Aguirre, der Zorn Gottes (Aguirre, the Wrath of God)

As colonialism expands in the jungles of South America, the Indigenous inhabitants engage in trickery, wholeheartedly convincing several of the invaders that a vast city of gold exists deep within, the tale too tantalizing to ignore, soon a diverse outfit departs in pursuit.

Unaccustomed to the haunting jungle with its sweltering heat and bugs and mud, the ensemble makes slow progress initially until confronting a hostile river.

Here the group splits up with many of the party remaining behind, as a courageous group virtuously led bravely sets out alone down its course.

Virtuous ideals clashing with blunt pragmatism such strained relations when people don't value life, ironically tormenting the high-minded colonialists who had already instigated so much Native carnage.

Conflict abounds as the lethal Aguirre soon disagrees with his captain, and plans a much less sympathetic voyage weak on heart and strong on ambition.

He's able to persuade most of the company to boldly adhere to his brutal methods, as they drift deeper into the jungle on their adventurous own without knowledge or know-how.

Their rafts are detected by Natives hoping not to suffer like their enslaved brethren. 

Arrows picking the Spanish off one by one.

As Aguirre's madness irascibly intensifies.

A remarkable feat of filmmaking which took considerable risks to accomplish its goals, hats off to the daring cast and crew (plus Herzog) who set out on the river expedition.

It mustn't be as dangerous as it looks or else I doubt anyone would have agreed to do it, and how did the camera crew get all those shots as the wild river raged with absolutist fervour?

A former prince even travels amongst them and bitterly complains about his newfound bearing, not much is made of the dynamic character but he does show up from time to time.

Adorable animals occasionally adorn the blood-soaked verse with contradictory tender, but at times they aren't treated humanely most notably the awkward rebellious horse scene.

Music also interrupts the flow of augmented acidic despondent mutiny, as mellifluous sounds generously erupt from an endemic pipe playfully attuned.

When you stare into Kinski's eyes it really is like you're sailing through an abyss, it's like he spent so much time furiously exclaiming when they weren't filming that he forgot to radicalize his lines on set.

A marvel of cinematic industry that likely never would have been made if the mechanics had been scrutinized, I can sincerely applaud its visceral fortitude assuming the cast and crew knew what they were getting into. 

📽🎞

The Adventures of Mark Twain

Mark Twain elaborately concocts a unique imaginative flying machine, upon which he chases Halley's Comet with three fortunate literary stowaways. 

Tom, Huck and Becky are unsure as to how to proceed, and never really settle into the versatile invention, inquisitively searching for structure and meaning while instinctually absorbing the bountiful narratives.

Stories within yarns within tales within legends creatively emerge with theoretical whimsy, presented through curious lighthearted exploration as the kids heuristically investigate away.

A ship much more like a mind its multivariable elements cascading, through trial and error and riveting hypotheses its temporal comportment ahistorical.

Perhaps part of the paradigm shift which led to much less severe religious interpretations, wherein which the literal executions lost their prominent cultural influence.

A move away from exacting obsessions with extremely precise uptight rules and regulations, to a more open-hearted freeform compendium liberally composed through manifold alternatives.

Twain himself struggles with the dutiful recognition of a regenerative constituent bipolar renaissance, within which his psyche proactively duels while realistically resonating rationales less ideological.

Difficult to suppress the reflections at times while ethically composed and poignantly accentuated, the active latent indissoluble antipodes habitually insistent with reckless remonstrance.

Thus, the importance of laidback comedy from pent-up time to pent-up time, not the new obsessive violent variety but the less destructive impulses of Twain and Chaplin. 

Twain's ideas and clever witticisms are seductively sprinkled throughout the script, his observant well-timed well-crafted comments judiciously diversifying tact and treatise.

Not often a public figure is so universally commended without crude accompaniment, when do you ever here anything negative critically mentioned about the old school phenom?

The Adventures of Mark Twain may have passed under the radar way back in my youth I admit I had never heard of it, at least until around this time last week when it suddenly seemed like a cool film to see.

Definitely a chill film for children interested in reading and bizarro imagination, a claymation gateway to a world of books poetically awaiting at the local library. 

Twain's insights make the film fun for grouchy adults who might not want to watch another kids film at the same time.

Perhaps overlooked due to its harmless unorthodox reflections on religion.

Which I thought were charmingly displayed.  

The Lost City

A famous adventure/romance novelist (Sandra Bullock as Loretta Sage) begins to question her professional identity, when the launch of her latest book fails to inspire commercial motivation.

She's done it so many times that the book tour and associated hoopla, seem too superficial to sincerely entertain even though her adoring fans can't wait.

She's jealous of the easy going male model (Channing Tatum as Alan) who adorns the covers of her texts as well, he loves the media sensation, this doesn't evince discerning pageantry.

After she turns the anticipated launch into a dire ill-fated farce, she seeks in vain for heartfelt felicity, before a covetous mean-spirited billionaire (Daniel Radcliffe as Abigail Fairfax) suddenly has her kidnapped. 

