Oppenheimer

Nuclear weapons are a horrible thing.

They're easily the most reckless anything anyone has ever created, and it's an international miracle the secrets of their creation have been kept under lock and key to this present day.

For a while it seemed like their manufacture would become a thing of the past, as Russia and the United States struck accord after accord, and seemed ready to cultivate lasting peace throughout a united interactive world, wherein which difference wasn't something to be feared, and absolutes were nothing more than sewage.

But this historical epoch is partially defining itself in opposition to the last 30 years, as Trump has arisen to challenge them, so instead of a brilliant film like Planet of the Apes (1968), which effectively obliterated arguments in their defence, we have Christopher Nolan's Oppenheimer, which revels and glorifies in their creation, overlooking the ill-fated Planet of the Apes sequel, Beneath the Planet of the Apes. 

Paying disingenuous lip service to the ways in which madmen can use them to coordinate mass destruction on a planetary scale, it instead introduces several powerful independent scientists, and examines various controversies as they jockey for position.

Thus, two prominent individuals see their reputations slowly ruined as the film bureaucratically concerns itself with bilateral character assassination, without really generating much character along the way, besides that associated with blind innocence and petty grievances. 

It's more like an academic paper with no sense of objectivity than a convincing film.

Prometheus taught the people to make fire so they could cook their own food and have warmth and entertainment.

Anyone who would have denied them such knowledge is certainly not worthy of divinity. 

Oppenheimer coordinated a team that built a nuclear weapon with the power to kill hundreds of thousands that select military officials can use hopefully only as a deterrent. 

Do you see how Prometheus is not like Oppenheimer? How the comparison is ridiculous?

It does seem more and more like Christopher Nolan is the military industrial complex's darling, as they note in Barbie, the patriarchy just hides its hegemony more effectively these days, and whereas Oliver Stone actually made an incredible film looking at the ways in which JFK's murder was covered up, Nolan's Oppenheimer creates a Republican rib roast to be saluted for years to come, while presumably catering to democratic sympathies (JFK didn't win best picture when it should have [Oliver Stone also made a film that lauded Edward Snowden, it didn't make the case for the mass institutional invasion of privacy through cellphones like Nolan did at the end of The Dark Knight]).

I used to have a friend who was nice to talk to but sometimes didn't take her meds, and thought she heard voices in the walls of people discussing this and that.

I tried to ease her mind when these thoughts would overwhelm her late at night, and even though nothing could convince her that the voices weren't real, the conversation helped lighten the anxious mood.

In turn, it was nice to have someone to talk to, to know someone who didn't quickly change their tune, to have a sympathetic yet mischievous outlook to clarify trajectories and nothing in particular.

She tolerated my French too and even taught me a couple of words. 

I like being nobody in Québec.

And I'll always love working and living there. 

The Prestige

Professional rivalry, two up and coming magicians, each determined to present the most striking spectacle, imaginable, yet one is careless, and the other's cherished love interest passes, things taking a vicious turn in the aftermath, as they both refuse to back down.

One believes in dangerous risk taking while the other is more reserved, although the intensity of their grim competition provokes grand transformations forthcoming.

One visits the coveted Tesla (David Bowie) at his residence in the wilds of Colorado, and requests the creation of a machine that can transport matter from one location to another.

He believes such a sensation has already been acquired by his adversary, and spends a fortune to flagrantly duel, his nemesis not in possession of exhaustive funds, yet more innovative counterintuitively speaking.

I've never understood compulsive obsession and the personal desire to win at all costs. Sportspersonship is too valuable a concept to be obscured by personal ambition.

It's preferable to lose having played by the rules than to succeed through nefarious means, as long as you give your best effort and suppress destructive envious tendencies.

I pay too much attention to sports to proceed otherwise, not that I'm by any means a great athlete, but so many great athletes compete year after year without ever winning anything.

