rogen's character, an aspiring comic who suddenly is thrust into the celebrity lifestyle: his fresh sense of wonder highlights Sandler's depression.
I think "Funny People" employs some of the most effective celebrity cameos of any film I've ever seen. Because Adam Sandler is playing himself, a celebrity, his relationship with other celebrities on screen causes them to become true characters in the film. James Taylor yells "Fuck Facebook!" after a set of music at a MySpace corporate function, Sara Silverman cracks vagina jokes with Sandler just before delivering a pretty excellent stand up comedy routine on camera. Marshall Mathers yells profanely (and hilariously) at Ray Romano across a restaurant for very little reason. There is definitely a focus on humanizing celebrities in this film by presenting them as belivable people.
I'm very satisfied with what Apatow's been able to do with "Funny People," yet I am simlutaneously aware that the film seems to fail somehow. It is simply too damn long. I could have done without perhaps thirty to forty-five minutes of the second half scenes. In the end, the film seems to lack a unified focus because of its rambling length.
Obviously there have been plenty of films to straddle the line between comedy and drama effectively, but "Funny People" seems to shift between purely comedic scenes, and scenes of drama, rather than allowing the two to coexist. The cast carries this film, elevating a bloated, Frankenstein script to something with a very real, natural feel and plenty of humor. Now, if only the script weren't stepping on those toes...
Spike Jonze's "Where the Wild Things Are" absolutely does have that unfinished feel WHayes talks about, but I am going to have to disagree on the hipster moodiness argument because, well, the film almost embodies the indie hipster melancholy. Even moments of pure happiness and joy are still seen through that brooding, earthy color palete and they're further tainted by the nagging sense that no happiness, joy, or love can come without the price of a corresponding amount of unhappiness, pain, and hate.
A friend of mine suggests that Jonze, instead of adapting a children's book into a film, has actually created an adult version of a children's' book in this case, and I tend to agree. If children's books are allegorical in nature, then it seems like Jonze has forced Max to face a literal version of the book's allegory in the film. For me, this attempt was unsuccessful because not only did Max have trouble understanding the conflict around him, but I--as an adult--did too.
Jonze's "Where the Wild Things Are" suffers in its lack of depth, development, and explanation. I don't get the sense that Max has changed at all, except to discover that his childhood notion of being a king is certainly not all its cracked up to be. Kids these days are "growing up" faster than ever before, and this is perhaps part of the difficulty in bringing "Where the Wild Things Are" to the big screen in this day and age.
The book was published first in 1963, a time when it was still alright for kids to be kids. Honestly, the original story was about as shallow as they come: a simple escape into the imagination for an uninhibited romp with big fluffy beasties. Obviously a shallow story in the book does not cause an incomplete story in the film, but it is immediately apparent to anyone familiar with the book where the original story ends and the new one begins. A lot has had to be added to force the story to fit inside the moody indie hipster film box, and I think even more should have been added.
Again, I agree that Jonze deserves credit for a pretty amazing piece of cinema. It's certainly cohesive, as WHayes points out the integration of live-action and CGI is flawless, the music is solid, and the acting is good. But, after having looked forward to the film from the moment I knew it would be happening, I honestly did not enjoy the final product. The journey across the ocean to the island of the Wild Things is meant to be an escape from the adult world, but I don't agree with WHayes that it ever feels remotely like a fairytale: to me, it feels like Max was never able to imagine away the adult world at all.
Where's the idealism without resistance or hesitation? Where the hell is all the drama between the Wild Things really coming from? What's the fun in watching a failed attempt at escapism? And, what kid's imagination would come up with all of that stuff, anyway?
The feeling in my gut is that Jonze's film is showing a world in which there really is no such thing as childhood (and parents who think the film is too scary for kids can just go to Hell according to Sendak), but I sincerely hope this world never exists.