She's flown to a tropical island and tasked with locating enticing treasure, local Natives imploring them to leave it alone, the alarming obsession metastasizing madness.

Alan soon follows along with an Indiana Jones/James Bond type rescuer (Brad Pitt as Jack Trainer). 

Ill-prepared for the ensuing task force.

Still improvising with resonant throng. 

The Lost City embraces traditional stately oft criticized tropes and accessories, yet effectively makes the age old adventurous point, that its principal goal is to just entertain. 

Therefore, I had to ask myself, am I genuinely enjoying this film?, beyond multivariable criteria, and I had to admit, I was.

I was lightheartedly reminded that novel bizarre stylistic independence, and counterintuitive literary jigsaw, don't imaginatively motivate some, who are more concerned with intuitive fun.

I suppose a lot of the time it isn't the mischievous wordplay, but just hot bods and romantic adventure that make people interested in watching films.

I also suppose it isn't the goal of many to only enhance the authentic aura, of low-budget brainiac films perhaps one day destined for whimsical cult status (it doesn't make any sense!).

The pandemic's cut me off from theatres and my lifestyle changed as time moved on, and I found for the first time in over a decade I had what is known as free time.

I love the free time I have to just to sit back and listen to music.

But movies are meant to be seen on screen.

The direct experience deconstructing cynicism.  

*Loved the Raiders/Terminator pastiche near the end.

The Secret Life of Pets

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To freely share such a message throughout the year.

In praise of open-minded compassionate humanity! 

Just a thought. 😌

Hoping for peace in the Middle-East.

⛄🎄🎁🎅

Omohide poro poro (Only Yesterday)

Childhood memories of elementary school mischievously haunt Taeko's adult life, even if she's rather well adjusted to the industrious working world.

Notably daunting math tests which caused sincere social and familial distress, many others rather patronizing in their evaluations of her natural difficulties by the numbers.

Young romance confused and startled as an innocent lad accidentally declared his affections, and her classmates erupted with furor and the two really had no idea what to do.

Now she's in her late twenties and the marriage police are moving in, friends and family wondering why she's still single in a city full of millions of people.

Her characteristic independence habitually dismisses their domestic appeals, and she continues to earnestly authenticate by harmoniously proceeding with novel planning.

Which includes working trips to the country where she helps out on versatile farms, taking part in the daily labour while enjoying village life at night.

Soon an amorous lad shyly falls for her big city ways.

Others noting they get along well.

Taeko taking to the ways of the country. 

Omohide poro poro (Only Yesterday) presents alternatives to urban trajectories, as bucolic pride historically enraptures through inquisitive endeavour and cross-cultural daring.

Few films provide such an affectionate road map to countryside life through animate accords, complete with clear explanations regarding age old farming practices and the steady cultivation of the surrounding landscape.

Farming is often overlooked in the hyper-reactive accelerated narrative, but it always will be evidently necessary as long as we require tasty nourishing food.

You wonder why it isn't more respectfully regarded when multivariably compared with other professions, farming actually provides something durable when presented alongside abstract calculations. 

It's a shame how such abstractions at times drive a wedge between practical people, why is it preferable to have no relation to nature and pretend we can exist immaterially zoned?

A healthy environment ensures the multigenerational matriculation of posterity through fecund diversity, the more polluted the environment becomes the less likely crops will attentively flourish.

Perhaps it will never come to that although the dismissive outcome seems highly unlikely.

Working vacations can be fun in countryside regardless, may be worth checking out sometime. 

Stardust

A nondescript wall divides two lands both of which have little knowledge of the other, but on occasion people pass through to curiously see what rests on the other side.

One path resembles an old school version of what's often referred to as material reality, wherein which science painstakingly unravels concealed secrets through vigorous study.

The other's indeed much more magical where stars and witches contemporaneously reside, different life forms taking on supernatural proportions as fervid fantasy frenetically sculpts.

An adventurous temperate lad crosses the border one fateful evening, and strikes up an amorous association before swiftly returning home.

Months later, a newborn babe suddenly appears on his modest doorstep, with a note attached and explicit instructions that it's not to be opened till he comes of age.

The babe is reared by romantic blueprints cohesively intuited and adoringly suckled, and even though he lacks corporeal agency, his enriched spirit jocosely thrives.

In the land of fantasy, a brilliant star cavernously crash lands rather unexpectedly, after a none too heartwarming decree attunes unwitting rivals to stellar constellation.

But covetous witches soon learn of its misfortune and one sets out to acquire its light, for if she's able to eat her heart her youthful endeavours will then regenerate.

The former babe learns of his fantastic origins and is transported to the star to fulfill a promise.

Unaccustomed to the land of magic.

His enchanted spirit guides him.

Romantically adorned and everlastingly arrayed, Matthew Vaughn's Stardust rambunctiously radiates, as haphazard improvised declamation serendipitously seeks out love.

