It's a shame other ways can't be found to generate mass profits for businesses and people, the question being, why does oil and gas and mineral exploration generate so much cash, while so many other industries simply can't compare?
During the last Federal election campaign, Elizabeth May claimed there were hundreds if not thousands of decent green jobs waiting to be created, if I remember correctly, an idea stated by the Leap Manifesto as well I believe, I'd like to learn more about this potentiality if there are related books available, bustling economies are a wonderful thing, and if the potential for green economies is reasonable, why aren't politicians doing more to create them?
I'm not looking to replace the mineral resources sector with green economies until a genius comes along who can make dependable coffee makers out of fruits and vegetables, although reducing their environmental impacts is always a top priority, and I'm hoping that idea isn't as far-fetched as it sounds (hemp perhaps?), as we continue to find ways to combat global warming.
We're too heavily reliant on oil and metal to stop seeking new sources in the moment, and too many people's livelihoods depend on them to write them off without much forethought.
Oil's become much harder to extract, however, and vulnerable remote ecosystems are being heavily relied upon, with disastrous ecological effects, and none too comfy hard-edged working environments.
Far away from home.
And the remote locations are sometimes home to thousands of people who would rather not develop oil and gas resources.
If they say "no", it should mean "no".
Another location should be found.
But other locations aren't found and the issues interminably proliferate in the media, often reaching a dire conclusion, if objective fair play isn't judicially leveraged.
The Condor & The Eagle presents many activists fighting to save their lands on the combative frontlines.
Their stories are courageous and inspiring, as they fight back with neither time nor resources.
I've said it before, and others have too, how do you get a group of highly specialized academics or scientists to agree about anything, no matter how insignificant?, but even with all that compelling individuality, the vast majority of them firmly believe in climate change.
And have proof to back up their claims which so often fall on deaf ears.
You would think resource extraction would be more environmentally sound since they've had so much time to develop green methodologies, but nothing's as simple as these variable ideas relate.
If someone did find a way to mass market pure biotechnology, they'd probably be locked-up for life.
But it's clear that we need to transition away from oil and gas and likely should have started some time ago.
It goes without saying that it's dangerous to be so reliant on one energy source (so many "ages" came to an end).
We have the means to start transitioning.
Why don't oil and gas producers find a way to capitalize on them?
While decreasing highly dangerous and questionable expenditures?
Showing posts with label Aboriginal Relations. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Aboriginal Relations. Show all posts
Friday, June 5, 2020
Tuesday, May 19, 2020
Nanook of the North
I suppose there was a time when nature documentaries were something new, when there wasn't a plethora to choose from overflowing with the cute and cuddly?
The Nature of Things has always just kind of been there, chronicling away, but what were things like before the bold instructive multidisciplinary narratives of Suzuki?
There must be some cool books out there examining the history of naturalistic docs, it would be cool to have the chance to check them out some day.
If in existence, I wonder if any of them mention a nature documentary that predates Robert J. Flaherty's Nanook of the North (1922), with its adventurous bold endearing chill filmscapes?
It's not technically a nature documentary although it could be loosely classified as such, since it certainly presents a lot of critters, at home in their arctic environments.
The mighty walrus in its gargantuan splendour makes a thought provoking appearance, as does the lithe arctic fox, and the animate flip harp seal.
Unfortunately, the animals are being hunted, I imagine there was a different attitude concerning hunting in films back then, or that since it was likely something new, related armchair controversies had yet to develop, the subject inchoately generating previously unheard of sedate and shocked sensibilities, which must have opened up many critical heartlands, nevertheless, if you don't like hunting, beware.
I'm not a fan of watching animals being hunted but the Inuit live in a special set of circumstances. There is still an abundance of wildlife for them to hunt (lots of moose and deer elsewhere in Canada and Québec too) and why wouldn't you when a green pepper costs $8?
And it's a huge part of your ancient traditions?
Imagining what it must have been like to capture this independent footage is mind-boggling, inasmuch as they may have been filming in arctic conditions first hand at length without much to go on, with old school equipment that had to stand up to the elements, at a time when so much film was inherently experimental?
Was the equipment more durable back then?
Did they wear warmer gloves?
I imagine the film predates planned obsolescence by decades plus half a century.
Perhaps everything was built of sturdier stuff!
Or they just possessed more innate adventure?
Nanook of the North follows Nanook as he bravely hunts for his family, his vigorous spirit and inspiring good cheer promoting long-lasting effervescent wonders.
The soundtrack and intermittent silent narration add complementary uplifting currents, upon which the documentary glides, through wild unforgiving terrain.
I haven't seen many silent films but Nanook provides clear insights into the phenomenon, its cinematic awareness still relevant and captivating, as it bridges the divide between entertainment and instruction.
I loved watching them build their igloo from glacial disputatious scratch, then add farsighted clever home furnishings, there's no doubt they knew what they were doing.
Perhaps it's too happy-go-lucky considering the environmental extremes, but it still presents a spellbinding tale enriched through courageous endeavour.
I highly recommend it for film lovers in search of the pioneering documentary spirit.
It still radiates contemporary charm.
I'd argue it's truly timeless.
The Nature of Things has always just kind of been there, chronicling away, but what were things like before the bold instructive multidisciplinary narratives of Suzuki?
There must be some cool books out there examining the history of naturalistic docs, it would be cool to have the chance to check them out some day.
If in existence, I wonder if any of them mention a nature documentary that predates Robert J. Flaherty's Nanook of the North (1922), with its adventurous bold endearing chill filmscapes?
It's not technically a nature documentary although it could be loosely classified as such, since it certainly presents a lot of critters, at home in their arctic environments.
The mighty walrus in its gargantuan splendour makes a thought provoking appearance, as does the lithe arctic fox, and the animate flip harp seal.
Unfortunately, the animals are being hunted, I imagine there was a different attitude concerning hunting in films back then, or that since it was likely something new, related armchair controversies had yet to develop, the subject inchoately generating previously unheard of sedate and shocked sensibilities, which must have opened up many critical heartlands, nevertheless, if you don't like hunting, beware.
I'm not a fan of watching animals being hunted but the Inuit live in a special set of circumstances. There is still an abundance of wildlife for them to hunt (lots of moose and deer elsewhere in Canada and Québec too) and why wouldn't you when a green pepper costs $8?
And it's a huge part of your ancient traditions?
Imagining what it must have been like to capture this independent footage is mind-boggling, inasmuch as they may have been filming in arctic conditions first hand at length without much to go on, with old school equipment that had to stand up to the elements, at a time when so much film was inherently experimental?
Was the equipment more durable back then?
Did they wear warmer gloves?
I imagine the film predates planned obsolescence by decades plus half a century.
Perhaps everything was built of sturdier stuff!
Or they just possessed more innate adventure?
Nanook of the North follows Nanook as he bravely hunts for his family, his vigorous spirit and inspiring good cheer promoting long-lasting effervescent wonders.
The soundtrack and intermittent silent narration add complementary uplifting currents, upon which the documentary glides, through wild unforgiving terrain.
I haven't seen many silent films but Nanook provides clear insights into the phenomenon, its cinematic awareness still relevant and captivating, as it bridges the divide between entertainment and instruction.
I loved watching them build their igloo from glacial disputatious scratch, then add farsighted clever home furnishings, there's no doubt they knew what they were doing.
Perhaps it's too happy-go-lucky considering the environmental extremes, but it still presents a spellbinding tale enriched through courageous endeavour.
I highly recommend it for film lovers in search of the pioneering documentary spirit.
It still radiates contemporary charm.
I'd argue it's truly timeless.
Tuesday, September 10, 2019
It - Chapter Two
A disturbed slumber, 27 years of rest woebegone, sedate irascibility, contumely comas, hellbent on dispensing despotic discontent, extremely confident of his monstrous prowess, as the virtuous gather, somewhat unsure of their deadly purpose, most of their lives having briskly moved on, careers and love, duty and responsibility, adulthood, maturity, they've forgotten what once fiercely threatened them, although one remained staunch and vigilant, conducting devout immersed freelance research, constructing a strategy to fight round 2, sure and steady, carrying on, assured and brave unwavering commitment, adroitly aware confined productive obsession.
He makes the calls.
They are awkwardly heeded.
But with what seems like miraculous good fortune, they return to Derry minus one, the details of their trauma somewhat hazy, a refresher dynastically awaiting.
Mike Hanlon (Isaiah Mustafa/Chosen Jacobs) believes he's discovered the secret to defeating Pennywise (Bill Skarsgård), but it's complicated if not unnerving.
After visiting local First Nations, who have known of Pennywise since time immemorial, he discovered that they each must locate something personal, they'll just know it when they see it, and that each of these personalized items must then be burned together as one, within a cavern deep below ground, to which the beast will be immediately summoned.
But Pennywise has thought of little else over the years, throughout the tormenting intervening period, and is ready to plague them with fear, as they set out in search of nostalgic essentials.
Alone.
Even though the errors of proceeding individually are pointed out, Hanlon states that the ritual requires personalized sleuthing, Pennywise conscious of their adversarial intent, and everything else that they're blindly thinking.
If you saw the made-for-tv version of It as a child, you can't miss the new cinematic enterprise, which supplies fresh hearty chilling frights, and a corresponding sense of unease.
The narrative's compact, it focuses almost entirely on the adults who defeated Pennywise as children, or were psychologically enslaved by him, there's no police or community at large, just a monster and its courageous foes.
Even though it's 2 hours and 49 minutes long, it still unreels with startling brevity, the wayward adults returning to Derry rapidly, leaving work etc. behind far too quickly.
Except for Mrs. Marsh (Jessica Chastain/Sophia Lillis), who needs to get the *&#* out of there.
The scenes are kind of hokey, passing too abruptly to nurture the genuine.
They each encounter Pennywise again, however, on their own, and these scenes are more lengthy and convincing, the film less concerned with matters beyond the terrifying world of Derry, a tight knit group keeping things crisp, shipshape.
The hasty returns, individual pursuits, and lack of community-at-large involvement, make It - Chapter Two seem a bit slapdash, scary and morbid yet slapdash, especially since each character must accomplish a difficult task after suddenly finding themselves in a frightening inhospitable world they left long ago, and they all succeed while only suffering slight mental distress.
But if the realism isn't going to cut it, or will at least only lead to banal shocks, the ridiculous can indeed be relied upon, fantastic excess outwitting routine expectations.
If horror films are supposed to leave you feeling ill afterwards, It - Chapter Two is a blunt success.
Even if it's kind of corny.
And the Henry Bowers (Teach Grant/Nicholas Hamilton) subplot doesn't add much.
He makes the calls.
They are awkwardly heeded.
But with what seems like miraculous good fortune, they return to Derry minus one, the details of their trauma somewhat hazy, a refresher dynastically awaiting.
Mike Hanlon (Isaiah Mustafa/Chosen Jacobs) believes he's discovered the secret to defeating Pennywise (Bill Skarsgård), but it's complicated if not unnerving.
After visiting local First Nations, who have known of Pennywise since time immemorial, he discovered that they each must locate something personal, they'll just know it when they see it, and that each of these personalized items must then be burned together as one, within a cavern deep below ground, to which the beast will be immediately summoned.
But Pennywise has thought of little else over the years, throughout the tormenting intervening period, and is ready to plague them with fear, as they set out in search of nostalgic essentials.
Alone.
Even though the errors of proceeding individually are pointed out, Hanlon states that the ritual requires personalized sleuthing, Pennywise conscious of their adversarial intent, and everything else that they're blindly thinking.