Dub, you're onto something when you note how Max's very presence among the wild things is what exacerbates the brewing tensions between them. I further agree that this realization was largely behind his decision to leave for home, as things were rough with his sand-blooded pals at first, but he handled the pressure well. It takes a tough kid to look up into faces that could (and do) swallow him whole, and want to not only befriend them, but be their king. That blind willingness to set aside fear in favor of awe and cooperation is what makes children special; its a quality more adults should share when dealing with their own issues.
So everyone got all excited when word came out that Spike Jonze was getting a hold of Maurice Sendak's timeless kid's book "Where the Wild Things Are." I must admit that I was among that group of people. My parents read the book to me when I was a kid, and I remember being absolutely stoked to find out they'd be making it into a movie.
There are many things about the film that Jonze got right. He found a cute enough kid, the CGI beasties are surprisingly belivable as living creatures, the music is fabulous in that indie sort of way, and even the movie's earthy color palette does an excellent job of informing its heavy, brooding tone.
Art Star being a blog (for now, *wink*), I'd like to think we're allowed to make a few generalizations in setting up an argument, all for the sake of expediency. So while I could write you an entire thesis on how the best children's stories are allegories for the trials adults face as well, lets just accept that as a given for now.
- Showing that even a fantasy isn't always what you expect it to be.
- Showing that love, even though it may be painful, is worth it to experience and give.
- Showing that your imagination truly can build great things -- your own personal fort.
- Showing how, nasty as it may be, it does take someone special to lead (to be a king), and that a lot of shit can splatter if you aren't who you say you are.
- Showing how, as painful as it is, sometimes family members let each other down.
- Providing a world that feels like a fairy tale, albeit one with real consequences. Trees get smashed, and so can little boys. Makes you wonder just how safe you really are, anywhere. Even in your own head.
WHayes, I love it, dude. It seems to me that your feelings toward Chasing Amy have arisen because you romanticized it. You heard witty and believable dialogue where there really was none. You were smitten, and when you realized that, it left a bitter taste in your mouth.
Holden must have felt about the same way when he realized how far behind Alyssa he was sexually, and as men tend to do, he tried to fix the "problem," rather than accepting things for how they are. Alyssa can revisit her sexually adventurous years as readily as we can rewrite Amy's contrived dialogue and remake a more "perfect" film.
But just because two people can virtually never totally reconcile themselves to each other doesn't mean you can't go right on loving the film as before, nor does it necessarily mean the book is closed on Holden and Alyssa's relationship. After all, the whole sappy, over-wrought point of Chasing Amy seems to be that no relationship can be perfect, and two people don't have to be "perfect for each other" to be in love.
I heard somewhere that love is all you need...
In the end, I guess we're left right where we started. Holden is going to have to fall in love with Alyssa all over again for exactly who she is (for real this time), and WHayes, you must do the same with Chasing Amy. It's the original bromantic comedy, after all.
And, in other news, I finally understand that wordless conversation Holden and Banky shared at the end of the film, thanks to the very charitable work of some very skilled linguists and sign language experts:
I'll keep this short, as I'm sure you people are tired of hearing me blab on about love and shit (I'll be talking about The Matrix next).
For Holden, the trouble with Alyssa is that she turns out to be a lesbian, but naturally he persists and is eventually successful in sparking a loving romantic relationship with her. This effectively alienates Banky, who feels their friendship threatened.
When Holden then learns of Alyssa's sexually adventurous past, it causes him to feel inadequate and inexperienced, which gives him cause to melodramatically call their otherwise thriving romance into question.
But he has a plan after all. Holden's instinct is to find a way to line his real life up with his ideal life floating around in his head (because the story must end with a "happily ever after"). The only way he sees to gain some experience, get closer with Alyssa, and simultaneously fill the rift between him and Banky is through a thoughtfully contrived threesome.
Holden must propose the idea to his best friend and girlfriend as they sit side-by-side on the couch, and I must say that Ben Affleck really nails the scene. Molding the world to fit his vision has clearly become a labor of love, and he can almost taste that greener grass.
