Alien: Romulus

Alone on a colonized world pestiferously ill-suited to humanoid habitation, boldly caring for a kindly android who tries his best to raise her spirits.

A miraculous day defiantly emerges when temporal quotas are efficiently attained, but the corporation cruelly refuses to honour its word and perniciously adds on 5 to 6 years.

Her friends have a radical plan to circumvent slavery with audacious cunning, take a ship and resourcefully hijack cryostasis equipment to reach a far away world.

The daring plan is put into action and the required tools industriously discovered, but a serious hiccup objectively impedes their smooth star sailing across the universe.

For they've accidentally landed upon a virulent space station isolated and hauntingly adrift, whereupon mad elaborate experiments were viciously conducted to catalyze evolution. 

Indeed Weyland Corporation after all of these sequels has finally obtained their sought after serum, which unnaturally transforms biological organisms unfit for space into model citizens.

The same android schematic from the original Alien even malevolently pursues the despotic objective. 

Scientifically mutate contemporary DNA.

To create invincible übermensch. 

Fortunately, the opportunistic marauders aren't so blind to the disastrous potential, and valiantly ignore the robot's plans to bring the formula back down to their planet.

Note that as the excessively rich attempt to make cyborgs hundreds of thousands may be permanently damaged, if you want to give your life for the experiment wisely make sure they're giving you at least $20 million (or try to outlaw that kind of thing). 

Alien: Romulus looks back to its roots and even reanimates the alien from Alien, while paying homage to Aliens and Alien: Resurrection in its bleak horrifying yet hands-on testament (Walter Hill also produces). 

I'm not saying they aren't really cool movies I even bought the Quadrilogy over 20 years ago, but the possibility of escape of the collective reimagining of the cultural codes responsible for Weyland remain unchallenged. 

I thought Alien, Aliens, and Alien: Resurrection made me care more about their characters, that those films gave them more room to develop, genre films that focus on developing minor characters are so much cooler (and rewatchable).

Alien: Romulus spends a lot of its time developing the android Andy and the lead hero.

While indirectly commenting on education and cyborgs. 

There's a lot more to the movie than that. 

*If you're hoping that doesn't happen with the baby, it does.

Moonshot

You know, if I had my own spaceship and I was heading to Mars, you could have a ride with me. 

If you spend a lot your time rolling bagels and your arm hurts from time to time, there'd be a special masseuse onboard, and you could have a ride with me.

If you wash métro stations at night with those giant industrial floor cleaning machines, your cabin would be idyllically polished, and you could have a ride with me.

If you bust out ye olde weed whacker and cover at least 10k a day, trimming grass with agile endurance, while transitioning to mow and plant and clip and prune, you could have a ride with me.

If you wash dishes with categorical moxie and efficiently keep the supply chain moving, there'll be plates for your cake on board, and you could have a ride with me.

If you enjoy playing the keys as a rhythmic specialist or even a frenzied soloist, we could put the band back together, and you could have a ride with me.

If you can keep the orders in your head and delicately time all the dishes in turn, we can feast on freakin' whatever, and you could have a ride with me.

If you love sundry different films and appreciate vast international diversity, perhaps taking in Fantasia while searching for Criterions, you could have a ride with me.

Pretty much anyone could have a ride with me, but why the hell would we go to Mars, which is basically a barren hostile rock, and live in an oppressive small town settlement, that we could never leave? 

When we could go to Colorado, Tadoussac, Montréal, Hamilton or downtown Muskoka?

There are still billions of years of life left on this here planet.

Give or take a challenging millennia. 

Rosaline

Agile independence forthrightly attuned to romantic longing, haplessly falls for a gifted poet intuitively enamoured with fiery discipline. 

Her father desperately seeks someone for her to wed at the same time however, arranged marriages still diplomatically sought at that time in Europe and elsewhere.

Rosaline chooses to marry for love and pines obsessively for the legendary Romeo, not making things easy for him at times, yet still compulsively coveting his distinct verse.

