Polaris

Monopolistic claims to constellated starstruck legend, find themselves creatively trust-busted in Kirsten Carthew's wild Polaris.

The times are grim and perilous and other people are to be avoided, their habituated menacing murderous instincts bellicosely problematizing friendship.

Sumi (Viva Lee) was raised alone by a kind and compassionate polar bear, who taught her the life saving lessons of multidimensional deft ourskind.

One day while venturing forth they're accidentally separated however, and Sumi is captured by a group of plunderers who proceed to lock her in a cage.

Escape brings tribulation as she's tracked and targeted thereafter, a local fuel provider sympathetic (Muriel Dutil as Dee) but still unable to hold them off.

Could the individualistic warlike preponderance of bombastic sociocultural synchronicities, have transformed a once open-minded community into one prone to consistent bloodshed? 

Thus, even after the haunting end of multilaterally interconnected worldwide commerce, the unfortunate distrust still malignantly radiates where once warm and friendly community flourished.

Even in the isolated far north where food is more difficult to come by, and cohesive interactive communal initiatives seem more requisite to widespread health. 

Even with manifold orchards and farms is it not more prosperous to work in groups, to encourage nutrition and fight off hunger and generally work to holistically prosper?

Conflict does seem to abound as people seek to lead and emphatically pair bond, but do these conflicts need to be inherently destructive or could such impulses be proactively tamed?

You see it in Ghibli's Pompoko where the warlike raccoon attempts to take hold, or in ye olde Dances with Wolves where Wes Studi's brethren lament his aggression. 

Look to Germany in 1946 where I've heard people had to eat wallpaper to survive. That's the end game of fascism. That's where warlike tendencies lead.

I still don't think they could transform the North to such inhospitable despondent degrees, although Ofelas (Pathfinder) tells a much different story, and Russia is currently monstrously expressing itself.

Why not work together to secure food and shelter to mutually accommodate throughout the winter, rather than squandering precious resources on endless conflicts which produce nothing?

I'm not trying to jinx myself here but if you're active during the winter, it's a wonderfully productive time where you can get so much compelling work done.

If people are trying to trick you into embracing the belligerent lifestyle ask yourself what do they hope to gain?

And is your life worth lining their duplicitous pockets?

As they horde the profits for themselves?

Newsflash: it's not. It never will be. Read books. Be critical. 

Beware of the cult of Putin. 

And the North American obsession with Trump. 

*I rarring!

**The poster's awesome. 

The Croods

Ancient times, as one oft referenced environmental epoch matriculately metastasizes into another, a family left endeavouring to sensationally survive within, as massive earthquakes and catastrophic rock slides cataclysmically converge to destroy their oldest school cave dwelling, they flee together as one, always bearing in mind their familial solidarity.

Change is definitively critiqued and infuriatingly avoided by the Croods, who have bluntly outlasted their fellow citizens through courageous pluck and dynastic brawn.

But their eldest daughter (Emma Stone as Eep) seeks challenge and novelty and starts striking out from their cave on her own, accidentally meeting an inventive beau (Ryan Reynolds as Guy) who lives independently within the harsh lands.

They become further acquainted after her family departs for the unknown realm, where father Grug's (Nicolas Cage) dependable hunting skills have no time to adapt to the mysterious wonders.

Used to being the unparalleled patriarch he must suddenly intuit a secondary role, Borg implants still millions of years off, frustration and anger therefore materializing.

Yet landscape shifts and paradigmatic upheavals expediently necessitate hierarchical improvisation.

His family still relying on his strength.

As their world crashes in all around them.

I'm not sure how we evolved or multivariably mutated over the course of millions of years, even if sci-fi suggests we emerged from practical interactive interminglings. 

Thus, humanoids from another planet who had thoroughly destroyed their world, crash-landed on ours thinking survival would be simple considering their vast hospitable technologies.

But arriving somewhere lacking the infrastructure to even produce a nail or screw, they soon found themselves at the mercy of local populations who already knew how to formidably survive.

Some resisted the acculturation and sought to remain pure and independent (the Malfoys), while many others realized the benefits of interspecial co-habitation and set about cultivating their mutual prosperity (the Potters). 

