Café de flore

Devoted love painstaking parenting newfound nuptials holistic heartbreak, the omnipresent ahistorical interdimensional august flow.

A separation immersive pain prolonged predicaments distressed feelings, dreaming that they'll get back together, even though he's (Kevin Parent as Antoine) found a new partner (Evelyne Brochu as Rose). 

They got together when they were young magnetic maelstrom adolescent l'amour, embracing age old romantic uproar delicately designated bold true love.

But habitual trials enervating ennui and too much alcohol led to crisis, opaque sustained imparted uncertainty, confused inanimate starling stasis.

Meanwhile, in the 1960s, a husband leaves his loving wife, after learning their child is differently abled, an act of headstrong blunt barbarity.

But she's resilient determined and willing to help her son live a normal life, and daringly proceeds with enriched vigour soulfully strengthened through motherly love.

As grieving Carol (Hélène Florent) seeks a spiritualist to shake things up surveyed and spooky, she becomes aware of the mother's struggles (Vanessa Paradis as Jacqueline), as if she's reliving a former life, the shock encouraging disconsolation. 

Impounding grief entropically emblemizes static autosuggestive dissonance, but good friends and heraldic compassion ease the burden heal the wound.

Jean-Marc Vallée possessed great gifts for sharing intimate gentle thoughts, and through his innate joyous wonder crafted amorous lucidity.

A mom surprises her son (Marin Gerrier as Laurent) with chase or adoringly awaits his seaborne vessel, a psychologist (Michel Laperrière) knows just what to say without really saying anything at all.

A couple may have broken up but they still focus on past love, on the enchanting thoughts that brought them together, the world they amicably constructed.

Café de flore bounces back through time sympathetically blending thought and emotion, as they relate to relationships and family, like a passionate active mind.

Controversial questions are raised at times and give no definitive answers, freeform lifelong social exploration innocently contesting the blasé life.

Some people have trouble letting go and heal more sincerely with kind reflection, Café de flore's thoughtful evocative testament fomenting mutual post-conjugal health.

It's nice to see characters who try to focus on the positive.

Diversification, discovery, peace. 

What a filmmaker.

What a life!

C.R.A.Z.Y

A father (Michel Côté) and mother (Danielle Proulx) full of love raise a hyper-reactive family, with 5 boys shenanigan prone experimentally tune to voltaic theses. 

The mother compassionately defends her young when conflict abounds and must be adjudicated, her loving intuitive multidimension reflexively nurturing caressed fair play.

The father is somewhat more stern but he's still playfully proud of his boys, his love panoramically abounding within testosterone fuelled parameters.

But one of his boys instinctually lacks traditional masculine brawn and gusto, gravitating more wholeheartedly towards his mom, he loves his dad and doesn't want to get in trouble, but also doesn't understand at times why he's punished.

The overbearing weight of codes of conduct as upheld by his father and siblings, lead to bewildered awkward adaptations as he struggles to come of age.

Natural endemic lucidity is rambunctiously transformed into hesitant confusion, the simple process of embracing one's thoughts imperiously clad in grand complexity. 

But his father isn't a monster and although he's ill-equipped to openly accommodate, he still loves his gifted child with the honest shock of misunderstanding.

______ (Olivier Bénard/Émile Vallée/Marc-André Grondin) just wants to fit in with the family he knows and sincerely loves, his father recognizing his meaningful attempts to express his genuine heartfelt devotion.

Fortunately his father adapts too and a loving relationship prospers and grows, with holistic balance and comprehensive understanding they remain good friends as time slowly passes.

So many films from the '90s made it seem like such a world would eventually bloom (as I've mentioned before), where rigid immutable conceptions of gender would generally relax to forge open communities.

Such communities don't have to critique people who naturally play traditional roles, the roles do seem to fit many people as they interact with various constructs.

But many others don't naturally fit and shouldn't feel bad for doing what comes naturally. Feeling bad about your own harmless thoughts can lead to intense personal distress.

Inclusive communities where difference thrives heals or avoids such sincere distress, and the resultant conflicts and mental illnesses that can develop through blind intolerance.

If one considers nature realistically how could one code of conduct predominate, when ample evidence historically perseveres which proves paramount difference co-exists naturally?

