My Brilliant Career

Ill-equipped for traditional confined pastoral life, an independent headstrong maiden habitually engenders conflict, composed in daydream resilient reverie off-kilter audacious autumnal resolve, she challenges presumed propriety through bold recourse to undaunted vigour (Judy Davis as Sybylla Melvyn).

Warning signs abound and she's critiqued with chagrined austerity, the counsel sympathetic yet hardhearted clad in strict coattail admonishment. 

She listens with feisty disbelief somewhat respectful, rather dismissive, her determined insurmountable spirit soulful sprightly stern and striking.

Ill-amused with worldly prejudice concerning sedate superficial aesthetics, she excites through rapt improvisation and presents provocative enticing gambits.

Two men fall for her inspired enchantments even though she's aloof, uninterested, radiating tantalizing unconcern with natural grace and uncanny dignity. 

She likes one of them, however (Sam Neill as Harry Beecham), yet still can't respond to his sincere affection, her dreams far too intense and enlivening to settle for domestic rations.

Yet frontier economics destabilize her multifaceted salient repose, and unfortunate concrete necessity leads to unexpected unnerving circumstances.

The dream perseveres throughout, as she adjusts to working life.

Her awestruck suitor doesn't forget her.

As she contends in the startling Outback.

Who's to say what path to follow how things will end up what will pass along the way?, Sybylla finds literary success as do many others the world loves good books.

If you aren't that concerned with recognition it's easy not to be disappointed, if you're happy with the material you come up with and aren't consumed by envy, you should be fine.

In Search of Lost Time offers ample support for any artist who likes doing their own thing, manifold praise for uncelebrated artistic endeavour can be found peppered throughout the different volumes.

I diligently tried to follow the conflicting advice I was presented with in my youth, but could never really make sense of it, always knew I didn't posses the right psychology.

Perhaps it's better if you aren't consistently bombarded with different compelling visions, Sybylla doesn't have online access, she just has books to read in the country.

I've always liked the chaos though, the general wide-eyed spontaneous diversity.

Frenetic flux frenzied fixation.

A wonderful film.

An animate must see.

Long Weekend

Throughout my life, my family has encouraged a healthy love of nature, whether it be a walk through the woods or intensive birdwatching, a love of heartfelt naturalistic programming, or even camping whenever visiting large cities in Canada and Québec or the U.S (you save a fortune); there's always been an environmental edge to our various activities that's cultivated a robust admiration for the great outdoors, with which I've tried to interact to the best of my abilities, by writing hundreds of films reviews and poems in parks and forests.

Montréal's parks are great for nature lovers and give residents ample opportunity to briefly forget the city (Jeanne-Mance, Jarry, La Fontaine, Jean-Drapeau . . .), or easily recapture that emancipating feeling one often gets laidback in the woods.

Plus you can head out for lunch shortly afterwards or just wander around at random. Can't wait til this pandemic's over. I hear they've already vaccinated more than 40 million people in the United States. 

In most parts of Canada and Québec you have to put up with a long winter, but this keeps the population small, and ensures abundant space for the lazy days of Summer.

Plus, venomous snakes and spiders seem to generally dislike the cold, so our forests aren't as dangerous, although you have to watch out for ticks and bears.

Apart from polar bears, however, bears are generally harmless, predominantly omnivorous in fact, although you should still always keep your distance, since you never really know what they'll do.

I've read several books about bears anyways (The Sacred Paw, Bears: An Altitude SuperGuide, The Blue Bear: A True Story of Friendship and Discovery in the Alaskan Wild, Grizzlyville, Shadow of the Bear: Travels in Vanishing Wilderness . . . ), and they all highlight the generally peaceful nature of bears, but they still do attack at times, so it's best to always keep your distance.

I wonder what the island of Montréal was like on first contact and how many bears used to live there. There must be old studies from the 18th or 19th centuries at the BAnQ. Someday I'll have the time. 

Long Weekend takes place in Australia and sees a married couple head off to the woods, disputes regarding their destination abounding even though it's clearly incredible once they get there.

Unfortunately for them, however, nature is rather irritated by their recreational presence, and assails them throughout their visit, more intensely after they start to fight back.

It's somewhat ridiculous to curiously watch as opossums bite and birds swoop with ill-intent, special effects would have greatly enhanced Long Weekend's trepidation, although I imagine it was cutting edge at the time.

It's not meant to be a comedy but may have benefitted through recourse to the ludicrous, there's a little bit too much sincere improbability to take without a grain of disingenuous salt.

Worth watching for a taste of the bizarro, nevertheless, wildly crafted with frights Down Under.

I wonder what Australia was like on first contact.

So many new species unlike anything Europeans had ever seen.  

Amistad

The 19th century.

A group of slaves being transported at sea courageously revolts and takes control of the vessel.