Banky agrees, but Alyssa insists that part of her life is over, and she also won't share Holden with anyone. Holden's insistence that he needs the experience and his relationships will be better for it is now at the expense of Alyssa and Banky's reality. Creating an "unreal" version of themselves simply to appease Holden's desires is not only too much to ask of his friends, but it also creates an unreal resolution to a real problem.
Holden's plan drives the three apart in the end, and this makes way for a "one year later" prologue scene. At a comic signing, Holden spots Banky from across the room and the two share a wordless conversation that seems to say "not yet dude, but some day, time will heal these wounds."
Holden has poured his emotions and experience into a comic which overtly details his and Alyssa's story, and he hadn't even changed their names. The camera allows the viewer to see a panel dominated by the words "I'm sorry Alyssa, wherever you are," and Holden leaves the room having said what he came to say.
But what does this sappy overwrought comic book mean for Holden's character? Maybe relegating his failures to a fictional-feeling comic book can allow everyone to "close the book" on that part of their story together. Maybe Holden is a dynamic character after all, having realized that forcing his girlfriend and best friend into a contrived threesome was probably not the best idea.
Or maybe the sappy overwrought comic book represents a thriving obsession with his failed fantasy. Maybe Holden was hoping he'd be able to tell his kids that his awesome comic book changed things between him and Alyssa forever, and that he definitely hasn't crossed the line between thoughtful and fanatic.
It's unclear to me which is the case. Anyone care to comment?
Its a typical feeling: you watch a great movie, and can't wait to pop it in again. The second viewing opens new doors: since you know where the story leads, you can focus your attention on the journey. You pick up the little character quirks you hadn't seen before, notice easter eggs the director inserted as shout-outs to earlier films or beloved influences, and get to analyze how the actors conveyed the emotion that hit you with that hard twinge of empathy.
We of the internet have to reign in a bad trend, and try to use our hyperbole responsibly. I'm pretty successful at this, so when I tell you that "TiK ToK" was "pants-shittingly average," you can be sure that I meant it. That said, The Hurt Locker is that war movie Bush-era Iraq desperately needed, and I love it.
People have been recommending I watch The Hurt Locker for some time now, and everyone was saying the same thing: they all loved it in spite of being sick and tired of war movies.
I too am sick and tired of war movies (and zombie/vampire movies), but we've seen Inglorious Basterds to be a fresh and compelling take on the World War II era. It is not a "war movie" per se, but rather a movie set during a war.
The Hurt Locker does use a very standard "war movie" organizing structure: the battle scene. The plot is driven by successive fights, standoffs, skirmishes, and and chases which move the characters and the viewer through the story.
But indeed there is something different about this film.. something that sets it apart from previous war movies. Sure, it may be about American soldiers in combat situations in Iraq, but it doesn't feel, function, or end in the way in which we'd expect a classic war movie to feel, function, or end.
In fact, I'd go so far as to say that The Hurt Locker isn't actually a war movie at all.
The fighting and bloodshed in traditional war movies is virtually always validated in the end when the forces of good prevail over the forces of evil. The battles can only be significant and interesting if they affect some kind of change and drive the movie's plot to a resolution.
In The Hurt Locker, however, we get no sense of progress, nor do we get the sense that all of the conflict and killing is leading anywhere tangible at all. To me, it becomes a film about survival, with the number of days remaining on their detail constantly flashing on screen always reminding us how much longer they must survive, and every minute is tense.
Rather than end with a great victory or an epic honorable martyr-like death for one or more of the characters, The Hurt Locker ends more or less as it started: another day, another bomb to diffuse. There seems to be an infinite number of unexploded IED's and random insurgents, and we dont get much in the way of reason to believe the conflict will ever end at all.
Insead, I'd call The Hurt Locker a survival film set within a war. It seems to be more focused on its portrayal of Iraq post US invasion and on the effect Iraq has on the soldiers. There is hope present, somehow: not hope of an end to the conflict, but rather a simpler kind of hope that the characters will at least live to see tomorrow... but they'll just be risking it all again.