A potential suitor arrives one day whom her father objectively approves of, and they head out in his seductive boat to challenge the sea with nautical bravado.

The suitor tries his best to valiantly please her but is wholeheartedly forsaken, her heart belonging to ye olde Romeo who has thus far requited her advances. 

Rain suddenly descends in torrential buckets thereby delaying their return home, an enchanting masquerade ball ethereally awaiting that includes the coveted Shakespearian in attendance.

Rosaline indeed arrives too late but not after her cousin Juliet has been formerly introduced. 

Romeo having fallen for her indivisibly. 

Encouraging bitter fury enraged!

Love seeing comedic reimaginings of classic tales continuously told, with new characters and emboldened situations absurdly redefining stray narrative elements.

Romeo doesn't mean to be a cad he just accidentally finds himself playing the role, his honest unattached unbetrothed feelings awkwardly lamented throughout the movie. 

Patient Dario steals the show with his courageous resolve and humble cunning, embracing Rosaline's chaotic feelings with resourceful energy and lithe accommodation. 

How Romeo could have overlooked her immaculate bearing inherently overflowing with genuine artistry, her very existence each elegant breath a slow motion incarnate natural wonder.

Alas, in that natural possession of what many desire to stunningly diversify, the majority find her too incredible to risk their cherished sanity through bold proposal. 

I thought the film was for the young ones but mom assures me it was far too mature.

Alternative takes, imposing reanimation.

If you're still interested in that kind of thing. 

Scrooge

Events traditionally unfold in the 1970 version of Scrooge, known perhaps for its musical flourishes and alternative takes on narrative contentions.

Scrooge remains as thoroughly miserly as one would expect if even vaguely familiar, and greedily refuses to grant the slightest clemency to any of his festive hard-working debtors.

To be expected, he also treats Bob Cratchit with cold and calculated avaricious disdain, and once again denies his humble nephew as he pleasantly invites him to Christmas dinner.

Many of the lines no doubt are almost identical to the 1951 classic, as it proceeds with temperate respect to the ageless wonder miraculously crafted.

It does struggle somewhat at times when the story isn't enriched through upbeat song, the less melodious dramatic scenes lacking convincing qualities effectively managed.

I did rather like the songs however and their exuberant convivial ecstatic fortitude, the fitting emphasis on play and fun mellifluously denoting communal cohesion.

Some of them are quite elaborate as well with dozens of extras performing in unison, the intricate nature of the ebullient dancing considerably impressive in stride and swoon. 

In this version, more attention is paid to Scrooge's apprenticeship with ye olde Fezziwig, and Alice is presented as Fezzi's daughter who Scrooge freely falls for even though he can't dance.

An extended scene romancing in the countryside adds much more romantic and amorous depth, Scrooge's inevitable inestimable turn all the more cruel and dishearteningly tempered. 

I always love the Fezziwig scene and it is rather short in some of the versions, I often think all of that effort for such a short time but at a younger age it did seem much longer.

Another notable difference looks at Scrooge's imagined descent into Hell, where he encounters Jacob Marley again and finds himself enlisted as Satan's clerk. 

The final song the purchase of the toys is rather well done Scrooge's generosity unsurpassed.

Not in keeping with the season to state overzealous!

How could it be!

Merry Christmas, everyone. 🎄🎅🤶🌟⛄𐂂👼

Transformers One

Tough and experimental young friends resiliently attuned to calisthenic mischief, bored with their jobs and inherently curious about the political composure of their planet's temperament. 

They work in the mines digging for energon without the requisite cogs which enable transforming, carefree and dreamy yet brave and self-sacrificing they function with enterprising inquisitive accolades. 

Yet as their heroics win them applause their planet's adored leader isn't quite so impressed, indirectly banishing them to an unheard of sub-level where they find themselves managing disregarded waste.