A shame to see the two worlds cut off from constructive dialogues akin to outstanding, pejorative prejudice presumed by both sides leading to mutually dissonant contention.

Should the elevated art of persuasion ardently lay down its feverish flourishes, to articulate waylaid concrete indubitably practical schemes and strategies?

Should the blunt and direct fatalistic alarmed wisecracking determinate brigade, allow for scandalous spiritual syndications regenerative uplifting abstract accords?

Do Marvel films in fact represent working syntheses of the aforementioned?

Perhaps at times they do.

As does the crafty Stardust.

The Sleepover

A day proceeds according to routine habitual chill random expectations 😜, imaginary impulses confidently broadcast, friends consulted, schoolwork resumed.

For a sister the evening's provocative inasmuch as a wild party awaits (Sadie Stanley as Clancy Finch), her brother looking forward to a wholesome sleepover camped out in his old school backyard (Maxwell Simkins as Kevin). 

But earlier in the day, he was caught on video, randomly gesticulating with animate poise, his mother critiquing the mean-spirited cinematographer, who posted the private moment to YouTube.

Par for the course, although potentially harmful to his budding young developing self-esteem, he isn't phased, content and casual, back at it self-aware renditions.

Yet calamity strikes through shocking revelation later on in the laidback night, for his mom was also featured in the cantankerous clip (Malin Åkerman as Margot), which was viewed by curious millions.

Including the old gang of thieves she once led in an alternative life, before relocating to witness protection, they attempt to make larcenous headway.

Assertive coercion reluctant submission an awkward reunion impacting immediacy, her newfound cherished bourgeois family life haunting imposed begrudged nostalgia. 

Her husband's been kidnapped too and is unaccustomed to reckless crime (Ken Marino as Ron). 

He enjoys running his bakery.

Ordering pizza, PTA meetings.

High stakes shenanigans jocosely materialize inordinately spastically ensue, as requisite improbability seeks fortuitous fortune, by any spirited means necessary.

The mood is lightheartedly salient insofar as it lacks ostentatious pretensions, preferring to harness lackadaisical endearment as it crafts ill-conceived adventure.

Youthful trials are mischievously mixed with sober mature yet resigned matriculation, the resultant intergenerational mayhem concocting playful atemporal innocence.

The application of logic seems ill-suited to this specific endeavour, since applications of reasonability would instantly stultify its joie de vivre. 

Simkins delivers a performance that tumultuously holds things together, his intense emphatic enthusiasm as joyful as it is productively mischievous.

So important to embrace freeform unabashed inspired horseplay at times, as long as it isn't causing a ruckus, that results in grievous discernment.

It's great to see exuberant expression overflowing with novel unconcern.

Untamed and unrestrained.

Absurd creative momentum.

The Wizard

An autistic youth struggling to comprehend the sudden passing of his twin sister, buckles down and heads out on the road (Luke Edwards as Jimmy Woods), both sets of parents rather unsettled by his departure, he's swiftly located, and brought back home.

It's a pattern, so he heads out again this time with the aid of an older brother (Fred Savage as Corey Woods), who doesn't want to see him committed to a psychiatric institution which is where he would have wound up.

The two travel unfettered undisciplined until they reach an accommodating bus station, where they meet Haley (Jenny Lewis) who's on her way home and discover Jimmy has a knack for video games.

Not just a knack, he's exceptionally talented, so much so that Haley suggests they head to Los Angeles, and enter the "Video Armageddon" competition taking place a few days away.

But they're being tracked by two separate sleuths one a father and brother team (Beau Bridges as Sam Woods and Christian Slater as Nick Woods respectively), the other a slimy weaselly reptilian eager to make a quick opportune buck (Will Seltzer as Mr. Putnam). 

Jimmy may have a natural gift for video game playing but he's still unfamiliar with many exemplars, so Corey and Haley take him to "Nintendo School" so he can practice, prepare, and prognosticate. 

Will they reach their sought after destination in time for the vigorous showdown, or will parental responsibility assert immobile lockdown?

Families split on how to proceed.

Competing diagnoses clashing best practices. 

The Wizard imagines adventurous purpose to pursue quizzical unorthodox therapy, ie., rather than place the child who keeps wandering away in therapy, why not try to find out where he's going?

Their trip could have more closely resembled a video game in its resilient collegial questing, insofar as a more calamitous test of endurance would have been more reminiscent of something like Zelda.

But it's lighthearted and free and easy less concerned with hardship or tribulation, not that obstacles don't present themselves, they're just not so intense and at times rather comic.

If you love video games I reckon The Wizard may provide ample lackadaisical endearment, as several characters including Jimmy's father embrace unheralded electronic inspiration.

The games focused upon may perhaps provide historical import as well, an examination of ye olde old school to function as an instructive comparison.

I never made it very far with video games myself, I just didn't see the point after I reached a certain age.

I've missed out on quite a lot of conversation consequently.

And the occasional not-so-subtle reference.

Captain Ron

Oceanic endeavour.

The wide open seas.

From island to island.

Serendipitous spawn.