If you saw the made-for-tv version of It as a child, you can't miss the new cinematic enterprise, which supplies fresh hearty chilling frights, and a corresponding sense of unease.
The narrative's compact, it focuses almost entirely on the adults who defeated Pennywise as children, or were psychologically enslaved by him, there's no police or community at large, just a monster and its courageous foes.
Even though it's 2 hours and 49 minutes long, it still unreels with startling brevity, the wayward adults returning to Derry rapidly, leaving work etc. behind far too quickly.
Except for Mrs. Marsh (Jessica Chastain/Sophia Lillis), who needs to get the *&#* out of there.
The scenes are kind of hokey, passing too abruptly to nurture the genuine.
They each encounter Pennywise again, however, on their own, and these scenes are more lengthy and convincing, the film less concerned with matters beyond the terrifying world of Derry, a tight knit group keeping things crisp, shipshape.
The hasty returns, individual pursuits, and lack of community-at-large involvement, make It - Chapter Two seem a bit slapdash, scary and morbid yet slapdash, especially since each character must accomplish a difficult task after suddenly finding themselves in a frightening inhospitable world they left long ago, and they all succeed while only suffering slight mental distress.
But if the realism isn't going to cut it, or will at least only lead to banal shocks, the ridiculous can indeed be relied upon, fantastic excess outwitting routine expectations.
If horror films are supposed to leave you feeling ill afterwards, It - Chapter Two is a blunt success.
Even if it's kind of corny.
And the Henry Bowers (Teach Grant/Nicholas Hamilton) subplot doesn't add much.
Friday, July 5, 2019
The Grizzlies
A small community in Nunavut struggles with alcoholism, drug addiction, and suicide, as traditional ways backed up by authentic millennia merge with the legacy of the residential school system.
Strong hunters still persevere, establishing direct links with their ancient descendants.
And some students see the benefits of rigorous study, even if practical applications don't readily present themselves.
It truly is another world, a diverse alternative spirituality.
Inaccessible by road.
Blanketed by the midnight sun.
A somewhat naive teacher lands in this far off realm, unaware of local realities yet determined to make a difference.
He's clueless as the film begins but isn't hardhearted or dismissive.
He listens to local concerns and adjusts his teaching style accordingly.
Well-versed in lacrosse lore, he decides to start up a local team, his dedication and tenacity inspiring local youth, who are hesitant to join yet still curious.
Sports can help combat substance abuse in any community inasmuch as they encourage constructive goals.
If the choice is between loosing oneself in booze and drugs or joining a team that builds character through discipline, I'll take the latter every time.
It's not that simple in The Grizzlies because the community isn't affluent and economic hardships present conflicting responsibilities.
Some kids can't play on a team because they're needed at home, and since the lacrosse team is something new, some families and teachers have troubling believing in its positive effects.
During a town meeting where the team tries to obtain funds to attend a tournament down South, many citizens voice reasonable concerns in opposition, and it's a situation where no one's really right or wrong, but some options take precedence over others.
It's tough to see the benefits of alternative ideas at times and easy to dismiss them. They may seem like they conflict with time honoured traditions at first because they still haven't found a way to culturally co-exist amongst them, and putting food on the table's top priority without a doubt, and sometimes playing games can seem just a little bit silly.
Sports can be a bit ra-ra at times but they promote teamwork, healthy living, interdependence, and communal strength.
They make a huge difference for the lives of the kids in The Grizzlies, and open up doors many residents thought had been shut, permanently.
The North needs dedicated teachers like Russ Shephard (Ben Schnetzer) who are humble enough to adapt to local customs which can teach them to become community leaders.
The North has so much to offer and living there's an experience like none other.
If students have trouble seeing the benefits of education in remote Northern communities, perhaps focusing on astronomy could make a difference.
The night sky is as practical in the North as a transit system is in a city.
I don't see why astronomy can't be used to synthesize the study of math, art, sport and science.
There are endless applications.
Relevant in any age.
Strong hunters still persevere, establishing direct links with their ancient descendants.
And some students see the benefits of rigorous study, even if practical applications don't readily present themselves.
It truly is another world, a diverse alternative spirituality.
Inaccessible by road.
Blanketed by the midnight sun.
A somewhat naive teacher lands in this far off realm, unaware of local realities yet determined to make a difference.
He's clueless as the film begins but isn't hardhearted or dismissive.
He listens to local concerns and adjusts his teaching style accordingly.
Well-versed in lacrosse lore, he decides to start up a local team, his dedication and tenacity inspiring local youth, who are hesitant to join yet still curious.
Sports can help combat substance abuse in any community inasmuch as they encourage constructive goals.
If the choice is between loosing oneself in booze and drugs or joining a team that builds character through discipline, I'll take the latter every time.
It's not that simple in The Grizzlies because the community isn't affluent and economic hardships present conflicting responsibilities.
Some kids can't play on a team because they're needed at home, and since the lacrosse team is something new, some families and teachers have troubling believing in its positive effects.
During a town meeting where the team tries to obtain funds to attend a tournament down South, many citizens voice reasonable concerns in opposition, and it's a situation where no one's really right or wrong, but some options take precedence over others.
It's tough to see the benefits of alternative ideas at times and easy to dismiss them. They may seem like they conflict with time honoured traditions at first because they still haven't found a way to culturally co-exist amongst them, and putting food on the table's top priority without a doubt, and sometimes playing games can seem just a little bit silly.
Sports can be a bit ra-ra at times but they promote teamwork, healthy living, interdependence, and communal strength.
They make a huge difference for the lives of the kids in The Grizzlies, and open up doors many residents thought had been shut, permanently.
The North needs dedicated teachers like Russ Shephard (Ben Schnetzer) who are humble enough to adapt to local customs which can teach them to become community leaders.
The North has so much to offer and living there's an experience like none other.
If students have trouble seeing the benefits of education in remote Northern communities, perhaps focusing on astronomy could make a difference.
The night sky is as practical in the North as a transit system is in a city.
I don't see why astronomy can't be used to synthesize the study of math, art, sport and science.
There are endless applications.
Relevant in any age.
Friday, June 8, 2018
Gauguin: Voyage de Tahiti
Irrevocably restless, never satisfied, constantly searching for sober novel inspiration with inexhaustible molten severance, erupting in fits of doubt and displeasure, encamped in violable abandon, glacial patience laboriously un/restrained, deep freezes and heat waves embryonically articulated, searching for radical bewilderment, impecuniously torn and strained, ambidextrous ambitions quotidianly qualified, seaside simplicity, inconspicuous nebula.
There wasn't anything else Gauguin (Vincent Cassel) could have done, although realizing this he likely should have embraced celibacy.
He seems to have been responsible inasmuch as he constantly worked to improve his art, dedicated to his personal tasks, resolved to carry on, but his wives and children were left destitute, as was he for much of his life, I suppose his family could have gone with him to Tahiti, although if I had several children and my partner was an artist who had never sold anything and was approaching 40 I likely would have moved on even if it would have crushed me.
Details.
Gauguin: Voyage de Tahiti doesn't present many details from his life, apart from the fact that he left his family behind in France to find inspiration in Tahiti where he met another woman whom he treated brutishly while painting.
The film condenses various aspects of his life into short scenes that depict him working, loving, playing, breaking down, scenes which infantilize his social relations while romanticizing his artistic stagger, the scene where a doctor notices that he isn't painting anymore adding sympathy and concern, the scene where he locks his wife Tehura (Tuheï Adams) up while he goes to work accentuating his callous desperation, as he realizes he has nothing else left, and is aware that must seem unappealing.
A bit of a scoundrel I suppose, base instincts overpowering free spirits at times as nagging hopelessness engendered cantankerous decay.
You still have to imagine you're Gauguin, you're a struggling dismissed talented artist with nothing to hold on to later in life besides works that aren't selling and intense stubborn commitment, no one recognizing your talents besides yourself, students prospering while you struggle, you have to situate yourself within his rugged composure, while remembering that you may have been less lascivious had you no steady income in the age before birth control, to take something enduring away from the film.
You could probably learn more about him from reading 5 pages of a biography.
But would you be able to imagine you were there, struggling as he struggled, toiling as he toiled, watching as everything he risked and loved slipped away, with as much doting dour devotion?
Voyage de Tahiti presents vivid impressions lacking in substance but full of rich emotion.
The other side of the world.
Lost in love at play.
There wasn't anything else Gauguin (Vincent Cassel) could have done, although realizing this he likely should have embraced celibacy.
He seems to have been responsible inasmuch as he constantly worked to improve his art, dedicated to his personal tasks, resolved to carry on, but his wives and children were left destitute, as was he for much of his life, I suppose his family could have gone with him to Tahiti, although if I had several children and my partner was an artist who had never sold anything and was approaching 40 I likely would have moved on even if it would have crushed me.
Details.
Gauguin: Voyage de Tahiti doesn't present many details from his life, apart from the fact that he left his family behind in France to find inspiration in Tahiti where he met another woman whom he treated brutishly while painting.
The film condenses various aspects of his life into short scenes that depict him working, loving, playing, breaking down, scenes which infantilize his social relations while romanticizing his artistic stagger, the scene where a doctor notices that he isn't painting anymore adding sympathy and concern, the scene where he locks his wife Tehura (Tuheï Adams) up while he goes to work accentuating his callous desperation, as he realizes he has nothing else left, and is aware that must seem unappealing.
A bit of a scoundrel I suppose, base instincts overpowering free spirits at times as nagging hopelessness engendered cantankerous decay.
You still have to imagine you're Gauguin, you're a struggling dismissed talented artist with nothing to hold on to later in life besides works that aren't selling and intense stubborn commitment, no one recognizing your talents besides yourself, students prospering while you struggle, you have to situate yourself within his rugged composure, while remembering that you may have been less lascivious had you no steady income in the age before birth control, to take something enduring away from the film.
You could probably learn more about him from reading 5 pages of a biography.
But would you be able to imagine you were there, struggling as he struggled, toiling as he toiled, watching as everything he risked and loved slipped away, with as much doting dour devotion?
Voyage de Tahiti presents vivid impressions lacking in substance but full of rich emotion.
The other side of the world.
Lost in love at play.
Friday, April 27, 2018
Indian Horse
The legacy of the residential school system which afflicted generations of First Nations children still reverberates today.
A problem with taking religion too seriously, as noted by many others I'm sure, with institutionalizing it and using it to guide governmental policy, is that the people operating within such a bureaucracy don't think they derive their power from fallible mortal men and women, they believe it comes from an all-knowing supreme being, and if they think that they are correctly acting in the interests of a supreme being, that somehow they logically figured out what that being actually wants them to do, it's a completely different kind of managerial ego, because everything they do is sanctioned by perfection, and if their interpretation of his or her omnipotent designs is legally and politically considered to be nothing less than perfect, they tend to believe their actions are irrefutably just.
No matter how cruel.
The residential school presented in Indian Horse doesn't even teach the students real world skills like mathematics or logic, rather it focuses on meticulously studying the bible as if its compelling stories will help them learn how to become accountants or lawyers or doctors.
Thus, as multiple other sources have noted, many students didn't have the skills to find any job whatsoever after graduating, and since many of them had been systematically abused throughout their formative years, many fell into a dire cycle of drug addiction and alcoholism on the streets.
And were plagued afterwards by uninformed cultural stereotypes which developed.
It's not something you just shake off and forget about.
