Comfort Viewings #6: The Last of Us
In the latest edition of our Comfort Viewing series, Millicent Thomas writes on finding solace in video games during lockdown.
Lockdown has shattered my attention span. I can’t watch a twenty-minute sitcom without staring down at my phone, consumed, by the waves of horrible news that never seem to stop. For this reason, I must admit, I found thinking of a topic for my contribution to Comfort Viewings ifficult.
I’m a film journalist who has only watched two films in the last month. I feel bad about that. Then I feel bad that I feel bad, because I shouldn’t – it’s a strange cycle. But I’ll be the first to admit how uncharacteristic it is that I haven’t turned to movies during this increasingly difficult time. I’m sure it has a lot to do with my generation (Gen Z): how easy it is to access everything and how much more time we spend on our screens etc., etc.
The two films I have watched are West Side Story (1961) and the 2017 version of Power Rangers (I contain multitudes). The former I watched with friends using Google Chrome extension, Netflix Party. When the credits rolled I was so happy; it was the first time in weeks I had felt so connected to, well, anyone. As my friends and I hastily typed out our excitement every time the iconic Rita Moreno appeared on screen, and shared in awe at the gorgeous transitions and goosebump-inducing harmonies, I forgot, for a moment, that the world is falling to pieces outside my window.
Power Rangers was different, but, nevertheless, important. When I have sat down and attempted to watch a movie, I’ve been craving a warm hug. I want hope, adventure, and things that used to make me happy as a child. I want Dora the Explorer (2000-2019), Tomb Raider (2018), and Hook (1991). Power Rangers really filled that void for me; it’s sincere and exciting, and I’m a sucker for a superhero training montage.
Outside of these two movies, I’ve largely found my comfort in the more active medium of video games. The sequel to my favourite piece of storytelling arrives June 19: The Last of Us Part II. The groundbreaking first game came out in 2013 and tells the story of a horrific pandemic that ravages America, infecting its victims with a Cordyceps fungus that coats the brain causing them to become ‘infected’ (zombies, basically). It’s been fifteen years since the pandemic broke out and Joel, who lost his daughter, is now tasked with delivering fourteen-year-old Ellie to a rebellion group, named the Fireflies. What follows is a heartbreaking tale that sprawls across America, asking hard questions of the player.
It may not sound particularly comforting right now, but these characters are so real that it makes the world easy to sink into; it helps me to forget my own. It’s despondent, I’m sure, but sometimes I wonder if things would be easier in the world of The Last of Us. The only thing you need to worry about is surviving, whereas life right now is worrying about surviving, but also worrying about how the (UK) government is handling things, how the arts sector might change, how media is facing intense financial difficulty across the board, and how people are forced to protest for their basic human rights. The sequel can’t come soon enough.
Along with The Last of Us, I have recently picked up the 2018 edition God of War. I’m around four hours in, at the time of writing, and I’ve never played anything quite like it. The player embodies Kratos, a Spartan god, who is on a journey to scatter the ashes of his wife on the highest mountain peak with his son Atreus. His son has no idea his father is a god, or what that could mean for him. It’s remarkably cinematic, with the entire game playing out in one singular shot, utilizing film techniques such as hand-held camera, and the landscape and mythology of the world is fully realized. I’ve already met witches, spirits, and the friendly World Serpent (a snake so large he wraps around the entire Earth). It’s the worlds that are nothing like my own in which I seem to find comfort the most.
I’m not alone in my lack of motivation right now; it’s harder to face the day when it doesn’t feel like there’s an end in sight. I watched some of the latest Queer Eye (2018-) recently (a series my mum and I bond over), and, after spending the week with a seventeen-year-old activist, Antoni remarked “Gen Z feel like they’ve been handed a world on fire,” – this really struck me. We feel like the world is ours to save, and that the older generation often refuse to listen. When you’re marching against systemic racism, climate change, and terrible leaders – all while trying to be a kid and get through school – it takes a toll. While we’re forced to face a world we’re not prepared to navigate, it’s just as important that we have ones we can escape to. Video games have given me that during lockdown.
Millicent Thomas is a freelance journalist and podcast producer with bylines at DAZED, SciFiNow, Little White Lies and more
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