Appropriately, after making new friends, they soon courageously travel to their planet's surface, in search of the long lost matrix of leadership, the location of which may have been revealed.

Further distress despondently awaits them in the inhospitable lands terrorized above, as the treacherous nature of their belovéd leader is freely showcased by a legendary warrior.

To inform their brethren that they were meant to have cogs and that their tireless labours simply profit hostile aliens, definitively emerges as a compelling mission to which they immediately respond with vociferous stewardship.

A revolutionary tale tempestuously told to harness innate hard-working nobility, bold transformations multivariably brandishing integrity and exception across the land.

The citizens denied their honest fair share of the spoils of their labours react with indignity, and collectively express their enraged disapproval with rebellious instinct and distinguished resolve.

Certainly focused on Transformers the sentient robotic aliens fuelling, narrative discord aggrieved animation improvised cognizance intermingling microbes. 

Unfortunately, their inspired insurrection leaves Orion Pax and D-16 at odds, the classic Professor X/Magneto dialectic reemerging with democratic/authoritative repercussions hemorrhaging.

It reminded me of Coruscant in Attack of the Clones when Skywalker and Kenobi chase down the bounty hunter, and ye olde "splinching" from the Harry Potter films when the newfound Transformers have issues changing.

Indubitably textbook evaluations of open-minded leadership resiliently tested, no doubt applicable to political studies should they seek exemplars of seditious tales.

Sad to see the flourishing enmity as it's coldly birthed in revolutionary flames.

To be spread far and wide from planet to planet. 

Megatron and Prime at odds thereverafter. 

Four Christmases

Vacation plans imperceptibly tantalizing quickly approaching festive holiday breaks, time to spend relaxed and stretched out elaborately elongated upright tenements. 

Traditional visits to old school loved ones siblings and family and nieces and nephews, incrementally harmonizing habitual happenstance gregarious growth uproarious sentiments.

But some imaginative couples creatively manifest alternative arrangements, to sneakily avoid the routine remonstrance and inconsolable awkward confabulations.

To Fiji they furtively plan to gallopingly go sans limitations, to lazily bask in freeflowing sustainable enriching waters immersive acclamations. 

Yet when they reach the airport on Christmas Day in fact no less, ominous fog discourteously blankets the surrounding skies with opaque languor. 

To further frustrate their Scroogey mendacity a local news station suddenly broadcasts them live, their relatives witnessing the distressing surprising grouchy exchanges on their televisions. 

Soon it's off therefore to reminisce with emboldened blood and the next generation.

Neither member of the couple prepared. 

For what they're soon to learn about one another. 

Immaculate bliss once exceptionally adorning their perpetual ensconcement in each other's arms, far away from the orthodox torments unsettlingly facilitating unrestrained fury.

They are quite different people leading quite different lives from different points of view, but does that hardboiled multivariable eclectivity not also inspire romantic love!?

The film did seem dialectically dis/oriented to either champion or lampoon family, synthesizing the divergent concepts throughout with varying degrees of symphonic success. 

Was the spirit of Christmas beatifically bound to bring them wholesomely together, to optimistically unite, to generously generate raw animate excursions fluidly fuelled with maladroit mallow?

Offbeat ridicule flamboyant caprice rambunctious sincerity disconsolate diatribes, randomly revolving with road weary rubber gallantly peppered through a hard day's night.

Unpredictable fanciful variety.

At home for the frosty holidays.

Eggnog and shortbread and willow.

Endless timeless specials!

The Prince of Egypt

Misjudged the title of this one.

I thought it was going to present an old school Egyptian tale, one that I'd never heard before, and offer insights into the culture that definitively flourished for agile millennia (I'm curious and I don't know that much about it).

Obviously that wasn't the case and The Prince of Egypt is in fact Moses, and the film examines the famous Exodus that led the Jewish people to new lands.

I was still surprised to see a cartoon showcasing such a revered and solemn tale, with animated pluck and illustrated mischief not grim and stately sombre discord.