Hence, to this postmodern day a mix of the caveperson and the alien still resides, within every culture across the land, producing a wide mix of compelling variety.

And the ancient puritan incestuous impulses still blindly guide at other times as well, even millions of restitutive years later the same fear of change and innovation flourishing.

Nevertheless, somewhere hidden upon the globe lies the ancient remains of those original spacecrafts!

Could they be the first cohesive multicultural evidence?

Still collaboratively resonating to this very day!

Peter Rabbit 2: The Runaway

While wildly profiting off the old Beatrix Potter tales, Peter Rabbit 2 takes shots at the publishing industry, as it innocently explores the urban/rural divide, and wholesomely promotes ye olde school traditional family. 

The dynamic book is selling and a large publishing firm takes note, and lays out the royal red with the hopes of expanding its global markets.

Bea's (Rose Byrne) impressed by the upscale adornments and quickly takes to the commercial schemes, even considering Peter Rabbit in Space along with many other atypical sequels.

Meanwhile, Peter and his bunny friends find themselves hip-hoppitting in the nearby village, Peter (James Corden) accidentally bumping into someone who claims to have known his dad (Lennie James as Barnabas).

They hit it off and scheme themselves soon intending to pull off a gigantic heist, of coveted sought after dry fruit at the chillin' freeform farmers' market.

Red flags inquisitively eschew but both Peter and Thomas McGregor (Domhnall Gleeson) ignore the danger.

Until the local pet shop captures their friends.

And the executive board attempts a hostile takeover.

Peter Rabbit 2 scores points for the countryside and the the humble laid-back agrarian life, as the sinister ways of the nearby town threaten to dilute its bucolic purity. 

The city's not technically like that although you have to be careful not to lose your head, country markets aren't really like that either, they can be pricey, but the artists sell cool things.

It would seem strange to see Petter Rabbit suddenly taking off into space, or surfing or browsing at the mall, but the same author could explore these locales with different characters.

There are always comedic applications which thrive through sheer incomparable inexhaustibility, the best ones leaving you evocatively abashed, the worst threatening the integrity or your immortal soul.

Ideas just come naturally to many after having spent so much time consuming media, it's a consistent mélange of mulltivariable impulses im/precisely interwoven with sub/conscious thread.

There are just so many of them they consistently bombard every constructive day while actively producing, I never really considered what it would be like to have just one and to spend the majority of your time focused upon it.

Sigh. It depends on how you view it but it can be argued that Peter Rabbit 2 is racist, like I said before, I don't think the anti-racism in film and television movements that hit the U.S ever influenced that many in England, but The Runaway lauds bucolic pastures and lambastes its only live-action black character (David Oyelowo as Nigel Basil-Jones) (Barnabas is also voiced by an African American and he's up to no good too).

As the patriarchs come to terms and settle down far away from the hustle and bustle.

Finding it in their hearts to disagree once more.

Peter Rabbit shouldn't be so political. 

The Secret Life of Pets

The Secret Life of Pets hypothetically explores the vast intricate networks forged by animate beasties while their owners labour.

Indubitably multivariable, they elaborately maintain reflexive codes of conduct, outsiders improvisationally electing initiation, as they travel throughout different domains.

Take the two principal characters, loyal pets getting used to living with one another, one once revelling in solitary freedom until the day his gigantic counterpart arrived.

Seeking to rid himself of the burden soon after at a local park, he attempts to play a trick on his compatriot, which leaves them both suddenly headed for the pound, pestiferous prominence meets drastic indelicacy.

But on their way the industrious underground audaciously emerges and sets them free, engaging no less in innovative expediences as they feverishly search and rescue.

Nevertheless, in order to acclimatize they must lie about why they were caught, so they don't seem green on their trip through the maze imaginatively constructed at length below ground.

Meanwhile, a devoted admirer notices that her beloved beau has disappeared. 

And trusted friends head out in search of their cherished fellows throughout the city.

Taking Oliver & Company to the next level The Secret Life of Pets tumultuously delivers, by providing a dynamic interactive cross-section of lively versatile multicultural life.

Not entirely unlike the heralded Rudolph who also travelled the world after encountering vitriol, finding his way to the island of misfit toys/the underground complex, while his friends desperately sought to find his location.

