Andrei Rublev

An alternative cultural construction with manifest differences delineating structure, long before the global economy had secured widespread sustenance and reasonable lodging.

The Medieval world as intricately depicted sees religious endeavour faithfully grounded, at animate odds with pagans and artists who stray from the obedient path.

Without a market to sell his work and talent too imposing for traditional canvases, Andrei Rublev is avidly tasked with painting houses of religious worship.

Difficult to gain his trust or even convince him to take the commission, the fear of failure much too threatening in a climate of ruthless disciplinary punishment. 

So exacting so austere that even the most gifted refute prestige, and desperately fear their inspiration will fail to placate despotic envy. 

More difficult to meticulously nurture the aesthetic glory of a large cathedral, where your complex loyal design will be swiftly scrutinized by so many.

Individual texts may pass unnoticed or only interest a select few, but a public building will indeed be visited by a vast a/critical audience.

Where the devout artist's loyalty and faith will also be self-critically disposed.

Innocently answering their unique calling.

While conflict annihilates soulful reckoning.

It would be intriguing to learn more about the production and reception of Andrei Rublev, which bravely challenged the Soviet people not to overlook their religious heritage.

At a time when censorship was keen although not as orthodox as Stalin's tenure, the release of a 3 hour tome that lives up to its image and reveres religion suggests wild daring.

It's original monumental filmmaking that gathers thousands to collectively recreate, complex varied compelling shots of industrious impeti boldly undertaken.

To directly challenge a hostile regime with such innate overwhelming brilliance, no doubt recasts artistic conceptions through previously unimagined codes of conduct.

I even searched to see if they had actually cast the bell.

So realistic. So sincere. So inherently dangerous. So artistic. 

The apotheosis of religious filmmaking, crafted in communist Russia.

8-Bit Christmas

A different time known by many only through festive fable and resolute reanimation, during which new technological developments proliferated, along with the age old tried and true.

In fact inherent resonant syntheses at times harmoniously hastened, newfound revelatory reckoning hitherto unheard of in sundry millennia. 

With such abundant novelty elucidating ingenious spirits habitually distilled, random fluid intermittent auspices risibly attuned to salient synergy.

Within this unsurpassed decade, 8-Bit Christmas shares its tale, with laudable attempts to appear authentic, throughout the incumbent childhood reminiscence.

For one youngster within the neighbourhood has received every newly released toy, and his surrounding covetous playmates seek to be chosen to actively play.

They longingly gather en masse while young Mr. Keane (Chandler Dean) treats them contemptuously, his haughty dismissive cheeky flaunting generally tolerated with tranquil reticence. 

But 'lil Jake Doyle (Winslow Fegley/Neil Patrick Harris) has had enough and after a haunting disturbing incident, sets out to buy a Nintendo of his own to freely accommodate nimble gaming.

The initial plan involves the Scouts and the accumulation of commodities sold, wreathes indeed to communal stalwarts ceremoniously accustomed to symbolic tradition.

If his sales reverberatingly reach sought after insurmountable superlatives, it is thought he will receive a new Nintendo gaming system.

But something's not quite right and his friends may have been misinformed.

Thus inspiring strategic improvisation. 

With the aid of friends and family.

Not merely a history lesson for contemporary enthusiasts intent on study, but also a blueprint for high-stakes shenanigans as once conceived sans online technologies. 

For there was indeed a time when intricate detail was interactively worked into thoughtful recreation, and playful meetings were held in person to freely negotiate what lay outside.

It was called conversation wherein which curious peeps expressed different points of view, and if the answer remained uncertain what were known as books were readily consulted.

I really enjoyed this film and will likely check it out again next Holiday Season (along with works by Raymond Briggs [I have a huge list of shows and films to watch every year {and it just keeps growing!}]). 

It has a classic Christmas ending (love you dad).

Applicable throughout the ages.

*Happy Holidays from Everyone here at Film Reviews! All the best in everything in 2023!

C.R.A.Z.Y

A father (Michel Côté) and mother (Danielle Proulx) full of love raise a hyper-reactive family, with 5 boys shenanigan prone experimentally tune to voltaic theses. 

The mother compassionately defends her young when conflict abounds and must be adjudicated, her loving intuitive multidimension reflexively nurturing caressed fair play.

The father is somewhat more stern but he's still playfully proud of his boys, his love panoramically abounding within testosterone fuelled parameters.

But one of his boys instinctually lacks traditional masculine brawn and gusto, gravitating more wholeheartedly towards his mom, he loves his dad and doesn't want to get in trouble, but also doesn't understand at times why he's punished.

The overbearing weight of codes of conduct as upheld by his father and siblings, lead to bewildered awkward adaptations as he struggles to come of age.

Natural endemic lucidity is rambunctiously transformed into hesitant confusion, the simple process of embracing one's thoughts imperiously clad in grand complexity. 

But his father isn't a monster and although he's ill-equipped to openly accommodate, he still loves his gifted child with the honest shock of misunderstanding.

______ (Olivier Bénard/Émile Vallée/Marc-André Grondin) just wants to fit in with the family he knows and sincerely loves, his father recognizing his meaningful attempts to express his genuine heartfelt devotion.

Fortunately his father adapts too and a loving relationship prospers and grows, with holistic balance and comprehensive understanding they remain good friends as time slowly passes.

So many films from the '90s made it seem like such a world would eventually bloom (as I've mentioned before), where rigid immutable conceptions of gender would generally relax to forge open communities.

Such communities don't have to critique people who naturally play traditional roles, the roles do seem to fit many people as they interact with various constructs.

But many others don't naturally fit and shouldn't feel bad for doing what comes naturally. Feeling bad about your own harmless thoughts can lead to intense personal distress.

Inclusive communities where difference thrives heals or avoids such sincere distress, and the resultant conflicts and mental illnesses that can develop through blind intolerance.

If one considers nature realistically how could one code of conduct predominate, when ample evidence historically perseveres which proves paramount difference co-exists naturally?

It's a matter of embracing traditional gender roles along with multifaceted gender difference.

Then learning and growing together.

Like people do so well in Québec.