Moses is a bit of a punk and habitually revels at play within, causing great disturbances as he teases Ramses who may inherit the civilization.

Ramses is worried because his absolutist father isn't quite so sure he would govern wisely, that he may be too soft indeed to effectively administrate something so vast and historically imposing.

Moses assures him he'll be okay before running into his actual family, who left him freely cast adrift on the fertile Nile so long ago.

Upon discovering his Hebrew roots Moses reacts with sympathy and compassion, for an enslaved people sincerely struggling to maintain balance and upbeat order. 

He leaves his life at the palace behind and takes up their cause with concerted gusto, notably after God commands him to nimbly help his struggling overlooked and crippled subjects.

I don't mind interpretive takes on biblical legends postmodernly accentuated, the literal accounts and associated stories often coming across as far too dull.

In an age of multivariable invention is it not crucial to flexibly adapt, and even embrace alternative interpretations reflexively recharacterizing biblical myths?

When I consider that Moses parted the Red Sea for instance and I imagine it through a parliamentary lens, it's as if the centre-left-red wanted the Hebrews to remain in Egypt, and at one time the far-left-red agreed with them.

But then Moses's messianic savvy was able to convince the more compassionate far-left-red otherwise, and as the red politicians at large debated his clever points, the Jewish people escaped emergent and free (the government wasn't paying attention because it was arguing so much).

It actually sounds a lot cooler with the sea being parted by a sympathetic God.

But is that the only way the story can be told?

For a God, wouldn't it be boring? 

Piccadilly

A popular night club routinely offers exceptional dynamic crowd pleasing performances, its dancers showcasing sundry coveted moves and flourishing finesse with fluid elegance.

The spice freely flows the rhythms distill freeflowing upbeat pleasant fun merrymaking, half their tables zealously reserved (by noon) intense sprightly jocose reliable industry.

But as so often happens, the urge to change one's steadfast surroundings bluntly coaxes, and one of the famous sought after dancers decides he'd rather entertain North America.

The blow is indeed distressing as dependable revenue streams quickly dry up, his equally flexible former partner remaining but not enough of a draw to firmly bring hundreds in.

Then one night an ornery client vehemently complains about a stain on his plate, which prompts the owner to visit the kitchen the scullery in fact where he finds a new spectacle. 

Soon the act is passionately displayed for the curious public who responds with praise, the newfound sensation turning critical heads and swiftly redefining the business's mantra.

But the old act once incredibly loved isn't as willing to be warm and pleasantly accommodating. 

The owner caught between the stubborn lithe rivals.

Following his heart, wherever it leads.

Several decades before the Civil Rights Movement emerged with formidable vigour, Piccadilly sought to break down race barriers with a bold and courageous daring silent film.

Released in England not the United States and in British cinemas not on American television, it still predates William Shatner and Nichelle Nichols's kiss by almost a dashing and carefree 30 years.

I don't know enough about silent films so I'm not sure if such stories were often told at the time, I just know from my own observations that I've rarely seen interracial tales pre-1960.

Pioneering no less and also cool to watch it's still a captivating film, I was interested to see something starring Anna May Wong after she appeared on the American quarter.

She was tired of being typecast in early Hollywood and moved to Europe to find more diverse roles so I'm told, bravery rewarded in this instance at least she clearly steals the show in Dupont's Piccadilly.

If curious about silent film and alternative ways to tell compelling tales, it's worth checking out for sure with many of its themes still resonating today.  

We Live in Time

Temporal constraints motivating and hindering the progressive development of vigorous contemplation, the ticking-clock accentuating bold constructive split-second or strategic plans.

The resonant calm seductively sustaining positive thoughts multivariably exercised, tantalizing fruition anticipated and swathed as definitive timelines filter and structure.

The potential for limitless editing as mischievously suggested by Mr. Orson Welles, also provides lithe and tempting bearings to the infinite reimagining of spiritual studies.