Unfamiliar with nautical logistics, they rely on two former captors to sycophantically steer, but weeks later provisions grow slim, and they're forced to gather fresh supplies on land.

They weren't being led back to Africa as promised, and are soon detected by the American navy, who imprisons them as runaway slaves, thinking their bondage was secured legally.

At the time, Britain has nobly outlawed slavery but Spain still permits human trafficking, the Spanish crown seeking to reobtain what it claims is its property, the Americans confused by conflicting demands.

If the individuals whose freedom has been denied turn out to have been born in a Spanish country, they then belong to the Spanish crown, or the scoundrels who acquired them on its behalf, and, unfortunately, there's little the abolitionists can do.

But since they were illegally obtained in Africa their rights to freedom have been scurrilously denied.

But their lawyer needs to prove they came from Africa.

And he can't speak their language.

It takes quite some time in fact before they find someone who can, and even with the reliable African testimony, the Africans still have to prove their innocence three times.

Amistad covers a lot of ground as it champions liberty and freedom, intertwining multiple diverse threads as it weaves a compelling plot.

The independence of the American courts is analyzed through political intrigue, since the freedom of the wrongfully enslaved Africans will enrage the American South.

President Van Buren (Nigel Hawthorne) is worried about losing the next election, but also about starting a civil war, so he interferes behind the scenes, although he thankfully can't guarantee specific outcomes.

The abolitionists approach Christianity with open-minded considerate impacts, religion at times an instrument of persecution, here it pursues social justice.

Amistad is at its best as lawyer Roger Sherman Baldwin (Matthew McConaughey) gets to know his clients, notably the feisty Cinque (Djimon Hounsou), who led the sublime revolt in question.

As they slowly learn to communicate a world of enriching ideas opens up, Baldwin interested in learning about African customs, Cinque generally frustrated by appellate courts.

Kindness and understanding guide Amistad's resiliency, as it concentrates on compassionate endeavours, interwoven into a practical dynamic.

Its graphic depiction of slavery's innate horrors encourage impassioned just pursuits.

Difficult to imagine anyone could have ever treated people that way.

Amistad successfully assails such injustice.

*Billions of animals still suffer from much worse circumstances around the world. The abuse inflicted is horrifying. I'm glad so many people are trying to change things.

In the Heat of the Night

An honest cop, possessing advanced skills sought after expertise, awaits a train in the middle of the night, unaware a murder has been committed. 

He's been visiting family in the area, and is hoping to travel north, but the local police are searching for culprits, and the colour of his skin makes him a prime suspect.

Difficult to imagine how something as harmless as the colour of someone's skin, could result in so much injustice, so much fear, so much confusion.

Can you remember when you were really young and there were just assortments of different people, and the colour of their skin meant nothing, as it hopefully still does, they were just people, some dark, some light?

Long before disreputable influences tried to ignorantly promote racist ideologies, that have no basis in fact, and encourage violent rather than peaceful communities, wasn't it just cool that some people were black, some white, some brown, some Asian?

And so on.

There were babysitters, classmates, local shopkeepers, friends, nothing mattered but what they had to say, or didn't if they were quiet and thoughtful, a world free from distressing prejudice.

Doesn't the breaking down of barriers encourage more productive collegial thought, as a wide spectrum of compelling ideas resultantly considers and complements diversity?

Isn't it fascinating to learn new things and don't racist ideologies prevent the flourishing of ideas, the development of new technologies, the cultivation of art and sport?

Isn't it preferable to visit every neighbourhood in a community without the fear of confrontation, isn't it preferable to feel safe wherever you go wherever you happen to live?

That's been my general experience in Canada and Québec and I imagine it's the same in large swathes of continental Europe. It's tough to imagine cities with neighbourhoods you simply don't visit, because segregation has become cultural.

Biden and Harris are fighting it anyways and millions of other constructive Americans, as Virgil Tibbs (Sidney Poitier) does in In the Heat of the Night, with assuréd courageous confidence.

He's taken into the local police station where they're surprised to find out he's a cop, who specializes in homicide, and can help them find the killer.

He ignores the racial tension and rigorously applies himself, with such tenacious freedom that Chief Bill Gillespie (Rod Steiger) fears for his life.

Gillespie adds a lot as someone who would likely push for reform, if he wasn't alone and isolated, if he had a network, friends, community.

He recognizes how essential Tibbs is even if he fears the repercussions, and that it's not the colour of one's skin which determines competence, but the ways in which people proactively apply themselves.

Racism was fought so actively in my youth In the Heat of the Night became a TV show, it's been incredibly depressing for the last 5 years to see racism reemerge with political support.

In the U.S.

It's simply never made sense to me, why would people brazenly ignore fact and science?

Doesn't every religion support peaceful communal development?

Regardless of ethnicity or race?

