I wish Naughty Dog all the best. I hope their recent endeavor to make a movie set in the universe of The Last of Us is met with success. I hope this hits it out of the park, and isn’t some Ozymandian undertaking.
There’s no question that The Last of Us, despite its somewhat jarring and immersion-shattering stealth gameplay, is excellently written. It’s an honest, emotionally raw story of a man who becomes a villain, subject to his own personal whims at the expense of humankind’s betterment. It’s a story about a man who identifies himself as a survivor first and a human second, shedding layers of his world-worn exterior to reveal a father that died long ago, almost to be reborn in some Lazarian fashion because of his connection to a special young girl. It sounds like a great movie.
Even if it isn’t about the characters, the live-action movie has a universe caked in twisted, ghoulish resplendence. The governments of the world have hunkered down. Ophiocordyceps Unilateralis has cemented its supremacy over humanity. Pockets of human decency are enclosed in walled towns, bristling with fear, hunger, and firepower. The Clickers and Bloaters are vile foot soldiers of Mother Nature’s relentless need to reclaim her domain. Everything about it screams Hollywood IP.
But The Last of Us was about delivering special cargo; what ultimately made it a delivery worth sabotaging was the emotional attachment that formed from the journey’s shared arduousness by Ellie and Joel. Through that journey, Joel changes from a man who has positioned himself against the hostile natural world around him (“No, we are survivors!” He passionately tells Tess) to someone who combats the social one (culminating in his murder of Marlene). For Joel, ‘us’ began as a survivor and ended as a father. The slow – sometimes oppressively slow – transition in the game through experiencing the journey and witnessing it is what makes it believable. The labour associated with play made it possible.
That’s what worries me a little about a movie version of The Last of Us. On its own, a movie of The Last of Us would be completely without its interactive nature.
Don’t get me wrong: I’m not a huge fan of its gameplay. As a videogame, The Last of Us is middling, its immersion prone to shattering, and its gameplay world somewhat dull. But there’s a reward to the quiet moments where you’re walking with Ellie, talking to her about your brother, about college, or about Sarah. It’s not about solemnity punctuated by intense action sequences; it’s about struggles being rewarded with humanity. You can’t help but be drawn into their conversation.
I’m scared the movie won’t hit with as punch.
If we’re telling the story of Joel and Ellie, then we’re telling an inferior story because a movie lacks the same agency compared to a videogame. We’re losing that sense of ownership that comes with aiding, defending, and talking to Ellie. If we’re telling a story about someone else, then it’s a zombie movie with an emphasis on whatever theme Druckmann chooses and it’s set within The Last of Us‘ universe, but at the same time may not be employing what made The Last of Us special.
The question I’m asking is not whether Druckmann knows how to write a zombie story - but whether he’s aware of how the gameplay and the cutscenes meshed together to create a central story, and how important that was to the experience. I didn’t enjoy The Last of Us because it was a finely written tale with zombies, but rather because it was a finely written tale that I personally experienced (that just happened to have zombies). It made me nurture the relationship that unfolded between the two protagonists by forcing me to live it.
It was a videogame. Not a great one, but a well written one. While the concept of being rewarded with story seems a bit simplistic, it was a formula that worked for The Last of Us; making a movie out of it feels like only taking half of that dynamic.
Joe Yang
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