The thriving possibility the interminable tantrums the heuristic horizons the enchanting escapades, demonstratively connecting interactive achievements intermittently coalesced through spontaneous reinvention.

A play's history the variety of performances exceedingly relates to unlimited mutability, the contemporary difference the hubris assumed fantastically enabling bright ahistoricity. 

We Live in Time we adapt and age as newfound challenges and developments alter, well-rounded paths and convincing philosophies economically synthesized through cultural schemata. 

We Live in Time the inherent ridiculousness of geologic masses imperceptibly duelling, inspiring romance and chaos and tragedy as biological rubrics scale and rupture.

We Live in Time the capricious seasons habitually recalling tracks and trajectories, temperate enlivened invigorated festive potentially sentimental breezes crazing.

We Live in Time emergent generations interactively communicating multifaceted alternatives, incongruously compiled in abounding treatises ephemerally delineating temperate eternity.

What a gamer, this determined Almut, who refused to yield even though she had cancer, who still competed in an incredibly demanding event even though she might suddenly die.

The forecast wasn't hopeful but she still may have lived if she had taken it easy, but if she had done so and missed out on the challenge and still passed, it would have seemed so utterly unbearable.

Cooking mind-blowing meals that one feels sincerely embarrassed to eat, like you're devouring Deutschland Café XIII perhaps while discussing the weather with someone who isn't listening.

It'd be fun to compose a poem while examining and appreciating such a meal in real-time.

A picture will have to do for now. 

Dazzling and light, endearing forays. 

That Christmas

Awkward alternatives bravely manifest upon a far off inventive seaside stage, where newfound bold uncharacteristic reimaginings strut and flutter in this day and age.

The Christmas season immersively configureights as local residents stride and muster, parents and innovative children alike emotively adopting seasonal levity.

But the routine quotidian yet fascinating happenings are soon traditionally cast aside, as a furious blizzard startlingly descends and the village is cut off from the outside world.

Not only that, but a group of parents suddenly finds themselves stuck off the side of the road, with no cellphone access residually roughing it their children forlorn and ever antsy.

Although they don't dwell on their parents' disappearance after Santa provides them with ideal gifts, and they calmly engage in festive shenanigans improvisationally utilizing the awesome presents.

Meanwhile, a lonesome youth whose father has forgotten about the special day, mournfully seeks the maladroit accompaniment of a local school marm since his mom has to work.

They dig in deep and courageously construct fortuitous memories for when she returns, as bucolic mischief and communal courtesy cerebrally celebrate felicitous feeling.

Another reason to fight global heating, to help ye olde England recover its bearings, a snowstorm may be present within the film but it's nothing compared to that received here in Canada.

In fact just last week 5 adamant feet of challenging snow diabolically descended (no exaggeration), and we were once again reminded of the pioneering spirit that legendarily engineered the development of our land.

If we can fight off global heating and turn the terrorizing tempestuous tide, winters will return to normal across the pond, and their films may once again inspire rugged confidence.

Santa nevertheless is indeed filled with such inclinations, as he braves the "storm" to generously give sought after gifts to the anxious young ones.

It's a cool take on St. Nick who uses his omniscience to choose perfect gifts for the children, and brilliantly leaves them something luminous and cherished before once again departing for his next destination.

A thoughtful shout out is gallantly given to freeform turkey kind in That Christmas as well, as the resident birds at a lacklustre barn are valiantly set free to avoid mealtime melees.

A chill hyped-up account of just how different Christmas might be if the alternatives bear fruit.

And even more innate goodness emerges throughout the season. 

Cool Christmas film embracing festive change.

The Cars that Ate Paris

It's tough to say what's bound to happen if you leave isolated communities on their own. 

Should representatives of a central government keep in consistent contact as they blossom?

If they had in The Cars that Ate Paris, the situation may have been different, and the thriving supplemental auto parts industry may not have flourished so devastatingly. 