Martin (Martin Short) finds suburban living somewhat humdrum even if he's ensconced in a bountiful bower, and one day unexpectedly discovers he's inherited a seafaring vessel, barnacly and boundless, ye olde ad hoc treasure, a novel idea expressing itself forthwith, pack up the fam, ride arrhythmic waves.

His wife's (Mary Kay Place as Katherine) none too thrilled with the idea but agrees without hesitation, after hearing of their daughter's (Meadow Sisto as Caroline) engagement, to a freewheeling modicum of ill-repute.

The plan is to sail the Caribbean for a month or so and then quickly sell the ship in Miami, but there's just one prim prohibitive problem, none of them know anything about sailing.

Fortunately, a Captain is provided but he's not as bourgeois as they had innocently hoped, indeed even more freewheeling than Caroline's fiancé, playful unorthodox methods to boot.

But they're gamers so they freely make do until Captain Ron (Kurt Russell) starts driving Martin crazy.

But has he taught him something along the way?

Beyond landlubbed highly strung legitimacies?

It's the classic corporate/bohemian showdown and naturally the artist is unaware of the competition, he's sure and steady if not unhinged, yet still facilitates forthcoming formulae. 

It's a matter of dialect of comatose comprehension unforeseen patterns chillaxed yet cogent, unfettered flamingo flotsam familiarity, indubitably active, consubstantially withdrawn.

Ron shares his knowledge freely yet is unaware of its shocking import, and the ways in which the well-to-do dismiss it, with pretentious instinct and rationalistic calm.

Martin loses that calm however as his disbelief mutates into audacity, and even though Ron's advice proves wise eventually, Martin still attempts to assert autonomy.

Where do you draw the line between myth and reality when alternative dispositions suddenly clash, who's guilty of cynicism or embellishment or gullibility or honest sincerity?

It seems this subject needs more clarification insofar as communication is paramount, essential.

Misinterpretation par for the course.

Artistic abundance randomly flourishing.

The Beastmaster

Prophecy declares that an evil priest (Rip Torn) will be slain by a king's gifted son (Marc Singer as Dar), so he engages in open defiance, and attempts to murder the infant. 

Who is saved by a conscientious villager who them raises him as his own, teaching him the arts of logic and sword-fighting as he patiently comes of age.

As he matures he also learns that he has a natural gift with animals, and can indeed converse and interact with them as if they were taxonomic kin.

Soon his village is attacked by fierce barbarians and in the aftermath he alone survives, setting out to grieve incarnate wandering upon the open road.

By chance, one day he encounters two nimble maidens frolicking unrestrained, one who seems to take an interest in his imposing derelict tragedy (Tanya Roberts as Kiri). 

But she is to be sacrificed and must be boldly saved and then set free, Dar befriending other victims of injustice correspondingly, whom he agrees to fight along side.

They must save a dynamic city from the very same evil priest of long ago.

Who's allied with the barbarians. 

And hellbent on pernicious ritual.

A just emancipating vision disposed to humble daring legend, adventurously emerges as noble Dar quests impassioned. 

Instinctual freedom untethered largesse distinctly abound with forthright recalcitrance, within a realm chaotically composed through distraught prayer and demonic terror.

In an age creatively refusing to be limited by impossibility, Beastmaster brazenly interrogated lavish budgets and special effects.

If you want to imaginatively conceive beyond disheartening technological constraints, look to Don Coscarelli and his crafty film which pursued fascination reprieved regardless.

His animals were real and he wasn't confined by dismissive inconsiderate assumptions (don't make this: it will be cheesy), proceeding epically unimpeded by pejorative disjunction.

Perhaps inspiring many who work for Marvel or DC or independently this postmodern day, remarkable to see how much things change, over the course of the passing decades.

You think, "how could things surpass contemporary animate production design?"

While longing for long lost muppets.

Audacious initiative. 

Impossibility.  

With John Amos. 

Finding 'Ohana

A trip to Hawaii, to settle in with the fam, who's been sorely missed for the past decade, yet is still just as feisty as ever.

Leilani (Kelly Hu) moved away to New York shortly after her second child was born, embracing hectic traversed transformation, and acculturated distinct juxtaposition. 

Not that bad of a situation albeit fraught with geographical discord, the best of both worlds occasionally accessible, even if her children have trouble adjusting.

They're used to an accelerated pace innately attuned to unexpected variability, and although the countryside offers accredited novelty, Pili (Kea Peahu) and Ioane (Alex Aiono) still crave extrapolation. 

Fortunately, Pili discovers an old journal chronicling the history of legendary treasure, and after effortlessly making a new friend (Owen Vaccaro as Casper), has soon borrowed a vehicle in headstrong pursuit.

Her brother soon learns of their plan and after acquiring the aid of a new acquaintance (Lindsay Watson as Hana), proceeds to follow them with grouchy intent, eventually finding them in the depths of a cave.

They must sleuth and search synergistically if they're to locate the vast booty however, while bearing in mind additional myths which may complicate tonal procedures.

