Oh god.
I see that Roger Ebert has once again decided to play the old man and shake a stick at video games. I can’t blame him too much; it must be incredibly difficult for his fans to reconcile his obvious intelligence about film with his utter ignorance and seeming intolerance of video games. So, no doubt, they (the fans) pester him constantly to revise his flippant dismissal of the form, prompting the occasional sleeve-breathing sarcasms we see today.
In his defense, Mr. Ebert isn’t saying that video games aren’t fun, or worthwhile, or interesting, or valid. He is merely claiming they can never be art. Which, yes, is incredibly myopic, but a view I can dismiss pretty easily. While my views on the subject have not substantially changed, Mr. Ebert’s assumptions strangely focus my own views in such a way that my opinion of video games as art is heightened. More on that in a bit. (And in checking out the above link, be sure to read James Ford’s particularly erudite comment.)
Oddly, what really gets my fire up is the TED talk from Kellee Santiago that prompted Mr. Ebert’s recent fun-pokery. Ms. Santiago is the co-founder of thatgamecompany, whose games (most notably, flOw) often come up in discussions of “games that might actually be art”. Granted, the fact that the games they produce are arguably the brainchildren of her business partner Jenova Chen might cause some to wonder why exactly it was Ms. Santiago giving a presentation on art theory, but… okay, I can’t actually think of any reason why Ms. Santiago should have been giving this presentation, apart from the nice ad she managed to wedge in at the end for their newest game on PS3.
I have to side with Mr. Ebert when he rightly takes Ms. Santiago to task on most of her assumptions about art. Indeed, the “first” cave paintings were, perhaps, crude by Renaissance standards, but Mr. Ebert is right in pointing out that they still possess artistic beauty more than the “chicken scratches” Ms. Santiago claims them to be. That Ms. Santiago should begin a defense of a maligned art form by dismissing another does nothing to win me over.
Then she presents her first example of games as art. Waco: Resurrection. Now, I’m not saying the game isn’t art. I would start by saying it was intended to be played as part of a larger installation piece, and that the game was never intended to be art by its own merits. One could argue that it attempts a perceptual shift akin to a second-person narrative conceit in order to contrast viewpoints blah blah blah point is, it’s a really stupid game to pick to back up your argument.
Braid is a better, or at least more obvious choice, but will win over no converts because it is art specifically for video gamers. I have the same problem with Braid as an example of art-worthy video games as I have with Watchmen being suggested as a comic book to give to non-comics readers. Braid, like Watchmen, derives most of its semantic and emotional weight from the semiotics of the artform within which it resides and exemplifies. Which is to say, without a schooling in superheroes, you don’t get why Watchmen is a big deal; likewise, without a solid background in platform gaming or, at the very least, Super Mario Bros., Braid loses a lot of its impact. These pieces of art work so well because, although we are familiar with all of the pieces that make up the works, we are shocked and delighted by the innovative and beautiful ways they are put to use. Which isn’t to say new gamers can’t like Braid, nor that new comics readers can’t enjoy Watchmen, merely that as an argument for the inclusion of their respective crafts into the pantheon of Arts they are, perhaps, too dependent upon foreknowledge to be terribly impressive to those not already on the bus.
…Which goes a long way to proving that video games must be some sort of art, some transcendence of mere craft or structure or system of rules, because unlike football or poker or chess, video games are capable of commenting upon themselves. The simplest argument for the presence of art in video games (and I do think that this is perhaps an easier point to concede, not that an entire video game is one piece of art, but that a video game consists of varying degrees of art, craft, game, chore, simulation, &c, and that it is the combination of these things that makes video games so hard to pin down) is the fact that they can do things not because they are necessary, but just because. The game mechanics of Passage, or The Path, are very simple. Both games can be played by holding down a single key. This is not the point, of course. (Here, had I another hour, I might attempt an explanation of the experience of both games. But I have not the hour, and you’re all smart enough to use Google.) The point of both games, though very differently expressed, are in the things you can do in video games that have nothing to do with achieving a goal. Exploration. Immersion. Discovery. The emotional connection between player and avatar. The different paths that lead to a foregone conclusion. The internalization of the concept of the futile choice. I’d argue that video games, when done well, allow a non-artist to not only experience art, but also to know, in some respect, what it is like to be an artist. (Not to say that every video game that wants to be considered art has to do it just this way, merely using these two as games that have low entry requirements, and still manage to create an experience no other medium can approach.)
It is to Mr. Ebert that I owe this particular epiphany, thanks to what I believe, in the end, is merely a semantic frission; his focus, his stumbling block, appears to be on the “game” aspect of things. A video game for Mr. Ebert, I gather, is nothing more than an animated version of a board game or sporting activity; merely a set of rules, automated, with some pretty pictures thrown on. Admittedly, the vast majority of games are, indeed, just that, no art to be seen, but there is certainly artistry possible there, and it is perhaps impossible to see where the art comes in without experiencing it. You can’t look at Portal and think it’s art any more than you can hear a description of a Picasso and understand its impact. You can only experience it, and then walk away, and recognize that your entire view of the way the world works has been permanently altered, purely because of the experience.
In the end, I would maintain that Roger Ebert should not comment on the artistic status of video games any more than he should review a movie without seeing it, though I also concede that video games may not be his cup of tea, and in the end he should perhaps just say as much. And Kellee Santiago should perhaps revisit her art history notes before her next lecture to avoid looking like a complete twit.
Thoughts, comments, rebuttals, &c, are, as always, welcome.