The leader would have been proactively concerned.

He's attempting to facilitate familial community.

Local inhabitants can routinely depend on an uplifting speech to keep them motivated. 

He's not particularly adept at generating sincere enthusiasm, yet still attempts to absolutely encourage village-wide co-operation and understanding.

Inhabitants have grown to be somewhat restless due to a lack of sure and steady employment, and have taken to recklessly engage in spirited acts of hard-driven disjunction. 

One individual survives and isn't sent to the local hospital, where outsiders are usually lobotomized after their cars are blown off the road. 

He lacks vision and focus and usually seems quite friendly and unobtrusive, and is therefore permitted to live in the town assuming he doesn't cause any mischief.

Xenophobia is taken to ridiculous degrees as the murderous townsfolk routinely express themselves, alone and forgotten in the far distant Outback where rarely a traveller comes passing through.

Absurd no doubt but indubitably commensurate with low-budget frights from around the world, its innovative use of vehicular vocation demonstrating odd technoautomotive authenticity.

The ways in which they doctor up their cars with intricate designs and supplemental parts, reminded me of Fury Road and I wondered if The Cars that Ate Paris had been historically instructional. 

Then it occurred to me that the phenom's likely widespread across the sweltering resourceful Outback, and that these films are artistic examples of something I've never seen in North America. 

I would argue that the moment when the clueless lobotomized outsiders show up at the mandatory town dance, transports The Cars that Ate Paris to another level, that's as shocking as it is original.

A challenge if you like old school cult films the existence of which encourage disbelief.

Before heading out on the road.

Destination carefree and uncharted. 

Don't Play Us Cheap

Lo and behold, a classic dinner party festively abounding with rhythmic song, the random celebratory inspired exclamations as unconcerned and versatile as they are contagious!

But the laidback chill and welcoming get-together has found its pernicious carnal adversaries, uptight individuals austerely prone to bombastically break up the tranquil merrymaking.

Imps from Hell in fact who can instantaneously change their shape and form, initially existing as vainglorious bats before diabolically transforming into humanoid revellers.

They strive to impress the Dark Lord by ruining an otherwise felicitous night, seeking reward recompense and favour in abysmal pits ominously inhabited. 

Fortunately, the guests assembled are far too good natured to fall for their traps, and easily find reflexive criticisms carefreely capable of sustaining the fun.

Most of the characters have a song to sing that's full of harmonious hard-working accords, mellifluous tales of united resplendency avidly coaxing freeflowing rebellion. 

Salt-of-the-Earth recitals fluidly enchant with gracious exactitude, Melvin Van Peebles having written the songs while expertly directing the feature as well (originally performed as a live musical).

I loved it so much I found the soundtrack and listened to many of the songs again, impressive soulful collaborative music gossamer gospel Motown motivation.

The music continuously innovates the feverish climax bewitching ensemble, as many of the characters gather together and sing several songs at the same chillaxed time.

It starts out humble and modest and slow then virtuously builds as other artists join in, before suddenly emerging as a bona fide fulcrum of synergistic spectacular stardust.

Why not simultaneously compose mischievous quotidian narrative accompaniments, cheerfully championing hard work and play and teamwork and friendship and family and Christmas (not technically a Christmas movie)?

The food looks so good too and there's so so so much of it freely available.

Fortuitously praising one more Saturday night.

Tantalizing treatise.

Mind-blowing maestros.

Crimes of the Future

As the ubiquitous commodified presence of pepped-up plastics and frenetic fossil fuels, begin to osmotically transform incumbent biological organisms, mutations matriculately metastasize and preponderantly promulgate across the land, the macabre growth of peculiar novelties transitionally emergent through stressed out synthesis.

Is it as farfetched as it sounds could we gradually adapt to consume plastic, to find sustaining fulfilling nourishment within the manifold products created thus?