Indian Horse examines a colonized people doing their best to play with a deck stacked against them.
Racism ubiquitously assaults them as they boldly compete, as they regularly face daunting challenges.
One student is gifted athletically and seems poised to make a name for himself in the NHL (Sladen Peltier, Forrest Goodluck, and Ajuawak Kapashesit as Saul).
But he faces internalized demons and mass cultural characterizations that turn the most thrilling time of his life into a harsh struggle.
He would have made a huge difference for any team that had signed him.
If the goal is to win hockey games, why does anything other than one's ability to help teams win matter?
A problem with taking religion too seriously, as noted by many others I'm sure, with institutionalizing it and using it to guide governmental policy, is that the people operating within such a bureaucracy don't think they derive their power from fallible mortal men and women, they believe it comes from an all-knowing supreme being, and if they think that they are correctly acting in the interests of a supreme being, that somehow they logically figured out what that being actually wants them to do, it's a completely different kind of managerial ego, because everything they do is sanctioned by perfection, and if their interpretation of his or her omnipotent designs is legally and politically considered to be nothing less than perfect, they tend to believe their actions are irrefutably just.
No matter how cruel.
The residential school presented in Indian Horse doesn't even teach the students real world skills like mathematics or logic, rather it focuses on meticulously studying the bible as if its compelling stories will help them learn how to become accountants or lawyers or doctors.
Thus, as multiple other sources have noted, many students didn't have the skills to find any job whatsoever after graduating, and since many of them had been systematically abused throughout their formative years, many fell into a dire cycle of drug addiction and alcoholism on the streets.
And were plagued afterwards by uninformed cultural stereotypes which developed.
It's not something you just shake off and forget about.
Indian Horse examines a colonized people doing their best to play with a deck stacked against them.
Racism ubiquitously assaults them as they boldly compete, as they regularly face daunting challenges.
One student is gifted athletically and seems poised to make a name for himself in the NHL (Sladen Peltier, Forrest Goodluck, and Ajuawak Kapashesit as Saul).
But he faces internalized demons and mass cultural characterizations that turn the most thrilling time of his life into a harsh struggle.
He would have made a huge difference for any team that had signed him.
If the goal is to win hockey games, why does anything other than one's ability to help teams win matter?
Friday, February 23, 2018
Hochelaga, Terre des Âmes (Hochelaga, Land of Souls)
In the 13th Century, a vicious battle having claimed the lives of many young men, a wise First Nations Prophet (Raoul Max Trujillo) chants out through the ages, pleading for peace to flourish eternal within his realm, his words planted on the winds with fertile simplicity, harvesting paradise in war torn isolation.
Who could have predicted what would happen in the following centuries, that another people would come and carve an alternative civilization out of the wilderness, and then another would land and attempt to transform it to their liking, and then others would appear and industriously cultivate traditions of their own, united by the prosperity of a distinct French culture, its multidisciplinary environment, adventurously preordained?
The island of Hochelaga slowly transformed into a metropolis, several of its epochs colourfully brought to life in François Girard's Hochelaga, Terre des Âmes (Land of Souls), sport having replaced destructive battles long passed, an incomparable nightlife spiritually enlivening working days, respect for nature thankfully lambasting fracked revenues and nuclear energy, a versatile collective creatively redefining culture on a mesmerizing weekly basis, orchestrated and executed, with transcendental evanescence.
Terre des Âmes follows a young First Nations archaeologist as he presents his thesis before a gathering of academics, a thesis based upon discoveries made at Percival Molson Memorial Stadium, after a sinkhole opened up during a feisty Redmen's game.
The sinkhole gave Baptiste Asigny (Samian) the opportunity to excavate the field, and the discoveries he made led him to reasonably piece together a convincing historical narrative covering Cartier's discovery of the island, missionary/fur trading clashes in New France, and the Patriot Rebellion of 1837, while also evidencing dynamic First Nations settlements on the island, the film complete with intriguing theoretical associated dramatizations of the periods.
If you find Canadian history somewhat boring, try reading books focused primarily on Québec. If you're at an age where the study of history is becoming more interesting (around 28 for me), you may thoroughly enjoy reading them as much as I do.
I've obviously wondered how long bears survived on the island after its population exploded, and I've never been able to find the date when they disappeared in the books I've read, which weren't about wildlife, but I imagine it was in the late 19th Century or the early 20th, fox, skunks, raccoons, groundhogs, opossums, coyotes, and squirrels still living on the island.
Even though I find Montréal's current composition fascinating, my favourite images from Terre des Âmes show what it may have looked like when it was still predominantly forested, indistinguishable from the massive mainland forests surrounding it, so many centuries ago.
Do some landscapes have a spiritual significance similar to that of Percival Molson Memorial Stadium as it's presented in Terre des Âmes, a kind of undetectable mass accumulation of positive spiritual energies which generate sincere subconscious synergies, like a hub or a server?
Can't answer that question myself.
I've always loved the idea though, since reading about it in Morgan Llywelyn's Druids, and I absolutely loved what Terre des Âmes does with it, how it beautifully unites Montréal's history in a thought provoking contemporary hypothesis, which speaks to the best of what Québecois culture has to offer, has always offered, and will continue to offer.
All down the line.
*With Siân Phillips (Sarah Walker) and Linus Roache (Colonel Philip Thomas).
Who could have predicted what would happen in the following centuries, that another people would come and carve an alternative civilization out of the wilderness, and then another would land and attempt to transform it to their liking, and then others would appear and industriously cultivate traditions of their own, united by the prosperity of a distinct French culture, its multidisciplinary environment, adventurously preordained?
The island of Hochelaga slowly transformed into a metropolis, several of its epochs colourfully brought to life in François Girard's Hochelaga, Terre des Âmes (Land of Souls), sport having replaced destructive battles long passed, an incomparable nightlife spiritually enlivening working days, respect for nature thankfully lambasting fracked revenues and nuclear energy, a versatile collective creatively redefining culture on a mesmerizing weekly basis, orchestrated and executed, with transcendental evanescence.
Terre des Âmes follows a young First Nations archaeologist as he presents his thesis before a gathering of academics, a thesis based upon discoveries made at Percival Molson Memorial Stadium, after a sinkhole opened up during a feisty Redmen's game.
The sinkhole gave Baptiste Asigny (Samian) the opportunity to excavate the field, and the discoveries he made led him to reasonably piece together a convincing historical narrative covering Cartier's discovery of the island, missionary/fur trading clashes in New France, and the Patriot Rebellion of 1837, while also evidencing dynamic First Nations settlements on the island, the film complete with intriguing theoretical associated dramatizations of the periods.
If you find Canadian history somewhat boring, try reading books focused primarily on Québec. If you're at an age where the study of history is becoming more interesting (around 28 for me), you may thoroughly enjoy reading them as much as I do.
I've obviously wondered how long bears survived on the island after its population exploded, and I've never been able to find the date when they disappeared in the books I've read, which weren't about wildlife, but I imagine it was in the late 19th Century or the early 20th, fox, skunks, raccoons, groundhogs, opossums, coyotes, and squirrels still living on the island.
Even though I find Montréal's current composition fascinating, my favourite images from Terre des Âmes show what it may have looked like when it was still predominantly forested, indistinguishable from the massive mainland forests surrounding it, so many centuries ago.
Do some landscapes have a spiritual significance similar to that of Percival Molson Memorial Stadium as it's presented in Terre des Âmes, a kind of undetectable mass accumulation of positive spiritual energies which generate sincere subconscious synergies, like a hub or a server?
Can't answer that question myself.
I've always loved the idea though, since reading about it in Morgan Llywelyn's Druids, and I absolutely loved what Terre des Âmes does with it, how it beautifully unites Montréal's history in a thought provoking contemporary hypothesis, which speaks to the best of what Québecois culture has to offer, has always offered, and will continue to offer.
All down the line.
*With Siân Phillips (Sarah Walker) and Linus Roache (Colonel Philip Thomas).
Tuesday, February 20, 2018
Hostiles
A violent landscape, the American West near the turn of the 20th Century, most of the major conflicts having come to an end, the remnants of the brutality that saw millions killed or dispossessed still sparring, contradictory conceptions of ownership clashing with abusive indignation, the law stringently enforced, from multiple opposing points of view.
Hostiles is a solid western, unreeling like a traditional American fight your way home film, ambushes, distressed damsels, kidnappings, trespassing, and convicted belligerents awaiting a weathered legendary Captain (Christian Bale as Joseph J. Blocker) as he unwillingly leads a dying Cheyenne Chief (Wes Studi as Yellow Hawk) from New Mexico to Montana.
As he unwillingly leads him home.
Blocker viciously fought American First Nations in many extreme battles and has the reputation for having killed more of them than any other soldier, after almost losing his life in his youth, women and children outrageously included.
The convicted belligerent (Ben Foster as Sgt. Charles Wills) is cleverly used to pursue this point, as he desperately appeals to Blocker's sense of duty, arguing that he's heading to the gallows for committing a crime less abhorrent than many of the Captain's own, thereby appealing to his sense of justice, while delegitimizing applications of the concept.
But he also appeals to his sense of camaraderie, and that's where Hostiles script excels, by narrativizing the strong bonds forged by people who find themselves continuously facing extremes, and the ways in which they grow to platonically love one another as a consequence.
The loss of one having deep long lasting affects.
Yellow Hawk lost his land, his dignity, most of his family, and his way of life.
Captain Blocker fought in many wars and lost many friends and detests having to lead Indigenous warriors home through hostile territory.
But as they travel North, he comes to understand that Yellow Hawk is someone worthy of respect and was likely therefore leading a respectful people.
Yellow Hawk's honest and fair unracially biased actions slowly redefine Blocker's constitution, and the two fierce opponents start working together, overlooking past grievances, respecting each other as persons.
The belligerent be damned.
They also meet and take in the survivor of a horrendous attack early on, during which her husband and three daughters were killed and her homestead set ablaze (Rosamund Pike as Rosalie Quaid), and as Yellow Hawk's family offers their empathy, Blocker notices their humanity, bonds linked by grief further calling into question past actions, his conduct later on, exemplifying conscious evolution.
It's like their entourage represents a fierce multicultural collective which appreciates both genders and is direly forced to fight its way through a relatively lawless realm wherein which the violent scourge and flourish, like unleashed/untethered tigers or birds of prey.
There isn't much dialogue but every uttered syllable means something.
Themes that are less pronounced in many westerns are brought to the fore such as the abuse of Indigenous peoples, the strength of powerful resilient women, forgiveness as opposed to fury, and the changing dynamics of different cultures suddenly living together in peace.
With a conscientious edge.
That isn't too lofty or complicated.
There's still plenty of conflict, it's not a walk in the park or a bushel of apples.
But it's multiculturally vindicated.
With hardboiled romantic community.
Hostiles is a solid western, unreeling like a traditional American fight your way home film, ambushes, distressed damsels, kidnappings, trespassing, and convicted belligerents awaiting a weathered legendary Captain (Christian Bale as Joseph J. Blocker) as he unwillingly leads a dying Cheyenne Chief (Wes Studi as Yellow Hawk) from New Mexico to Montana.
As he unwillingly leads him home.
Blocker viciously fought American First Nations in many extreme battles and has the reputation for having killed more of them than any other soldier, after almost losing his life in his youth, women and children outrageously included.
