City of Hope

It's difficult to rationally consider the various levels of corruption guiding commerce and politics, as proactively delineated by so many commentators throughout the observant course of a vigilant day.

In a two to three/four/five/six party political system the argumentative opponents spend so much time accusing their rivals of corruption, at times the party that seems the lease corrupt emerging victorious how do you lead such a populace retroactively?

In Claudius the God the Emperor Claudius runs into sincere difficulties, not because his colleagues are particularly corrupt but because he is rather just and innocent.

Having spent most of his life observing the government in fluidic motion, even though he had always been judged too dim-witted to actively take part, he survived plot after plot after plot through reasonable supposition and a complete lack of envy.

But his goal was to do away with Emperors and re-establish what was known as the Republic, a form of government less reliant on absolutism and much more democratic and fair and reasonable.

Nevertheless, since, as Emperor, he governs as honestly as he can and indeed turns out to be a trustworthy administrator, the people stop loathing the idea of Emperors as they had under Tiberius and Caligula, and stop imagining a return of the Republic.

To remind them of their folly he hatches one of his most poorly thought out schemes.

The Republic doesn't return.

And his son is murdered.

But films aren't as detailed as books or mini-series, it's difficult to convincingly relate stories of political corruption in less than 3 hours, there are so many personalities from different walks of life to be provocatively considered as the narrative progresses.

Love and family will likely even factor into the manifold intricacies as they passionately fluctuate, but who falls in love and what consequent jealousies effectively motivate resulting dire complications?

It's too much for a lot of filmmakers but always respected if bravely undertaken, John Sayles succeeding with City of Hope more than most as the multivariable tale examines multi-layered corruption.

Multiple storylines complement within as sundry characters seek balance and decorum, or just ride the chaotic whirlwind with as much distinction as they can freely muster.

The image for the inherent madness materially erupting as people search for meaning, is distressingly manifested by a local schizophrenic after a powerful contractor's son is shot by his new girlfriend's jealous cop ex-husband, and he calls out into the street for help, and no one else is listening.

The disturbed man returns his plea with sympathetic non-sensical enigmatic cries.

Not the most constructive image to end on.

But one that does make sense a lot of the time.

The Locksmith

The paramount temptation to freely secure fast endurable easy money, fuelling stock exotic daydreams universally across the land.

So many things to buy so many dreams so many relentless advertisements, the tantalizing independence driving meticulous freeform stacked endeavours.

We learned about advertising in school and through communal discussions way back when, and it seemed like its inherent trickery was generally acknowledged by the critical populace.

And that knowledge was leading to prudent decision making or less rash impulsive purchases, as illuminating logic cut through the uproar and exposed the dispossessing illusion.

It does seem puzzling nevertheless that ads seem to hold more sway now than ever, that even with so much education the fascinating allure can't be seen through.

Therefore, is it education's responsibility to provide a more compelling entertaining alternative, that offers a more appealing cultural collective thoroughly enhanced by constructive minds?

Entertainment has indeed been highly sought after throughout the multifarious ages, whether through discus or sculpture or car racing people have striven to find distraction.

But do they find distraction within the established narratives spearheading impossibility, or within well-reasoned objective impeti cleverly crafted through a sense of fair play?

Rationality can broker enlightenment should cynicism or sarcasm be put down, and a bonafide chill embrace of equality effectively resonate within a community.

But does rationality create more jobs and lead to a more productive impacting workforce, or is it indubitably ludicrous sweet nothings that efficiently devise economic stratagems? 

The uncertain need for ridiculous knick-knacks ephemerally available to be freely disposed of, seems rather insufficient considering, but are they more appealing to the austere alternative?

Perhaps an inquiry should be led to decide the question for ever after, does the cultivation of spontaneous shenanigans outweigh judicious practical life?

Don't countries wherein which life is much more practical and strictly governed, with less nonsense and much more reasonability, have less robust economies?

Is it possible to stop global heating while engaging in carefree initiatives?

Questions for a later hour.

Such a shame to be so serious.

*batteries not included

An agéd neighbourhood awkwardly scheduled for demolition posthaste, refuses to abandon one old school apartment and its rambunctious first floor diner.

The tenants see the surrounding wastes yet are unaffected by the deluge, continuing to live as they always have as if nothing has morphed, mutated.

The construction crew has to wait for the go ahead to destructively proceed, so they enjoy tasty heartfelt meals while negotiations wholeheartedly stall.

Unimaginative no-good-nics have been rashly trusted to encourage vacancies, but some people have lived there most of their lives and simply will not swiftly leave.

The rapscallions make things difficult and ruffle riled feathers with ill-gotten-ambition, while an elderly couple cooks crabs and captivates, and a nimble lass befriends an artist.

And just as the pressure seems too much and that their way of life may soon rapidly fade, mechanistic visitors from far off in space suddenly appear to set about fixing things.

Somewhat like Transformers inasmuch as they represent metallic life, they're also somewhat more adorable, and capable of reproducing.

I'm still not sure if enough research has been done to validate the benefits of artificial intelligence, if automatons are built by humans to act like humans is there not the potential for holistic disaster?

Data is generally calm and ubiquitously useful on STNG, but there are episodes when he malfunctions and almost kills the entire crew.

The reasons for his malfunctions are justified, it's like he was suddenly programmed to megalomaniac, but when he's sick the results are horrendous as opposed to the adorable cough of a feverish puppy.

If only I could trust humanoid leadership which seemed much more reliable from 1980 to 2015, but with the rise of Putin it irrefutably seems like imperialistic despots cannot be eradicated. 