I figured we wouldn't adapt and microplastics and forever chemicals would produce widespread woe, the former too tiny and omnipresent the latter too eternally carcinogenic. 

But life is consistently resilient as trees growing on outcrops reliably demonstrate, or the ways in which South American jungles have consumed ancient towns, the fact that fish continuously evolve. 

When I was young, and I considered pollution it seemed like waterways were under serious threat, especially considering how much sewage winds-up in rivers and oceans, it's a big time issue, sustainably speaking.

But even in those polluted waters we still find many resident fish, who somehow still live immersed in destructive chemicals, how do they do that?, how do they survive?

The perseverance of these fish lends credence to Crimes of the Future, and its endemic evolutionary theory that we'll one day live off plastic.

As we slowly mutate, new organs will spontaneously develop within our virulent bodies, to be registered by a curious government meticulously concerned with classified engagement.

Perhaps performance artists would indeed show off their newfound growths, in enigmatic underground showcases composédly cataloguing piecemeal evolution.

It's classic Cronenberg the reemergence of the Master still proving he can convincingly perplex 50 years later, many horror films have a short shelf life but his work from the '70s and '80s still seriously impresses.

Fittingly, it's difficult to know if the film's intended to be taken seriously, or exists solely to kerfuffle while provoking opaque comic registry.

Classic ambiguity conglomerately clasped in distinct dialogues convolutedly conversing, the characters consistently lying to one another, lucidly opposed unconcerned cross-purposes. 

Of course animosity manifests between old school humans and the emergent mutants, which makes for startling solemnities through eclectic interactive discomfort.

Kristan Stewart really impresses I had no idea she could perform that well, Cronenberg really brings out the best in her, the acting's good all around but she stands out.

Irrelevantly, I'll bear in mind this scenario as long as fish continue to swim.

Hope future generations don't adapt to eat plastic.

That sounds much worse than bugs.  

The Holdovers

As Christmas approaches, a severe depressed teacher is suddenly stuck with a pressing burden, to monitor the activities and structure the days of a small group of children at a private school.

The children were left behind for unfortunate reasons their grief somewhat turgid, and to make things worse the ornery prof gives them lengthy flush days full of challenge and study.

Instinctive rebellion athletically simmers as the taut strict injustice wholeheartedly incapacitates, alcoholic coherence and ancient civilizations acerbically mustering seditious resolve. 

When the surprising introduction of chill unexpected adventurous pastimes makes itself freely known, and a former dismissive and angst-ridden parent turns a bucolic leaf and picks up his son. 

He also takes three of the other kids leaving only one student to be chastised and disciplined, the student desperately trying to contact his mom but she can't be reached at the resort where she's staying.

The resident cook still performs her duties as the Holiday Season ominously howls.

Helping the instructor try to loosen things up.

As the frustrated teenager dismally exfoliates. 

It's a traditional woeful bitter look at hard-boiled excessively critical regulations, as they gradually let go of their uptight ceremony and warmly embrace something much more public.

It reminded me of A Christmas Carol (1951) and how Scrooge had to once spend Christmas at a boarding school, until his adoring sister finally convinced their father to let him come home to celebrate together.

Imagine Scrooge the child, bright and decent, despondently stuck at school for Christmas, with Scrooge-the-elder, jaded and unfeeling, scheduling his activities throughout the day.

Scrooge vs. Scrooge the malignant metastases overtly arrayed through pomp and circumstance, slowly learning to get along as the stilted teacher incrementally lets go.

Perhaps if he'd been sent to the military academy he would have wound up more like Ebenezer, the Scrooge-like prof through an act of kindness embracing lithe spirits and altering his destiny.

Much more serious than many a light happy-go-lucky convalescent Christmas film.

That may find a lasting audience amongst the people who listen to the people whom no one ever bothers to care to listen to. 😎

Action Jackson

A determined dedicated cop reservédly reputed to authentically infuriate, suddenly finds himself assigned to the plutocrat who disturbingly demoted him way back when.