I was surprised to see the underground depicted so intricately in a family friendly animated film, I thought the subject matter would be too riské and that the master narrative would whitewash such things.

But without much whitewash realistic conflict intuitively emerges with unorthodox decorum, and respect is granted to novel ingenuity with emboldened invention and disparate ruse.

Perhaps the reasons explaining how the animals wound up there could have been explored with greater detail, and the heroes could have promised to proactively enable widespread adoptive change upon reemergence. 

I suppose it wasn't a Christmas film but is not viscerally paramount?

To freely share such a message throughout the year.

In praise of open-minded compassionate humanity! 

Just a thought. 😌

Hoping for peace in the Middle-East.

⛄🎄🎁🎅

The Nine Lives of Christmas

As Christmas rapidly approaches, a local firefighter festively complains, for having to take part in a photo shoot, he likes helping out, but it's not his thing (Brandon Routh). 

Across town, a caring lass laments that she has no time for the holidays, between work and studying to become a vet her schedule's full of pressing demands (Kimberley Sustad). 

But her friends think she should date or at least go out from time to time, and insist she agreeably join them for a low-key night out 'round town.

Meanwhile, a homeless cat finds his way over to Mr. Stone's house, and even though he dislikes responsibility, he still takes in the loving stray.

Seemingly unconnected events consistently ensure they bump into each other, and it soon becomes convivially evident that they were tarred with the same independent brush.

Hence since they're not really used to dating it's difficult to recognize the perfect match.

As they humbly mess things up while trying to not to appear genuinely interested.

The cat keeps wholeheartedly mewing and ensuring adorability's infused, the life and times of exasperated awestruck heartfelt exploration bewilderingly shewed.

Could it be that the animal kingdom subliminally facilitates human relationships?

Without the wayward kitty these two ideally matched impeccable soulmates, would have never engaged in the inquisitive parlay sincerely required to proactively pair bond. 

Perhaps through cosmic accident the natural world's inherent beauty, coincidentally helps the romantically inefficient to eventually sight discover one another.

But does the clever work of Mother Nature holistically emit its conjugal magic, throughout the entire year, while emphasizing Christmas?

Does she know precisely where and when the perfectly matched oddball couple will meet, and ensure a captivating critter will correspondingly instigate conversation?

This likely happened regularly long before the industrial age, for thousands of years while uncommitted bachelors and tribal women were torn asunder!

Perhaps even at a time when presents and trees weren't yet anticipated, a fledgling Santa even assisted in her collective amicable pursuits.

Until Satan introduced economic chaos and the destruction of the natural world began.

Global warming transforming worldwide l'amour.

With preposterous disproportionate impunity. 😜

Family Switch

The title's misleading. 

The rebellious self-obsessed years during which curiosity is severely criticized, and traditional wholesome old school activities condescendingly dismissed with haughty verisimilitude. 

The resultant antithetical shockwaves producing unsettling bland confusion, as festive recourse to playful jocosity sincerely struggles amidst the pretension. 

It's the Holiday Season in High School and the Walker Family is bitterly composed, having lost the communicative cohesion that once underscored their familial unity.

Mom's (Jennifer Garner) got a big presentation and daughter CC (Emma Myers) might make the national soccer team, Wyatt's (Brady Noon) hoping to get into Yale and his father's (Ed Helms) band has a unique opportunity.

Usually, the power of Christmas would unflinchingly aid their courageous misadventures, and by harnessing the spirit of the season they would proceed confident and emboldened. 

The unextinguished light fails to constructively guide them however.

Until they stop by a local observatory.

Where corporeal mischief interpersonally accrues.

Given the flamboyant opportunity to craft ebullient effervescent dreams, Family Switch's yuletide extravagance lucidly facilitates transmutation.

It's more like Die Hard nevertheless, more like a movie that takes place at Christmas, the Holiday Season popping up from time to time but by no means the predominant focus.

The otherworldly transformations seemed a bit too studio as well, as if an eccentric mystical expert wasn't consulted when shooting the scenes.