This doesn't prevent them from competing or trying to win one more time, they're great role models for the active spirit who never grows weary of enriching fair play.

Alfred Borden (Christian Bale) and Robert Angier (Hugh Jackman) take things to levels I can't comprehend, to resort to sabotage or deliberate vengeance insults the art they're skilfully crafting.

I thought the arts would be much more friendly in my youth since so many of the artistic people I knew were often kind, the realities of the art world somewhat disconcerting as people critically jockey for position.

I suppose there are fewer opportunities to succeed as an artist than there are for sporty peeps, and the lack of engaging opportunity drives ambition to psychotic levels.

But it seems better to chill on the fringe than embrace destructive psychologies.

If you want the world to be a better place and you adopt ruthless means how will anything ever change?

Beyond what's written.

More respect for aging artists in the Anglo-American sphere may lead to less intense conflict, I'm by no means an expert on French culture, but it's clear they hold the arts in much higher esteem.

In general, not in relation to me, French culture seems to cultivate a much more level playing field for the arts and sports, which could explain why they're so successful at both, why they keep generating such incredible outputs.

The Prestige is an excellent film that showcases unsettling realities. 

There's so little to soulfully gain.

Through bland underhanded corruption. 

Dunkirk

Hedged-in and horrorstruck, 400,000 soldiers await evacuation from France to Britain.

The blitzkrieg having overwhelmed brave defences, sanctuary upon the continent is rapidly diminishing.

Those who avoided capture or weren't stuck fighting against maniacal odds, found themselves awaiting a rescue that was itself fraught with peril.

On a lonely beach in Dunkirk.

Nazi aircraft bombing them from the skies while u-boats viciously lurked beneath open waters, hope nevertheless still reigned, as the absurdity of their position encouraged resilient pluck.

And so a fleet of civilian boats left Britain's shores to dare save them.

In possession of nothing less than the will to endure that drives so many, they immediately dropped everything to boldly challenge Hitler's despotic ambition.

With resounding allied success.

Christopher Nolan's Dunkirk viscerally threads the line between despondency and fortitude as impossibility is flipped the bird by land, water, and sky.

Heroic acts undertaken by those calmly balancing risk with resolve, Nolan's script modestly yet courageously envisions the potent danger.

A well-edited film (Lee Smith) which patiently blends the restrained passions of men statically suturing on the ground, with those defending them above and approaching by sea, the staggering unnerving losses counterbalanced by fortifying victories, aeronautic adrenaline, nautical initiative, Dunkirk celebrates as it suffers, with unified tripartite tenacity, presenting inherent atrocities without sensationalizing the violence, crisp resolute solemnity as opposed to sadistic sanctimony, steady as she goes, into the great beyond.

The numbers don't add up but its genuine character far outweighs what visual enhancements would have offered.

The real crafted realistically.

It never ages.

Interstellar

Times have changed, and centuries of polluting irresponsibly and unaccountably have left the Earth's soil predominantly barren, unsupportive and lifeless, the survivors carrying on, old pastimes still cherished, historical insights curiously revisited, a voice from the future, codes risen in dust, a father's love for his family, paramount, indeed to be sacrificed.

The big picture.

To do it all again, or make alternative choices.

A mission which cannot be refused.

There's no time to panic, no time, to hesitate.

It doesn't use scare tactics, Interstellar's quite reasonable, scientific.

There are options, pros and cons, we must do this, and hope there's enough time to find a solution.

Elements of the classic Western are reliably built into the script like quiescent caregiving sweet nothings, or an afterthought, a reflex, a calm level-headed proactive reflex, hindsight's compendium, temperately transitioning to science-fiction, its environments still cruel and unforgiving, and wild, with neither monsters nor civilizations, just will power and the unknown, assignments boldly navigated.

Survival.

Some wild cards are thrown into the mix which rely more heavily on the tropes of science fiction, an intergalactic clue, an explosion of self-interest, but they're skilfully intertwined, Interstellar quietly ascending in investigative baby steps, from the micro to the macro, mellowly maturing, to blow you away in the end.

