Man in the Saddle

Reared in the fledgling West, when cattlepeople came to parlay, begrudging neighbours were taken to task, sometimes deadly, sometimes shortsighted, at times rambunctious, on occasion, rather uptight, making one wonder why anyone ever came to town, if not for supplies, or distraught exposure.

People have gathered once again nevertheless on the day of the wedding of a wealthy rancher (______ Knox as Will Isham), whose bride (Joan ______ as Laurie Bidwell) once loved a less-well-off co-inhabitant (Randolph Scott as Owen Merritt), a man she refuses to ever forget.

The wealthy rancher's no awestruck fool unfortunately he's much too stern and practical, to ever generate genuine feeling from a sensitive creative soul.

And his jealousy slowly boils over with each mechanical passionless exchange, even if it's all he's used to, he can't accept that someone else had something more.

Merritt's ranch is much smaller than Isham's who seeks to monopolize the region, using the only tactics he's ever understood, coldhearted stubborn textbook belligerence.

But even if Mr. Merritt stressfully lacks a gang of rowdy uncouth hired guns, he still has many friends close by, many of whom come quickly a' callin'.

Soon romantic zeal's unwillingly duelling with inanimate calculation.

Ms. Bidwell unsure where she stands.

Neighbouring Ms. Melotte (Ellen Drew) aware trouble's a' brewin'.

Celebrating the raw unbridled frontier spirit with independent imaginative gusto, Man in the Saddle dares drift debonair with honest profound heartfelt discrepancy.

The odds are overwhelming yet the resolve exceptional enough not to doubt precise reliable markspersonship, the classic American home ranging heartache hassled harangued with bellicose brawn.

Trying to sincerely match adoring love with cold stubborn opportunism, may not work out so well if you're looking for content to match the formality. 

Nevertheless, a lot of people seem to make it work in relation to traditional old school arranged marriages, where I imagine resignéd familiarity eventually equates love with solemn observance. 

In my case, can't say I ever did meet a freespirit who would keep busy while I wrote in the park. 😜

So many films, the search for meaning.

Who could have ever have partnered up otherwise? 

The Knight Before Christmas

A bold knight (Josh Whitehouse as Sir Cole) honourably avails emphatically attuned to the 14th century, warmly accustomed to duty and responsibility as he bravely embraces work and play.

But he has yet to fulfill a quest and thereby improve his chivalric standing, the lack of enchanted adventurous reckoning causing him sincere subconscious dismay.

Until one day alone in the woods what's referred to as "an old crone" mysteriously appears, and tells him of "steel dragons" and "magic boxes" far off in the distant future.

Soon he's transported to the present day without much information to clarify his purpose, when a weary damsel comes to his aid and provides food and shelter for the upcoming holidays (Vanessa Hudgens as Brooke).

She's depressed after having recently lost one whom she loved who treated her crudely, casting her off for the attentions of another who remains uncritical of his unjust behaviour.

As a result, an honest and trusting heartfelt lass has lost faith in true love, and even shares her woebegone misgivings with her confused students as they seek her counsel.

The knight proves a novel distraction as he reacts to the ways of the present, marvelling at the bounty to be found at the supermarket, chasing skunks, and learning to drive.

But he can't figure out his quest and its imposing deadline looms.

Will he find the solution in time?

Or will blasé cynicism ignite disdain!?

Amorously blending cultural codes from disparate centuries united by romance, The Knight Before Christmas exuberantly chronicles timeless star-crossed endearing affection.

Also rewarding charity and self-sacrifice it doesn't shy away from constructive do-gooding, and doesn't present scandalous ulterior motives for age old cohesive communal camaraderie. 

Certainly one must remain vigilant to counter stratagems which prey on trust, but you also can't become so cold and isolated that you no longer recognize genuine honesty.

It's a fine balance that's continuously shifting as new developments strikingly emerge, patterns adapting to unprecedented reactions to newfound endeavours reverberating wonder.

