Like the cult of Apple, a large part of the everlasting appeal of Japanese video-game giant Nintendo is its "walled garden" philosophy: a strict in-house discipline that draws its share of auteurist criticism and the occasional FBI probe. But combined with the highest of quality-control standards and a Spielbergian understanding of male adolescence and marketing flash, it can elevate something as mundane as consumer electronics to high art — and casual fandom to brand worship. Mario may be Nintendo's Mickey Mouse, but the Legend of Zelda series is its Star Wars, Indiana Jones and Jurassic Park rolled into one: a three-decade Triforce of nostalgia, auditory cognition and pop-cultural significance unmatched in the industry. Just as Spielberg has John Williams, Nintendo guru Shigeru Miyamoto has Koji Kondo, whose original Super Mario Bros. and Zelda scores are engraved in the eardrums of seemingly everyone born in the last quarter of the 20th century. That's the rough target audience for this expectedly nerdy, surprisingly touching multimedia production, spanning 30 years of overworld adventure and dungeon exploration, 8-bit blocks and blinding lens flares, ocarina code-breaks and treasure-chest swells — in every sense, a link to the past. Tickets $34-$102.