I preferred Inception, and Inception's ending, but the same mix of cognitive entertaining emotive rationality still humanizes Interstellar, and its climax is as strong if not stronger, depending on which film you prefer.

Nolan suddenly creates a bucolic, like Birdman's bucolic foil, after having spent so much time in dreams and Gotham City, outstanding career move, this director is multidimensional.

It's worked into the script.

The Dark Knight Rises

Not feelin' it for The Dark Knight Rises.

Don't get me wrong, the rapid pace and intelligent script make for an entertaining thought-provoking film, packed tight with a judicial balance of solid and cheesy lines/imagery/situations, set within an armageddonesque scenario which exemplifies the apotheosis of campy mainstream political drama basking in subtly sensational ludicrousy.

Note that it's just a movie.

Within however, the villain Bane (Roger Hardy), who works in the sewers and is backed by some of Bruce Wayne's (Christian Bale) excessively wealthy competitors, has been using construction workers and freelance thieves to launch a strategic attack which will incarcerate Gotham City's entire police force, set up a kangaroo court to 'judge' the wealthy, get his hands on a source of limitless energy that can be turned into a catastrophically destructive weapon, the whole time acting like a person of the people.

It's a bit much.

And the ways in which construction unions are depicted is frustrating.

Of course it's just a movie, within which Bane is a fanatical lunatic who employs absurd methods to achieve insane objectives.

I mean, what person of the people would destroy a football stadium?

But making him a 'person of the people' does cunningly vilify genuine persons of the people like Franklin D. Roosevelt (who still had to operate in a political dynamic which encountered expedient matters I'm assuming) which is problematic.

He is financed by the excessively wealthy, as mentioned earlier, which logically states that plutocrats are theoretically capable of using popular tropes to achieve despotic ends, thereby making Bane's adoption of the label 'person of the people' all the more problematic.

But this doesn't mean individuals who come from privileged backgrounds don't care about structural issues relating to poverty, individuals such as Jack Layton, and want to try to do something about them using legitimate political methods (pointing out a social democrat's rich upbringing is a divisive tactic used by the right to discredit them, from what I can tell anyway).

Having a source of limitless environmentally friendly power that can be turned into a weapon of mass destruction is also problematic, inasmuch as it indirectly vilifies alternative energy sources while propping up the nuclear/petroleum-based-product status quo.

Obviously, when your economy is seriously dependent on this status quo (see The End of Suburbia, 2004) and the ways in which its revenues fuel social programs, you can't simply change everything overnight without causing mass unemployment (perhaps I'm wrong here, I don't know, but it seems to me that if your economy is functioning with a significant deficit, large scale structural changes to its infrastructure will be disastrous unless they can definitively generate mass profits in the aftermath [which is a pretty big risk to take if you're not flush with cash]).

But at the same time, not trying to find environmentally friendly alternatives to the petroleum/nuclear power base that can't be turned into WMDs or be inexpensively integrated into the grid is equally disastrous (I suppose while searching for such power sources it's important to hire people to continuously monitor whether or not their construction can lead to the creation of WMDs [obviously enough {perhaps this isn't so obvious: it took a very long time to cap the BP oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico in 2010 because they weren't prepared}]).

People often call me naive, but, whatever: "It was all the more [troublesome] because by nature I have always been more open to the world of potentiality than to the world of contingent reality"(Marcel Proust, In Search of Lost Time, vol. 5 [I don't think I'm like Proust, I just love reading In Search of Lost Time]).

Hence, as an escape, I did enjoy The Dark Knight Rises, but I can't support some of its structural issues inasmuch as, according to this viewing, they aren't very progressive.

There is the issue of Selina (Anne Hathaway) however who is trying to change her life around but can't due to the ways in which her criminal record prevents her from finding employment.