It's a matter of embracing traditional gender roles along with multifaceted gender difference.

Then learning and growing together.

Like people do so well in Québec.

Elliot the Littlest Reindeer

After Blitzen relocates to Jamaica, Santa (George Buza) needs to find a new reindeer, the resulting tryouts to be held posthaste, with many contenders from across the globe.

A feisty horse, who considers the matter imaginatively, thinks he's well-suited for the position (Josh Hutcherson as Elliot), and stows away upon his owner's (Rob Tinkler as Walter) airborne ride, hoping to sneak his way into the competition. 

His owner's facing tough times and may have to sell off his beloved animals, but little does he unsuspectingly know, the potential buyer (Martin Short as Ms. Ludzinka [and Lemondrop and Blitzen]) wishes them harm.

Things are lively at the distant North Pole as the reindeer gather to formidably articulate, old school rivalries and current disputes freeflowingly spiced with a dash of merriment.

Elliot's offbeat goat friend (Samantha Bee as Hazel) works her magic to see he's admitted, his training having roughly prepared him, for the fortuitous aerodyne heights.

But something's not quite right with the haughty general proceedings, as nimble Hazel accidentally detects, she sees extra cookies being given to DJ (Christopher Jacot) (the cookies give animals the power of flight), just before the first aeronautic stage.

After the resulting mayhem, which sees Santa cancel the events, she teams up with a clever journalist (Morena Baccarin as Corkie), to find the source of the flighty contraband. 

A haunting trajectory of historical intrigue clad in deception harrowingly awaits them.

As their human/animal alliance.

Sees the harmonious convergence of species.

Elliot the Littlest Reindeer traditionally celebrates unorthodox thinking, as 'lil Elliot asserts his independence in the hopes of joining Santa's team.

But many other staple traditions are creatively reconceptualized throughout, as Santa's workshop and associated legends take on the vice of the world at large.

Accordingly, Santa isn't lighthearted and jolly but instead rather stern and imposing, as he objectively oversees operations, in order to facilitate Christmas.

The reindeer are generally critiqued for being self-obsessed and somewhat dismissive, as opposed to simply dutifully managing the smooth flow of Santa's sleigh.

And the elves don't only make toys, and don't just work in a merrymaking shop, indeed discipline and order and inviolable hierarchy are much more prominent than Christmas cookies.

It's a solid alternative Christmas film that breaks new ground with festive flair (I'll likely watch this one again).

Even if I prefer a jolly Santa.

And elves encouraging laugh and play.

*With John Cleese (Donner).

Space Truckers

And through the passage of time, space is slowly colonized, commerce encouraged to flourish within, old school grievances inevitably emerging.

And as politics galactically expand, Earth's government loses control, one man attempting to exploit its weaknesses (Shane Rimmer as E. J. Saggs), with an army of invincible robots.

But his plans remain a secret and he has yet to transport them to Earth, stealth required clandestine collusion, patiently awakening, a trusty space trucker.

John Canyon (Dennis Hopper) arrives at a spaceport two days late with his sought after load, and payment is refused, confrontation bellicosely ensuing, but not before he's proposed once more to the diner's stunning waitress (Debi Mazar as Cindy). 

The confrontation proves irreconcilable and the corrupt boss is sucked into space (George Wendt as Keller), the independent contractor worried about his next move, he enlists the aid of an underground contact.

Who hooks him up unbeknownst with the robots and an even more demanding schedule, which he thinks he can steadily keep, if he transports the goods off-road.

After a collision with a camouflaged meteor he's left adrift in space.

Soon bombarded by covetous pirates. 

And their mad genius cyborg captain (Charles Dance as Nabel/Macanudo). 

Improvised tactics and frowned upon methods reflexively manoeuvre and bargain within, as Space Truckers celebrates old school individuals making a living through extant daring.

Equitable workplace regulations have yet to settle space so everything's controlled by executive caprice, and since there isn't much work to go around, obsequious dispositions flex and flounder.

Youth even confronts age old feisty Canyon and boldly recommends he play by the rules (Stephen Dorff as Mike Pucci), Cindy taking an amorous shine to him, the less stressful modus operandi. 

The company attempts to rip off Mr. Canyon so he responds with contentious cataclysm, just as Macanudo defies the government in order to pursue grand insurrection.

