Part voyeur, part investigator, Immortality is a relentless exploration of subtext. Weaving layers of symbolism between celluloid, players' simple task of uncovering a lost muse through old film footage transforms with each new revelation.
Immortality‘s subversive goal is to make the player uncomfortable.
In essence, the act of “play” is moderately stripped from Immortality. It is, after all, another FMV, interactive piece of work from Sam Barlow who also crafted Her Story and Telling Lies. Players transmogrify into viewers, merely using the controller to dictate the pace and sequence of events in the game.
Within minutes, Immortality made me feel a modicum of discomfort at the voyeuristic act of watching events unfold. I was witness to multiple tawdry sex scenes styled in the vein of 1960s exploitation films. Choreographed violence against a helpless woman played out like it would in a regular film. A black and white sequence of a woman ballet dancing in sheer pieces of cloth, gazing into the camera knowingly as she removes strip after strip.
There is a stark honesty to the scenes portrayed and observed in Immortality, one that puts a magnifying lens on its player. Questions arise over the meaning of art; the relationship between creator and those who absorb those creations visually, aurally, or otherwise. Immortality asks, “Is this enough?” Or whether it merely isn’t. In agonizing detail the player must become the viewer and dissect their perception, reliving moments, determining whether symbology is fact or merely coincidence. And, ultimately, what kind of permanence can be expected between creator, creation, and those who absorb either into their conscience?
At the center of this heady tapestry is the core premise: What happened to Marissa Marcel?
By all accounts, Marissa Marcel is an actress that appeared in a singular commercial for a hand soap but was then chosen over numerous other women to play a supporting role in the 1968 film Ambrosio. Two years later, she was the lead in a film called Minsky. Then, 29 years later, Marissa reemerged for the dual-lead role in Two of Everything.
The first question most players will have is why this woman appears to be the same age across all three films spanning 30 years of time. And most may recall the title being Immortality. Cue the raised eyebrow.
Players are tasked with scrubbing through the footage of all three of these films to determine that looming question of Marissa’s whereabouts. As a video game–or piece of interactive entertainment–Immortality is relatively simple and entrusts the player with simple controls in lieu of focusing on the more meaningful motion on screen. Using the controller as a kind of Moviola film editor, the player is capable of rapidly rolling a scene to its beginning or end with the press of a controller stick. Flicks to the right or left control the speed at which the scene rewinds or fast-forwards. The directional pad can advance or reverse the action by frames.
Immortality opens with a grid of every scene of footage–a little over 200–before casting them all away into the ether. With this blank canvas, players are meant to watch a clip, pause the action, and highlight an object of interest to focus on. Whether two people kissing, an actor, a breast, an apple, a lamp, a cup, or a plant, a new scene with a related image will begin playing, ready for scrutiny. Emphasis becomes placed on the player attempting to recognize patterns of images or investigating seemingly random elements of a frame that may belie more important information in a different film.
A cup from a talk show interview with Marissa may lead to a cup in Ambrosio, placed on a table near some fruit. That apple in Ambrosio may lead to a piece of art in Minsky or a similar bowl of fruit in Two of Everything. Diving deeper into this collaborative investigation is the ability for players to seek out identifying crew members that appear. Because Immortality isn’t strictly pieces of completed feature films minced out. Players are given a perspective into early table reads that may exist in place of scenes that were never actually filmed. Rehearsals in sound stages or small rooms are acted without the polish of a fully-edited slice of film.
Interestingly, players are privy to information gleaned before the clapperboard is slammed closed for a new take, or after “cut” is called. Often the gaps in a film’s timeline can be filled out by highlighting a crew member. At one point in the game, I noticed a discrepancy in Minsky, a film in which a detective is investigating the death of the titular artist and his muse. Previous knowledge informed me that the film’s director John Durick had taken on the role of Minsky. Why then did a scene at an art gallery show a portrait of Minsky with a different actor? I clicked on the image and was taken to my first instance of the original Minsky actor and followed that thread.