The convicted belligerent (Ben Foster as Sgt. Charles Wills) is cleverly used to pursue this point, as he desperately appeals to Blocker's sense of duty, arguing that he's heading to the gallows for committing a crime less abhorrent than many of the Captain's own, thereby appealing to his sense of justice, while delegitimizing applications of the concept.
But he also appeals to his sense of camaraderie, and that's where Hostiles script excels, by narrativizing the strong bonds forged by people who find themselves continuously facing extremes, and the ways in which they grow to platonically love one another as a consequence.
The loss of one having deep long lasting affects.
Yellow Hawk lost his land, his dignity, most of his family, and his way of life.
Captain Blocker fought in many wars and lost many friends and detests having to lead Indigenous warriors home through hostile territory.
But as they travel North, he comes to understand that Yellow Hawk is someone worthy of respect and was likely therefore leading a respectful people.
Yellow Hawk's honest and fair unracially biased actions slowly redefine Blocker's constitution, and the two fierce opponents start working together, overlooking past grievances, respecting each other as persons.
The belligerent be damned.
They also meet and take in the survivor of a horrendous attack early on, during which her husband and three daughters were killed and her homestead set ablaze (Rosamund Pike as Rosalie Quaid), and as Yellow Hawk's family offers their empathy, Blocker notices their humanity, bonds linked by grief further calling into question past actions, his conduct later on, exemplifying conscious evolution.
It's like their entourage represents a fierce multicultural collective which appreciates both genders and is direly forced to fight its way through a relatively lawless realm wherein which the violent scourge and flourish, like unleashed/untethered tigers or birds of prey.
There isn't much dialogue but every uttered syllable means something.
Themes that are less pronounced in many westerns are brought to the fore such as the abuse of Indigenous peoples, the strength of powerful resilient women, forgiveness as opposed to fury, and the changing dynamics of different cultures suddenly living together in peace.
With a conscientious edge.
That isn't too lofty or complicated.
There's still plenty of conflict, it's not a walk in the park or a bushel of apples.
But it's multiculturally vindicated.
With hardboiled romantic community.
Friday, December 8, 2017
Wind River
Friendships slowly cultivated over the years like birch trees crafted into dependable canoes, launching this way and that across un/familiar waterways, consistently patchworking principles and down-to-earth dossiers, weathered yet versatile hardboiled harkenings celebrating cherished repetition with iconic seasoned variability, thematic thimbles boisterous bows, jaded elasticity ample comebacks, good hearts strong people all too aware of systematic cruelties lodged in impermeable stone, bookhousin' it nevertheless hived and alive intrepid backbone, resourceful headway, local integrity, tooth and nail, afloat.
Aware of the dark side, contending with wayward unscrupulous desire detached and frothing with venomous inadmissibility, beautiful strong intelligent women cut down by worthless ignorance, whose fear leads it to horrifically crush inquisitive spirits, without generating remorseful emotions, the branding of men without honour.
I don't even like to use that word, the word honour. Search these blogs, I doubt you'll find I've used it often. It's associated with the killing of independent women so regularly that its merit has been severely diluted. And even if it's honourable to serve your country, when the leaders of a country drive it astray, it's just as honourable to humbly refuse them.
Canada has launched an inquiry into missing and murdered Indigenous women. Said murders and abductions represent a reality that's so offensive it makes me ashamed to be human.
Deer don't pull that kind of shit.
Water buffalo, horses, nope.
Wind River works in a more rustically sophisticated frame than the one I've laid out, a dark sombre penetrating investigation into one of the most loathsome hushed-up realities assaulting North American culture.
It isn't a box of chocolates.
It ain't a bouquet of flowers.
It's a character driven harshly hewn multidimensionally matriculated stark blunt tragedy.
With the best performance I've seen from Jeremy Renner (Cory Lambert) in years.
There's good and evil in everyone and people fight if differently at various points in their lives.
But if you see people doing the purely evil things the bad guys do in this film, you need to stand up to them.
It doesn't matter if you get hurt. It doesn't matter if you lose your shit. It don't matter if corrupt policepersons lock you up. It matters that you did the right thing.
It's not about being Indigenous or European, Chinese or African, Australian, Brazilian, Danish or Russian, it's about simply being human.
Not that I won't plug the Irish at times or write about how I love being Canadian, but I don't consider those groups to be superior to any other, just different, and I know that there's so much to be learned from other cultures that it seems foolish to clash with them, I'd rather have a pint or something nice to eat with strangers from other lands/towns/provinces/neighbourhoods, I don't understand this divide and conquer nonsense.
It's nothing new you know.
In fact it's probably the oldest play in the book.
The demonic logic of the damned.
Pestilent profitability.
When I was a kid I figured all the people who saw the ending to the original Planet of the Apes film would get it and peace would globally prosper.
Such a shame.
Such a missed opportunity.
Aware of the dark side, contending with wayward unscrupulous desire detached and frothing with venomous inadmissibility, beautiful strong intelligent women cut down by worthless ignorance, whose fear leads it to horrifically crush inquisitive spirits, without generating remorseful emotions, the branding of men without honour.
I don't even like to use that word, the word honour. Search these blogs, I doubt you'll find I've used it often. It's associated with the killing of independent women so regularly that its merit has been severely diluted. And even if it's honourable to serve your country, when the leaders of a country drive it astray, it's just as honourable to humbly refuse them.
Canada has launched an inquiry into missing and murdered Indigenous women. Said murders and abductions represent a reality that's so offensive it makes me ashamed to be human.
Deer don't pull that kind of shit.
Water buffalo, horses, nope.
Wind River works in a more rustically sophisticated frame than the one I've laid out, a dark sombre penetrating investigation into one of the most loathsome hushed-up realities assaulting North American culture.
It isn't a box of chocolates.
It ain't a bouquet of flowers.
It's a character driven harshly hewn multidimensionally matriculated stark blunt tragedy.
With the best performance I've seen from Jeremy Renner (Cory Lambert) in years.
There's good and evil in everyone and people fight if differently at various points in their lives.
But if you see people doing the purely evil things the bad guys do in this film, you need to stand up to them.
It doesn't matter if you get hurt. It doesn't matter if you lose your shit. It don't matter if corrupt policepersons lock you up. It matters that you did the right thing.
It's not about being Indigenous or European, Chinese or African, Australian, Brazilian, Danish or Russian, it's about simply being human.
Not that I won't plug the Irish at times or write about how I love being Canadian, but I don't consider those groups to be superior to any other, just different, and I know that there's so much to be learned from other cultures that it seems foolish to clash with them, I'd rather have a pint or something nice to eat with strangers from other lands/towns/provinces/neighbourhoods, I don't understand this divide and conquer nonsense.
It's nothing new you know.
In fact it's probably the oldest play in the book.
The demonic logic of the damned.
Pestilent profitability.
When I was a kid I figured all the people who saw the ending to the original Planet of the Apes film would get it and peace would globally prosper.
Such a shame.
Such a missed opportunity.
Friday, September 8, 2017
Walkabout
Courage sustains two formerly privileged youngsters lost in the Australian outback as they conserve what little strength remains to keep moving in search of sanctuary.
The boy (Luc Roeg) is too young to comprehend the crisis but the girl (Jenny Agutter) is resilient enough to diagnose, plan, proceed, and persevere.
Just as things seem hopelessly bleak, as their oasis dries up and alternatives fail to present themselves, an Indigenous youth on walkabout (David Gulpilil) appears on the horizon.
Possessing the knowledge and skills necessary to comfortably excel and thrive, he nourishes then guides them towards heavily populated lands, referred to often, as postmodern civilization.
Director Nicolas Roeg does a brilliant job juxtaposing the urban and the naturalistic throughout, showcasing at least a dozen native Australian animals, with childlike bliss and wondrous unconcern.
Can't believe I haven't seen this until recently.
Many of the animals are hunted for food however so beware.
When nature is your primary textbook, and survival your most demanding 9 to 5, you develop a relationship with your environment potentially as valuable as any University degree.
Possibly more valuable in current economies.
Walkabout provocatively elevates ingeniously living off the land, developing abilities akin to instincts, and characteristics cathartic and strong.
Possibly created to combat dismissive attitudes regarding Indigenous peoples adopted by Anglo-Australians, it certainly makes aspects of city living seem dull while lauding hearty bush living.
The unfortunate incompatibility of the two worlds as depicted in the film haunting the empathetic long afterwards, as different maturities conflict and cultures tragically come of age, Walkabout offers challenges and insights into ideal romance, coldly shattered, by prohibitive fears of the unknown.
The boy (Luc Roeg) is too young to comprehend the crisis but the girl (Jenny Agutter) is resilient enough to diagnose, plan, proceed, and persevere.
Just as things seem hopelessly bleak, as their oasis dries up and alternatives fail to present themselves, an Indigenous youth on walkabout (David Gulpilil) appears on the horizon.
Possessing the knowledge and skills necessary to comfortably excel and thrive, he nourishes then guides them towards heavily populated lands, referred to often, as postmodern civilization.
Director Nicolas Roeg does a brilliant job juxtaposing the urban and the naturalistic throughout, showcasing at least a dozen native Australian animals, with childlike bliss and wondrous unconcern.
Can't believe I haven't seen this until recently.
Many of the animals are hunted for food however so beware.
When nature is your primary textbook, and survival your most demanding 9 to 5, you develop a relationship with your environment potentially as valuable as any University degree.
Possibly more valuable in current economies.
Walkabout provocatively elevates ingeniously living off the land, developing abilities akin to instincts, and characteristics cathartic and strong.
Possibly created to combat dismissive attitudes regarding Indigenous peoples adopted by Anglo-Australians, it certainly makes aspects of city living seem dull while lauding hearty bush living.
The unfortunate incompatibility of the two worlds as depicted in the film haunting the empathetic long afterwards, as different maturities conflict and cultures tragically come of age, Walkabout offers challenges and insights into ideal romance, coldly shattered, by prohibitive fears of the unknown.
Friday, May 5, 2017
The Lost City of Z
Driven by an irrepressible desire to advance and succeed, willing to assiduously acclimatize himself to arduous extremities, without uttering a single dismissive word of protest, the bold Percival Fawcett (Charlie Hunnam) sets out to map disputed South American realms, and learns of an ancient legend after earnestly departing down river.
The pursuit of that legend leads him to boisterously challenge the racial preconceptions of Britain's Royal Geographical Society after he achieves fame for his rigour and accolades for his gall.
Controversies cloud his subsequent expedition however as a colleague of a higher social rank (Angus Macfadyen as James Murray) signs up and cannot handle the hardships of the exploratory life.
After Fawcett judiciously grants him reprieve, he still slanders his reputation upon returning home.
Yet his resolve remains unencumbered (even during World War I) and his humble determination wins him the loyalty of his fellow explorers as well as that of local aboriginal tribes.
The long periods of time he spends away from his family leave them aggrieved nevertheless.
Atonements must be paid for cold sacrifices made.
James Gray's The Lost City of Z presents an adventurous life lived in nimble haunting miniature.
I've often written that biographical films such as Z proceed too quickly and only offer a scant realization of the subject of inquiry's remarkably inspiring accomplishments.
Yet Z has found a compelling balance between the burst and the burnish which cleverly captivates without seeming superficial or insufficient.
It isn't a poppy light conglomeration of exceptional details but rather a profound accumulation of brave characteristics which classically define an intrepid life.
Born to quest, and ruggedly equipped with the constitution to do so, Fawcett stoically sought the supposedly sensational in order to encyclopedically romance.