But Pucci doesn't betray his teammates or seek power or corporate control, differentiating himself thereby, in the chaotic mayhem.

The pirates take things a step further loosely organized and swashbucklingly conceived. 

As the formidable robots escape.

Still a future preferable to Covid. 

A Castle for Christmas

A successful writer takes a risk in her most recent romance novel (Brooke Shields as Sophie), her adoring fans rather unamused, yet instead of taking their boisterous criticisms to supple caring heart, she openly defies them on daytime television, before taking off to Scotland.

Fortunately for her, at times different cultures see things differently, her latest book well received across the pond, she even joins a knitting group.

But first she explores the castle where she's suddenly taken roost, its lengthy history of literary interest along with its agile duke (Cary Elwes as Duke Myles).

Unfortunately for him, his debts are forcing him to sell, even though he could hold on to the castle, if he parted ways with its coveted farmland.

But then his tenants would have to move and he's an exemplary aristocrat, caring deeply for his people indeed for whom he feels responsible.

Sophie's headstrong ways produce unexpected uncertain affects, especially after she makes an offer, he has to admit, he likes it.

But it's still his cherished castle and it's been in his family for generations, he can't be expected to passively yield when a well-meaning upstart makes suggestions.

They passionately air grievances with increasingly affectionate disputatious praise.

As the Holiday Season takes hold.

And l'amour seems most inviting.

Perhaps it's too much to take in too much cute and cuddly grouchy romance, daunting challenges inspirational miracles haughty hesitation communal resolve.

Fervent fetching fortuitous fairytale or amorous callings too sweet and saccharine, I can't find fault with its grand magnanimity, nor its jolly merrymaking supporting cast.

'Tis true that there are many a miser who disputes the free-flow of capital, as it's applied to the needs of the many who would rather not live from paycheque to paycheque.

With disposable incomes do realms not flourish with ample sustenance and much less crime?

But there are also many rich folk who genuinely care for underprivileged plights, who are still trying to overcome encumbrances which dissuade the cultivation of relative prosperity.

A Castle for Christmas presents such examples and festively celebrates their strong self-sacrifice, showcasing sincere conscientious goodwill fumbling its way through traditional romance.

As pride adheres to the virtues of compromise age old traditions see communal rebirth.

I don't think I'll watch it every year.

Still enjoyed it this Holiday Season.

Deck the Halls

Meticulously prepared for the upcoming holidays, a fastidious optometrist get things done (Matthew Broderick as Mr. Finch), his loving family receptive to his obsessive celebrations, embracing each vital tradition, with resignéd calm.

But a new neighbour suddenly appears across the suburban street one night, who's less familiar with rigid reservations, preferring the lighthearted easy going improvisational holiday approach, he freely and oddly expresses himself, with well-meaning lovable charm (Danny DeVito as Buddy Hall).

Unfortunately for Mr. Finch, Buddy decides to set up Christmas lights, and goes far beyond a modest array, indeed hoping his house will be visible from space, the ultimate salute to excessive glitz and glamour.

Even more unfortunately for Mr. Finch, Buddy's luminous galactic ambitions lead him to become the most sought after Christmas expert in town, a position formerly held by Mr. Finch himself, who becomes more and more furious with each passing day.

He vociferously airs his grievances yet feisty Buddy does not back down, the two then engaging in grandiose shenanigans which the cross-dressing police chief (Garry Chalk) cannot contain.

Their respective wives and families grow rather weary of the childish rivalry, yet their wise counsel is stubbornly ignored as the festive conflict madly intensifies.

And somewhere along the way the communal spirit of the Holiday Season is lost.

Will the competitive incensed pair?

Forgive and forget, in time for Christmas?

Channeling Planes, Trains & Automobiles, Deck the Halls showcases wild aggravation, blindly expanding distressful atrophy, the uptight professional, the self-made person.

Different lucrative skill sets still hopefully flourish in the North American economy, they provide so much remarkable spice for a thriving culture dynamically composed.

The benefits of a University education the confidence you develop from its projects and tests, not to mention the wide variety of divergent subjects to study, cultivating level-headed prudent multiplicity.

The benefits of the working world instructing the daring with multidimension, as different experiences at different levels in different jobs produce impeccable hands-on contention. 