The majority of the world may seek the safe integration of benevolent artificial life, but all it takes is one crazy person to hire someone with the knowhow to create fierce warlike robots.

Will the first person to possess the knowledge turn down trillions and keep it to him or herself?

I suppose there are many countries without nuclear weapons.

But forever is a very long time.

Sword of the Beast

During a period of volatile change, many samurai seek reform, to promote egalitarian civility and democratic justice, or clans less prone to autocratic caprice.

Yuuki Gennosuke (Mikijirô Hira) thinks his actions will lead to the cultivation of fairness throughout his clan, but after he disposes of its counsellor with his associates, the ambitious incumbent seeks their ruin.

The incumbent had convinced them to do it with promises of wealth and social prestige, Yuuki indubitably furious as he blindly flees to live as a fugitive in the fertile countryside.

He's zealously pursued by the ex-counsellor's daughter and many of the personnel he once considered friends, labelled an outcast bereft of sanctuary he's consistently betrayed everywhere he goes.

But he does find one independent man amusingly hoping to steal gold from a nearby mountain, in search of stalwart protection as he pans, Gennosuke can't deny it's a good place to lie low.

But another samurai has the same idea and already resides on the auriferous slopes, his wife assisting his painstaking efforts as they covet the haughty forbidden.

They've accumulated a vast sum but if they're suddenly caught they'll swiftly lose everything.

Will the two rogue samurai bond?

Before succumbing to age old destiny?

Hideo Gosha's Sword of the Beast illuminates chaos to deconstruct logic, as courageous honourable spirits innocently contend with mature corruption. 

The sundry enticing twists and turns cacophonously layered with magnetic disillusion, keep the frenzied imbroglio basting with aggrieved vehemence and eternal reckoning.

Not without a comic edge, its youthful characters at times light of heart, even while relentlessly pursued they still find time for love and play.

I imagine they mischievously reflect the carefree confidence of the young adult warrior, never fearing death or injury and ready to fight at any given moment.

Gosha gives these daring samurai manifold opportunities to prove their valour, in a celebration of just independence bravely challenging engrained malfeasance. 

With so-much death-defying animation it's impossible to tear yourself away.

Aligned with intricate ethical dilemmas. 

Who is the beast indeed?

Elliot the Littlest Reindeer

After Blitzen relocates to Jamaica, Santa (George Buza) needs to find a new reindeer, the resulting tryouts to be held posthaste, with many contenders from across the globe.

A feisty horse, who considers the matter imaginatively, thinks he's well-suited for the position (Josh Hutcherson as Elliot), and stows away upon his owner's (Rob Tinkler as Walter) airborne ride, hoping to sneak his way into the competition. 

His owner's facing tough times and may have to sell off his beloved animals, but little does he unsuspectingly know, the potential buyer (Martin Short as Ms. Ludzinka [and Lemondrop and Blitzen]) wishes them harm.

Things are lively at the distant North Pole as the reindeer gather to formidably articulate, old school rivalries and current disputes freeflowingly spiced with a dash of merriment.

Elliot's offbeat goat friend (Samantha Bee as Hazel) works her magic to see he's admitted, his training having roughly prepared him, for the fortuitous aerodyne heights.

But something's not quite right with the haughty general proceedings, as nimble Hazel accidentally detects, she sees extra cookies being given to DJ (Christopher Jacot) (the cookies give animals the power of flight), just before the first aeronautic stage.

After the resulting mayhem, which sees Santa cancel the events, she teams up with a clever journalist (Morena Baccarin as Corkie), to find the source of the flighty contraband. 

A haunting trajectory of historical intrigue clad in deception harrowingly awaits them.

As their human/animal alliance.

Sees the harmonious convergence of species.

Elliot the Littlest Reindeer traditionally celebrates unorthodox thinking, as 'lil Elliot asserts his independence in the hopes of joining Santa's team.

But many other staple traditions are creatively reconceptualized throughout, as Santa's workshop and associated legends take on the vice of the world at large.

Accordingly, Santa isn't lighthearted and jolly but instead rather stern and imposing, as he objectively oversees operations, in order to facilitate Christmas.

The reindeer are generally critiqued for being self-obsessed and somewhat dismissive, as opposed to simply dutifully managing the smooth flow of Santa's sleigh.

And the elves don't only make toys, and don't just work in a merrymaking shop, indeed discipline and order and inviolable hierarchy are much more prominent than Christmas cookies.

It's a solid alternative Christmas film that breaks new ground with festive flair (I'll likely watch this one again).

Even if I prefer a jolly Santa.

And elves encouraging laugh and play.

*With John Cleese (Donner).

Rosewood

An affluent stranger arrives in town perhaps intent on settling (Ving Rhames as Mann), a veteran of World War I who's fed up with violent chaos.

He proceeds with reservation meeting many people without saying much, his experience far too disconcerting to suddenly chill unbound and trusting.

In a neighbouring laidback town two lovers meet for an assignation, the aftermath extremely cold as toxic masculinity furiously erupts. 

Her face is bruised and battered and can't be hidden from her timid husband, so she runs out into the quiet streets to proclaim she's been assaulted by an African American.

Her white assailant visits a local black homestead in case hounds are roused to follow him, as her story enflames racist tensions and a mob gathers seeking vengeance. 

The residents of the African American town misjudge the situation, since they've lived there in prosperous peace for amicable generations.

The stranger quickly departs but bigots head out in hot pursuit, while the mob descends with unleashed fury and women and children flee to surrounding swamps.