I imagine, as the internet mutates, hundreds of years from now cyberspatial explorers will pursue similar objectives by searching online for that which previous civilizations considered noteworthy.
The macroscopic transforms ultramicro.
The evolution of adventuring.
Piquant periodic paradigms.
Solid career move Robert Pattinson.
The pursuit of that legend leads him to boisterously challenge the racial preconceptions of Britain's Royal Geographical Society after he achieves fame for his rigour and accolades for his gall.
Controversies cloud his subsequent expedition however as a colleague of a higher social rank (Angus Macfadyen as James Murray) signs up and cannot handle the hardships of the exploratory life.
After Fawcett judiciously grants him reprieve, he still slanders his reputation upon returning home.
Yet his resolve remains unencumbered (even during World War I) and his humble determination wins him the loyalty of his fellow explorers as well as that of local aboriginal tribes.
The long periods of time he spends away from his family leave them aggrieved nevertheless.
Atonements must be paid for cold sacrifices made.
James Gray's The Lost City of Z presents an adventurous life lived in nimble haunting miniature.
I've often written that biographical films such as Z proceed too quickly and only offer a scant realization of the subject of inquiry's remarkably inspiring accomplishments.
Yet Z has found a compelling balance between the burst and the burnish which cleverly captivates without seeming superficial or insufficient.
It isn't a poppy light conglomeration of exceptional details but rather a profound accumulation of brave characteristics which classically define an intrepid life.
Born to quest, and ruggedly equipped with the constitution to do so, Fawcett stoically sought the supposedly sensational in order to encyclopedically romance.
I imagine, as the internet mutates, hundreds of years from now cyberspatial explorers will pursue similar objectives by searching online for that which previous civilizations considered noteworthy.
The macroscopic transforms ultramicro.
The evolution of adventuring.
Piquant periodic paradigms.
Solid career move Robert Pattinson.
Friday, March 24, 2017
Kong: Skull Island
Could it be that islands still exist, prehistorically penetrating legend and myth with unbridled evidenced imposing extant luminosity, persisting undisturbed in majestic unrecorded intransigent galed shadow, a roar, a whisper, more lively and crisper ecosystems biologically invested in atemporal ontological sincerity, harmony, in other words, crépuscule, a delicate balance, a ferocious bottom line, lost in leisure in starlit environs, vigilance required to consummate freedom, at home in the pacific, empirically thine?
I would write that the adventurers weren't ready for their quest if it wasn't for the fact that nothing could have prepared them.
But I suppose the nature of questing demands a forged psychological allegiance between ill-preparation and adaptability, immediacy continuously generating an agile improvised awareness, which is narratively applicable to the epic in hand.
Characters descend on the ancient generally undiscovered home of King Kong in Jordan Vogt-Roberts's Kong: Skull Island, a chaotic campy realistic yet improbable, and therefore emancipating, energetic exploration of the quaintly forbidden.
Their goal is scientific yet commercial and thus the military's aid is bromantically secured.
Friendship, collegiality, professionalism, and love, populate the script with wild rhythmic versatile denizens, its cosmopolitan lodge fertile if not frenzied, the unfriendly monsters ready to eagerly devour those with too much or not enough innate courage.
Plus random soldiers.
But Kong protects them which trigger-happy Preston Packard (Samuel L. Jackson) cannot comprehend as he attempts to kill him to right misperceived wrongs.
His attempts are obviously pigheaded but they do aptly reflect mad extremist methodologies.
The explorers, military personnel, and scientists, curiously encounter an old pilot from World War II who was forced to make his home on the island as well.
He survived by living with an Indigenous tribe who Kong altruistically protects from voracious giant lizards.
Hank Marlow (John C. Reilly [it's classic John C. Reilly :)]) represents the Indigenous people in the film, stands in for them as they (literally) fade into the background, and Packard refuses to listen to his tooth and nail.
Would the ending not have been more striking, more memorable (alright, Kong's fight with the Lizard King is memorable but the surrounding material isn't so much [okay, they escape on a boat, I'll remember that, but . . .]) if the Indigenous peoples stopped Packard before he tried to kill Kong, and everyone then escaped having understood the logic of their decision?
Such a development would have functioned as a salient metaphorical critique of the Vietnam war which otherwise isn't critically examined.
What I'm trying to say is, it would have rocked if Skull Island went Avatar.
With Kong still fighting the giant Lizard of course.
It's still a lot of fun, the new King Kong movie, and, as a matter of fact, I couldn't help comparing it to Planet Terror and Machete Kills since it unreels with a similar more family friendly aesthetic.
There are moments where it captures the magic that makes those films stand out, but the sequels will have to dig deeper for me to mention their names in the same breath.
Again.
I still recommend the film.
A great March release.
I was worried about March this year.
But so far it ain't so bad.
I would write that the adventurers weren't ready for their quest if it wasn't for the fact that nothing could have prepared them.
But I suppose the nature of questing demands a forged psychological allegiance between ill-preparation and adaptability, immediacy continuously generating an agile improvised awareness, which is narratively applicable to the epic in hand.
Characters descend on the ancient generally undiscovered home of King Kong in Jordan Vogt-Roberts's Kong: Skull Island, a chaotic campy realistic yet improbable, and therefore emancipating, energetic exploration of the quaintly forbidden.
Their goal is scientific yet commercial and thus the military's aid is bromantically secured.
Friendship, collegiality, professionalism, and love, populate the script with wild rhythmic versatile denizens, its cosmopolitan lodge fertile if not frenzied, the unfriendly monsters ready to eagerly devour those with too much or not enough innate courage.
Plus random soldiers.
But Kong protects them which trigger-happy Preston Packard (Samuel L. Jackson) cannot comprehend as he attempts to kill him to right misperceived wrongs.
His attempts are obviously pigheaded but they do aptly reflect mad extremist methodologies.
The explorers, military personnel, and scientists, curiously encounter an old pilot from World War II who was forced to make his home on the island as well.
He survived by living with an Indigenous tribe who Kong altruistically protects from voracious giant lizards.
Hank Marlow (John C. Reilly [it's classic John C. Reilly :)]) represents the Indigenous people in the film, stands in for them as they (literally) fade into the background, and Packard refuses to listen to his tooth and nail.
Would the ending not have been more striking, more memorable (alright, Kong's fight with the Lizard King is memorable but the surrounding material isn't so much [okay, they escape on a boat, I'll remember that, but . . .]) if the Indigenous peoples stopped Packard before he tried to kill Kong, and everyone then escaped having understood the logic of their decision?
Such a development would have functioned as a salient metaphorical critique of the Vietnam war which otherwise isn't critically examined.
What I'm trying to say is, it would have rocked if Skull Island went Avatar.
With Kong still fighting the giant Lizard of course.
It's still a lot of fun, the new King Kong movie, and, as a matter of fact, I couldn't help comparing it to Planet Terror and Machete Kills since it unreels with a similar more family friendly aesthetic.
There are moments where it captures the magic that makes those films stand out, but the sequels will have to dig deeper for me to mention their names in the same breath.
Again.
I still recommend the film.
A great March release.
I was worried about March this year.
But so far it ain't so bad.
Tuesday, March 14, 2017
Angry Inuk
I don't think I could ever kill a seal or a dear or a pig or a cow, but, as mentioned previously, I do eat meat and understand that somewhere down the line the lives of the animals I consume are cut short, that someone else brought their lives to an end, and they may earn their livings by engaging in such activities.
It's different if the species is threatened or endangered, or animal babies are involved, or if people are eating a species with a slow reproductive rate, but husbandry usually doesn't manage species at risk, as far as I know, the inherent cruelty of many aspects of factory farming notwithstanding.
Keep raising your voices and such aspects will change, all you have to do is frustrate a business's bottomline.
Several of the animals I eat are quite cute, however.
They're all quite cute.
I've considered posting pictures of them on my fridge to remind me not to eat them but still haven't gotten around to it.
Man I love steak.
Still, I'm glad there aren't massive industrial entities harvesting seals along with pigs and cows, but if some people in remote areas where there are no alternative economic opportunities want to hunt them, and sell products made from their skin etc., I see no problem with this, since the seals in fact flourish in abundance.
The seal population in Nunavut, for instance, is much higher than that of its human residents, meaning that if such residents want to hunt seals and sell boots and parkas made from their hides afterwards, I can't rationally critique such commerce.
Alethea Arnaqua-Baril's Angry Inuk takes a hard look at the EU's decision to ban the sale of seal products within its domain, and the effects that that decision has had on small communities in Nunavut, Canada.
Before the ban, the communities were earning enough money to support themselves, and people in Europe may not know that a 12 pack of ginger ale can cost as much as $82 North of 60.
After the ban, these communities were still (are still) able to hunt seals for subsistence purposes if they could afford to buy gas for their snow machines, but without markets to sell their seal products, they couldn't afford to do much else, the ban on the import of seal goods having effectively crushed their only economy, and left them dependent on government assistance.
They sustainably harvest a small fraction of the seal population and if allowed to do so can support themselves with dignity and respect.
I therefore support a reversal of the ban.
I find it hard to stomach that the EU props up the veal industry, which is extra revolting, the mass slaughter of baby cows, the systematic mechanized profit based mass slaughter of baby cows many of whom are restrained from birth, and it won't support a handful of Inuit hunters shooting free seals in the wild who have grown to adulthood outside of a cage.
Baffling.
I've heard that centuries ago working people in England desperately wanted to eat meat because the upper classes generally were the only ones who could afford it.
I think that if you transported many of those workers to the 21st century and showed them the unbelievably miserable lives many animals lead in order so that the majority of North Americans and Europeans can eat meat, over a billion deaths weekly according to some sites, they may return to their time(s) lacking their former jealousies.
Or currently, currently send oblivious citizens to a slaughterhouse and have them stay there for a week, invisibly, so they can see how the animals are treated when the workforce thinks no one is looking.
Factory farms can become organic.
It may only raise the cost of a big mac by 35 cents.
Governments could also subsidize the transition.
While subsidizing the cost of food North of 60.
Canada's population North of 60 is around 114, 970.
If the oil and gas industry receives massive government subsidies every year, there must be some money lying around to bring the cost of a 12 pack of ginger ale down to $7 in the far North.
If food costs come down and the Inuit can market seal products again, you've got a thriving aboriginal success story.
That's not only good press.
It's also solid humanity.
Angry Inuk, a must see documentary.
Shame on you Greenpeace.
Shame.
It's different if the species is threatened or endangered, or animal babies are involved, or if people are eating a species with a slow reproductive rate, but husbandry usually doesn't manage species at risk, as far as I know, the inherent cruelty of many aspects of factory farming notwithstanding.
Keep raising your voices and such aspects will change, all you have to do is frustrate a business's bottomline.
Several of the animals I eat are quite cute, however.
They're all quite cute.
I've considered posting pictures of them on my fridge to remind me not to eat them but still haven't gotten around to it.
Man I love steak.
Still, I'm glad there aren't massive industrial entities harvesting seals along with pigs and cows, but if some people in remote areas where there are no alternative economic opportunities want to hunt them, and sell products made from their skin etc., I see no problem with this, since the seals in fact flourish in abundance.
The seal population in Nunavut, for instance, is much higher than that of its human residents, meaning that if such residents want to hunt seals and sell boots and parkas made from their hides afterwards, I can't rationally critique such commerce.
Alethea Arnaqua-Baril's Angry Inuk takes a hard look at the EU's decision to ban the sale of seal products within its domain, and the effects that that decision has had on small communities in Nunavut, Canada.