It's one of the most old school ideas.

Generally free of charge.

Hospitable and chill, calm, constructive.

Open-minded.

Edifying.

The Last Unicorn

A lone unicorn forages in her forest (Mia Farrow), rather peaceful and unaware, as two hunters ride by attentively, distraught yet boastful as they search in vain.

But they converse as they critique their fortunes and unicorn listens closely, only to discover she's the last of her kind, should their bold declarations prove to be true.

Then accidentally, shortly thereafter, a boisterous butterfly stops by to say, "hello"(Robert Klein), full of song, rhyme, lyric, and flutter, composed through verbose disorientation.

Unicorn expresses her discontent with butterfly but still asks if she's the last of her kind, and he eventually presents a statement that's less befuddling if not still indirect.

Consequently, equipped with legendary knowledge and the passion to expedite change, she ventures forth in search of the Red Bull who has cruelly cloistered her fellow immortals.

Unaccustomed to questing or the world beyond her forested domain, she soon finds herself trapped by a witch and suddenly showcased in a travelling sideshow (Angela Lansbury). 

But also within the witch's employ is Schmendrick the Magician who's grown rather frustrated (Alan Arkin), not only with his position but with his fickle powers as well.

He's able to see the unicorn, her innate magic isn't hidden from view, he feels sad, he helps her escape, they move forward together, with undaunted high hopes.

A world of riddles and cryptic bemusement playfully yet hauntingly awaits, as a decrepit castle and its melancholic ruler guard a wicked age old secret (Christopher Lee). 

In terms of magic, The Last Unicorn bedazzles through charming character enchantingly invested, the narrative's music, romance, and import conjuring eloquent rhythms eclectic.

If legendary genesis never seems quite so lofty at the time of its humble début, its cheeky contemporaries full of suspicion, its requisite quest somewhat less mesmerizing, then any legend can take on the visions of a disgruntled merrymaking present, and a timeless quality effortlessly emerges, as ahistorical, as it is wise.

Thus, The Last Unicorn, while cultivating agéd times and lands, still resonates with postmodern fortitude, with ancient concurrent melodies.

Is "postmodern" still a synonym for "contemporary", insofar as this has been claimed to be the postmodern age, for some time, an incredibly diverse inclusive metaimpetus 😌, with loopholes outrageously exploited through aggrieved populism?

Nevertheless, I'm resoundingly hopeful that Rankin & Bass's Last Unicorn will endure, I never saw it in my youth, and have watched it twice in recent memory.

The butterfly scene more than that, what a beautiful idea, butterfly and unicorn.

I have seen their Hobbit cartoon several times. But alas. I can no longer find it. 😔  

The Dig

A forthright curious widow seeks to investigate ancient mounds, their presence a striking imaginative catalyst radiating mystery and fascination (Carey Mulligan as Edith Pretty).

A sturdy local excavator well-versed in trowel and spade, is eagerly sought after to conduct the dig personally (Ralph Fiennes as Basil Brown). 

He's archaeologically acclimatized and has learned his trade at home in the field, years of thoughtful constructive labour cultivating multivariable know-how.

He patiently sets to work unaware of what he'll find, it must be exciting to take part in such projects, blind trust generating vision.

He finds something.

It's big. It attracts the attention of the British Museum. Soon his modest dig is a going concern fraught with picturesque potential and rapscallion regard.

Interpersonal dynamics hedge various particular outcomes, love and romance intermingling, along with questions of birth and status.

World War II looms on the horizon with haunting chaotic disregard, members of the dig to be called up, others embracing resignéd sorrow.

It was Basil's work that discovered the treasure yet the upper echelons do not approve, since he's self-taught and lacks social standing, that hasn't been passed down through the haughty ages. 

A solemn film intriguingly attired humble examinations of quote and culture, feminine strength and adroit awareness revealing august historical resolve.

The entrepreneur can attain recognition as his or her sales demonstratively increase, even if they built their business from nothing and had no contacts moving things along (many thanks to the people who like reading me blogs).

Perhaps after they've become established and their determined workforce starts creating new ideas, the CEO or the president may take credit for their marketability.

But in Basil's case (not mine, I'm not playing some metaphorical game, perhaps there are some people who like my writing, that's cool, I'll continue doin' my best within a limited time frame), he was often associated with an institution, who at the time, from what I gather from the film, gave credit for discoveries to whomever was responsible for leading or financing the dig.

It's a simple matter of just creating a list of individuals involved and showcasing it as well in the museum, like film credits. It makes culture much more social. Much less feudally disposed.

But Basil's discovery in The Dig is made while leading his own private excavation, and the higher-ups still refuse to acknowledge him, likely calling him proud for hoping for recognition. 

It's an excellent film first rate drama I was beginning to forget what they're like 😜, I love action-adventure and sci-fi, but they still lack dramatic prestige.