Perhaps the most successful CEOs find a way to blend the different approaches, not only personally but with their staff as well, as their businesses develop open-minded spectrums. 

Less jealousy for the devoutly studious and fewer dismissals of practical knowledge, could lead to a more well-rounded prosperous business, or simply friendships indeed like no other. 

Puppy Star Christmas

An adorable dog couple welcomes some new pups to their family, while enjoying celebrity in the public eye, and wondering if they'll make good parents.

It's the Holiday Season once again and they're preparing to host a Christmas Special, and it's rumoured that Santa himself may attend, if not advertised with festive vigour.

But a rogue rival self-obsessed canine has grown tired of making an honest buck (George Newbern as Bark), and decides to enlist contacts from his villainous network in an attempt to take down the North Pole.

Since the elves are generally concerned with do-gooding they're ill-prepared for Bark's sneak attack, and his team quickly infiltrates Santa's workshop and soon locks down Mr. and Mrs. Claus!

They proceed to convert that very same workshop into a commercial purveyor of sought after goods, transforming the free toys Santa generously provides into lucrative commodities indeed for sale.

Such wickedness is shortly followed by an appearance on Tiny (Kaitlyn Maher) and P.U.P's (Mackenzie Sol) Special, where they advertise their soul crushing debauchery with outrageous voracious mad ill-gotten song.

Fortunately for Christmas, the aforementioned pups stow away on Santa's sled (it was borrowed by Bark's minions to fly to the Special), and soon find themselves at the North Pole, nervously determined to rescue Saint Nick.

But Bark's carnal influence and unwitting publicity has seen ye olde naughty list expand exponentially.

Are they too late to save Christmas?

Or is it serendipitous impeccable timing?

Only Christmas will tell, or a keen viewing of this here Puppy Star Christmas, I admit I hadn't seen a dog movie in some time (except for Plague Dogs which wasn't a family film [or wasn't a cutesy sentimental family film]), and wasn't prepared for the cuddliness initially.

But it was kind of cool to briefly immerse myself in a non-cartoon world where dogs can speak, and have their own shows and homes and families and are on an equal footing with adoring humanity.  

Strict logicians may find fault with Puppy Star's inspired non-traditional reasonability, even if it augments the wonders of Santa and his benevolent impetus this time of year.

Puppy Star's blunt depiction of super-greed wholesomely castigates avarice unbound, thereby celebrating altruistic endeavours without leaving joyous reckoning behind.

If you're still in touch with inner absurdity or things that seem nuts you may like this film.

It's fun to think about afterwards.

Perfect for the Holiday Season. 

Shaft

Shaft (2019) presents a more traditional depiction of its iconic lead (Samuel L. Jackson), much more bellicose than that envisioned in 2000, perhaps more reminiscent of the original character.

He's moved far beyond rules and regulations, and lives according to his own proper procedure, as he investigates crime with blunt condemnation, making ends meet with radical ease.

But this time the son he left behind comes calling hot on a case (Jessie T. Usher), a daring analyst working for the F.B.I who's mild-mannered, sincerely reserved.

The endearing odd couple scenario is flexibly enhanced by bemused paternalism, as sustained stark and improvised indiscretion wildly mingles with uptight pretension. 

Shaft Jr. is trying to discover who murdered his friend after he returned from Afghanistan, his methods leading to few results while laying the groundwork for inspired investigation.

Paps turns things up a notch while thoroughly shocking his incredulous son, the danger chaotically increasing as they approach concrete definition.

Mom's none too impressed upon hearing about the unexpected rapprochement (Regina Hall as Maya Babanikos), nor by her ex's ensuing repartee on a random evening which swiftly follows.

Reunited as a family they freely dispute while fighting crime.

Even after Jr.'s kicked out of the Bureau.

John Shaft Sr. (Richard Roundtree) happy to oblige.

Shaft boisterously blends distraught anarchy with technological presumption, intergenerationally melding paradigms with impassioned deconstructive pleas.

Much more raw than Shaft (2000), I wondered how thoroughly it impressed, not that its predecessor isn't also complex, it just lacks awkward contentious fidelity.

Are action heroes like Shaft and John McClane fading into the pre-online background, as cyberspatially savvy considerate sleuths prefer brains to brawn in unprecedented shifts?