He returns to assist and guide but it's too late for the honest town.

But a local shopkeep keeps his head.

And brings an engine round.

Many of the women and children escape but the cultural damage is done, no reparations or retribution for the innocent victims of terror.

According to Posse and 19th century chronicles this was by no means an isolated incident, as hard fought freedoms were vigorously asserted within a climate of grand dismissal.

It's beyond depressing to sadly think about how racist pretensions never faded, or how over a hundred years after the American Civil War they still persist with blunt derision.

Aren't the regions where they still culturally persist still economically disadvantaged, with overflowing prisons and lacklustre public institutions and the majority of the wealth possessed by an elite few (see The Spirit Level: Why Equality is Better for Everyone as I've mentioned before)?

Rosewood highlights the insanity associated with passionate hatreds, the lack of rational thought applied when zealous fervour actively pontificates.

Seeing disproven conspiracy theories proliferate in the current bizarro reckless public sphere, people drinking bleach and attacking pizza parlours, is disheartening to say the least.

When I was younger there was a much stronger emphasis on fact based evidence and journalistic integrity.

Not to mention public education.

Which hopefully isn't being replaced by YouTube videos. 

Posse

Sentenced to life in the military, a soldier reacts intuitively driven (Mario Van Peebles as Jesse Lee), his services valued depended upon exploited, the situation coercive, treacherous, untenable.

He's tasked with covert ops requiring stealthy habitual concealment, to disrupt an antagonistic supply chain, and secure chip chop munitions.

But as the mission proceeds uninhibited a coveted chest of gold is detected, and it becomes clear they'll be betrayed by those seeking ill-gotten enrichment.

Another battle is fought from which he escapes with the gold and his life, plus a dedicated resilient crew, and a plan to return home unscathed. 

He's followed by his former commander (Billy Zane) who's aware of his path however, but through tenacious nerve and reservéd foresight he's able to avoid ballistic conflict.

He's headed back to the scene of a crime which saw an honest man outrageously cut down, for wondrously sharing a peaceful dream freely envisioned by many others.

He seeks vengeance for the racist wrongdoing for the coldhearted dismal injustice, even though things have generally settled down and his former love interest misses him dearly (Salli Richardson-Witfield as Lana). 

But the guilty derelict perpetrators raise the alarm upon hearing he's returned.

Just as the former commander arrives.

High-stakes ferocious westerns.

Posse presents preponderant perdition incredible acts of racist abuse, how could things have deteriorated so much, in a country celebrated for widespread freedom?

The posse itself is an innovative eclective prone to cohesion and uniform rigour, embracing difficult choices through courageous wherewithal as they're left with no other options.

The films adds enviable depth of character as they fight their way countering insurmountable odds, playful breaks and solemn flourishes peppered throughout the cataclysmic forays.

Existence is a wonderful thing and laissez-faire socioeconomic spirits augment it, if power and control leave you paranoid is it not better to persist less emphatically?

Or to let communities peacefully develop according to the same sets of laws, the same initiatives and opportunities that enable so much constructive thought?

Why would any country want overflowing prisons and general pugnacious unrest?

The answer to that question's mind-boggling.

When compared to productive alternatives. 

*Loved this film in my youth. It made a big impact (made me hate systemic racism).

Amistad

The 19th century.

A group of slaves being transported at sea courageously revolts and takes control of the vessel.

Unfamiliar with nautical logistics, they rely on two former captors to sycophantically steer, but weeks later provisions grow slim, and they're forced to gather fresh supplies on land.

They weren't being led back to Africa as promised, and are soon detected by the American navy, who imprisons them as runaway slaves, thinking their bondage was secured legally.

At the time, Britain has nobly outlawed slavery but Spain still permits human trafficking, the Spanish crown seeking to reobtain what it claims is its property, the Americans confused by conflicting demands.

If the individuals whose freedom has been denied turn out to have been born in a Spanish country, they then belong to the Spanish crown, or the scoundrels who acquired them on its behalf, and, unfortunately, there's little the abolitionists can do.

But since they were illegally obtained in Africa their rights to freedom have been scurrilously denied.

But their lawyer needs to prove they came from Africa.

And he can't speak their language.

It takes quite some time in fact before they find someone who can, and even with the reliable African testimony, the Africans still have to prove their innocence three times.

Amistad covers a lot of ground as it champions liberty and freedom, intertwining multiple diverse threads as it weaves a compelling plot.

The independence of the American courts is analyzed through political intrigue, since the freedom of the wrongfully enslaved Africans will enrage the American South.

President Van Buren (Nigel Hawthorne) is worried about losing the next election, but also about starting a civil war, so he interferes behind the scenes, although he thankfully can't guarantee specific outcomes.

The abolitionists approach Christianity with open-minded considerate impacts, religion at times an instrument of persecution, here it pursues social justice.

Amistad is at its best as lawyer Roger Sherman Baldwin (Matthew McConaughey) gets to know his clients, notably the feisty Cinque (Djimon Hounsou), who led the sublime revolt in question.

As they slowly learn to communicate a world of enriching ideas opens up, Baldwin interested in learning about African customs, Cinque generally frustrated by appellate courts.

Kindness and understanding guide Amistad's resiliency, as it concentrates on compassionate endeavours, interwoven into a practical dynamic.

Its graphic depiction of slavery's innate horrors encourage impassioned just pursuits.

Difficult to imagine anyone could have ever treated people that way.

Amistad successfully assails such injustice.