Before the ban, the communities were earning enough money to support themselves, and people in Europe may not know that a 12 pack of ginger ale can cost as much as $82 North of 60.
After the ban, these communities were still (are still) able to hunt seals for subsistence purposes if they could afford to buy gas for their snow machines, but without markets to sell their seal products, they couldn't afford to do much else, the ban on the import of seal goods having effectively crushed their only economy, and left them dependent on government assistance.
They sustainably harvest a small fraction of the seal population and if allowed to do so can support themselves with dignity and respect.
I therefore support a reversal of the ban.
I find it hard to stomach that the EU props up the veal industry, which is extra revolting, the mass slaughter of baby cows, the systematic mechanized profit based mass slaughter of baby cows many of whom are restrained from birth, and it won't support a handful of Inuit hunters shooting free seals in the wild who have grown to adulthood outside of a cage.
Baffling.
I've heard that centuries ago working people in England desperately wanted to eat meat because the upper classes generally were the only ones who could afford it.
I think that if you transported many of those workers to the 21st century and showed them the unbelievably miserable lives many animals lead in order so that the majority of North Americans and Europeans can eat meat, over a billion deaths weekly according to some sites, they may return to their time(s) lacking their former jealousies.
Or currently, currently send oblivious citizens to a slaughterhouse and have them stay there for a week, invisibly, so they can see how the animals are treated when the workforce thinks no one is looking.
Factory farms can become organic.
It may only raise the cost of a big mac by 35 cents.
Governments could also subsidize the transition.
While subsidizing the cost of food North of 60.
Canada's population North of 60 is around 114, 970.
If the oil and gas industry receives massive government subsidies every year, there must be some money lying around to bring the cost of a 12 pack of ginger ale down to $7 in the far North.
If food costs come down and the Inuit can market seal products again, you've got a thriving aboriginal success story.
That's not only good press.
It's also solid humanity.
Angry Inuk, a must see documentary.
Shame on you Greenpeace.
Shame.
Friday, September 23, 2016
Hell or High Water
Economic perfidy harvests Grapes of Wrath in David Mackenzie's Hell or High Water, a strikingly cold yet tender look at Texan socioeconomics.
Enchiladas.
Like films that portray Mexico as something other than a violent haven for international drug trafficking, Hell or High Water presents an alternative Texan portrait that cuts through stereotypes and humanistically offers a compelling down-to-earth confrontation.
It could have been a typical cops and robbers stomp but as brothers Toby (Chris Pine) and Tanner Howard (Ben Foster) hold-up banks for small untraceable sums to pay off a scandalous debt, and lawpersons Marcus Hamilton (Jeff Bridges) and Alberto Parker (Gil Birmingham) track them, the situations both pairs face add vital brazen relatable characteristics, multilaterally bustin' through the line, with non-negotiable cranked ethical consequences.
The awestrike.
Comanche.
What don't you want?
Inflamed ranching.
Don't rob a goddamn bank in our town.
The brothers forge a classic younger introverted older extroverted tandem, the introvert planning their activities, the extro ensuring they're executed.
Law and order is applied by a traditional pairing as well, the more experienced wiser officer consistently outwitting his go-getting partner, but Alberto is Aboriginal and has several thoughtful points to eventually shoot back regarding the ironic Indigenous state of impoverished regular Joe Americans.
Their relationship investigates the controversial nature of racist remarks exchanged between friendly co-workers.
Marcus consistently makes light of Alberto's Aboriginal heritage, and you can see that Alberto's pissed, but as time passes you also see that Marcus genuinely cares for him, especially when he starts to fight back, that Marcus isn't a heartless crude bigot, rather, he's an intelligent man who just expresses himself callously from time to time to controversially yet shortsightedly lighten the mood.
It's off-the-record professional reality.
Marcus insults Alberto because he doesn't fight back to get him to fight back because they live in a culture where many exchange insults rather than pleasantries without frequently chaotically bloodbathing (fighting back with superiors can still often lead to penalties if they can dish it but can't take it).
There's working to change cultural codes, and having to deal with them in order to eventually change them.
If you can't get into a position of authority where you have the power to instigate such changes by example, and if the people currently occupying such positions ain't changin' jackfuck, nothing's going to change, you have to frustratingly deal at points, or wait for them to die, even if it's conscientiously revolting.
Remember the distinction in the film though, Marcus is highly intelligent, does care, and is friends with Alberto.
He's not establishing death camps or refusing to hire specific ethnicities or races.
When racist or ethnocentric remarks are uttered they do often come from a spiteful place, and telling the difference between a Marcus and a Hitler isn't always so easy to do.
Hell or High Water isn't as cheesy as all this, it's wild and bold and bitchin' and swift, blustering as it caresses, surgically diagnosing endemic cultural ailments.
It's like an affluent way of life disappeared and was replaced with sweet fuck all.
Toby still lays low in the end after giving his kids the miraculous golden ticket.
Self-sacrificing.
May have been hasty in writing that Hell or High Water cuts through Texan stereotypes.
Perhaps stating that it takes those stereotypes and situates them within concrete contexts to narratively theorize why they exist and where they come from makes more sense.
Envisioned facts, fictional justification.
Honesty.
Excellent film.
Cinematographer Giles Nuttgens has an eye for natural beauty.
Deep.
Enchiladas.
Like films that portray Mexico as something other than a violent haven for international drug trafficking, Hell or High Water presents an alternative Texan portrait that cuts through stereotypes and humanistically offers a compelling down-to-earth confrontation.
It could have been a typical cops and robbers stomp but as brothers Toby (Chris Pine) and Tanner Howard (Ben Foster) hold-up banks for small untraceable sums to pay off a scandalous debt, and lawpersons Marcus Hamilton (Jeff Bridges) and Alberto Parker (Gil Birmingham) track them, the situations both pairs face add vital brazen relatable characteristics, multilaterally bustin' through the line, with non-negotiable cranked ethical consequences.
The awestrike.
Comanche.
What don't you want?
Inflamed ranching.
Don't rob a goddamn bank in our town.
The brothers forge a classic younger introverted older extroverted tandem, the introvert planning their activities, the extro ensuring they're executed.
Law and order is applied by a traditional pairing as well, the more experienced wiser officer consistently outwitting his go-getting partner, but Alberto is Aboriginal and has several thoughtful points to eventually shoot back regarding the ironic Indigenous state of impoverished regular Joe Americans.
Their relationship investigates the controversial nature of racist remarks exchanged between friendly co-workers.
Marcus consistently makes light of Alberto's Aboriginal heritage, and you can see that Alberto's pissed, but as time passes you also see that Marcus genuinely cares for him, especially when he starts to fight back, that Marcus isn't a heartless crude bigot, rather, he's an intelligent man who just expresses himself callously from time to time to controversially yet shortsightedly lighten the mood.
It's off-the-record professional reality.
Marcus insults Alberto because he doesn't fight back to get him to fight back because they live in a culture where many exchange insults rather than pleasantries without frequently chaotically bloodbathing (fighting back with superiors can still often lead to penalties if they can dish it but can't take it).
There's working to change cultural codes, and having to deal with them in order to eventually change them.
If you can't get into a position of authority where you have the power to instigate such changes by example, and if the people currently occupying such positions ain't changin' jackfuck, nothing's going to change, you have to frustratingly deal at points, or wait for them to die, even if it's conscientiously revolting.
Remember the distinction in the film though, Marcus is highly intelligent, does care, and is friends with Alberto.
He's not establishing death camps or refusing to hire specific ethnicities or races.
When racist or ethnocentric remarks are uttered they do often come from a spiteful place, and telling the difference between a Marcus and a Hitler isn't always so easy to do.
Hell or High Water isn't as cheesy as all this, it's wild and bold and bitchin' and swift, blustering as it caresses, surgically diagnosing endemic cultural ailments.
It's like an affluent way of life disappeared and was replaced with sweet fuck all.
Toby still lays low in the end after giving his kids the miraculous golden ticket.
Self-sacrificing.
May have been hasty in writing that Hell or High Water cuts through Texan stereotypes.
Perhaps stating that it takes those stereotypes and situates them within concrete contexts to narratively theorize why they exist and where they come from makes more sense.
Envisioned facts, fictional justification.
Honesty.
Excellent film.
Cinematographer Giles Nuttgens has an eye for natural beauty.
Deep.
Friday, March 25, 2016
El abrazo de la serpiente (Embrace of the Serpent)
Serpentine seductions, recoiled recollections, imposed civilization, the Amazon, stratus immemorial.
A German ethnologist (Jan Bijvoet as as Theodor Koch-Grunberg) falls ill in the jungle and only one man knows the plant that can cure him.
He's reluctant to help however due to the ways in which Europeans have invaded and ravaged his lands.
Indigenous knowledge, they hadn't created firearms or printing presses, but their wisest knew everything about the land, the creatures and plants and seasonal harmonies, symbiotic symmetries, psychoencyclopedic utility, what to use and what not to use, how to co-exist for millennia, neither stewards nor supplicants, living with nature as one.
From their point of view, European culture may have resembled a serpent, a massive anaconda, sanctimoniously suffocating their people, with intent monstrous gluttony.
From that of the European, the serpent may have been symbolized by the Amazon river itself, terrifyingly labyrinthine, spiritual yet unaware of the Christian God.
These inadequate reflections haunt Theodor and Karamakate's (Nilbio Torres and Antonio Bolivar) hostile interactions as a Christianized Indigenous person (Yauenkü Migue as Manduca) mediates, fully aware of rubber plantation horrors, with the scars on his back to prove it.
There's a powerful scene where a crippled Indigenous rubber labourer begs to die after he's discovered alone by them, their dialogue affecting divergent moralities, as acculturation marches on.
The three travel through the jungle in search of a sacred plant (yakruna) and Karamakate's lost people whom he thought were dead, encountering the destructive path of progress along the way.
Old and new worlds clash as they struggle to forge an understanding, another plot following their path decades later, as a young admirer of Koch-Grunberg's work enlists Karamakate's aid to find yakruna after having read Theodor's diaries.
Throughout this plot thread, Karamakate worries that he's become a chullachaqui, an empty shell, a void, as his memories slowly start to return.
El abrazo de la serpiente (Embrace of the Serpent) values environmental wisdom, culture, immersion, gradually heightening colonialist tensions, as they move closer and closer toward medicinal convalescence.
Progress itself is Ciro Guerra's unwilling target, as the dark side of rapid commercial expansion clashes with the remnants of holistic worlds.
A cautious pace lures you into the narrative and lets its unveilings speak for themselves, while mesmerizingly intuiting dreamlike fascination and cultivated dread, a wild consciousness, harnessed, revitalized, exclaimed.
What a world it must have been.
The moon and the sun coaxed interactive eternity.
Blessed embowered succulence.
Transcendent joyful sorrow.
A German ethnologist (Jan Bijvoet as as Theodor Koch-Grunberg) falls ill in the jungle and only one man knows the plant that can cure him.
He's reluctant to help however due to the ways in which Europeans have invaded and ravaged his lands.
Indigenous knowledge, they hadn't created firearms or printing presses, but their wisest knew everything about the land, the creatures and plants and seasonal harmonies, symbiotic symmetries, psychoencyclopedic utility, what to use and what not to use, how to co-exist for millennia, neither stewards nor supplicants, living with nature as one.
