The Dive

As two sisters congenially scuba-dive, turmoil and calamity audaciously challenge, one suddenly stuck beneath falling rocks, her air rapidly decreasing.

She's the bossier of the two who's grown gloomier as time has passed, the grim embrace of counterproductive cynicism having obscured life's lighthearted wonders.

Her sister is much less suspicious and still enjoys things like family and friends, and getting together for adventurous undertakings as the seasons change and interconnections fluctuate. 

She wants to chill with her older sis who over the years has grown distant and cold, too independent and radically dismissive, she can't comprehend the awkward tension.

It's as if May (Louisa Krause) has became an authoritarian who seeks to accomplish every task on her own, with no time for consultations or delegating, the strict lonely embrace of absolute disparity.

But when she finds herself trapped beneath the sea with no one to rely upon but a carefree worker, she finds she must once again enter the productive free world and engage in mutually beneficial dialogues.

Relaxation is key as the terrifying nature of their circumstances sets in, likelihood and probability hauntingly destabilizing hopeful psychologies at the desperate outset.

But as necessity is the mother of invention plucky Drew (Sophie Lowe) proves rather industrious, rapidly doing everything she can to facilitate a working solution.

Thus faced with overwhelming odds recklessly existing outside her comfort zone, the worker demonstrates intuitive dexterity and discovers essential requirements.

Not without the incumbent trial and error which accompanies improvised decision making, the perilous predicament begetting haste which in turn at times leads to computational dysfunction. 

Like Saint-Loup's admiration for the bakers and plumbers and other workers who heroically distinguished themselves in World War I (In Search of Lost Time), actions cut through class prejudice, her inspired dedicated resolute resiliency electrifying the pretentious/carefree dialectic.

But after her trials she's left unconscious due to the logistics of rapid ascent, management forced to react reciprocally to save the life of its valiant stalwart.

Not enough time expires in the end to know if the deconstructed cynicism held, and lighthearted takes on animate sweet nothings once again resurfaced with literal composure.

Erlenwein does a lot with The Dive and keeps things tense throughout. 

If you're thinking the plot doesn't have much to go on.

You may be pleasantly surprised. 

Magic in the Moonlight

Cold disbelieving hallowed critical reservations cynically socialize themselves in Woody Allen's Magic in the Moonlight, intent on exposing the genuine article, whose youthful pluck, ravishingly portends.

It's scientific reason versus supernatural serendipity, the influence of the latter, interventioning mischievous universals.

With lunar exactitude.

Stanley Crawford (Colin Firth) is difficult to take as he asserts his cantankerous incredulity, as smug as he is exceptional, it's still fun to watch his stubborn transitions, his development of feelings, which can't be rationally explained.

Thanks to Sophie Baker (Emma Stone).

I've encountered too many startling coincidences to categorically deny the existence of the supernatural.

Just the other day, I changed an ______ online for the first time in years, and then, less than 2 hours later, I see my old _______, who was associated with the ___ ______, for the first time since then, casually walking by.

I'm _______ in the middle of nowhere and suddenly I see someone from the town where I grew up, we head out later, and s/he's reading _______ while I've just rented the movie.

It could have been an elaborate joke.

Strange though.

But the number of times nothing exceptionally coincidental takes place far outweighs the number of times something does, meaning that attempts to clarify the seemingly supernatural and base economic and/or political forecasts upon them can be thought of as being somewhat nutso, scientific reason reigning in these domains being of paramount importance, as long as it doesn't attempt to eliminate its spiritual competition.

Not Woody Allen's best, but Magic in the Moonlight does warmly call into question the practice of reasoning, deducing to high jink, which causes love to seem more beautiful.

Clever, quaint, obtuse, and restrained, it caresses and cuddles the curmudgeony, to clarify why some friendships last a lifetime.

Only Lovers Left Alive

Utilizing a peculiar rhetorical strategy, Jim Jarmusch romanticizes cynicism and satisfaction through naturalistic, artistic, appetitive, and historical entanglements, engendered and coded by the discussions of an aged vampire couple, a perennially rebellious scamp, and a literary legend, the men weary and woeful, the women full of life, united in their unyielding craving, for fresh, universal, blood.

Living in Tangiers, L.A., and Detroit.

Exploring the depths of sundry melodic intersections for centuries while observing disenchanting impacted awakenings have led Adam (Tom Hiddleston) to orchestrate various funeral arrangements, thereby expressing his enduring distaste, intravenously harmonizing his scrutiny.

Partner Eve (Tilda Swinton) remains more upbeat, still observing the world with an urbane reconnaissance, versatile and prim, eruditely beaming.

One's resounding disaffection materializes the novel, while the other's fascination with the unexpected, the appearance of a skunk for instance, impresses it more literally.

More could have been done with Ava's (Mia Wasikowska) character.

The script interrogates pretension by calling into question time's passing to the point where ego and redirection become facets of a limitlessly cloyed perpetuity.

Brothering a thrust.

With recourse to the enviable.