*Billions of animals still suffer from much worse circumstances around the world. The abuse inflicted is horrifying. I'm glad so many people are trying to change things.

Cat Ballou

A promising recent graduate heads home to teach school, instructed to read the classics, even if she prefers trendy westerns.

Prone to seek justice yet mischievously enthused, she accidentally aids two ne'er-do-wells in their pursuit of reckless freedom.

Back home on the range her kind-hearted father (John Marley as Frankie Ballou) has enraged his covetous neighbours, who have corruptly engaged a cruel hired gun to dispose of his innate virtue.

She immediately responds in kind after having learned of the disgraceful deception, and hires a renowned gunperson of her own who turns out to lack reliability.

Soon woe melancholically descends with no recourse to lauded panaceas, and her gang of unorthodox misfits has relocated to a forlorn corral.

Yet Cat Ballou (Jane Fonda) is well versed in storied ethically clad adventurous pastimes, and refuses to let impregnability coldly prevent her from reacting non-traditionally.

Her newfound friends see sudden success after embracing strategically sound comeuppance, sincerely kerfuffling entrenched trajectories which presumed to cajole discordance. 

It's blunt and brandished bounteous barm proceeding in sultry sing song, the underprivileged thoughtlessly dismissed as they reimagine communal identities. 

Integrity harnesses spirit and exuberantly coaxes conundrums, which bewilder through sacrificed innocence impenitently reified. 

It's light of heart and rather merry as it confidently elucidates, upholding honest feminine strength through tribulation and testy temperance.

With insightful thoughts about marriage or relationships or plain old courtship or perhaps a fling, Cat deconstructs hardboiled gender bias yet still finds herself falling in love.

The musical accompaniment playfully enlivens crafty clemency cascading, direct yet quaintly coated in enchanted new age charm.

The traditions of the western see lay radical reversal, those oft dismissed their cares remiss enlightened brave dispersals.

Perhaps an oddball comedy like Cat Ballou would make more of an impact than serious drama, as it reaches a wider audience less immutably disposed.

A lot of people prefer absurdity since it more accurately reflects prim daily life, wherein which the application of reasonability sometimes leads to bumptious bedlam.

The immersion of absurdity in the arts anyways, not politics, reliable political leadership is preferable to instinctual madness.

Political leaders who don't toy with global tensions.

Because they respect their power and influence.  

The Big Heat

After a police officer's apparent suicide is determined to be suspicious, an honest detective sergeant uncompromisingly takes the case.

The clues point to a stern crime syndicate which is well entrenched within the town, but making arrests or acquiring evidence proves inextricably drawn and complicated.

Bannion (Glenn Ford) proceeds regardless with noble intent exceeding righteousness, directly to the established regime who's none too impressed with the inspired intrusion.

Soon his legitimate motives are questioned as he becomes a target for enraged thuggery, possessing commensurate headstrong wherewithal, things are bleak and rugged and ruthless. 

It's not inquisitive parlay, he's taken things right to the nerve stricken centre, without much forethought or investigation, like Kurtz he just thought it up and did it.

The repercussions are harsh, his resolve fierce and sympathetic, as he refuses to simply back down, attuned to paramount sublime ideals, and a bit of stubborn insanity.

But the world's by no means idyllic even if virtue is highly regarded.

In such a situation how does one proceed?

How do they induce potent logic?

Helps if you're not on your own and others appear offering tough helping hands, and the script's written to firmly uphold as you freely and nimbly engage.

It's perhaps too bluntly composed as Bannion boldly contends and interacts, too direct, to too the point, without moderate intervening placations. 

The Big Heat's stark contention examines polarized jurisprudence, but doesn't focus on the intermittent stages with much multifaceted concentration.

It's sort of like a football game where good and evil are the opposing teams, and while such a strategy works in sporty realms, it's somewhat disappointing when applied to film.

Realistic film anyways, or films that don't experiment with reality. You expect that kind of thing from superheroes but not from real world crime drama. You could argue that therefore The Big Heat presents the unexpected, which can be a positive thing, since it's important to tear down boundaries when considering alternatives.  Sometimes constabulary candour works well in less grandiose environs, but not when the situation requires depth to convincingly deconstruct the big picture.

Still, for a shout out to doing the right thing within the exceptional bounds of the superheroic, The Big Heat and Glenn Ford deliver.

Not without their share of sacrifice.

Not sure if it qualifies as film noir.   

The Cat's-Paw

A man raised in China by missionaries suddenly finds himself in New York, his first trip back home to the States since he was but the weest lad.

Unaccustomed to anything besides a life of study in rural environs, he accidentally finds himself running to become mayor of the bustling city.

The party he represents is controlled by their opposition, and was instructed to find a candidate who would without a doubt most certainly lose.

But as fate would have it through blind dumb luck he aptly wins race, and proceeds to set the highest bar altruistically apace.

He's also searching for a wife to one day bring back to Asia, and meets a streetwise countergirl breathtaking poised regalia.

Having no knowledge of worldly affairs and even less of bureaucratic intrigue, he governs according to the philosophy of Ling Po, a Chinese sage he's studied exhaustively. 

His alternative methods disgruntle his adversaries who are used to the status quo, and unfamiliar with philosophy, and none too pleased with all the extra work.

They take advantage of Ezekiel's (Harold Lloyd) innocence and soon he's the victim of a scandal.

To which he fluidly responds with an ancient epic gamble.

The Cat's-Paw's wondrous naive enthusiasm generates holistic applause, as working solutions combat corruption in a metamorphic state of bureaucratic nature.