The mere act of stringing together the chronology of Immortality‘s three films is a fascinating process. Assuredly, players will place those puzzle pieces in outlandish order. All three films are quite engaging removed from the core narrative, Two of Everything more so because of the date of filming and the inherent questions arising. Frequently I would become immersed in an attempt to fill in the gaps of one film, often going back to it when a discovery transported me to a scene from a film I wasn’t focused on.
Yet the power in Immortality is the growing importance and symbology in all its permutations.
Removed from the structure of being a game or merely three disparate films, Immortality is multi-tiered narrative, where varying parts inform the other.
Ambrosio, the film from 1968, highlights a religious figure’s temptation towards blasphemy and sin. During the exploration of the film, era-accurate methodologies of special effects and set design are highlighted. Fishing line is used to hold a book in place as an actor moves out of frame to simulate disappearing. Matte paintings give the illusion of grandeur while interior shots have limited space, representing budgetary constraints and a lack of unique locations. But behind the scenes, players may witness the flirtations between actors and actresses or the lecherous comments of the film’s director, attempting to coach the two female leads into their roles as the virgin and the whore.
As players transition to Minsky from 1970, they may wonder how John Durick, the director of photography for Ambrosio came to direct his own film. The relationship between Durick and Marcel and the joint venture of creating a movie together provides a glimpse into low-budget, guerilla filmmaking. And finally, with Two of Everything, the question arises as to how this pair reunited after so long to create what appears to be a Hollywood-aimed film about a pop star named Maria who discovers she has a body double named Heather.
The framing of all the on-camera and behind the scenes action in Immortality creates the framework of a fascinating exploration of film. As a viewer who has frequently become disenchanted with big-budget fare and more enthralled by razor-thin budgets and obscure cult films, Immortality was almost a documentary unto itself. You understand that though you may be watching an amalgamation of the entire process, there is an honesty to it. Ambrosio acts as a statement piece on historic films of the time and commentary on steamy exploitation films that weren’t afraid to show nudity and delve into taboo concepts. I found Minsky to be my least favorite of the trio, partially because its central plot didn’t intrigue me as much, though it featured one of Immortality‘s more intense scenes that felt almost like found footage horror, forced to to rewind frame by frame to discern deeper meaning.
Those who deem themselves prudish may arrive at numerous uncomfortable moments in Immortality. At the forefront is nudity and scenes of softcore sex and sexual assault, often not represented in a “rehearsal” framing. But in the full scope of its experience, Immortality is not wholeheartedly celebrating these base natures, nor is it condemning them.
Frequently, Immortality uses stark imagery to provoke the viewer and player. Yet the provocation is not for shock, rather introspection. The deluge of violence and sex exposed to me in the first fifty or so scenes of Immortality began to worm their way into my conscious. The veil of comfort I would normally have witnessing these acts in a television series or on the big screen began to crumble. Rather than being a passive viewer gazing over a finished product, I was a participant in the creation. At what point do these events feel gratuitous rather than necessary to the plot? How many films have I watched that needlessly bloat their runtime with titillation?
A calculated spotlight seems firmly placed on the blanket male gaze. And often its messenger was Marissa Marcel. Countless times a scene in Immortality would end, freezing on Marissa staring knowingly into the camera, her piercing gaze speaking volumes. She knew that I knew, that the layers were peeling away. Occasionally judgemental, frequently omniscient, it felt as if Marissa was staring through the camera recording her, through the passage of time, through the television, and directly into me.
Haunting is not succinct enough to encompass the full range of Manon Gage, the actress who plays Marissa Marcel. Gage’s performance is one of the finest in either medium. Part of what compelled me to fall in love with Immortality is the undeniable softness behind Gage’s beauty, inviting the viewer as a natural ally. The player is endeared to discovering her fate almost as if she was a kind of damsel in distress. But Gage’s skill at acting permeates throughout all three films and the behind the scenes footage, wigs and all.