There's nothing quite like sustained stoic resonance sombrely deconstructing perplexing absolutes.

Focused upon will front and centre.

Netflix continues to expand and impress.

*Great performances.

Holiday

Independent unsettled magnetic jocose daring finds itself spontaneously infatuated with amorous resolve.

Unsure as to how to proceed yet abounding with assuréd confidence, he pays a call on his bride to be at her lavish pad in New York City (Cary Grant as Johnny Case).

Where he meets her eccentric family as they prepare to briskly depart, well heeled established variability wry, eclectic, thoughtful, smart.

I suppose the word is dashing he makes a grandiose impression, but he lacks stratospheric censure and old school entrenched connections. 

Pas de problème, paps is unconcerned, assuming he seeks to work, a job readily available should he freely jive besmirched (Henry Kolker as Edward Seton).

But he's more interested in travel, can't engrain the 9 to 5, his fiancé hopes to see him efficaciously prescribed (Doris Nolan as Julia Seton).

Her brother sees things differently even though he lives the life, yet still productively pursues his music every night (Lew Ayres as Ned Seton).

Her sister lives according to a different sketch however, laidback in tune forthrightly groomed for imaginative endeavour (Katharine Hepburn as Linda Seton). 

He can't see straight the bride's irate commitment who's to say?, he plans a trip the jazzy script uncertain rhythmic brave.

It's a light examination of differing industrious proposals, one tied down to a strict routine the other randomly articulated.

Many scenes are spacious sparse straightforward directly focused on something particular, yet still slightly odd and otherworldly subconsciously strewn critically conjured.

Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn take the uncanny blend, and add spirited bold conjecture that creates playful dividends. 

Different backgrounds respectfully exploring mutually constructive staunch alternatives, snobbery generally left behind as curiosity prevails.

A life of unassuming wild free-spirited fun discovery, is cherished courted championed without blinds or cold obstructions.

Money isn't an issue although things are so much more interesting if it never is, no matter how much you have or hope for if you keep things active seraphim.

It's nice to see chill characters in fiction who are so well-suited for one another, overcome learnéd inhibitions and set off for destinations unknown.

If you're searching for a lack of cynicism for something hopeful, joyous, romantic, Holiday genuinely delivers the heartfelt trusting vivacious goods.

I can't recommend a specific path, it depends on what's right for you.

It's still nice to have a multivariable spectrum with so much random conflicting advice. 

Detour

Nestled in an imaginative enclave, precociously performing with enigmatic adrenaline, an artistic couple contemplates progression, alternative gigs, perhaps a move. 

The piano player entertains wedlock and dreams of resonant conjugal consummation, but the singer sets her sights on Hollywood and soon she's hit the road for L.A.

Inclined to romantically subsist on un/conscious conceptions of loyalty and devotion, her distraught beau haplessly hangs on until his presence is one day requested.

But he can't afford a bus ticket so it's time to hitchhike west, a crash course in random interpersonal attentive discourse phased ensuing.

But one of his jaded interlocutors passes away in the forlorn night, and Mr. Roberts (Tom Neal) doesn't know what to do, so he ditches the body, and keeps on drivin'.

He makes it through a routine scan before patiently stopping to shyly gas up, when he notices a wayward belle seeking passage off to the side (Ann Savage as Vera).

Their discussions are initially glib before she ferociously lays it on 'im, she's had a ride in this car before only with a different lonesome driver.

He emphatically insists that he is not a murderous criminal, yet she isn't the trusting kind, even if she doesn't fear for her life.

She's more interested in selling the car and using the money to go shopping, again, and won't let Mr. Roberts slip away or disappear without dire reckoning.

He's as unlucky as they come, prone to grand idealistic reveries, on his own without a network or an institution to back him up.

She swoops in on his fecund fervour and has soon assumed imperial prominence, the two forging an antithetical derelict dismal gender bias.

His hopes to one day wed and settle down and banally intrigue, mutated into anxious suspicions hysterically clad in verbose irritability. 

If looking for rarefied woe lugubriously distilled through befuddled dis/enchantment,  Detour strays from the master narrative to embalm disgruntled folds.

No chummy freewheeling joyrides or clever concise improvised amelioration, just a steady increasingly angst ridden rollout despondently trekked and touring. 

Not sure if you're really that into old school woebegone film noir, but Detour's a crushing exemplar of the disputed genre's disillusioned tropes.

A good book, canned soup, a recital, a walk through the park, a beanbag chair.

Detour revels in maligned microcosm.

Misguided mischief.

Visceral atrophy.

*I don't mean to be so glum, I just like film noir. And Dostoevsky. But I'm also loving Dickens more and more these days. Plus, Biden's administration seems tip top, and mass vaccinations are on the way. It's still the month of February, but positive things are on the horizon.