Gramps (Branscombe Richmond) and mom worry at a bright local hospital after the children cannot be found.

As New York and Hawaii unite.

Adventurous forays unbound.

Energetically disseminating bold exposition and grievous error, Finding 'Ohana ebullionly excavates inquisitive confident reverent equipoise. 

Character intergenerationally flourishes upon ancestral lands, disputes familially interlocking ignored free-spirited commands.

The family within is a striking example of innovative postmodern Indigenous peoples, many of whom work within the dominant discourse without having sacrificed code or tradition.

The film's generally light of heart even if its subject matter could have been much more solemn, several disheartening economic and spiritual realities endemically generating enlivened enterprise.

The voyage interrogates ecstatic endeavour in order to emphasize austere imposition, without losing sight of the playful innocence naturally embraced by active minds.

A campy blend of enlightened spirits temporally tempered and passionately gaged, Finding 'Ohana revels in multidisciplinary archaeologies at wondrous impacting play.

Genealogical. 

______ wishes.  

Legend

A maiden heads out, in search of her trusted love interest, who lives alone in the forest, anxiously awaiting her return.

They nimbly frolic and amorously explore the nature of his verdant domain, so caught up with love's magnanimity, that he decides to share a secret.

For he knows the location of unicorns whom she is eager to graciously meet, yet such knowledge is strictly forbidden to those who have not grown up in the woods.

Little do they know they've been followed by dastardly goblins seeking malice, who've been tasked to take out the unicorns for an envious Lord of Darkness.

Unicorns maintain metaphysical splendour within their lighthearted realm, their habitual laughter and innate innocence required to nurture time itself.

A forbidden act having been facilitated, a glorious unicorn falls, the other captured and brought back to answer for cherished wondrous humanistic enlightenment.

Along with the crestfallen maiden.

But her suitor is suddenly entrusted with mythical elven aid, after time stops and winter descends, and they realize they need a champion. 

So it's off to the fiery depths to save the universe from eternal darkness.

Guided by valour and instinct.

And perhaps, the power of Christmas.

Not technically a Christmas film, although unicorns no doubt emit the wisdom of Christmas, and have for munificent millennia, through the enchanting art of mysticism.

Their narwhal kin perhaps act as go-betweens with Santa as he makes toys far off at the North Pole, their scintillating seafaring network rich with endemic interactive fluencies.

Perhaps every creature found on Earth is part of this biodiverse switchboard, Santa and unicorns coordinating initiatives throughout the embowered globe.

For some reason I never saw Legend while still a wee ginger lad, plus I also missed Labyrinth and Dragonslayer until reaching the age of adulthood.

Nevertheless, I thoroughly enjoy watching old school fantasy that isn't reliant on technical know how, when they still built sets from the ground up, and creative costumes generated adventure.

It'd be cool to see a contemporary filmmaker make a new fantasy film with muppets and physical sets.

Sort of like filming in black & white.

I bet they'd make something awesome.

That would never rival Jim Henson.

The Lady from Shanghai

Trouble awaits a foolish hands-on dreamer after taking note of aesthetic charm while strollin' about one fateful evening.

From the way he speaks it's as if he's well-versed in hardboiled tactile role play, and his actions enliven romanticism recreation wit democracy.

But he's easily lured by the appeal of elegant things and dismissive of signs of betrayal, far too trusting for someone so seasoned, too caught up with enchanting ceremony.

The sharks rely on his innate good nature to proceed with nefarious intent, without even much of an effort, much persuasion, insistence, goading.

It's often fun to play games I suppose even if you're unsure of the rules, it's much less boring if they're harmless anyways, a bit of innocent light indiscretion.

Much more meaningful if they aren't too serious.

Non-threatening off hand amusement.

Like gambling, gambling's not so bad if you bet small sums and aren't upset if you eventually lose them, but if you're betting your entire pay cheque and your rent's due the instinctual thrill may be incapacitating.

Michael O'Hara's (Orson Welles) shark anecdote indicates he's a worldly man, but trips to the aquarium and the amusement park suggest he's not a serious gambler.

The destinations weren't self-generated but their applicability's by no means remote, yachting too suddenly comes to mind, sharp diversions from his not-so-steady routine.

Full-on agency he's certainly feisty and more than ready to share his opinion, but that doesn't change the fact that he's broke or single or trusting or hopeful.

I'm supposed to question whether or not it's a genre, but I think there's no doubt there's a film noir style, that filmmakers are aware of its loose narrative conventions, way more so far back in the day.

If Welles possessed such an awareness perhaps The Lady from Shanghai was a cheeky lampoon, much too subtle to emerge strictly comic, much too blunt to assume grand tragedy.

The aquarium and the fun-house suggest it's not taking itself seriously, unorthodox courtroom theatrics, an extended altercation, too many pills and it's off to Chinatown, just before the verdict descends.

If hapless film noir chumps notoriously can't piece things together, O'Hara is particularly obtuse considering his personal history.