Just my thoughts on the subject.

Take 'em or leave 'em.

Inception

Dreamscapes contain valuable corporate secrets. Hidden within the depths of one's psyche lie descriptive vaults and tumultuous treasures which competitors ruthlessly seek to discover. In Christopher Nolan's Inception, Leonardo DiCaprio (Cobb) and a team of elite surrealists are experts in the art of extraction, an architecturo-scientific technique which enables thieves to enter the dreams of their quarry and learn volatile and valuable information. Basically, chords, chemicals, and a mysterious brief case allow a group of individuals to share a dream. The dream's form is designed by Cobb's architect while its content is filled with the victim's experiences. After the individual bearing the sought after information falls into a drug induced sleep, everyone else joins his or her dream, doing their best to avoid being detected by her or his subconscious (many persons in prestigious positions have trained their subconscious to recognize extractors and fight back). Extraction's opposite is known as inception, the placing of an alien idea into someone's subconscious so that it appears as if it was self-generated. Inception is thought to be impossible, but when a Japanese businessperson (Ken Watanabe as Saito) intent on breaking up a global monopoly offers Cobb the chance to be forgiven for his American crimes and return home to see his family, he accepts, and begins placing the necessary mechanisms in order (the individual is granted the opportunity to rejoin his community if he can effectively shatter a universal).

Problems: while dreaming, Cobb's diseased ex-wife Mal (Marion Cotillard) consistently appears, takes sides with the victim's subconscious, and attempts to thwart his efforts. Usually when you die within a dream you wake up, but the drug used during inception operations is so potent that if your life ends while dreaming you are cast into limbo, and you may stay there for decades while only minutes pass in the real world. In order for inception to work, you need to suggest the idea to your prey at three different levels. Hence, in the real world you are sleeping. In the first stage of the dream world you wake up, find the individual to whom you are attached, make the requisite suggestion, and are then forced to enter a deeper level of dreaming in order to make the suggestion again. While in this secondary level, one member of your team must remain in the first level and prevent the primary dreamer's subconscious from ending your mission. The process repeats itself until you reach the third level at which point it is thought that the idea has been planted with enough cohesiveness to undoubtably produce results in the real world. Hence, you need to be able to militaristically maneuver within a tailored dreamscape wherein you must also execute a precise plan requiring the coordinated efforts of at most four groups of resolute individuals. The defences against which you contend are determined and hostile and the environment in which you are situated is an organized chaotic psychological cataclysm.

Inception's subject matter is deep and skillfully crafted. The execution of the plot contains several well-timed peaks and valleys which dextrously establish an energetic if not schizophrenic ambience. It's definitely dense. A significant portion of the film unreels like a slick lecture but some of the principle points could have still used some more elaboration (why do the different layers of the dreaming have distinct temporal coordinates for instance [it would have been outrageously cool if Neil Gaiman's Dream had somehow explained this!]) . Nevertheless, it's pretty stunning visually and demanding intellectually, not only in regards to the narrative's hefty overt dimension, but also in relation to its tantalizing and ambiguous ending (stop reading if you haven't seen it), which suggests that the entire film was simply Cobb's dream, and would explain why he's the only character whose personal experience is manifested while inhabiting 'someone else's.' To create a work that has at least two layers of critically motivational depth in an exciting fashion that directly deals with issues of individuality, corporate politics, marriage, family, scientific exploration, globalization, and so on, while indirectly interrogating any pedagogical institution (for me the film's dreamworld is that of an educational structure's relationship to a political agenda and the difficulties of ever successfully planting a dominant idea in the minds of its rebellious students [one level elementary, then secondary, then post-secondary]) is exceptional, and Inception is the best Sci-Fi Thriller I've seen in a long time. A shape-shifting analytical delineation of the synthetic, Inception multidimensionally interrogates what it means to dream, while efficiently disseminating its controversial characteristics.

Very real.