Ezekiel applies his knowledge with well-meaning bold intent, and finds effective cost cutting measures that encourage less dependent fiscal enterprise.

It's fun to watch as a sheltered intellectual governs with no strings attached, his worldly shocked advisors in a constant state of panic.

A sense of calm restorative ease ascends as he honestly settles the score, like deficits and graft and cons will fade forevermore.

But for every wide-eyed dreamer who ably governs through ancient texts, a hundred more and then some keep them historically in check.

Certainly old school writings can influence the present, but when they outstrip their mortal bonds things become rather unpleasant.

That is, new sets of circumstances inevitably emerge (an overpopulated planet, extremely stressed environmental resources) to which the antiquated writings cannot be applied, and if cultures need new strategies to solve the unprecedented problems, a reliance upon ancient texts can be problematic.

You would think they would simply adapt to reasonable scientific observation.

But that doesn't seem to happen.

Perennially at odds, no progress, no quarter. 

The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind

A small village in rural Malawi struggles to make ends meet, farmers reliant on the yearly harvest to generate vital income.

The Kamkwambas have been working hard with the hopes of sending their son to school, they've even paid his initial deposit and purchased the requisite uniform.

William's (Maxwell Simba) eager to learn, to excel, but needs time to sit back and study, competing demands ensuring time management's a full-time strict priority.

As school progresses and routines conflict drought descends with stifling severity, and his family can't pay his remaining tuition and must subsist on meagre preserves. 

But his sister's dating his teacher so he thinks of a crafty plan, and gains access to his school's modest library keeping instructive books on hand.

He's quite adept at finding solutions for quizzical electronic conundrums, his practical fluency highly valued by friends and neighbours and family.

He finds books that teach him new things and give him ideas he never thought possible, including a way to irrigate crops during the lengthy hot dry season.

With this method his family and others can plan to grow crops throughout the year, the extra harvest a bountiful godsend scientifically engineered. 

But book learning's still highly suspect and his idea simply seems too radical, his father (Chiwetel Ejiofor) fearful of making things worse should it fail to produce as planned.

The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind celebrates bold dynamic learning, in an environment suffering from extreme hardship, without staples or resource to spare.

It's a shame the library within wasn't public and required so much wealth just to access it.

Creating public libraries can be rather difficult if there's little to tax, but communal initiative can spearhead exuberance to keep infrastructure intact.

The sharing of ideas the transmission of knowledge the transformative vast applications, await people seeking solutions to questions they may never have known how to ask.

Myriad subjects augment traditions with novel imaginative spice, skies opening up within reason as ingenuity serves to entice.

You can learn a lot through chill conversation while working on various projects, but sometimes the right book will present years worth of discussion in less than 200 pages.

William reads such a book and makes an incredible difference in his community.

Resiliently daring to dream.

Cultivating robust yields. 

With Joseph Marcell (Chief Wembe).

*Also, a great film directed by an actor (Chiwetel Ejiofor).

Witness

A young Amish child (Lukas Haas as Samuel) on his first trip to the big city, finds himself immersed in high level corruption, after witnessing a brutal murder, while waiting for his train to depart.

As unaware of the repercussions as the honest cop who takes his statement (Harrison Ford as John Book), he's soon revealed the identity of the killer, and it's indeed one of New York's finest (Danny Glover as McFee).

Book soon transfers the knowledge to his supervisor, but he's placed his trust in the wrong elite cop, shots fired shortly thereafter, moments later he's on the crazed run.

To Amish country.

Where no one will find him.

If he can keep that yap shut.

And refrain from scandalous endeavours.

Work abounds in the old school surroundings, as does temptation, and orthodox rules.

Surveillance haunts disputed emotion.

There's no quarter, no frank ergo sum.

Long before cellphones guaranteed law enforcement could ubiquitously monitor the population, public movements were still often scrutinized, private pastimes uprightly presumed.

In tight-knit communities anyways, and at work, and at home, the concept of privacy still had much more meaning, and could at least be theoretically conceived.

Without vast resources.

Headstrong individualism meets its panoptic particulars in Peter Weir's forbidding Witness, as a trustworthy by the book policeperson closely follows established rules.

Having once taken procedure for granted, he struggles to meticulously adjust, his genuine goodness guiding the way, his bold temper begetting comeuppance.

A sympathetic depiction of the Amish unreels within, beyond sociopolitical constructs, a simple existence with nothing to hide, harmless living for strict rule followers.

The disruption may indeed be controversial, but it's integrated without fuss or alarm, peaceful ways still cognizant of justice, willing to aid distraught virtue in peril.

L'amour.

Restraint.

Confinements of the hypothetical.

Urban tempers so feisty condoned.

An odd mix that could have been more controversial.

Abacus: Small Enough to Jail

Men and women who go beyond and take risks to help their community get through difficult times, who care enough to try and set hardworking impoverished people up with the loans they need to simplify complicated cashflow problems, people like Thomas Sung, who saw that his community needed a bank, a bank which he then went about creating, as chronicled in Steve James's Abacus: Small Enough to Jail, Sung spent a huge chunk of his life assisting struggling immigrant families who had been rejected elsewhere, innovative families, whose loans rarely defaulted.

That's what statistics presented in the documentary precisely state, although they didn't prevent the Abacus Federal Savings Bank from being indicted for fraud.

After the 2008 financial crisis.

None of the gigantic American banks were tried in the fallout, instead, one small bank from New York's Chinatown was presumed guilty, and the government didn't even have much of a case.

