West Side Story

Intriguing to consider a massive fertile thriving landscape, where millions of people routinely flocked in search of work and wealth and romance.

If a more respectful and mutually beneficial way had been found to share the land with its Indigenous inhabitants, the situation would be even more compelling, true adventure emboldened quests.

West Side Story passionately chronicles a dispute between two groups who have yet to prosper, who fight each other for turf and are none too hospitable across the board.

The social safety net lacks efficient robust ubiquitous munificent potency, and even when it attempts to assist, its generosity is at times vilified. 

Love remains the key as it always has as it always will, two enthused youths from opposing ethnicities, their inspiring union communally detested. 

Perhaps it was that way when the feisty Irish moved to Québec in the 19th century, initial hostility eventually giving way to amorous endeavours through the passage of time.

There were none such clashes in my youth the different cultures tended to bond, coming together productively for a time ignoring race, religion, and class.

It's a preferable more constructive sociocultural model to craft, communally sound and reciprocally uplifting, generally united with the most predominant language, citizens free to speak how they want in their private lives.

There were jokes about race and ethnicity while I was growing up, but they were so ridiculous not many took them seriously, film and television often fought perverse racism, no one wanted to reignite despotic Naziesque tensions.

Unfortunately, misguided sensationalists overturned hard fought logical accords, instinctual rhythms lacking rational guidelines paving the way for bellicose jingoism. 

There's a fight near the end of West Side Story a wild clash between volatile leaders, followed by death and chaotic discord, desires for vengeance, shattered l'amour.

Steven Spielberg still deserves the nomination, this film is a masterpiece 50 years later.

The amount of planning that must have gone into it.

Incredible genius. 

Intricate fathoms. 

Red Sonja

An ancient stone of unknown origin provides power beyond control, if it's left to freely generate blinding inconsolable carnage.

Humble priestesses and a learnéd warrior (Arnold Schwarzenegger as Kalidor) have been tasked with its secret care, and ensure it's kept in the static darkness which greatly diminishes its strength.

But a mad Queen (Sandahl Bergman as Queen Gedren) hellbent on conquering and ruling new cities without much fuss, decides she needs the Talisman's power to proceed unchallenged and absolutely.

Her habitual wanton cruelty has earned her many impassioned foes, none more volatile nor intense than the potent nimble sword fighting Sonja (Brigitte Nielsen). 

It is true Sonja has no equal although many have sought her ruin, her family indeed murdered by the wicked Queen who left her forlorn and destitute.

Now she pursues this imposing nemesis with impeccable irate vengeful fury, but with the Talisman's energy invincibly conjuring victory seems an impossibility. 

Even though Gedren possesses enormous wealth she still seeks ubiquitous dominion. 

The Talisman destroying everything meanwhile.

As she recklessly engages unhinged infinity.

Fair play imagines a level playing field upon which there's equal opportunity, should participants desire some sort of prize by engaging in bold competition.

Through their active endeavours people learn to both lose and win, winning gracefully just as important as losing with composed dignity. 

In recent years, however, a lack of good sportspersonship has been promoted, at the highest levels imaginable it's most distressing not to mention abusive.

As Gedren seeks absolute power through the aid of forces far beyond her control, the incomprehensible proves much too independent but she still keeps seeking more.

It's like a mental illness inanimate greed seeking vast limitless power and wealth, the world's destruction inevitably resulting from the voracious envious lack of fair play. 

While Red Sonja and versatile Kalidor sternly adjudicate counterpoised rhetoric. 

It was so peaceful for so very long.

Acerbic acrimonious avarice.

Coda

A determined family diligent and vigorous emphatically fishes the unforgiving seas, overflowing with versatile camaraderie they make ends meet with vast productivity. 

But they grow weary of the paltry sums they regularly receive for their agile catch, and worry that perhaps they're being underpaid, as do most of their fellow fisherpeople.

