Kaguya-hime no monogatari (The Tale of the Princess Kaguya)

A childless family holistically subsists within the fertile abundant countryside, utilizing enriching multifaceted bamboo to productively nourish and equip their household.

One bamboo shoot proves more elaborate than the other versatile exemplars within the forest, revealing a miniature person no less in need of love and warmth and shelter and guidance.

Her new parents are unsure of what to do but know she grows quickly and flourishes in nature, as she swiftly befriends the local children who generously teach her about plants and animals.

Other discoveries within the forest lead her father to believe she's destined for royalty, fine silk robes and a huge pile of gold lead him to seek stately honours sequentially.

They move away from the cherished country to the imposing capital where they've built a mansion, and hired a discerning professional nanny to strictly teach her the rules of etiquette. 

She responds with traditional transgressions and febrile fits of fervent fury, but eventually settles into her chosen role out of dutiful love for her mother and father.

Bold noblepeople from across the land soon come a'-calling in pursuit of marriage.

But she responds with impossibility.

To which they counter in roguish fashion.

The dependable roots of a heartwarming Ghibli magically take hold of one's heart within, and enchantingly propagate independent merrymaking with soul-searching skill and tender echoes.

The sought after attention to naturalistic detail and focus on animals of all shapes and sizes, can be wondrously found once again throughout what's come to be known as Kaguya-hime no monogatari (The Tale of the Princess Kaguya).

Crafts are also concentrated on as the Princess moves from station to station, animated accounts of diligent artists distinctively engaged in woodworking wonder. 

The eternal struggle between the carefree ways of a bucolic youth clashing with urban responsibility, permeates the bewildered action as the coveted Princess takes centre stage.

Would it have been better to introduce the Moon People at the beginning of the film instead of much later?, the lack of foreknowledge briefly generating confusion as the shocking revelations augment the end.

But the intricate detail, the copious love for thriving nature to be found within.

And the ways in which it appeals to the fortunate throughout life.

Seductively soothes.

Any critical sensation. 

Wilson

I often love it when I meet people like Wilson (Woody Harrelson).

Feisty and self-taught, they're often up to date with what was popular in the past and can describe many scenes from their favourite films in playfully obnoxious detail.

Extroverted by nature, Wilsons talk and talk and talk about whatever pops into their heads, they have no filter at all and no ability whatsoever to discursively blend with different demographics.

I'm quite introverted and I'm used to navigating fussier domains where you have to watch what you say while people encourage you to speak freely, so it's always refreshing when I encounter free-spirited autodidacts who are flush with alternative phrases and expressions, even if I can only hack it for short periods before returning to my regenerative lair.

They're like conspiratorial sages, blending the hackneyed and the probable with instinctual brazen whiplash, blindly imagining that their interlocutors don't mind being consistently insulted, as they apply their cynical observations to whatever detail those with whom they are conversing are friendly enough to share.

They don't seem to understand that they've caused offence nor that the knowledge they've acquired may on occasion lack truth value.

But they proceed with the unabashed confidence of Olympian gods as they try to create a better world, casually interjecting fact with fiction to elucidate grizzly ideals, practical premonitions, while dis/harmoniously doing whatever they feel like at all times.

Impoverished Joes with aristocratic psychologies.

Try listening a bit longer the next time you meet one.

I usually find it's worth it.

Craig Johnson's Wilson mischievously speaks his mind and loves to talk to strangers as he travels about in search of company.

It isn't the greatest film, in fact the only other person watching it with me in the theatre left halfway through, sort of like St. Vincent's rusty doppelgänger, a valiant effort lacking sustained momentum.

But it does improve about halfway through, shortly before Wilson winds up in prison, and from that point onwards unreels with captivating vulgarity.

When I consider the first half I keep thinking, "that should have been funnier, it's fun to think about what happened anyways, even if the actual dialogue wasn't that funny and lacked any condemned cohesivity."

Harrelson's performance is great but he couldn't turn the bland dribble into something you'd recommend to someone you don't like.

Even if it had been great the whole way through, it would still be glibly satisfying to know someone you don't like, someone who probably doesn't like Wilsons, will have to put up with Wilson for 90 odd minutes.

Could have been better.

Still, don't shut it down midway.

Amour

As an elderly couple settles into their daily routine, a crass unnoticed paradigmatic indiscretion, delivered with the same engendered clarity that may have often been a past passionate progenitor of amicable conjugal rage, is adorned by the traditional romantic reversal of fortunes, but this time they're accompanied by a direct physiological collapse, which culminates in the paralysis of Anne's (Emmanuelle Riva) left side.

Emotions run deep within husband Georges's (Jean-Louis Trintignant) struggles to rationally contain his unceasing grief.

His wits remain voluble and he's brittlely yet staunchly prepared for the logical and humanistic impairments of respective relatives and infirmières.

Attempts to ascertain one's dignity resonate as appearances must be qualified by brash benevolent exceptions.

Stoically exemplifying the lifelong dedication of a loving married couple, examining the conversational results of a relationship existing without distinct verbal limits, Michael Haneke's Amour no longer seeks to loquaciously dominate, but simply to be, to reflect, to bask, semantically dishevelling the tenants of prediction with none of the bells and whistles often used to set such scenes.

Just raw quotidian patient enduring dependent classical shock.

Still feeling the affects three hours later.

Carnage

Propriety is caustically deconstructed in Roman Polanski's Carnage as two couples meet to discuss a recent altercation between their contentious offspring.

And inadvertently try to get to know one another.

The situation is this: one kid was confronted by a group of kids mouthing him off so he picked up a stick and hit the leader of the group in the mouth, damaging his teeth. The parents of the former make an effort to apologize to the parents of the later by stopping by their apartment in a show of good faith. They discuss things amicably and the parents of the former are about to leave but one thing leads to another and their conversation is extended.

As the mother of the later (Jodie Foster as Penelope Longstreet) becomes more and more intrusive in her comments and suggestions, the father of the former (Christoph Waltz as Alan Cowan) becomes increasingly defensive and irate. The resulting polemic pits two couples from different socio-demographic backgrounds against one another and the children are soon forgotten as the animosity intensifies.

But each couple has their own internal struggles as well and the genders eventually square off while enjoying another round of afternoon scotch.

Known for its transformative curations.

Carnage works as a deconstructive piece which champions open honest airings of grievances over uptight formal indisputable appearances. Tearing away at the veneers which constitute a wide variety of social interactions, it finds catharsis through confrontation while productively disrupting and recasting established codes of conduct.

As everyone remembers their youth.

This could have been an exceptional film but there's something missing from its bitter tranquil blend. While I respected its formula, I couldn't find that cohesive regenerative spark which would make me want to wholeheartedly engage in subsequent viewings.

Some sort of kinetic catalyst.

Everything's reputably in place to make Carnage stand out and I think that may be the problem. This script may have found more life with a less successful cast and crew looking to make a resounding impact.

As they fight for recognition.