Or will a new style of clever private eye still duke it out when their favourite apps fail them, the resultant extant absurdity as ahistorically fashionable as gold or astronomy?

It's fun to watch as emergent generations productively mutate traditional varieties. 

The same family achieving similar goals.

Working together, throughout the centuries. 

The Blot

A professor patiently educates for a small salary which hardly provides, his envious wife tired of their grim necessities as she yearns for her neighbour's abundance.

The neighbour knows how to make elegant shoes for trendy jet-setters with finicky flair, his seemingly flippant fashionable know-how much more highly valued than painstaking learning.

Well-off students within the Professor's class engage in shenanigans to pass the time, their disruptive behaviour resignédly noticed, appeals are made which esteem respect.

One of them can't help but take note for he's wholeheartedly fallen for the Professor's daughter, and stops by the library where she works every day for bursts of inspired well-meaning conversation.

She is also desired by a reverend whose monthly pay also lacks modest agency, and the son of the fortunate cobbler who would like to meet her as soon as he can.

But social prestige and occupational pride prevent the free movement of their innocent offspring, who struggle to comprehend their rather disheartening sociocultural stratification.

But The Blot was made when reform was afoot and sought to envisage less rigid realities. 

As to how they've played out a hundred years later, it's difficult to gauge within micro parameters, although The Spirit Level: Why Equality is Better for Everyone provides insights, which critique Anglo-American pedagogy.

There's certainly a steady stream of progressive ideas presented in film, books, music, and television, but alternative absolutist pretensions have bleakly arisen in recent years to contest them.

Rather disillusioning to see the autocratic leverage swiftly take animate hold, it seemed so irrefutably farcical and grotesque that it was shocking to see it transform the public sphere.

It's like there used to be distance between comedic reflection and its general applicability to cultural life, as if comedians knew what they were saying was ridiculous and never thought they'd gain prominent influence.

Although I'm being somewhat unfair since so many comedians do make funny applicable comments, but so much of it became violent and bigoted in recent years while disparaging so much constructive endeavour.

Another compelling exploratory book to be written if it hasn't been already who has the time?

Comedy is an essential democratic tool since it provides a voice to so many who disregard pretension and fight lofty totalitarianism. 

But if it becomes resoundingly violent and then develops pretensions of its own, it can become sincerely distressing if you disagree with its disengaged reflections.

The Knight Before Christmas

A bold knight (Josh Whitehouse as Sir Cole) honourably avails emphatically attuned to the 14th century, warmly accustomed to duty and responsibility as he bravely embraces work and play.

But he has yet to fulfill a quest and thereby improve his chivalric standing, the lack of enchanted adventurous reckoning causing him sincere subconscious dismay.

Until one day alone in the woods what's referred to as "an old crone" mysteriously appears, and tells him of "steel dragons" and "magic boxes" far off in the distant future.

Soon he's transported to the present day without much information to clarify his purpose, when a weary damsel comes to his aid and provides food and shelter for the upcoming holidays (Vanessa Hudgens as Brooke).

She's depressed after having recently lost one whom she loved who treated her crudely, casting her off for the attentions of another who remains uncritical of his unjust behaviour.

As a result, an honest and trusting heartfelt lass has lost faith in true love, and even shares her woebegone misgivings with her confused students as they seek her counsel.

The knight proves a novel distraction as he reacts to the ways of the present, marvelling at the bounty to be found at the supermarket, chasing skunks, and learning to drive.

But he can't figure out his quest and its imposing deadline looms.

Will he find the solution in time?

Or will blasé cynicism ignite disdain!?

Amorously blending cultural codes from disparate centuries united by romance, The Knight Before Christmas exuberantly chronicles timeless star-crossed endearing affection.

Also rewarding charity and self-sacrifice it doesn't shy away from constructive do-gooding, and doesn't present scandalous ulterior motives for age old cohesive communal camaraderie. 

Certainly one must remain vigilant to counter stratagems which prey on trust, but you also can't become so cold and isolated that you no longer recognize genuine honesty.

It's a fine balance that's continuously shifting as new developments strikingly emerge, patterns adapting to unprecedented reactions to newfound endeavours reverberating wonder.