Had crimes been committed at the bank?

Yes.

As the bank grew, Sung and members of his family eventually became executive managers, a reward for years of dedicated service, and their higher ranking positions slowly cut them off from ground level employees, as the years passed by.

They could monitor the bank's activities from higher up, but since they had less direct contact, it became easier for the unscrupulous to cheat them.

And a popular employee named Ken Yu did just that, along with many of the people for whom he secured loans.

As soon as his crimes came to light he was fired, but the damage had already been done.

Were the crimes committed at the bank significantly less serious than those committed by major American financial institutions?

Yes.

And whereas many of the loans approved by those institutions defaulted, only an extremely small statistically significant number of those approved by Abacus did as well.

Was there an attempt to scapegoat a small bank catering to an immigrant community for crimes committed by more formidable opponents?

It certainly looks that way, especially when you consider that none of the bigger banks were prosecuted, none, as in ye olde not a single one.

Who is Thomas Sung if not a first rate American who devoted his entire life, a life filled with countless self-sacrifices, to making the United States even greater?

Damaging his reputation and humiliating him and his family and his community in court was a cowardly act perpetrated by a lack of imagination.

It's as if he was targeted for his integrity by those who had none, The Dark Knight's Harvey Dent factor coming into play.

Fortunately he unyieldingly faced the charges and diligently proved his innocence.

One tough hombre.

An inspirational American.

The Commuter

A horrible day becomes incredibly worse as an honest intelligent literary family man finds himself caught up in a plutocratic conspiracy, after having been callously dismissed from work, multiple lives dependent on his aggrieved spontaneity, while time quickly passes, in chilling centigrade.

He's a commuter, commutes downtown tous les jours from a quiet idyllic hideaway, for 10 years in fact, doing his best at work to ensure his clients are treated fairly, let go so the miserly company he worked for wouldn't have to pay his pension.

Disgraceful.

On his commute home, he's villainously coerced into discovering the identity of a conscientious individual in possession of evidence which would incriminate the perpetrators of an executive level crime, before the last stop, malfeasance which he or she also witnessed, the upper levels none too pleased with the illicit nature of their dealings being made public, and willing to pay lavish sums to see those they can't buy off silenced.

Not in Trump's case though.

Wow does everyone ever love screwing that guy over.

It's becoming a sport.

The commuter in question, one Michael MacCauley (Liam Neeson), has to uncharacteristically schmooze with his fellow passengers, the awkward nature of the exchanges becoming increasingly hostile as time runs out.

He's friendly and greets everyone daily, but is more known for reading on route, not forcing small talk.

There's even a great Texas hold-em match which demonstrates how unreasonable pressures lead otherwise upright peeps to use xenophobic strategies to obtain scurrilous sought after goals, the politics of who belongs aggressively employed out of sheer wanton hopelessness, psychotic demands bellicosely breeding psychotic outcomes.

Michael feels ashamed and eventually stops playing along even though his puppeteers claim they've abducted and will harm his family.

Inspired by his example, soon everyone on the train is self-sacrificing, and there's another great scene, where you see them metaphorically creating a union.

Makes it harder to be fired.

Just have to make sure the company you work for remains profitable.

It's a thrilling bold ethical castigation of those who caused the 2008 financial crisis and were never held to account, The Commuter is, the ways in which they still screw over little guys and gals with or without the aid of law enforcement also a subject of interrogation, paydays and corrupt ways plus pilfering and penny-pinching pronounced and nuanced, cronies versus constitutionals, 😉, stickin' it to the man, evidenced through combative conscience.

Smoothly situated in a sustained daily environmentally friendly ride, the opening moments cleverly capturing loving variations on a conjugal theme, The Commuter breathtakes to incarcerate belittling politics of division, or at least derails attempts to shatter hardworking solidarity.

With a classic performance from Mr. Neeson, whose unparalleled passion gradually builds as the tension chaotically intensifies, the other characters on the train adding complementary cheek, notably Colin McFarlane (Conductor Sam), and the one and only Jonathon Banks (Walt)(Gremlins, Freejack).

With Vera Farmiga (Joanna), Sam Neill (Captain Hawthorne) and Patrick Wilson (Alex Murphy).

My timing for the métro was perfect afterwards.

Didn't miss a beat.

The Nut Job 2: Nutty by Nature

Gluttony and greed contend with sustainability and prudence as a group of mischievous animals from a local park run afoul of a corrupt disingenuous mayor, in The Nut Job 2: Nutty by Nature.

As overflowing with contempt for anything that doesn't immediately enrich his vast fortunes, as he is unable to prevent himself from gorging upon snacks encumbered by a cardiac degree of immobilizing trans fat, Mayor Muldoon (Bobby Moynihan) decides to turn public land into an amusement park without seeking the guidance of council beforehand.

It is cheaply constructed for the bare minimum with concern for neither structural integrity nor public safety, a ghastly house of carnivalesque cards ready to crumble at any given moment.

The animals protest.

The public land is their home, the ground upon and within which they rear and nurture their young, without it they'll have to move to the surrounding unforgiving concrete wastelands, wherein which they'll likely be divided, and forced to live unscrupulously alone.

They are also guilty of flagrant distraction.

Spoiled after having fortunately gathered extreme wealth, they squandered their resources with reckless unconcern, consumed by ravenous appetites, their carefree excess foolishly cost them their homegrown instincts.

But one squirrel kept her head, Andie (Katherine Heigl), thorny love interest of leader, Surly (Will Arnett).

