It’s almost a dead horse, but the whip is still strong and the corpse just doesn’t stop giving off its foul odor. Of course I’m talking about cinematic conversions of video games and the stigma that comes with it. There’s no simple “good, bad or decent” when it comes to these conversions. Many have been simply “bad” and at times “cinematic poison”, but the best that anyone has really been able to say about these films is they’re “ok”. Expectations aside, I’ve always been worried by these conversions because box-office audiences don’t expect a pandering to the core community that made this a worthy conversion concept, they want a story in its own right. These films don’t move with the narrative of the game, nor do they expand or build upon the world that they’re pilfered from – they make the obligatory nods, then move on to be barely recognisable to those that have already experienced them before.

And there’s the nub of it: Interactivity and the nature of video game narrative makes all but a few of these games capable of a true cinematic conversion.

For instance let’s take the latest example: Max Payne. It’s a clandestyne game hell-bent on exploiting all the cheesyness of a hard-boiled noir, set in a fictionally distopyc New York with gangsters running loose on the streets, with a main character whos flaws extend beyond realistic and in to psychopathic. The narrative, while not overly complex, relied on many ultimately pointless external influences to drive the story forward – to give your character a target to line his sights against. This necessary feature of interactivity makes it impossible to condense the hours of gameplay in to a cinematic script. It doesn’t matter that the story would take about 10 minutes to read out if you lay it out all in a row, the necessity of experiencing the narrative between plot-points is what makes a video game feel complete, while a similar movie viewing is hollow.

In most video games, you are the protagonist and a good game will exploit that, throwing you either against expectations or subtly working to reinforce your thoughts so that when a character speaks, it may as well be you filling in the gaps. You can experience the betrayals and plot-twists as they happen, perhaps even work yourself in to a ball of fear as you stalk endless empty corridors or suburban streets only to have your fears eventually confirmed. Your real emotions affect your character and hence the decisions you make – possibly changing the very narrative you experience.

So it’s back to Max Payne. What could have been a thoroughly enjoyable experience that combined hard-boiled action with a cheesy backdrop was given a thorough scrubbing – dropping some useless components in the process (like the Mafia angle) – that at once both made the best and worst qualities of the game shine through. The intrigue and determination of Max Payne remained, but so did characters with almost no purpose other than to give a tip of the hat to the source. It’s hard to get excited about a film that cusps on being as good as the game and then shoots itself in the foot by thinking it is a game.

Cinematic rule: Show, don’t tell. You’re a visual medium, use it.

Video Game rule: Sometimes you have to tell, because you can’t always predict the behaviour of players. If you need to ensure an important plot point is covered, tell them, don’t show them.

When the movie crossed its lines and started bashing the audience in by covering what was just seen on screen or by repeating lines from earlier on (or hell, using the line “Don’t give up!” from a ghostly visage just as the protagonist thinks he can’t go on)… it went from good, to outright poisonous as a viewing experience.

One day a box-office film may manage to make that leap between video game narrative to cinematic, but this is most definately not it. Good for those who have played the games, possibly confusing and irritating for those who haven’t.