The mother (Marlee Matlin as Jackie Rossi), father (Troy Kotsur as Frank), and son (Daniel Durant as Leo) can't hear, so daughter Ruby (Emilia Jones) takes care of most of the business, which often irritates feisty Leo, who feels he should be playing a senior role.

Governmental oversight suddenly demands they entertain an official intent on monitoring, but Ruby isn't onboard that day, and her family can't hear the coast guard when they come calling.

A hefty fine is administered along with distressing familial reckoning, should Ruby help out her family, first and foremost, or pursue singing at Berklee College of Music?

As the family goes it alone and tries to make more money by selling their own fish, Ruby struggles with her identity, and whether or not she'll always play that role. 

Without her they stand to lose everything.

And they don't have an alternative trade.

I probably wouldn't have left them. Ruby is essential to the business. She was irreplaceable and they can't afford to hire someone. And without her the result is possibly life on disability.

I'm lucky to have attended some good schools and to have received a solid education, but I wonder at times if I would have progressed just as well had I never attended school at all.

Probably not, with education came travel and a wide variety of experiences. Experience broadened my horizons and gave me more to think about.

Plus school challenges you in a way the real world rarely does. It's a unique rush you'll find nowhere else. And the assignments at times are incredible compared to the real world.

But my family wasn't relying on me.

And none of them have a serious disability.

But things work out in the movies (I moved back when I was needed at home during COVID) and there are lots of prominent artists who never went to school, if you can sing well you can sing well, a school can help you progress, but you can also do so on your own.

Coda is hopeful and feel good even at times as it despairs, but I still have to admit I felt bad for her family when she left, as if the film was portraying them like an encumbrance.

Ah well, that's just me, clearly many more people thought otherwise. 

Change is a wonderful thing.

Especially if it works in long held cherished traditions.  

Birdy

I was surprised to discover I had never heard of Alan Parker's Birdy until last weekend, although I may understand why after having viewed it, such a shame it's been widely ignored.

In terms of animal rights, and the presentation of people who like animals, beyond belovéd nature documentaries, it's perhaps pioneering in its narrative.

In Birdy, a friendship develops between a young adult who loves birds (Matthew Modine as Birdy), and another who's more mainstream (Nicolas Cage as Al Columbato), the two interact without trying to change one another, and their reciprocally constructive friendship thrives.

Al may think it's somewhat strange that Birdy dresses up as a bird and pretends to fly, but they also bond through the reconstruction of an old car, and in other creative unique ways.

Unfortunately, they're both sent to fight in Vietnam as the draft cuts short their youth, Mr. Columbato returning with a disfigured face, Birdy having lost his mind.

The chief psychiatrist at the hospital hosting Birdy decides a visit from Al may help, and they meet up in Birdy's cell, while the film showcases moments from their past.

Why have I never heard of this film, why has it been forgotten, should it be a Criterion, it's strange seeing Nicolas Cage play the straight man?

It's possible that Birdy's gay although he never hits on Al, but he certainly has no interest in women, this could explain why the film's somewhat hush hush.

A mainstream relatable cool and comic film with an ambiguously gay lead character who loves animals, makes friends, and critiques the army, a recipe for artistic suppression if I've ever heard of one, what a shame, what a disaster!

It's still out there though available for rent from different places.

It must be one of Cage's first major roles. 

Another reason I'm surprised I've never heard of it.

But in how many films do you find leads who genuinely care about animals, films that don't try to make such lead characters seem nuts, even if having to have had to have fought in a war has driven one of them crazy, while attempting to appeal to a mainstream audience, without being overly sentimental?

Not many, Birdy may be one of a kind although I'm sure there are others I'm just not thinking of.

I loved it when they rescued the dogs.

It's tragic when Birdy can't open the window.

There should be more films about gentle souls.

That don't even have to focus on the horrors of war.

A classic '80s film deserving of more recognition.

Perhaps too many lines were crossed.

But there's nothing quite like shifting boundaries.

Conceptually speaking. 

Nightmare Alley

How far should someone go when seeking abundant easy money, where to clearly draw the line between entertainment and ecstatic despair?

