Un homme à la hauteur (Up for Love)

Instantaneous infatuation, irreducible desire, a cell phone forgotten, a cell phone returned, diminutive size coaxing plaudits and spurns, but this little man has true rapture at stake, and callous dismissals don't exacerbate, her love lies a pleading in tense social fashions, observations of others conscripting her passions, but perhaps love indeed will outwit prejudice, and two trusty love birds will clashin' outfit.

Marrow.

Bequeathed in leisure roam.

Lol!

An architectural man with a soul enriched by secular seraphim courts an ethereal beauty while redesigning an opera house.

She's enamoured but his size leads others to stultify their secretions.

Caught between thriving abundance and lowly bigotry, Diane Duchȇne (Virginie Efira) must decide where she stands.

 Alexandre (Jean Dujardin) has been there before and knows all to well the follies of love pending.

Not this time?

Laurent Tirard's Un homme à la hauteur (Up for Love) examines the best and worst of the social to serendipitously purolate illustrations of fettered romance.

As a thoughtful reflection on love flourishing as it's surrounded by stupidity, Un homme à la hauteur works, but the mechanics, the scenes and sequences required to sturdily uphold its positive vision, lack stamina, and at times the film seems like it's more concerned with awkwardly depicting Alexandre as a little person than crafting long lasting memorable situations.

Well, I am remembering a lot of the film right now, but because it's cheesy, not striking.

I suppose its blend of the superlative and the shallow claustrophobically stifles as it seeks to astoundingly uplift.

Some people are like that though, it doesn't shy away from enervating realities, but if Diane had dealt with these realities with more strength Clos la Coutale they would have been less enervating themselves.

Although the transformative aspect might have been lost as well, along with its corresponding polished grit/redemption (better to have a character succumb them overcome or simply strum?).

Aegis reciprocated mellotron.

So so.

The Neon Demon

Authentic unawareness, a genuine ingenue, immediacy pressurizing the social with vindictive amorous jealousies she neither comprehends nor contemplates, august angelic agency, harpies heaven sent, an agonizing struggle having hawkishly conditioned their credence, as innocence mingles with disillusion, naivety nascently nocturnalized.

A young model whose natural beauty crushes her competitors suddenly reaches the heights they seek, forever and ever, without even having coquettishly furrowed, finding herself virulently enveloped in invariable viscosity shortly thereafter.

Unapologetically resigned.

To psychotic desire.

The Neon Demon starkly examines discourses of purity with venomous brevity and blunt exactitude.

Mortality.

Ostentation.

The hypnotic hallucinations impress as does the soundtrack and the scenes at the hotel (music by Cliff Martinez).

Director Nicolas Winding Refn pays homage to Stanley Kubrick and David Lynch and at times seems as if he may possess a similar sense of maniacal eccentricity.

The Neon Demon's hit and miss though, some scenes pulling you into a dark carnal frothing extremity which skilfully blends the opulent and the oblivious, others just sort of hangin' out and dipsy-doodling like those you often find in generic horror.

Perhaps this approach is meant to reflect young Jesse's (Elle Fanning) shock, the uplifting yet haunting psychosocial affects of elegant effortless ascendence.

A larger budget may answer this question, one which gives Refn more time to cohesively structure a sustained chaotic incrimination, a more visceral sense of bleak wanton menace, like that which you often find in both Kubrick and Lynch's darker texts.

Wave upon wave.

Liked Jena Malone's (Ruby) performance.

Jubilance.

Finsterworld

Emerging from a state of nature to historically contextualize the present, eccentricity multifariously contesting its conditions, authenticity, percolating its plight, poetic instances of curious introspective creativity contentiously enraging the callous, cruelty and innocence sociopathically and lovingly coexisting, tricks, cancellations, balanced asymmetrical genders, beetles and dress-ups and birds, the conformist's intention to ignore, in Frauke Finsterwalder's Finsterworld, a dynamic open-ended multigenerational cross-section, microscopically invested, with macroscopic instigations.

Interpretively dependent.

Spoiler alert.

World War II's legacy haunts the film and difference, while uplifting it to an aesthetic celestial syntax, in various ways, is often contemptuously reprimanded.

The ethnic school teacher who takes his students on a trip to a concentration camp, focussing on its abhorrence, ends up in jail after rescuing a student who's been brutally pranked, giving in to his perverted instincts in the process.

The African character found in the film's final moments is listless and primitive, as seen when a documentary filmmaker ironically visits Africa in search of the authentic, ironic because her visit's based on the recommendation of her policeperson partner, whom she rejects after he reveals he's a genuine furry.

The other german men who salute difference include a pedicurist who takes the dead skin from his clients and then bakes it into cookies which he eventually serves to them as a treat. When one client admits her love for him, he reveals his secret, which is naturally met with ghastliness, although they do end up together.

A school boy who poetically and comically talks to beetles and puppets made out of his hand, reminiscent of Thomas Törless, is assaulted by a wealthy SUV renting tough guy, after possibly viewing his wife relieving herself at the side of the road. The three become quite friendly, when the man who lives in the woods and has just had his dwelling vandalized and bird friend killed starts firing shots from a bridge at the passing traffic, one of them fatally wounding the boy; as if to say that this young Törless's future would unfortunately resemble that of the humble forest dweller, who has therefore spared him a life of loneliness.

The death and incarceration of these two characters (the forest dweller ends up in jail), as well as the rejection of the furry, are perhaps vindicated by the pedicurist's romance, as an elderly german matron embraces difference, perhaps paving the way for a more inclusive cultural frame.

Perhaps Germany is quite inclusive at the moment, I'm just interpreting the evidence provided by this film.

The younger generation's sociopathic rep who doesn't want to accept World War II's legacy and doesn't speak up to save the ethnic school teacher, even though he was the prankster in question, while torturing his helpless victim further in the aftermath by insulting her intelligence, casts doubt on this possibility.

Which makes for a well-rounded albeit bleak conclusion.

To a depressingly thoughtful and brilliant reflexivity.

Outstandingly controversial film.

Bonsái

A bond, an extended period of growth, a felicitous fortuitous frequency, historically resonating.

Julio (Diego Noguera) accidentally finds love in Christián Jiménez's Bonsái and its particularized peculiar panoramic proclivities produce a prepositional poignancy.

Subjective logical adaptations to seemingly immutable biological fascinations harness the everlasting.

The simulation of a tangible incorporeality as well as the fabrication of the authentic necessitate themselves when related artistic proliferations are suddenly materialized, due to the verisimilitude encapsulating a missed opportunity.

Beginnings and canonical literary liaisons foundationally reappear.

Melancholic longing permeates each aspect as Julio's amorous recapitulations attempt to revitalize a long lost cohesive fragility.

Or the reification of a dream.

Didn't even know In Search of Lost Time played a role in this film prior to choosing to see it.