Brooke's strong heart is rewarded by supernatural witchcraft concerned with well-being, the knight also learning to extend himself beyond traditional yearnings for legendary renown.

Within postmodern domesticity he finds grand adventure facilitated.

As so many often do.

Even if you rarely hear about it. 

*Shot in brilliant locations.

Tulip Fever

Fortunes scripted, ventured, improvised, inherited, youth and innocence nimbly characterized with cascading credulous streetwise spiritual tenacity, the frenetic pace complementing risks with elegant acrobatic smoothly flowing brisk tremors, the resultant emission subconsciously generating wild resonating exhilarating cerebral undulations which extranarratively converge in a whisking amorous three-dimensional dance of serendipity, illustrative soul ecstatic choreography, breaking waves basking beachheads seductive surf immaculate maelstrom, calmly executed with the delicate argumentative poise of a parlour room chat at high tea, which discusses obsessions with authentic splendour while staking suppositions with audacious rapt sincerity, spurred momentary inspirations lucidly identifying integral ephemerals with substantial sage elasticity, blossoming concerns burgeoned through wager, foresight, chance, bidding, marketed stratified sociocultural immersions, tantalizingly blended with cherished sympathetic assumption.

Religious figures often make a muck of communal virtues but Tulip Fever's Abbess (Judi Dench) and Cornelis Sandvoort (Christoph Waltz) do exemplify with resounding magnanimity.

Sheer beauty, unafraid to revel in perpetual genius with unconcerned in/discreet hesitant bold symphony, like lunching at an ill-defined French bistro it pauses, reflects, manoeuvres and mystifies to romanticize a psychology well worth perceiving.

Overflowing with life.

Materializing mercy.

Like the ideal and the practical were courting for millennia and suddenly found themselves conceptually synthesized for 105 begrudged minutes, during which they purified raw tranquility before separating everlastingly once more.

The omega directive.

Heartstrung honeysuckle.

It makes you wish you weren't too prone to love for postmodern romance.

Take your hand in mine.

And vanish.

Boost

Friendships fiercely fraternized, habitual restraint mingling with wanton risk to wildly impress and collegially incarcerate, an idea, contrasts, audacity, accolades, admonitions, contrition, relapses, there's an intelligent way to go about things in films, in films I've seen there's an intelligent way to commit crimes, exercising extreme stealth, keeping things on the down-low, but young Anthony MacDonald (Jahmil French), recently suspended from school, likes to brazenly advertise, his mild-mannered accomplice (Nabil Rajo as Hakeem Nour) unable to withstand his will, their successful colleagues having stayed in business by remaining mature and sober, as bold youthful extravagance clashes with reticent age.

Hakeem's obligations leave him isolated, exhausted.

Duties to family, co-workers, culture, and friends, excruciatingly conflict as they seek the knowledge he's acquired.

But the only way to placate them without self-destructing is to expressly keep things zipped, zigzagged.

With staggering composure.

And multilateral calm.

Repercussions abound in Darren Curtis's Boost after two adolescents screw things up for hardened car thieves.

A slight taste of the spectacle leaves them ostentatiously entwined.

Balancing the headstrong with the pensive, the excessive with the shaved, Boost interrogates responsibility while matriculating resolve.

Demonstrating a sound understanding of the youthful confines of age, it fairly investigates cultural mis/conceptions to dialectically dis/integrate cunning hardboiled c(l)ues.

If you move here I wouldn't worry so much about becoming a Canadian, about fitting in.

It's one of those things where the more you try to do it, the less integrated you become.

Unless you're filthy rich.

Before you've lived through a couple of Winters people tend to doubt you'll hang around.

And after you have they may still not be that curious.

But they like to see familiar faces.

Have brief chats once in a while.

Even pay attention sometimes.

Like moving to most countries I suppose.

With a bitterly cold Winter.

If you're active though, and join some organizations and contribute something, you'll meet people.

Just give it some time.

Be patient.

And don't stress about it.