People actively seek to believe in mystic supernatural antics, in worlds beyond the concrete material physically composing so much life.

How much of this is healthy or how much goes much too far, are manifest questions which consistently go unanswered, but if your belief in the afterlife provides you comfort, and doesn't cost you a fortune, and you don't make political decisions because a bee landed on your ice cream, and you don't force other people to believe, and you realize it might all be bullshit, I really don't see much of a problem, comfort's an important aspect of life.

Claudius's relationship with the Oracle of Delphi remains mysterious, but who knows how much was true, and how much conjured for dramatic flair?

I've often thought that renowned "oracles" or "fortune tellers" were students of history from the future, who somehow managed to fit in with the past without being locked up for witchcraft or heresy.

If genuine clairvoyants exist today, why aren't they world renowned?

Perhaps they've been sequestered by the highest bidder.

And are lavishly tucked away.

I play the sign game because that's how my mind's always worked, ever since I was but a wee lad, I remember playing the sign game.

But it's off a lot, it's sometimes correct, but isn't reliable enough to make wagers.

Plus, when people realize you're like this they constantly try to trick you. So it's difficult to detect anything that's genuine. Not that it isn't still fun trying.

Nightmare Alley may be a solid horror film but that doesn't mean it isn't revolting, do we really have to see an unfortunate soul bite the head off a live chicken (with special effects)?

Sick in the head, no holding back.

If you want a celebration of the most miserable aspects of existence, hopelessly wrapped up in abhorrent ethical decay, you may indeed prosper from a viewing of Nightmare Alley, which presents harsh lessons for light of heart ambitions.

Don't try to swindle the rich and famous, the brightest lights, don't take things too far.

Life's too precious and worth much more.

There's more value in a dragonfly's existence than overflowing riches.

Rumble Fish

Consistently struggling tantamount turmoil uncertain identity freewheelin' flux, hardboiled impulsive volatile rep discursively challenged voltaically scarred.

No guidance no mentor no quarter just headstrong courageous cataclysmic shock, hoping to find something to firmly adhere to, without showing signs of genuine interest.

He's never known his unconcerned mother and his father's (Dennis Hopper) gave everything up just to drink, his brother once leader of a neighbourhood gang but since disappeared for life on the road.

He suddenly returns (Mickey Rourke as the Motorcycle Boy) enigmatic and imposing but lacking concrete objective charisma, overflowing with versatile potential yet unwilling to choose one path over another. 

Rusty James (Matt Dillon) tries to relate but finds the mystery too confusing, the resultant vague indeterminate ambivalence too otherworldly for group dynamics. 

Not that the stories and the tales and the testaments don't heartwarmingly make for good conversation, there's just no pattern no general direction that leads to a construct, tradition, balance.

Some people (many people) like that kind of thing and eagerly respond to level-headed practicality. 

Corresponding occupational rhythms. 

Sure and steady indelible facts. 

Could mean a lot more at times if chaotic situations could find rational solutions, ubiquitous dissonance recklessly sustained difficult to patiently and reasonably negotiate. 

How to develop a lucid network of reliable intertwined energetic enterprises, judiciously incorporating rest and relaxation in a federation of craft, procession, and livelihood? 

Not to leave behind able capable citizens transforming angst into raw productivity.

You can clearly cover the basics to provide a general equitable start, with education and healthcare freely available there's much less tension a fairer shake more opportunity.

When you pool resources together to achieve things like safer schools and communities, there may be some people who take advantage, but don't statistics prove the majority act otherwise?

Times change, flux & fashion, independent trends, age old resolve.

The kids in Rumble Fish deserved a better chance.

Not like they ever would have said anything otherwise.

Don't Look Up

Adam McKay's Don't Look Up picks up on a pesky political particular, the unfortunate despotic aspect of truth, as applied to commercial controversy.

As it's become plainly evident during the pandemic, at times truth does enter politics, void of cunning or incisive angles, just raw clear unimaginative data.

