I loved it too--for the very reasons you elaborate on here.
Thank you. I really don't think it's just residual early imprinting. I've seen something different and interesting in it every time I've rewatched it as an adult.
I vividly remember the computer going through the war simulations (the weird and ominous names for the various scenarios to go with every conceivable corner of the world in which a nuclear war could start), the blossoming bombs obliterating the map-screen, until at last, as with tic-tac-toe, it reached its conclusion.
Yes! "Syrian Provocation." "Zaire Alliance." "Atlantic Heavy." I can't remember the circumstances under which I first saw WarGames, but I can remember the tension of not knowing if it would hit on a "winning" combination of tactics just as it had brute-forced its way to the launch codes, because we the audience knew it would be a disaster, but we didn't know yet if Joshua would understand. But Falken is smiling, as the screen fills over and over again with soft white detonations of light: seeing what he'd always hoped for, which is not the end of the world after all.
And I remember the scientist, Falkin, with his kite, and the hack with the telephone.
I do feel nostalgic about the technology, not in the sense that I necessarily wish to return to it (although I would not miss the societal pressure of constant connectivity), but those black screens with blinking green letters and reams of fan-folded, mint-green printer paper are very dear to me. I remember acoustically coupled modems. I remember not carrying a wallet or a phone, but always making sure I had change in my pockets for a payphone. WOPR is beautifully designed to look like that smoothed-off Brutalist style of mid-century military hardware that made me think of soldering irons and oscilloscopes.
And I had those wooden dinosaur skeleton model kits growing up, but I kind of assumed most people my age did, like building model rockets. I did not have a pterosaur glider. I envied Stephen Falken both his many-pocketed, olive-green coat and his glider. And his house. It looked full of books and tinkering.
It's a good movie, and I wish more people did too. Remembered that not-playing is an option in things large and small.
Yes. You're right that the stakes don't always have to be war.
no subject
Thank you. I really don't think it's just residual early imprinting. I've seen something different and interesting in it every time I've rewatched it as an adult.
I vividly remember the computer going through the war simulations (the weird and ominous names for the various scenarios to go with every conceivable corner of the world in which a nuclear war could start), the blossoming bombs obliterating the map-screen, until at last, as with tic-tac-toe, it reached its conclusion.
Yes! "Syrian Provocation." "Zaire Alliance." "Atlantic Heavy." I can't remember the circumstances under which I first saw WarGames, but I can remember the tension of not knowing if it would hit on a "winning" combination of tactics just as it had brute-forced its way to the launch codes, because we the audience knew it would be a disaster, but we didn't know yet if Joshua would understand. But Falken is smiling, as the screen fills over and over again with soft white detonations of light: seeing what he'd always hoped for, which is not the end of the world after all.
And I remember the scientist, Falkin, with his kite, and the hack with the telephone.
I do feel nostalgic about the technology, not in the sense that I necessarily wish to return to it (although I would not miss the societal pressure of constant connectivity), but those black screens with blinking green letters and reams of fan-folded, mint-green printer paper are very dear to me. I remember acoustically coupled modems. I remember not carrying a wallet or a phone, but always making sure I had change in my pockets for a payphone. WOPR is beautifully designed to look like that smoothed-off Brutalist style of mid-century military hardware that made me think of soldering irons and oscilloscopes.
And I had those wooden dinosaur skeleton model kits growing up, but I kind of assumed most people my age did, like building model rockets. I did not have a pterosaur glider. I envied Stephen Falken both his many-pocketed, olive-green coat and his glider. And his house. It looked full of books and tinkering.
It's a good movie, and I wish more people did too. Remembered that not-playing is an option in things large and small.
Yes. You're right that the stakes don't always have to be war.