Together they begin to rebuild, encouraging each individual member to share their ideas, demonstrate their competencies, synergize their strategies, and mobilize their momentum.

With the sole goal in mind, of taking Muldoon the fuck down.

It's an energetic children's film that environmentally examines contemporary obsessions with grotesque profits by juxtaposing plutocrats with the penniless, the nimble, with the immutable.

The Mayor consults no one, cares nothing for his clients, it's pure unregulated capitalism, sacrificing sanctuary for psychotropics, and solace for crime and hunger.

Communal ghettoization.

Globalization is metaphorically presented as different animal groups share their mutually hopeless predicaments.

One hell of a squirrel.

One hell of a mouse.

An incredible synthesis.

Problems in one region of the globe/town, problems in another.

Symbiotic stitches, cooperative communications.

Pursuant, indicative.

Of global citizenry.

Spotlight

A community, bound together by traditional bonds stretching back for tightly knit centuries, growing and changing over time yet remaining loyal to specific ways of life, to institutions, whose reputation for kindness and charity has lovingly guided initiatives structured by compassion and understanding which encourage warm hearted gatherings in order to anchor humanistic trusts throughout, within and beyond the great city of Boston, which is under fire this year in American cinema.

But it's not as fuzzy as all that, as Tom McCarthy's Spotlight points out, a filmic examination of the Boston Globe reporters who brought to light monstrous religious failings, abysmal breaches of trust, and an entrenched sociopolitical culture devoted to covering it up, to overlooking its monumental shortcomings, its violence, its subversion of its fundamental principles.

True believers who attempt to tenderly encourage inclusive communal growth are exceptional people, it's only when they either exclude large portions of the population who believe in something else or commit acts of terror that serious problems arise, augmented by parts of the population who try to exclude them for believing what they do.

But for true believers, the bonds they cultivate between themselves and religious authorities are truly sacred, and if such authorities take for granted the sacred nature of these bonds and viciously exploit them to corruptly satisfy perverted desires, relying on their image and authority to prevent people from coming forward with shocking contradictory truths, they shatter their aura of integrity and obscure their charitable foundations.

Spotlight examines the tough decisions Boston Globe reporters, themselves Christian and citizens of Boston, had to make in order to bring the truth to light, the idyllic patience they required to expose corrupt religious and civic bureaucracies as they furtively waited until they had enough evidence to comment.

A passion for justice challenges the team's resolve at one memorable point, Mike Rezendes (Mark Ruffalo) demanding action, Spotlight team leader Walter Robinson (Michael Keaton) logically refusing, the film having carefully crafted a number of corresponding interviews and investigations the revelations of which frustratingly challenge the cohesivity of their discipline, not to mention that it's their community they're shocking, their heritage they're disillusioning.

It's not like someone took office supplies home here, government information was misplaced, high ranking officials from different cultural institutions attempted to block them, the law prevented truths from being discussed, testimony from scared impoverished victims was difficult to obtain, assistance from like-minded jaded professionals difficult to coax, trust, trust had to be relied upon but the issue they were investigating had resoundingly destroyed the bedrock of trust their contemporaries and interviewees had sought to preserve, making the situation highly volatile, its outputs, highly devastating.

Yet invaluable.

A tough film examining tough issues from tough perspectives with a tenacious resolve.

In search of true justice.

True reform.

For true believers.

Court

A lifelong civil rights activist (Vira Sathidar as Narayan Kamble) who expresses himself through folk music is arrested once again in Chaitanya Tamhane's Court, which gradually exposes the corrupt nature of the case held against him, as it scapegoats his sacrifices to oligarchically keep the peace.

Troublemaker, rabble rouser, unyielding in his acrimonious critiques, dedicated to improving the living conditions of India's working poor, vehement virtuoso, brutally tethered while performing mid-flight.

Most of my knowledge of Indian film which is scant comes from Bollywood, and Court recently won Best Feature Film at India's 62nd National Film Awards, so please note that the following respects that decision and believes it was made due to the remarkable differences between Court and Bollywood, the former's stark meticulous litigation, to the latter's flamboyant charm, Court bringing the millions to one, Bollywood focusing on one in a million.

Paradigm shift?

Not sure.

Meghna Gulzar's Guilty, shown recently at the Toronto International Film Festival (many thanks CBC Montréal), also examines India's legal peculiarities however.

Kamble disappears from the film early on while his defence lawyer (Vivek Gomber as Vinay Vora) prepares his case, and the film then follows Vora at length before going through the same procedure with the prosecutor (Geetanjali Kulkarni as Nutan).

While going through this procedure, subtle and shocking features of Indian's cultural mosaic are quotidianly explored, over dinner, at a play, collegial conversations, familial fights adjourned.

I was somewhat frustrated that Kamble wasn't part of the narrative for so long. I wanted to see his character grow and develop, see him featured more prominently.

The tragic injury to his person is accentuated near the end, as he's forced to languish in jail over the Summer (he's 65), while the judge (Pradeep Joshi as Sadavarte) presiding over his case takes an exclusive holiday.

Where he scares the children who waken him as they play.

A painstakingly ponderous look at working within India's courts that loses sight of its feature, perhaps thereby postulating that such voices are often overlooked, Court theoretically diversifies India's cinematic palate, by kindling a genre more concerned with spice than spectacle.

Like Tom Mulcair.

He honestly does care about making things easier for Canadian families, whether they've lived in Canada for generations or have recently moved here.

I get that a lot of Canadians like Stephen Harper, but I really don't understand why.