Brooke's strong heart is rewarded by supernatural witchcraft concerned with well-being, the knight also learning to extend himself beyond traditional yearnings for legendary renown.

Within postmodern domesticity he finds grand adventure facilitated.

As so many often do.

Even if you rarely hear about it. 

*Shot in brilliant locations.

Angel Heart

Chillaxed and calm, smoothly going with the flow, a laidback private detective steers clear of complications, preferring to investigate matters unrelated to serious crime, he saunters around Brooklyn, in fluidic flâneur (Mickey Rourke as Harry Angel). 

When suddenly one Louis Cyphre (Robert de Niro) requests his offbeat services, to locate a suspicious missing person, who owes him a significant debt.

It seems harmless enough initially so he follows what leads he can, finding his way to a care home for the critically ill, then to the abode of a drug addicted doctor.

But the doctor shockingly passes shortly after their brief discussion, which leads him to want to move on especially because he's a likely suspect.

Cyphre is determined however and offers him a crisp $5,000, to keep pushing to dig in deep at home in New York then off to Louisiana. 

You would think he would drop the case considering the insanity that follows, but he's hooked on solving the mystery even if it leads to nihilistic oblivion.

The local cops are on to him and he's been followed and encouraged to leave town, but it's like he's more involved then he ever would have imagined if he had stuck to his not-so-strict routine. 

Something drives him to keep on sleuthin' as the mayhem wildly intensifies. 

Mr. Cyphre keeping close tabs.

On the enigmatic spiritual contention. 

It can be important to critically review the ways in which you conduct your affairs, to develop worthwhile working evaluations as I was taught to do in school.

You have to be careful not to be too scathing in order to avoid entropy, but a healthy dose of vigilant self-criticism can help you adjust to phenomenal frenzies.

If no one else is doing this however and you seem to be the only one making adjustments, and your adaptations are generally ridiculed, it's perhaps a best practice to seek novel change, or peeps more amenable to lateral communication.

Fluctuating between the two paradigms in alternative realms or even within the same structure seems par for the course, each day bringing forth newfound surprises along with immutable recapitulations. 

When working life incorporates both self and well-meaning constructive criticism, it's great to stay and tough to leave.

Too much self-criticism is suffocating.

A constructive balance generates calm. 

*With Charlotte Rampling and Pruitt Taylor Vince. 

Il gatto a nove code (The Cat o' Nine Tails)

To me, genetics always seemed like thought provoking science that could easily be exploited by wicked politicians, since in fiction it often seems to be seeking the essential roots of mutating identity, as if it could be used to irrefutably predict potential behaviours, without ever having given individuals time to mature.

If you remove the word "potential" and consider wicked political goals politicians could claim that specific genetic codes will lead to definite behaviours, and then banish the people possessing those specific codes who likely would have happened to be critiquing their most recent agenda.

Correspondingly, if there were a lack of potent public institutions and independent observers, they could disseminate discourses of impeccability, associated with their own DNA.

You wouldn't have to observe empirical evidence for long to realize the theory's rubbish, as people have been doing for decades and decades, but it seems to be returning with malignant rigour, cloaked under the guise of newfound novelty. 

There's a scene from I, Claudius that directly relates, if you have to go further than Claudius's own striking differences from his family, where Claudius discusses parenting with his son Britannicus, and claims he thinks his real father was Caligula. 

Britannicus is notably disturbed because Claudius has been treating him rather poorly, and mentions that he can't help how he happened to be born, and that regardless he only has one father.

The point is that Claudius eases his mind by explaining that he doesn't have Caligula's nature, pointing out how offspring can differ remarkably from what's to be genetically expected.

To me it seems as if there are thousands of variables to be familially facilitated, and children synthesize them with thousands more as they interact with friends and media.

As these thousands of variables blend and crack critique and mingle, unique personalities are forged bearing familial characteristics or not.

I'm proud of the ways I resemble my parents and proud of my own unique perspectives, proud of the mutating mélange that remains open to modest transition.

Dario Argento's Il gatto a nove code (The Cat o' Nine Tails) explore the downside of genetic research, and the potential paranoia that can develop if it's regarded as predetermined fact.

It's a cool film albeit macabre Argento clearly loved filmmaking.

And went the extra mile to add texture and nuance. 

While demonstrating the pitfalls of genetic discourses.