Part of Gage’s ability to excel is knowing when to act as the actress Marissa Marcel and then juggle the blurred line existing between Gage and Marcel when she exists while the camera isn’t rolling. This is accomplished through an unmistakable tendency to overact, a talent I think only the best actors and actresses can pull off. Gage is capable of acting as a shy first-timer who embraces the risque nature of her role in Ambrosio. But being set in 1968, Gage also performs with an affected voice, providing a sliver of camp and schlock. Minsky allows Gage a chance to be cocky and confident, embracing weightier responsibilities like chemistry tests, location scouting, and fighting with argumentative actors. As Heather and Maria in Two of Everything, Gage soaks up the melodrama and splendor of a dual identity picture.
The full cast excels at this kind of real and fake acting, portraying a cohesive cast of performers in varying roles then becoming production members crafting together a series of films. As a game consisting of full motion video scenes, there are no “graphics” to speak of per se. That being said, Immortality‘s scope is quite remarkable as the various scenes constructed feel trapped in their respective eras. Wardrobe, props, costumes, film stock, and writing all exhibit a deep knowledge of the art form and how to craft a standalone piece of entertainment.
But how do we as players determine the fate of Marissa Marcel? The answer to that question will eventually arrive during the investigation process of the varying scenes. Certain clues whether they be visual hints or audio cues or delivered through haptic feedback indicate there’s something going on. For a smattering of context, I would be shocked if a player who watched a scene where actors spoke in tongues wasn’t inspired to play the footage backward, trying to hear if words were formed in reverse.
Unsurprisingly, a layer exists in Immortality that opens the floodgates into startling context. Personally, I think to mention anything of this subterfuge would be to rob curious players of a unique experience. Often this moment of discovery will gurgle to the surface quite subtly and players may test out their hypothesis a few times, only to irrevocably change the framing of Immortality.
This “other half” of Immortality is meant to challenge the player. On the surface it exists as a video game mechanic that requires occasional frustrating imprecision to “trigger” a thing. Not only are players required to delicately work the footage viewing mechanics, there doesn’t always seem to be a definitive right way. More so, I think the way Immortality presents its dearth of footage could have been cleaned up better, providing players with better ways to identify gaps of scenes and where knowledge may be missing.
However, those surface frustrations melt away when players become acclimated to Immortality‘s new methodology of rousing its audience and heightening mystery. Heralded by Charlotta Mohlin, an actress with equal command as Manon Gage, the tapestry of Immortality‘s three films crystalizes into a beautiful mosaic of symbolism.
Assuredly there will be a vocal group of critics who experience the depths the game has to offer and deem its messaging and undertones as… well… masturbatory. Personally, I think there is always a framing in which a piece of entertainment or art can be consumed and dissected to make its creator seem full of themselves and the creation quite self-indulgent. In fact, the flowery language I’ve frequently used in my review of Immortality may appear verbose rather than prosaic but it is merely how I am expressing my own art. Immortality is not Sam Barlow’s first venture into this kind of territory and it does not feel like “Baby’s First Indie Art House Film” either.
When stripped of all the hypothetical bullshit, Immortality has a lot to say but it is up to the interpretation of the thousands of people who should analyze it themselves. Yes, Immortality asks us about the role of art and how it may exist in perpetuity. As a consequence, does its creator live forever as a near immortal? How do we express thought in unique and beautiful ways? What fascinating ways can we transform life experiences into more than just mere words? Songs, poems, paintings, and films are but a few of the most important.
And while that may sound beautiful and ideological, Immortality also expresses a more sinister side to creation and creator. Is there a hierarchy? Is a director more important than an actor or a writer or a director of photography? In fact, the failure of one of these entities can often mean the collapse of the whole infrastructure. Is it possible to drown in self-expression and needlessly give too much of yourself to a craft?
Painfully, there is so much to be said about Immortality that would only betray the trust of the player if it were to be openly discussed in such a manner as a simple internet review. What better endorsement could I give of Immortality and its profound impact than the deep emotional ripples I felt when its final revelations were unearthed. Was it sadness? Lack of control? Elation? Regardless, Marissa Marcel’s destiny was the perfect voyeuristic vessel in which to participate in the medium of art, searching for unforgettable meaning.