He seems to divide the country into haves and have-nots and then govern exclusively for the haves, while in/directly supporting the Christian religion.

He also insulted Rachel Notley's democratically elected NDP government several times last night in the Globe and Mail debate, which is rather disrespectful of the choice Albertans made during their last provincial election, a fact that wouldn't sit well with me if I was living in Alberta.

What happened to mutual respect amongst politicians? I always thought that was one thing that positively differentiated Canada from the United States, even if the difference isn't giddy or glamourous.

Why isn't Harper trying to forge consensus? It's like you either agree with the Conservatives or you don't count, which is an odd way of trying to sell yourself as a potential Prime Minister.

Fear based.

Canada doesn't have to embrace an us versus them political dynamic.

Both Mulcair and Justin Trudeau seem interested in building a more inclusive understanding Canadian collective.

But this time it's the NDP who have experience on their side.

I've voted for the Liberals in the past before Jack Layton appeared on the scene because they always had the experience, they always had a stronger more tried and tested team, that seemed more reliable.

In 2015, it's the other way around.

I'd like to hear what Rachel Notley has to say about the way her government was referred to last night, a speech that could perhaps deal a significant blow to Harper.

Harper wants to prove that Republican style American politics can work in Canada permanently.

A vote for the Liberals or the NDP disproves his theory.

And the NDP currently has the stronger team.

*I like the Green Party and love Elizabeth May but there are already two parties splitting the left wing vote, 3 in Québec. A third/fourth one could lead to disaster. If you don't like either politics or Harper, note that by not voting for someone other than Harper you're indirectly assisting his cause.

Leviafan (Leviathan)

Isolated in a small town in Northern Russia, a man fights to save his home from a corrupt mayor, relying on an oligarchically inclined legal system, and a lawyer skilled in the art of public sensation.

He's lived his whole life in the town.

Grew up there, became a family man, it's all he knows.

He has personality, responsibilities, a network.

Remote plutocratic politics.

A voice, legal rights, Andrey Zvyagintsev's take on contemporary Russia, Leviafan (Leviathan), like the skeleton of a massive destructive unstoppable procession, religion sans spirituality, futile to fight back, take the offer, drink, drink more, from one historical epoch to the next, take reprehensible thugs and give them wealth, prestige and power, hold them in place with the threat of imprisonment, they'll do as they're told, don't find a middle ground between what things were like before and after the 1917 revolution, recreate the system that lead to that revolution, bask in its imperialistic splendour, lock things down for a generation, flaunt your might, and see what Hobbes gets you.

Trust was placed where trust was deserved, its betrayal ripe with spontaneous idiocy, 10 blissful minutes for the bored, a maximum security sentence for the innocent.

Innocence requires innocence.

Angelic quid pro quo.

The act provides the mayor with leverage, a solid footing, authority.

Opulent construction.

In the gently falling snow.

Exodus: Gods and Kings

There are so many problems with this movie.

Huge, huge big budget screw up.

It's crafted like you're supposed to like it, like its implausible encounters, flat conversations, mediocre foreshadowings, and tawdry special effects are so infallible that you'll love them because they're attached to a well known biblical story, and not to love them, is to critique that story itself.

The bible deserves better than this.

Scientists are directly critiqued as are advocates of global warming as scientific explanations are delivered for a series of God's plagues, which continue to harass the Egyptians because they obviously can't stop them because in the context of the film they're caused by God.

Homosexuals are treated disgustingly and violently, undoubtably to fuel anti-Gay marriage initiatives, but also to congratulate homophobic bullies, as if segregating and victimizing a group of people is okay, in a film about freeing the oppressed, thoroughly and disgracefully revolting.

Of course the gay character occupies a position of power which he exploits for personal gain, making it difficult to critique what happens to him.

But it's odd that apart from Nun (Ben Kingsley) he's the only minor character to have multiple one-dimensional lines stretching across the film, drawing attention to him throughout, so that we can be sure it's him when death comes calling.

There's no character development in Exodus: Gods and Kings apart from Moses (Christian Bale) and Ramses (Joel Edgerton) who bromantically duel par excellence as fate divides them from their fraternal longings.

It's far too focused on the central characters, I don't care if one of them is Moses, you need secondary levels of strong character development to support primary exchanges, not just the odd subservient line thrown in here and there.

This also creates deep complementary layers of productively dialectic action.

Too top heavy.

Oddly, an Egyptian tells a prophecy and it comes true, thereby validating pagan practices which if I'm not mistaken are unjustifiable if there is only one true God.

Moses is a reasonable man and I would have liked his character if every scene he was in wasn't short and to the point, Ridley Scott even just tacks on the ten commandments like they're a box to check on a spiritual grocer's list, the short perfunctory scene disrespectful of their monumental importance, to be sure.

Doing too much in too short a period of time, and the film's 150 minutes long, an agonizing 2.5 hours, constantly moving forward while cumbersomely dragging its ostentatious feet.

In a film about freeing slaves the only characters they develop, and it's not like they're developed that well, are individual rulers with dictatorial powers.

This is okay in the context of the film for Moses, for he is just, but bad for Ramses, because he is not.

Ramses even survives when the Red Sea drowns his army, standing alone on the opposite shore to Moses, like they're trying to set up a sequel.

Give me The Ten Commandments over this film any day.

The Exodus action film; I'm surprised Ramses and Moses didn't start fighting with the Red Sea closing in.

It's like they're indirectly critiquing Gods and Kings by spending so much money on such a piece of crap.

For shame.