The final shoot out's a bit far-fetched.

George Grisby's (Glenn Anders) character's ridiculous.

A wake up call perhaps that also laments such traditional dispositions, too good to be true and what have you, but who would have blamed him for trying?

Well worth it regardless of intrigue if not simply to dismiss what I'm saying, there are many great lines and scenarios, and I'd argue a love for the absurd.

The drifting labourer takes on men of means and falls for one of their wives.

Who's bashful enough to encourage him.

Distill blueprints ad infinitum.

Abominable

The loss of a loved one drives an innocent youth to seek distraction through work, her bounteous labours distraught self-exclusion, her family concerned, her friends highly critical.

In the evenings, after refusing to sit down for a nice meal, she still regales the slumberous masses with passionate violin song, her emotions as tender as kitten cuddles, her insights conjuring tone, a melancholic im/material maestro, grieving through derelict soul.

One night a mind-boggling surprise timidly awaits her, for a frightened yeti has sought refuge on her rooftop, unaccustomed to concrete or chaos, yet abounding with love for music.

Yi (Chloe Bennet) soon realizes ne'er-do-wells are in hot pursuit, and adjusts her routine accordingly, to facilitate his agile escape, and embrace the forbidding unknown.

But not before friends discover what they're up to, and wind up hitching along for the ride.

There is a slight problem though, for they have to improvise their way from Shanghai to the Himalayas.

With those who would exploit them tracking their every move.

But sometimes risk engenders adventure, and uncertainty begets innovation, saturated with enriching magic, inventing wondrous epic reflex.

Rationally pitched through wild variety.

Blending novelty and convention.

The youngsters indeed strive to reach the legendary Himalayas in DreamWorks's jazzy Abominable, three youths and a gifted yeti cub, exercising latent imagination.

The skills they never knew they had.

The integrity they had been blindly overlooking.

Sometimes you need challenge to awaken vigour and voice, as Paul Atreides does in Dune, although it need not involve interplanetary conflict.

Build a cabinet.

Learn to make pasta from scratch.

It helps if your resolve or your team has recourse to magic, as the lads and lass and yeti do in Abominable, but you can always substitute the word "books" for "magic", and find myriad aids at your local library.

Or libraries if you travel.

Of course conflict demotivates and you need a thick skin to bounce back or continue to move forward, the kids in Abominable persevering against unfavourable odds, assisted by fortuitous transformations.

Perhaps their journey's too cozy, or lacking discombobulation, but it's still fun to watch as they swiftly outmanoeuvre, friendship and family esteemed on the fly.

They're interested in life and living, not cashing in on exploiting difference, and they do what they can to help the yeti regain freedom, proactively managing warm and friendly initiatives.

Inspiring depth.

Like the mysterious yeti.

*It would be nice to have a roommate who played the violin. Just sit back, read or write as he or she practices. That would be amazing.

**With a pet cat too.

Majo no takkyȗbin (Kiki's Delivery Service)

Sometimes you get lucky.

I didn't find what I was looking for earlier this Summer when I went out to see Die kleine hexe (The Little Witch), but decided to see Majo no takkyȗbin (Kiki's Delivery Service) last week on a whim, and I'd be lying if I didn't say it was exactly what I'd been searching for, apart from the fact that it was released in 1989, and therefore lacking in contemporary applicability.

If it was indeed contemporary, it would have ideally and bewilderingly fit.

Not that I'm complaining.

Finding something in the present that produces an affect you cherished long ago reliably revels in enigmatic ecstasy, but finding something from the past that commensurately impresses, shouldn't be dismissed for ye olde bygone praise.

I'm reminded of people dismissing classic films because they aren't contemporary, the assumption being that the current moment must be the most advanced, because the arts evolve in an unerring progression.

I've tried to explain that the arts are more like a mutation, and that seminal works emerge at different intervals regardless of what mesmerized the past, or will dazzle the future, by citing several well known examples (Citizen Kane, Dr. Zhivago, Casablanca, Dr. Strangelove), and arguing passionately to the viable contrary.

I've never gotten very far, but it's true if you can wrap your head around it, although it was much easier to access classic films in my youth (many are available on Itunes) at what were called "video stores", where you went to rent movies, some of them having better collections than others, many of them wiped out as Blockbuster rose.

It's even hard to come by a film from back in the day that disseminates age old wonder, for I'm sure you've watched some of the beloved films of your youth in recent years, and found them lacking in tantalizing appeal.

Or you've streamed films you missed way back to reimmerse yourself within an old school aesthetic, and found some of the exemplars lacking in eccentric magnetism, or at least not as spellbinding as you had hoped they would be.

Majo no takkyȗbin (Kiki's Delivery Service) resonates with that innocent yet risk-fuelled ageless atemporal fluidity you find in Dickens and Proust however, as the little witch Kiki (Minami Takayama) heads out on her own, to build a life abounding in unchecked novelty.

With her wise contradictory cat Jiji (Rei Sakuma), who supplies grumpy yet pertinent commentary.