A missed opportunity: when the neighbourhood wives show up and start grilling CC and Wyatt, who are stuck in their mom and dad's bodies, individual criticisms are shared. But without accompanying close ups (think the end of Crocodile Dundee). The focus thus remains on CC and Wyatt. If each individual criticism had been announced with its own striking close up, the collegial balance between supporting and principal actors would have been more universally sustained. 

Part of the narrative directly celebrates teamwork so the point is eventually made. There's actually a lot of cool in this film. They put a lot of time and effort into it (try and find like 6 Christmas films or films that take place at Christmas to watch, some of them don't attempt to excel that much).  

I thought the acting improved a lot after the body switches and the actors starting pretending to play someone else 😜, I don't know if that was intentional, but the secondary characteristic investments paid imaginative dividends. 

I also thought it made a lot of clever points about family, and was thoughtfully designed to bring disgruntled folks back together during the holidays without being too preachy or overbearing.

Director McG should score points for ensuring the cast and crew took things really seriously.

The cast and crew should score multiplie points for creating a year round Christmas film. 

Even without the mind-blowing mysticism. 

Christmas in California.

Worth checkin' out. 

Sing

I always marvel at how tolerant my parents were regarding my singing when I was younger.

Before I learned to just take it easy and productively chill out when performing, I used to take on elevated subject matter, and my poor father had to listen as I bellowed Life on Mars? on the family piano, yet he still never let loose his irate criticisms, and let things take their natural course.

Sing gathers the harmonically gifted from a modest lively urban centre, and fortuitously unites them in passionate song, the reputed prize worth $100,000.

Unfortunately, the prize was a typo that greatly exaggerated the MC's income, but the lofty sum still motivated many, and a solid crew was melodiously assembled.

It must be the case the far reaching talent obliviously chillin' in so many towns, just waiting for similar opportunities to feverishly break out with elaborate invention.

Obsessions with being the best or not simply as good as a friend or relative, prevent so many from pragmatically proceeding as if there ever was an artistic superlative.

If you don't think you're the greatest singer or you needlessly worry how your words will sound, note that the most consistent songwriter in legendary memory won the Nobel Prize and he couldn't even sing.

American Idol is no doubt well-known for giving a shot to inspired local talent, and creating a vast incredible network of aspiring singers across the land.

But are local garage bands still seeking to frenetically emerge ultra summa cum laude, or just exist in the embryonic ether everlastingly invigorating rhythmic liaison?

Dylan, Bowie, The Beatles, and The Rolling Stones seemed to me like they worked like it was their job to write song after song, and didn't just lounge about on the old trust fund seeking performative disruptive accolades. 

You get that rush outside of your comfort zone that effortlessly produces irresistible novelty, and as you constructively/bitterly/imaginatively/proactively/distractedly/vituperatively react there's no all-encompassing parallel for what you come up with.

Liked Sing's city of animals and the collective beasties intuitively enthralling.

Dreams effervescently accruing. 

Multivariable shapeshifting cascades.  

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer: The Movie

While the bona fide uncompromising authentic origin tale remains unknown, annual hypotheses loosely based on fact swashbucklingly revitalize widespread interest, the diverse ways in which compelling details vividly transform from one story to the next, festively salute constellated mutation throughout mysterious epic skyways. 

The unimaginative and concretely obsessed may be led astray by absolute claims, attempting to harness commercial synergies through ornate mad disingenuous trusts.

It can at times feel lucid and reasonable to indeed contend you've mastered conspiracy, and can exultingly claim genesizzlin' unalloyed paramount intricate distillate digress.

But then how multivariably arrayed is your manifest mischievous missive, how disciplined in/opportune how distinctly yielding manifold dispersals?

Take Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer: The Movie wherein which the wicked Stormella defies Christmas law, and conjures a tumultuous storm to inimically ruin Santa's Christmas Eve flight!

We hear no mention of her in the song nor in the old classics from 1964 or 1948, thus should this account be definitively forecast would it not imprecisely promulgate legend?

It is certainly a humble version and the Holiday Season encourages modesty, as the sublime life of the King of Kings effortlessly illuminates oblivious morrows.

We then find in The Last Crusade the cup of a carpenter awkwardly situated, amongst the luxurious ostentatious pageantry libationally orchestrating abstract life.