From their point of view, European culture may have resembled a serpent, a massive anaconda, sanctimoniously suffocating their people, with intent monstrous gluttony.
From that of the European, the serpent may have been symbolized by the Amazon river itself, terrifyingly labyrinthine, spiritual yet unaware of the Christian God.
These inadequate reflections haunt Theodor and Karamakate's (Nilbio Torres and Antonio Bolivar) hostile interactions as a Christianized Indigenous person (Yauenkü Migue as Manduca) mediates, fully aware of rubber plantation horrors, with the scars on his back to prove it.
There's a powerful scene where a crippled Indigenous rubber labourer begs to die after he's discovered alone by them, their dialogue affecting divergent moralities, as acculturation marches on.
The three travel through the jungle in search of a sacred plant (yakruna) and Karamakate's lost people whom he thought were dead, encountering the destructive path of progress along the way.
Old and new worlds clash as they struggle to forge an understanding, another plot following their path decades later, as a young admirer of Koch-Grunberg's work enlists Karamakate's aid to find yakruna after having read Theodor's diaries.
Throughout this plot thread, Karamakate worries that he's become a chullachaqui, an empty shell, a void, as his memories slowly start to return.
El abrazo de la serpiente (Embrace of the Serpent) values environmental wisdom, culture, immersion, gradually heightening colonialist tensions, as they move closer and closer toward medicinal convalescence.
Progress itself is Ciro Guerra's unwilling target, as the dark side of rapid commercial expansion clashes with the remnants of holistic worlds.
A cautious pace lures you into the narrative and lets its unveilings speak for themselves, while mesmerizingly intuiting dreamlike fascination and cultivated dread, a wild consciousness, harnessed, revitalized, exclaimed.
What a world it must have been.
The moon and the sun coaxed interactive eternity.
Blessed embowered succulence.
Transcendent joyful sorrow.
Tuesday, February 9, 2016
The Revenant
Insolence, disrespect, dishonour, carnal craven incredulous antagonist refusing to make the bold sacrifices required to encourage the convalescence of a helpless colleague, the barren logic of the unimaginative stagnating guilded contentment like lifeless inert gruelling cowardice, sublimity cast adrift, motionless, immobile, utterly dependent upon charitable goodwill, his son, vigilant, his strength, returning.
A mighty hunter, a conscientious man, able to see beyond the colour of one's skin or the pretensions of one's culture, intelligent and fierce yet cognizant of august lighthearted wonder, aware that he must live within the world but ready to embrace the bizarre and the peculiar, revel in family life, catch a snowflake on his tongue.
But the wilderness, the wild, where his exhaustive knowledge exhales survival, remains wild, unpredictable, with others seeking to survive as well, competing proficiencies contracting in the shadows, inspecting, subverting, challenging, strike and you will be struck, a mother bruin raising young attacks as Glass (Leonardo DiCaprio) hunts, he's almost dead by the end of the struggle, the mother resting docile and breathless on high.
He's left for dead by a treacherous goon after the goon kills his son (Forrest Goodluck as Hawk) but the power of the bear focuses his recovery and he's able to improbably begin crawling back home.
Hostile territory adds to his burdens as a First Nations Chief (Duane Howard as Elk Dog) seeks his kidnapped daughter (Melaw Nakehk'o as Powaqa), infuriated by both the insult and the treatment of his people, he attacks first and asks no questions.
Glass makes his way one excruciatingly painful movement at a time, enduring extreme punishment while witnessing naturalistic vivacity, breathtaking harmonies further motivating his resolve.
The Revenant is an incredible film, surpassing Fitzcarraldo in terms of herculean elasticity, each second dependent upon threateningly complex environmental courtesies, iconic patience unfurling in its reels like dedicated enriched spirituality, the production's staggering accomplishments complementing Glass's will, his superhuman endurance, in agile exoteric splendour, delivering a simple tale, with extraordinarily sophisticated refinement.
There's one scene that subtly introduces calm, the resonant flux having suddenly subsided, and just as I was thinking, "this makes an odd fit," Glass wakes up and has to frantically ride his horse off a cliff, brilliant editorial awareness rarely so strikingly realized (editing by Stephen Mirrione).
And the final confrontation takes place as the sun gradually illuminates a valley's mountainous terrain, as glass firmly integrates the wisdom of lessons learned (cinematography by Emmanuel Lubezki).
Outstanding. Needs to be seen in theatres.
Captain Henry (Domhnall Gleeson) skilfully balances the differences between Glass and Fitzgerald (Tom Hardy), Glass, the man of communal knowledge, the spirit, spending his free time in search of game to eat in a land of plenty, in touch with his surroundings, able to instantaneously decide, Fitzgerald, the appetites, thinking only of his own personal prejudices and the wealth he hopes to obtain thereby.
Henry is in charge and must make the tough calls but possesses a conscience of his own that enables Glass to live even if it imperialistically blinds him to Fitzgerald's ambition.
A platonic helmsperson, with some unfortunate ideas about how to facilitate relations with Aboriginal peoples.
Would Glass have killed him in another life, the memories of his peaceful frontier existence haunting him with ageless sorrow?
He nevertheless remains a man of principle.
Not an ideological zealot.
But a practical human being.
Living in the world.
Co-existing.
A mighty hunter, a conscientious man, able to see beyond the colour of one's skin or the pretensions of one's culture, intelligent and fierce yet cognizant of august lighthearted wonder, aware that he must live within the world but ready to embrace the bizarre and the peculiar, revel in family life, catch a snowflake on his tongue.
But the wilderness, the wild, where his exhaustive knowledge exhales survival, remains wild, unpredictable, with others seeking to survive as well, competing proficiencies contracting in the shadows, inspecting, subverting, challenging, strike and you will be struck, a mother bruin raising young attacks as Glass (Leonardo DiCaprio) hunts, he's almost dead by the end of the struggle, the mother resting docile and breathless on high.
He's left for dead by a treacherous goon after the goon kills his son (Forrest Goodluck as Hawk) but the power of the bear focuses his recovery and he's able to improbably begin crawling back home.
Hostile territory adds to his burdens as a First Nations Chief (Duane Howard as Elk Dog) seeks his kidnapped daughter (Melaw Nakehk'o as Powaqa), infuriated by both the insult and the treatment of his people, he attacks first and asks no questions.
Glass makes his way one excruciatingly painful movement at a time, enduring extreme punishment while witnessing naturalistic vivacity, breathtaking harmonies further motivating his resolve.
The Revenant is an incredible film, surpassing Fitzcarraldo in terms of herculean elasticity, each second dependent upon threateningly complex environmental courtesies, iconic patience unfurling in its reels like dedicated enriched spirituality, the production's staggering accomplishments complementing Glass's will, his superhuman endurance, in agile exoteric splendour, delivering a simple tale, with extraordinarily sophisticated refinement.
There's one scene that subtly introduces calm, the resonant flux having suddenly subsided, and just as I was thinking, "this makes an odd fit," Glass wakes up and has to frantically ride his horse off a cliff, brilliant editorial awareness rarely so strikingly realized (editing by Stephen Mirrione).
And the final confrontation takes place as the sun gradually illuminates a valley's mountainous terrain, as glass firmly integrates the wisdom of lessons learned (cinematography by Emmanuel Lubezki).
Outstanding. Needs to be seen in theatres.
Captain Henry (Domhnall Gleeson) skilfully balances the differences between Glass and Fitzgerald (Tom Hardy), Glass, the man of communal knowledge, the spirit, spending his free time in search of game to eat in a land of plenty, in touch with his surroundings, able to instantaneously decide, Fitzgerald, the appetites, thinking only of his own personal prejudices and the wealth he hopes to obtain thereby.
Henry is in charge and must make the tough calls but possesses a conscience of his own that enables Glass to live even if it imperialistically blinds him to Fitzgerald's ambition.
A platonic helmsperson, with some unfortunate ideas about how to facilitate relations with Aboriginal peoples.
Would Glass have killed him in another life, the memories of his peaceful frontier existence haunting him with ageless sorrow?
He nevertheless remains a man of principle.
Not an ideological zealot.
But a practical human being.
Living in the world.
Co-existing.
Tuesday, October 20, 2015
Guibord s'en va-t-en guerre
It comes down to one man, his independence in jeopardy, democracy in motion, the deciding vote, will Canada or will Canada not go to war?, the Conservatives pro, the Liberals contra, local economic interests seeing opportunities both lush and lucrative, employment, outsiders, vehemently upholding ethical curricula, the pressure intensifying, he seems unconcerned.
Steve Guibord (Patrick Huard) that is, independent MP for a federal riding in Northern Québec, suddenly thrust into the limelight, suddenly given supreme authority.
It's a lighthearted comedy, Guibord s'en va-t-en guerre, heartwarmingly dealing with extraordinarily complex political issues with down home country charm, issues such as Aboriginal Rights, workers rights, big d Democracy, intergovernmental relations, ethical reporting, international sensations, war, and protesting, to name a few.
Haitian born Souverain (Irdens Exantus) endearingly humanizes these factors in an erudite salute to political philosophy.
Seriously contrasting Ego Trip's Sammy.
Obviously many of these issues are quite touchy, and they're momentarily resolved somewhat achingly, but the film does skilfully keep things local, perhaps accidentally addressing predetermined criticisms, by remaining blissfully aware.
Politically aware.
The geopolitics of the proposed war aren't really discussed, the in-depth analysis of war's impact out maneuvered by the prospects of economic growth, unfairly depicted protesters from Winnipeg failing to outwit, until Guibord's daughter's (Clémence Dufresne-Deslières as Lune) frustrated pleas begin to register.
I do find that many people I know are politically aware, but politics is a multidimensional continuum, especially in Québec where the dynamic is much more intense, and when you have a plethora of parties each advocating to specifically yet generally define political awareness, the concept sort of dematerializes, even if it's highly abstract to begin with.
Focus. Remain focused.
It's not that you can't expect an awareness of geopolitical agitations to be found in the North, but you can expect such realities to hold less weight than putting food on the table, on occasion, especially if a mine closes, government subsidies dry up, or tensions increase due to conflicting resource management agendas.
Guibord recognizes this, and playfully uses it to its advantage.
It's not just like that in the North.
But apart from its schmaltzy meandering, I really loved watching Guibord, being a part of the audience.
I didn't get some of the jokes, and didn't really like it, but, and the same thing happened while I was watching Ego Trip, the audience loved it and did get the jokes, and from their friendly laughter I found proof, more proof, that Québec really does have its own vibrant film industry, where citizens do really take their home-on-the-range domestic films seriously, a living breathing cultural conviviality, something that's missing from English Canada.
I haven't said that for years.
Did the Liberal party fund this film behind the scenes?
Questions.
*Who came up with the English title? Lame.
Steve Guibord (Patrick Huard) that is, independent MP for a federal riding in Northern Québec, suddenly thrust into the limelight, suddenly given supreme authority.
It's a lighthearted comedy, Guibord s'en va-t-en guerre, heartwarmingly dealing with extraordinarily complex political issues with down home country charm, issues such as Aboriginal Rights, workers rights, big d Democracy, intergovernmental relations, ethical reporting, international sensations, war, and protesting, to name a few.
Haitian born Souverain (Irdens Exantus) endearingly humanizes these factors in an erudite salute to political philosophy.
Seriously contrasting Ego Trip's Sammy.
Obviously many of these issues are quite touchy, and they're momentarily resolved somewhat achingly, but the film does skilfully keep things local, perhaps accidentally addressing predetermined criticisms, by remaining blissfully aware.