It's like otherworldly cool and alternative pluck were joyously yet controversially distilled to craft a regenerative narrative elixir, as intergenerational as it is unique, as wondrous as it is compelling.

I'll have to see every film crafted by Ghibli Studios I'm afraid, and share observations from time to time.

I could have just as easily seen something else that night.

Good fortune when that kind of thing happens.

Jungle

Youthful exuberance, boldly challenging parts unknown, randomly embracing inquisitive camaraderie, a team assembled improvisationally adventuring, a lack of knowledge fuelling information hunger, a gluttonous immersion abstemiously characterized poetically generating conflicting points of view, holistic hostilities hierarchically hashed, minuscule manoeuvres incremental thresh, torn and frayed lost their way repartee coruscate, tenacious agility expressly trudging, environmental appreciation enlightening unawares, a man, a tool, moonlight gruel, irrepressible spirit, suddenly alone in the jungle.

Yossi Ghinsberg (Daniel Radcliffe) keeps going.

His pack breaks up and his partner disappears but he pushes onwards notwithstanding unforbidden, cavalier.

There's character, vision, perseverance, alarm.

Jungle interpersonally examines trial by audacity as 3 rugged romantics with sketch accompaniment dare endurance and improbability to vehemently and disdainfully scorn.

A true story which cruelly tests resiliency as dynamic friendships exhilarate, I was surprised that it captured my attention so completely even though it focused intently on only one character for so long.

When it seems as if the elements have pushed him far past loveable psychosis, the spiritual artistically intervenes, radiantly illuminated in emancipatory contrast.

Cool survival flick.

Weirdos

The striking underground comedic Canadian coming of age pseudo-road trip, nestled on cozy Cape Breton Island, with teenage conflicts to settle and communal sympathy to spare, a wide variety of soulful situations stitched together to explore desire, relationships, and family, as a young couple discuss the nature of their bond, both representatives confused and curious, as they head to a beach party revelling off the beaten track.

Weirdos focuses on identity inasmuch as it challenges gender based preconceptions.

Alice (Julia Sarah Stone) wants to be a police officer for instance and Kit (Dylan Authors) wants to move away from his father, who uses homophobic slurs.

They're not particularly weird though.

I didn't think they were that weird anyways.

Perhaps they were in 1973.

There was this dance I saw on Degrassi Junior High when I was a kid that presented a bunch of fellow youngsters from different backgrounds just having a good time dancing together.

It didn't seem weird.

In fact it seemed like a lot of fun.

I figured the title is more of a test, a challenge, do you actually think these characters are strange or are you missing the point if you can't see how normal they are?

If you ask me, there's really just being, living, wanting to do things and doing them.

If jerks won't let you try due to some shortsighted notion based upon a callous stereotype ignorantly generated by fear and hatred (how these rotten individuals are trying to make themselves seem like victims in the Trump era [as they recklessly bully]), screw 'em.

If you really want to do it, find another way, even if it can be incredibly difficult at times.

You may just find a lot of people believe in you.

Weirdos excels.

A light examination of difference that generates contentment and disappointment while gingerly transitioning from one scene to the next.

I didn't understand why Kit's mother (Molly Parker) received such harsh treatment though.

Artists criticizing artists for lacking social graces always confuses me.

She doesn't understand children well nor the impacts of the statements she makes.

But toss her into a mental hospital? Again?

Odd.

There's probably something I'm missing about the character, but I still wonder if the amount of money French cultures spend promoting the arts and artists is directly proportional to that which English cultures spend promoting pharmaceutical drugs and psychiatric hospitals.

I'd like to research that theory.

Going to see a French artist perform on French turf is quite remarkable. They have personality and they're there to entertainingly share that personality while performing to an audience who isn't only there to see them play music.

The audience wants to hear what the artist has to say.

When you hear French people discuss artists in conversation they do so with a degree of respect that I rarely note in conversations regarding the arts with English people.

Not all English people.

Obviously this isn't a critical reflection that exhaustively examines shortcomings etcetera, but these are features I've noticed about French culture in conversation.

A criticism of artists in English realms I've often heard is, "why did they talk so much between songs?"

I never understood that point.

Just experiential observations.

Things I've noticed.

Hunt for the Wilderpeople

A self-sacrificing angel emerges from the voluminous depths of contempt and disregard to unite two trouble making misfits in her overflowing celestial bounteous embrace.

Bucolic style.

Yet cruellest fate seismically disillusions their blossoming intimacy and the two are left unsheltered and forsaken as child services demands young Ricky's (Julian Dennison) return, and he would rather dwell in the forest than suffer neverending urban severance.

So to the forest they go, where Hec's (Sam Neill) scrappy knowledge cantankerously ensures they avoid capture, until what begins as a minor local disturbance becomes a nationwide media sensation, every detail wildly blown out of proportion, unknown contingencies, flexibly furbishing controversy.

Endured.

Respiration.

With neither plans nor provisions they prosper in plight.

Tangential tandem.