It provides trusted Indiana Jones with miraculous good fortune and pious fidelity, through which he's able to heal his father through the unabashed art of temperate self-sacrifice. 

But how to line up every Rudolph the Red-Nosed ever constructively theorized across the globe, and exhaustively vet their fleeting integrity with wholesome and practical unparalleled sights?

Perhaps better to praise inexactitude and celestially bathe in impressionable waters, the sought after divine undiluted tarot disproportionately grave and unimpacting.

Although should it be discovered neither to embrace hysteria nor earthquaking frenzy!

Don't worry, Rudolph shines through.

Stormella even learns to chill out.

🎄🎅🤶🎁⛄

Bullet Train

What a strange film.

There's no doubt it's well done. It seems the more critics lambaste gratuitously violent films, the more clever and entertaining they become, consistently challenging their audiences to duel with themselves as they come to reckless terms with their own narrative preferences. 

Bullet Train even interweaves Thomas the Tank Engine, as a paid assassin uses its inherent lessons to frame and construct his sociocultural views, a tender embrace no doubt endearing as he shoots his way through the chaotic frenzy, even sharing the most violent sequence from the film as he and his brother argue about how many people they took out during their most recent job, their dispute graphically and reminiscently depicted, it's insane, it's just insane.

Another nice guy with a gift for killing shares his therapist's advice throughout, and consistently attempts to talk rather than fight, his wise complaints neither brokered nor adhered to.

Überviolent psychological brainy dramatic comedies are no doubt a 21st century speciality, it's clear decades of vertical mutation have enhanced their intricate design, but are there not consequences to such manifestations?

Most people know the difference between psycho film and playful reality, and don't turn into bellicose beasts just because they saw a violent movie.

But you often hear about mass shootings in the States, so you have to wonder if permitting your populace to purchase multivariable assault weapons, while idealizing mass unattainable wealth, and then constantly showcasing brilliant and hilarious violent films, is not a seriously bad idea, even if you're making billions (are hundreds of millions not enough?).

Take away the mass availability of assault weapons and the mass shootings decrease proportionately, borrowing stats from Bowling for Columbine, and the distressing onslaught that's proceeded unabated since.

Then nerd men can get back to thematically impressing nerd women with their bombastic theatrics, and the next generation of eccentric children can constructively flourish in the librarial thunderground.

It's always the same story. ⛄

If your culture isn't prone to routine psychotic outbursts furiously unleashed on the unsuspecting public, and films like this one are reserved for more mature audiences who like gangster movies, Bullet Train is somewhat of a masterpiece, which still goes a bit overboard.

What would The Godfather or Scarface (1983) have been like if they'd been released at a later date?

They still seem a lot more profound.

And it's clear that they're not comedies. 

Creed III

Adonis Creed's (Michael B. Jordan) life moves on as he embraces family and responsibility, playing a more active managerial role after having given up professional fighting.

Things progress reasonably well on the home front and his marriage seems quite the success, his daughter needing his help however, as she fights back against bullies at school (Mila Davis-Kent). 

As life illustriously floats by an old close friend who went to prison is released, and comes a' callin' one adventurous morn to see how his old reliable chum is doing.

They went to a group home together and one fateful night all hell broke loose, and Majors (Damian Anderson) wound up with a lengthy prison sentence and lost his chance at becoming a heavy-weight champion.

He wants that chance again but doesn't want to wait for several more years, joining the circuit and punching his way up, he wants to become champ freakin' asap.

Unfortunately, this means the utilization of wicked aggressive unorthodox means, which may lead to a shot at the title, but lose the respect of his friend.

Adonis feels reasonably guilty and frustrated by what happened so many years ago.

But has to accept contemporary realities. 

And step back in the coveted ring.

I thought the new Creed film was solid and was impressed with Michael B. Jordan's directing, honestly sometimes when actors direct things go haywire, but that's not the case with Creed III.

It didn't seriously impress like Rocky Balboa which was such an incredible surprise sequel, but it's still a cool thrilling new movie that takes a thoughtful look at fame, fortune and family.