Still not one to mince words he reestablishes their acquaintanceship rather discourteously, like a lot of hard-edged tales from the time blunt criticism confronting stately acrimony.

The ne'er-do-well in combative question is secretly murdering people to gain control, of a powerful union generally known to pursue social justice regarding the Presidency.

Hoping to control the union and thereby take over the White House, he comports himself tyrannically behind the scenes in his trusted realm.

Jackson learns of his malevolence and sets about applying aggrieved aggravation, but Dellaplane then kills his wife for having talked to him and lays the blame squarely on his shoulders.

With nowhere to go and few to rely on he finds himself adjudicating offbeat stages.

With the help of a nightclub singer.

And reliable visceral absurd awkward instinct. 

This film was severely critiqued upon its release in 1988, so I unfortunately never watched it, and always thought it lacked production values.

It's not Aliens or Die Hard or The Terminator but it holds its own with Rambo 2 or Raw Deal, meaning I'm surprised Weathers wasn't more of a leading man, as he took the fall for its praise of unions.

Thus, even though the How do you like your ribs? line is an instant classic for the action-packed ages, Action Jackson said positive things about forbidden gatherings in American culture.

It even makes unions look powerful and at the same time honest and proactive, it doesn't shortsightedly vilify them or call into question their versatile communities.

Cult status still effectively emerges along with the unsung unionist accolades, too bad Weathers never became a leading man, or had a career like Treat Williams or Roddy Piper (racism perhaps).

Still fun to see him whenever he popped up even if he wasn't leading the way.

Cool careers made in Hollywood like none other. 

Back in the hardboiled uprooted day.

Fedrelandet (Songs of Earth)

Imagine living there, naturally ensconced in overwhelming breathtaking beauty, consistently revelling in awestruck wonder as the seasons change and life delivers.

It's fun to catalogue the passing of the seasons like the family does in Fedrelandet (Songs of Earth), humbly showcasing their fertile land which they've boldly cultivated since at least 1603. 

Incredibly beautiful consistently revitalizing miraculous mountainous energetic environs, overflowing with habitual endemic resplendency, what a place to grow up then resiliently stay.

Not that it hasn't been difficult, emergency visits to the hospital were arduous at times, in fact to cure routine and troublesome appendicitis one required a nine hour trek over a mountain to a hospital.

And while the mountains constantly provide mood-altering rejuvenating lithe panaceas, they can at times wipe out whole families when they suddenly tremble with capricious fury.

But the beauty outweighs the risk their rooted reasonable irreducible rubric, providing ubiquitous inspirational levity like the perennial emergence of prehistoric dawn (I spent a year in the Rockies).

Mr. and Mrs. Mykløen are still enamoured with old school l'amour, it's uplifting to watch as they lovingly chill far away in the mountains on the family farm.

Still as holistically fascinated with one another as they lucidly were when their eyes first met, the unyielding preservation of romantic love everlastingly conjoined through limitless longevity.

Strong health and inherent vigour naturally accompanying their lives in the mountains, as they still hike like billy-goats to imposing mountain tops far above the sea.

It's impressive to view the heights they reach without looking like they've put in much of an effort, a life of bold adventurous mountaineering begetting calisthenic courageous camaraderie. 

Fjord living seems remarkably versatile from the stunning vistas and prominent panoramas, not to mention incomparable envisaged reflections in the pristine waters and out on the ice.

Filmmaker Margreth Olin (the Mykløen's daughter) periodically showcases wildlife within her film too, deer and moose and ravens and ferrets industriously existing in inhospitable lands.

There must be tourism it may be cold and isolated but it's still like nowhere else on Earth (crazy Northern Lights).

But perhaps that kind of thing would disrupt the harmony.

What a thrilling way of life.

Effervescent through the centuries (crazy waterfalls too).

*The Mykløens explain things much more clearly in the film.