The film's hilarious.

Taika Waitit's Hunt for the Wilderpeople slowly and patiently ruffles fecund empiric feathers, the kind of film which might have flounced in less capable hands, but, rather, continuously stylizes lighthearted yet hard-hitting situations which leave you eagerly anticipating the next fundamental improbability, interest compactly impacting, like a tumbledown tapestry with auriferous attitude.

Two people who can't fit in anywhere are hunted down like British fox as they begin to forge a friendship which the Man instinctively seeks to tear asunder, the irony a profound critique of the system hoping to otherwise civilize them.

The soundtrack backs this up.

Some cool Terminator references.

A film the whole family can watch, even family members who dislike watching films the whole family can watch.

Lol!

Music by Lukasz Pawel Buda, Samuel Scott, and Conrad Wedde.

Evidently.

The Man Who Knew Infinity

Transcendently calculating with pure artistic spirituality, rarefied inspiration, crystalline caricatures, an East Indian genius leaves loved ones behind to study mathematics abroad, challenging racial and cultural stereotypes to do so, undeniably unique and innocent, picturesque prognostic in plume.

A gift beyond reason, like Proust, Shakespeare, Dickens or Joyce, he miraculously finds a patron at Trinity College, who sets out to formalize his spry romantic methods.

Malheureusement, academic rigour has its own contentions, and G.H. Hardy (Jeremy Irons) and his jealous colleagues initially distrust/dismiss Srinivasa Ramanujan's (Dev Patel) revelations.

Obsessions with the genuine.

Could he be the one?

There is no one, but mathematical proof is required (Ramanujan writes mathematical formulas at the highest level like squirrels climb trees or cheetahs swiftly accelerate), but would Srinivasa have written more profusely had Hardy sat back to obtain those proofs himself, giving his correspondent more freedom to think, thereby preventing the sterilization of genius?

Training Ramanujan to become an academic would have transformed him from dust devil to tornado, but in terms of both knowledge and refined intuitive creativity, it may have been better to leave him be, with a stipend, to maximize his unaccounted for mystifications.

These thoughts loosely reflect conversations held between Hardy and Prof. Littlewood (Toby Jones) as The Man Who Knew Infinity examines detections of the exceptional.

I thought it was a great film, comfortably blending brilliance and banality with modest poise and tenacious dignity.

Even at that level, amongst what Bowie called the elite and first, racist attitudes still obscure understandings, enviously orchestrating a fermented xenophobic squelch, as opposed to idealizing grand authentic freedom. 

Curious this 1729.

A modest proposal?

*Saw Alfred everywhere in this film.

Sleeping Giant

Rest and relaxation, worry free contemplation blended with spirited solace and imaginary blunders, tranquility, wandering here and there to curiously explore, observing this, defining that, revelry and romance serendipitously replenishing, merrymaking mischief immersed in mirth and candour, spontaneous wit and jocose gentility, a Summer celebrated in the woods at bay, fellowships fermenting, in rowdy eccentric arbor.

I wish it could have been like that throughout Andrew Cividino's Sleeping Giant, just scene after scene of amazed revelation accompanied by stunning imagery and various fauna, a study of freewill rambunctiously investigating its surroundings, but I suppose films often have points, points to make, and conflicts, morals, tragedies, resolutions.

They're prominent features of story telling ;).

Sleeping Giant examines three young adult friends with nothing to do all Summer but soak up the rays.

Adam Hudson (Jackson Martin) is intelligent and shy, less interested in fighting, theft, booze, and drugs, but willing to go along for the ride.

Riley (Reece Moffett) is confident and direct, easy to get along with, chill, cool, breezy.

Nate (Nick Serino [Serino's like a younger Brad Dourif]) is a jealous vindictive punk who compensates for his lack of booksmarts with abrasively striking observations.

He finds out that Adam's father (David Disher as William Hudson) cheated on his wife (Lorraine Philp as Linda Hudson) after hours which frustrates things as their friendship slowly breaks down, sort of like 1er amour but Mrs. Hudson never finds out.

Adam's family is groovier than Riley and Nate's.

Riley don't care but Nate takes exception.

The narrative boils down to extroverted boorishness interacting with introverted contemplation, Riley caught between Adam and Nate as the latter becomes increasingly hostile.

Since Adam gets along well with Riley but poorly with Nate, Sleeping Giant isn't necessarily narratively characterizing demographic stereotypes, although Nate does wind up dead in the end, perhaps suggesting that when envious aggressive not-so-smart blowhards try to take control the results can be disastrous, and insects are featured throughout, one burned alive.

Did Cividino love Joe's So Mean to Josephine in his youth?

I was super impressed with the film regardless. Cividino's not as wild as Xavier Dolan but his thoughtful illustrations and gentle delineations reminded me of his films, environmental encapsulations, im/permanence in jest.

Forested.

Didn't like seeing the insect burned alive though.

I think I should have been a buddhist.

Enchanting woe.

Extracurricular.

Cinematography by James Klopko.