Jordan and Tessa Thompson really stand out at times as they discuss hard-hitting issues, I thought they had some memorable scenes which artistically enhanced deep meaningful strata.

I thought the added tension Creed has to face by confronting himself within the film, added a psychological dimension that was much more profound than just fighting the bad guy.

Majors has taken on underhanded means but Creed still feels responsible for his modus operandi, and sincerely cares about his old friend even though he has to fight him.

Majors takes on the Rocky/underdog role as well which re-establishes a familiar storyline.

They clearly just didn't want to make another sequel.

They thought this one through.

The hard work paid off.    

Cane Toads: The Conquest

The old invasive species tale creatively told once and again, this time a' flourishin' down under, with a fresh democratic imaginative take.

Know then that grubs were destroying Australia's versatile sugar cane crops, so they sought an efficient way to stop them, and subsequently introduced a non-native toad to their robust environment, with the unabashed dogged hopes that it would bravely devour them.

Unfortunately it didn't, and they reproduced abundantly in incredible numbers, and soon starting spreading across the continent as their natural instinct accelerated forward.

If considering whether or not they became a tasty treat for endemic wildlife, believe that their natural fluidic poisons were a problem for local beasties and pets alike.

Many communities were rather annoyed by the massive unrelenting expansion, and inaugurated ways to curtail their progress across the massive fecund land.

Others industriously capitalized on public fascination with the phenomenon, and created products and fertilizer and roadside attractions flouting the new lifeform's integrity. 

I know I would have a good time just sitting back and watching them hop by.

Australia sounds so amazing for wildlife.

The Crocodile Hunter was such a cool show.

As is Cane Toads: The Conquest, it's unlike any nature documentary I've seen, a unique twist on a fascinating genre inherently abounding with camp and craft.

It's a truly democratic account that interviews peeps from multivariable walks, without judgment or pervasive hierarchies pretentiously upsetting the creative balance.

The variety is impressive as he zigzags his way through his inclusive exploration.

If no video footage exists of the cane toad related story, director Mark Lewis engages in dramatic recreations in order to reanimate the yarn.

Perhaps not serious enough for some sterile objective puritans, or people who really don't like the toad, it's difficult to say. 

But I imagine kids and families and audiences around the world would love Cane Toads: The Conquest!

The multiple close-ups and inspired invention.

Producing bona fide unfiltered wherewithal. 

The Holiday Calendar

A creative photographer does the legwork for an unimaginative yet reliable small business, earning enough scrilla to keep up her apartment while her well-meaning family asks tough questions (Kat Graham).

Her best friend is keen and sympathetic and returns one Christmas from his travels abroad, eager to pick up where they left off as habitual merrymaking yearns and flourishes (Quincy Brown).

Meanwhile, her enigmatic grandfather (Ron Cephas Jones) shares one of her recently deceased grandma's treasures, a giant old school European advent calendar that fluidly winds up and shares daily presents.

Things routinely proceed as the photographic enterprise heads outside, to take pictures of youngsters with Santa as he meticulously notes their gift ideas.

But soon strange coincidences take place which only have one spirited explanation, that the gifted intricate advent calendar is mysteriously forecasting fate!

Every day unexpected events find symbolic representation numerically adjudicated, as the innocent shutterbug wondrously believes and sincerely follows the magical path.

But it becomes apparent that the picture perfect beau the calendar has showcased lacks eccentric merit.

Her closest friend making it known he's upset.

Will the spirit of Christmas heal their friendship?

I thought this was a really cool idea for a Christmas film that cleverly reimagines Holiday Season essentials, the old school advent calendar clairvoyantly presenting cryptic yet definitive structure.

A bigger budget with more time spent and perhaps with a major studio reworking the story, not that the original lacks seasonal merriment, I just thought it could be even more epic. 

Imagine living the ahistorical dream with an emancipatory place for a nimble eclective, while securing amorous accolades and the heartfelt devotion of a trusted friend.

Who knows where the regenerative magic of the clandestine Season holistically resides, perhaps it's rather like the Force and is infinitesimally everywhere all at once? 

Notably in eggnog and gingerbread it must enliven these treats every December.

Not to mention random gift ideas.

Hot cocoa.

Hibernating dreams.  