Politically aware.
The geopolitics of the proposed war aren't really discussed, the in-depth analysis of war's impact out maneuvered by the prospects of economic growth, unfairly depicted protesters from Winnipeg failing to outwit, until Guibord's daughter's (Clémence Dufresne-Deslières as Lune) frustrated pleas begin to register.
I do find that many people I know are politically aware, but politics is a multidimensional continuum, especially in Québec where the dynamic is much more intense, and when you have a plethora of parties each advocating to specifically yet generally define political awareness, the concept sort of dematerializes, even if it's highly abstract to begin with.
Focus. Remain focused.
It's not that you can't expect an awareness of geopolitical agitations to be found in the North, but you can expect such realities to hold less weight than putting food on the table, on occasion, especially if a mine closes, government subsidies dry up, or tensions increase due to conflicting resource management agendas.
Guibord recognizes this, and playfully uses it to its advantage.
It's not just like that in the North.
But apart from its schmaltzy meandering, I really loved watching Guibord, being a part of the audience.
I didn't get some of the jokes, and didn't really like it, but, and the same thing happened while I was watching Ego Trip, the audience loved it and did get the jokes, and from their friendly laughter I found proof, more proof, that Québec really does have its own vibrant film industry, where citizens do really take their home-on-the-range domestic films seriously, a living breathing cultural conviviality, something that's missing from English Canada.
I haven't said that for years.
Did the Liberal party fund this film behind the scenes?
Questions.
*Who came up with the English title? Lame.
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
A Million Ways to Die in the West
A Million Ways to Die in the West's opening credits make it clear that nothing within is to be taken seriously.
They playfully ambush a stunning solar-powered sight, calling its dynamism into question, while mischievously reinforcing it at the same time.
Within this ambush lies MacFarlane's gambit, can his wise-cracking intertextual self-aware stir-crazy sense of humour be applied to a Western filmscape, in 1882, the setting wild and untamed, the middle-class, struggling to define itself?
It's a bold move. Apart from Blazing Saddles, Westerns generally lack this kind of exposure. In the spirit of the wild west MacFarlane explores new ground, faces up to the challenge, diversifies, drills, prospects, but the booty accumulated, unfortunately, fails to impress.
The blend's too sour.
That could be the point.
It's not that his chemistry with Anna (Charlize Theron) isn't soluble, or that I didn't love seeing intelligent book smarts talk their way out of multiple gunfights.
The jokes just aren't very sustainable.
Take the moustache song, brilliant idea, but it falls flat, like having nothing but the option of straight whiskey, there's contentment in the availability, but stomach pain in the habituation.
Doc Brown's (Christopher Lloyd) cameo distills what I mean, this device having worked for MacFarlane ad infinitum in his other works, but it just seems bland in A Million Ways's context.
But there is another Back to the Future reference, a bit a subtle foreshadowing, in the form of the old prospector, played by the loveable Matt Clark.
With his lil' dog Plugger.
The subtlety of this reference was more powerful, relating directly to the difficulties Albert's (Seth MacFarlane) having asserting himself in the desert, the Doc Brown reference functioning like the response he generally receives from his neighbours, within the film's meta-formalities.
Correct.
That's correct.
They playfully ambush a stunning solar-powered sight, calling its dynamism into question, while mischievously reinforcing it at the same time.
Within this ambush lies MacFarlane's gambit, can his wise-cracking intertextual self-aware stir-crazy sense of humour be applied to a Western filmscape, in 1882, the setting wild and untamed, the middle-class, struggling to define itself?
It's a bold move. Apart from Blazing Saddles, Westerns generally lack this kind of exposure. In the spirit of the wild west MacFarlane explores new ground, faces up to the challenge, diversifies, drills, prospects, but the booty accumulated, unfortunately, fails to impress.
The blend's too sour.
That could be the point.
It's not that his chemistry with Anna (Charlize Theron) isn't soluble, or that I didn't love seeing intelligent book smarts talk their way out of multiple gunfights.
The jokes just aren't very sustainable.
Take the moustache song, brilliant idea, but it falls flat, like having nothing but the option of straight whiskey, there's contentment in the availability, but stomach pain in the habituation.
Doc Brown's (Christopher Lloyd) cameo distills what I mean, this device having worked for MacFarlane ad infinitum in his other works, but it just seems bland in A Million Ways's context.
But there is another Back to the Future reference, a bit a subtle foreshadowing, in the form of the old prospector, played by the loveable Matt Clark.
With his lil' dog Plugger.
The subtlety of this reference was more powerful, relating directly to the difficulties Albert's (Seth MacFarlane) having asserting himself in the desert, the Doc Brown reference functioning like the response he generally receives from his neighbours, within the film's meta-formalities.
Correct.
That's correct.
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
Tracks
I've always enjoyed a good hike.
Set off into the woods, seek, explore, discover.
After a solid hour-and-a-half to two hours though, 4 hours in British Columbia, I've usually decided it's time to head home, or to a café, either way, to drink coffee, and reflect upon sights seen.
Tracks's Robyn Davidson (Mia Wasikowska) approaches hiking quite differently.
Tired of her predictable daily routine, she decides to hike across Australia's Western desert, departing from Alice Springs with her playful dog, an adventure similar to one which her father embarked upon in Africa decades previously, her goal, to reach the Indian Ocean.
She digs-in and grinds.
Problem.
She needs camels.
Solution.
She works hands-deep-in-the-grit with camel herders until she's learned how to train and lead them, during which time she's ripped-off by a cantankerous old jackass, which only strengthens her resolve.
She eventually receives enough funding to begin with the help of a National Geographic photographer (Adam Driver as Rick Smolan) with whom she begrudgingly strikes up a romance, which intensifies the film's risk-fuelled desert induced heat.
Tracks is still family friendly and Davidson's ultimate hiking is condensed into a series of mis/adventures, plenty of material presented, at a fast energetic pace.
Obviously with a hike such as this, especially considering all the snakes in Australia (Canada only has rattlesnakes scattered here and there throughout the country [it's too cold for poisonous snakes {I can't prove that}]), much can go wrong.
But Davidson takes the setbacks in stride, always focused and determined, unyieldingly pursuing her sweltering objective.
There's a sequence near the end where Alexandre de Franceschi's editing aptly pressurizes Davidson's delirium, intertwining disorienting shots of character and landscape, to accentuate both the length and strain of her quest.
Tragedy strikes here as well, which was somewhat unexpected, since at other points balms are provided to ease the tension, shade provided for her dog for instance.
Intermixing the stubborn, the dedicated, the supportive, and the persevering, to concisely celebrate a triumphant human spirit, Tracks is a seductive struggle that can be constructively accessed by diverse audiences.
Don't think I'll ever be able to hike for longer than 4 hours myself.
How do you pack that many sandwiches?
An extended North-South trek through Patagonia would be fun some day though.
Searching for spectacled bears.
(Which don't live there I'm told).
Set off into the woods, seek, explore, discover.
After a solid hour-and-a-half to two hours though, 4 hours in British Columbia, I've usually decided it's time to head home, or to a café, either way, to drink coffee, and reflect upon sights seen.
Tracks's Robyn Davidson (Mia Wasikowska) approaches hiking quite differently.
Tired of her predictable daily routine, she decides to hike across Australia's Western desert, departing from Alice Springs with her playful dog, an adventure similar to one which her father embarked upon in Africa decades previously, her goal, to reach the Indian Ocean.
She digs-in and grinds.
Problem.
She needs camels.
Solution.
She works hands-deep-in-the-grit with camel herders until she's learned how to train and lead them, during which time she's ripped-off by a cantankerous old jackass, which only strengthens her resolve.
She eventually receives enough funding to begin with the help of a National Geographic photographer (Adam Driver as Rick Smolan) with whom she begrudgingly strikes up a romance, which intensifies the film's risk-fuelled desert induced heat.
Tracks is still family friendly and Davidson's ultimate hiking is condensed into a series of mis/adventures, plenty of material presented, at a fast energetic pace.
Obviously with a hike such as this, especially considering all the snakes in Australia (Canada only has rattlesnakes scattered here and there throughout the country [it's too cold for poisonous snakes {I can't prove that}]), much can go wrong.
But Davidson takes the setbacks in stride, always focused and determined, unyieldingly pursuing her sweltering objective.
There's a sequence near the end where Alexandre de Franceschi's editing aptly pressurizes Davidson's delirium, intertwining disorienting shots of character and landscape, to accentuate both the length and strain of her quest.
Tragedy strikes here as well, which was somewhat unexpected, since at other points balms are provided to ease the tension, shade provided for her dog for instance.
Intermixing the stubborn, the dedicated, the supportive, and the persevering, to concisely celebrate a triumphant human spirit, Tracks is a seductive struggle that can be constructively accessed by diverse audiences.
Don't think I'll ever be able to hike for longer than 4 hours myself.
How do you pack that many sandwiches?
An extended North-South trek through Patagonia would be fun some day though.
Searching for spectacled bears.
(Which don't live there I'm told).
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
Maïna
Intertribal relations bellicosely deteriorate as a restless megalomaniac seeks control of his clan, the Nearly Wolves, the aftermath of his ambush of the Men of the Land of Ice leaving Maïna caught between Innu and Inuit worlds, wherein misunderstandings and revelations communally mingle, devastatingly enlightening in turn, chasing the wind, in the land without trees.
The unknown presents an invigorating sense of bewilderment as Maïna (Roseanne Supernault), daughter of the Nearly Wolves's Chief Mishtenapeu (Graham Greene), protecting young Nipki (Uapshkuss Thernish), must join a group of Inuit travellers on their voyage home, one of them, bold Natak (Ipellie Ootoova), known to Maïna through her dreams, a new language, new customs, new lands, viscerally vivifying, as she adventurously comes of age.
Natak and Maïna fall in love but challenges face their union as she acquaints her new neighbours with the traditions of the Innu.
At a critical moment, her continuing survival having been jeopardized, Nanook embodies the unknown's extreme malevolency, understanding and support being required to integratively overcome the hunger, and peacefully initiate the flowering of difference.
Maïna comprehensively blooms love's emotional omniscience, artfully blending the confrontational with the mesmerizing, navigating clasped distances, flourishingly mused.
Petulance and prejudice challenge its tumultuous tranquility, as Maïna demonstrates that she too can hunt, and Natak must balance divergence and docility.
Cinematography by Allen Smith.
The unknown presents an invigorating sense of bewilderment as Maïna (Roseanne Supernault), daughter of the Nearly Wolves's Chief Mishtenapeu (Graham Greene), protecting young Nipki (Uapshkuss Thernish), must join a group of Inuit travellers on their voyage home, one of them, bold Natak (Ipellie Ootoova), known to Maïna through her dreams, a new language, new customs, new lands, viscerally vivifying, as she adventurously comes of age.
Natak and Maïna fall in love but challenges face their union as she acquaints her new neighbours with the traditions of the Innu.
At a critical moment, her continuing survival having been jeopardized, Nanook embodies the unknown's extreme malevolency, understanding and support being required to integratively overcome the hunger, and peacefully initiate the flowering of difference.
Maïna comprehensively blooms love's emotional omniscience, artfully blending the confrontational with the mesmerizing, navigating clasped distances, flourishingly mused.
Petulance and prejudice challenge its tumultuous tranquility, as Maïna demonstrates that she too can hunt, and Natak must balance divergence and docility.
Cinematography by Allen Smith.
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