For the people willing to accept the truth value of the data, things remain rational and balanced, proceeding with impediments perhaps, but still reasonably and logically composed.

For those who doubt its legitimacy, or the well-meaning intent of the cultural guardians, the truth takes on a tyrannical aspect, however, and can effectively problematize polls and predictions as it honestly reveals frank shocking exposure.

The people in possession of the truth, in Don't Look Up's case two astronomers who discover a massive comet is going to crash into the Earth and destroy everything on the planet (Leonardo DiCaprio as Dr. Randall Mindy and Jennifer Lawrence as Kate Dibiasky), may be somewhat confused when they attempt to share their findings, and discover a virtually impenetrable network of ridiculousness, wholeheartedly designed to fight off tyranny. 

You see, when people attempt to spread mass lies on an enormous scale the system usually works, and generates enough doubt and troubling dismay to prevent rampant mistruth from mendaciously enabling.

But what happens on the other end of the spectrum when something both serious and true genuinely emerges, and has to pass the elusive litmus which initially regards it as obnoxious madness?

The people in possession of the knowledge may not be media savvy, and may have difficulty with their newfound designations, like the scientists in Don't Look Up.

And as the media crushes their dreams and makes them appear like snake oil salespeople, it also crushes blind ambition seeking widespread banal influence.

It makes any effort to sincerely pursue anything seem dispiritingly grim (besides being a part of the media), and it's no wonder alternative websites have im/moderately matriculated. 

But I suppose most stories aren't adamantly concerned with doomsday, it's just a byproduct of the pandemic that can't help but transmit that aspect.

I thought Don't Look Up was a brilliant take on truth in media, or the commercial politics of truth, as applied to the less media savvy.

I'm wondering what people will think of it 50 years from now down the road.

It seems like it has a timeless quality.

Made by Netflix no less. 

The Toy

A struggling writer suddenly finds he needs to come up with 10 grand, and has no job or book to speak of, but he's soon able to land a cleaning position, which he approaches with rowdy gusto, without a worry or care in the world (Richard Pryor as Jack Brown). 

He's somewhat too free-wheeling however, and soon he's reprimanded by his irate boss (Jackie Gleason as U.S. Bates), for disrupting the free-flow of his staff's communal meal, he's swiftly and firmly terminated.

But he doesn't leave he keeps on workin', still finding the time to wildly play, with showcased items in the toy department, while impressionable onlookers beam (Scott Schwartz as Eric Bates).

The curious shocked enthusiastic lead happens to be the boss's son, and he's been told he can have anything he wants, he rapidly chooses Mr. Brown.

Brown is instinctively aghast regarding the spur of the moment proposal, and has no interest in becoming a nanny, especially to a child so full of disrespect. 

But the father offers him ample compensation although it's not enough at first, but there's nothing he can do, the kid genuinely likes him.

His spirit's much more in tune with universal social democratic freedoms, and he's like nothin' Mr. Bates Jr. has seen before, at either the military college he glumly attends, or in his father's department store.

Brown teaches him about constructive criticism and enjoys the vast critical resources at his disposal.

Imagine pulling that off.

Unparalleled extrapolation.

The Toy bluntly examines taboo potentially shocking unsettling subjects, which may explain why it's somewhat hush hush, and might make a solid Criterion. 

It should be widely commended however for its frank condemnation of racism, and the ways in which it creatively vilifies high stakes segregating disparate tension. 

It also takes a heartfelt look at friendship with sincere honest and caring simplicity, an age-old traditional instructive strategy which produces results if not too sentimental.

If friendship did wholeheartedly flourish beyond race and financial divides, I would imagine the world would be much less violent, considering the catastrophic warlike Putin.

If there's too much of an emphasis on individualism teamwork falls by the arrogant wayside, but if the community becomes to one-dimensional alternative expression blandly suffocates.

Look for the historical periods where the golden mean consistently thrived.

Mutual respect incorporated.

Happenstance heartfelt harmonies.