Au hasard Balthazar (Balthazar)

Bold childhood declarations subliminally etched and ethereally nurtured, as time passes piecemeal and peaceful borderline pasteurized enigmatic shades.

Pressing ambitious ingenuity sage book-learning incisively applied, resulting yields tantalizing and abundant copiously accruing practical dividends. 

Rented land unimaginatively considered by its well-meaning spirited and generous masters, resulting in disproportionate dishevelling alarm as the plentiful crops benefit another.

But not initially however only after years of shocking envy, malevolently creates a vitriolic buzz which dishonourably characterizes the industrious tenant.

Meanwhile, a hapless donkey known affectionately as Balthazar makes his way, often abiding by his owner's dictates but at times engaging in judicious free play.

As seasons change and fortunes fade he's dismissively transferred around the small town, an elaborate tale in the paramount slipstream to be nimbly told to other curious beasties. 

His original owner gradually comes of age and shares his adventures throughout the village.

Jealousies prognosticating doom.

Pervasive detritus malignantly engendered. 

I thought this film may be more upbeat upon reading the synopsis championing Balthazar, not that I mind ye olde hardboiled bucolics, I just wasn't expecting the gloom.

There are ways of thinking I don't quite comprehend because they seem ignominiously counterproductive, for instance is it not preferable to applaud hard work and effort should an old or new friend find themselves succeeding?

Perhaps I took the Vulcan message wisely wishing prosperity for others too seriously, but if logic is customarily applied, is it not more fortuitous to encourage goodwill?

Do the Jedi not function commensurately as they mind the galaxy's crafty well-being, do ninjas not also perform the same function, why then are they so often disregarded?

Perhaps 'lil Balthazar knows an age old secret that he's not telling, that would help us move past inanimate grief to a more generally prosperous Star Trekkian dynasty.

It's sad to watch when he's suddenly mistreated although he sometimes does do well, and I was reminded once again of I, Claudius as I viewed another Robert Bresson film.

The emperor Claudius apparently in adulthood generously let his animals retire after years of service.

And let them relax in his fields without burden.

Having adopted the soulful life.

*Imagine a law like that!

**I bet there would be one on Star Trek.

New Rose Hotel

I've never really understood the allure of pursuing high stakes crime. Most related films make it clear that should you reach 50 having embraced such a life, you're remarkably fortunate if you're not locked up and still have a small army of troops protecting you. It's not passing before reaching old age that's disconcerting it's living while constantly worrying about outwitting your adversaries. That must grow tiresome after awhile. But I suppose the work may be more exciting.

In Abel Ferrara's New Rose Hotel, Fox/Christopher Walken celebrates the risk-fuelled life, and living without fear or limits, it's one of his best performances.

Perhaps there's something of the actor's lifestyle caught up with imaginative redefinition, the lucrative transference of artistic synergies inherently illuminating his authenticity. 

The film's well-cast, he's amicably joined by a less animated yet lithe Willem Dafoe (X), who works as his trusted partner engaging in lucrative industrial espionage.

Asia Argento (Sandii) luxuriously complements his smitten improvised amorous calling, the hopeless romantic having found yet another seemingly impressionable curious enthusiast.

But she may have more than one identity and may not seek the cloistered path.

So distressing these inspired freedoms.

Ethereal interconnected independence.

It's kind of like sci-fi noir although the detectives aren't what you'd expect, they're more like spies helping a science-genius move from one covetous corporation to the next.

The ominous sense of impending doom delicately blended with ebullient hope, shockingly seduces and destructively serenades as the jocose trio travels the globe.

Ah well, it doesn't seem like they're hiring poets although in the '90s we really believed, or I did anyways, that the old world stereotypes prejudicially preventing misfits from finding alternative trade routes would fade away.

Into banal feudal oblivion along with war and irritable class-bias.

Since Trump things have changed dramatically.

Not to mention the woeful pandemic.

Nevertheless, I imagined the poems I've been writing recently for several years as time progressed. 

When new rhymes seemed improbable, I rewrote the language.

For better or worse, I don't really know. 

I am still having as much fun, although I need to start transforming my film reviews too.

The future radiating indeterminate.

Just picked up some more horseradish.