Battle Beyond the Stars

A peaceful world universally renowned for its lighthearted communal levity, is suddenly threatened with total destruction, by a lethal tyrant and his mutant army, who possesses a formidable weapon. 

The planet lacks technological distinction but at one time created a ship, to explore the surrounding stars with inquisitive pluck and attuned recognition. 

In their darkest hour of woe of young adventurer commands this vessel (Richard Thomas as Shad), and sets out in search of mercenaries to defend them from the ruthless Sador (John Saxon). 

His courageous exploration is soon audaciously rewarded, as he's able to find able bodied romantics eager to fight a hopeless battle.

Even though scant retribution can be fortuitously paid, they fight resolutely with stalwart will for resounding intergalactic accolades. 

A curious cast of alien life is correspondingly assembled, from diverse realms with eclectic creeds vigorously applied to the newfound mission.

Not to mention inchoate love hectically maturing in the heat of battle.

For two brave modest souls.

Attuned to devout strife.

Playful sci-fi often flops but you could do worse than Battle Beyond the Stars, whose mischievous investigative libido strives in bold rambunctious posture.

Heavily influenced by Star Wars not to mention Star Trek and Seven Samurai, it still brazenly crafts a randy wide-eyed contumacious original vortex.

It plays clever tricks with expectations at times, notably the potential Cantina-like homage, which turns out to be a generally deserted planet, Jimmy T. Murakami 1, J.J.Abrams, 0.

From ceremonious synthetics to vehement Valkyries, Murakami reconstructs the imagination in space, I applaud his bold respect for Seven Samurai, not easy to pull off forlorn amongst the stars.

I searched to find an article claiming that most of the actors from Battle Beyond had had guest Star Trek appearances. I didn't find one (boring!). Levels of postmodern nerd-dom still haven't reached ecstatic heights! 

Sometimes, every scene within a film takes on a lifeforce of its own, the accumulated resonance of the trails and errors constituently reverberating notwithstanding.

For fans of alternative sci-fi I'd say Battle Beyond the Stars can't be missed.

Awkward. Innocent. Daring. Uncanny.

Why not throw in some mutants?

Can't speak to its lasting influence. 

*Here's a cool list of celebrity guest star appearances on Star Trek.

The Biggest Little Farm

The light shines brightly in this humble holistic documentary.

There's a lot of well-researched well-documented logical doom and gloom out there, to which The Biggest Little Farm resiliently responds.

The situation's bleak and new terms are being created to discuss climate change, but individuals are still tilling new ground, and finding innovative ways to persevere.

Protests are paramount.

They're important to raise awareness and demonstrate active criticisms.

Purchasing decisions effectively sustain them too, inasmuch as what you buy directly effects climate change.

I'm not perfect, I don't make 100% environmentally conscious decisions all the time, but I have cut most of the meat out of my diet, recycle everything I can, usually purchase green, and currently snack on fruit rather than chips much more frequently.

It's handy that many grocery stores are selling sliced fruit in small containers (which will hopefully become biodegradable) in Montréal for 2 to 3 dollars a piece.

If the choice is between a helping of pineapple or a bag of chips for $2.50 when I don't have much time and need a quick snack, the decision's a no-brainer, I'm buying pineapple every time.

Businesses do respond when they start losing money, and if there's people powered momentum to make significant impacts, plastic can be replaced by green alternatives, and our reliance on oil can become much less overwhelming.

When I see how many young people attend climate change protests I'm encouraged.

They clearly care about their future and the future of our planet as well.

If even a figure as low as 60% of them grew up to start environmentally friendly businesses and/or farms, selling environmentally friendly products for competitive prices, products perhaps generated by a hemp revolution like the one mentioned in the film Grass and others, while making environmentally friendly purchasing decisions themselves, greenhouse gas emissions would certainly decrease, and biodegradable containers could seriously reduce plastic waste.

We live within a capitalist system and it's through capitalism that we can fight global warming.

Big money tracks how people spend and if it anticipates mass profits in green markets it will lucratively respond.

If North Americans boycotted McDonald's for a month mouth watering vegetarian and vegan options would definitely appear on its menu, as they have on A & W's without a boycott.

Scrumptiously so.

The Biggest Little Farm's about biodiversity, about farming symbiotically with nature.

The Chester's don't just plant one crop, they plant dozens, and cultivate an awe-inspiring abundance of different foods.

They encounter serious setbacks as they embrace sustainable farming, hiring farm whisperer Alan York to guide them along the way.

They wait it out.

They find solutions.

Symbiotic solutions.

Evergreen solutions.

When snails threaten their fruit trees, their ducks devour the snails. When birds threaten their crops, birds of prey move in to challenge them. When gophers threaten their produce, every animal from miles around shows up to chase them. When torrential rains threaten their farm, its bountiful greens prevent catastrophic run off.

They work with nature in an inspiring way that must make David Suzuki and David Attenborough proud.

It's like they've planted a farm in the forest without harming the animals and are still making a steady profit.

The forest animals are even encouraged to live there, with resident owls numbering close to 100.

It's game changing inclusive brilliant revolutionary farming that radiates distinct harmonies through its patient biodiverse strengths.

And it works, at least it's working for them, although they don't shy away from presenting hardships endured.

Our Planet passionately argues that maintaining biodiversity is integral to fighting climate change and preventing species from going extinct.

If more people farmed like the Chester's in The Biggest Little Farm, if more disposable containers and other products were made with hemp, if more green businesses started popping up, and more people made regular greener purchases while out and about, we would significantly reduce greenhouse gasses, and live more enriching lives.

A definite must see.

You can visit Apricot Lane Farms in California too.

They've expanded into ecotourism.

Mind-blowing game changing impacts.

One of my favourite films.

Edmond

The thrill of having nothing prepared as a deadline beckons.

The improvised full-throttle immediate fledgling flight spontaneously soaring 'cross luscious intuitive biodiverse leafy greens, sporadically to avoid reckless comment, sardonically to uplift brave spirit.

Randomly plucked floral variability instinctually sewn in fecund pulpy reverie, overflowing verbose unedited botanicals regally inspiring embowered substance.

Fertilized on the go.

Specific social serene bewilderments forging intricate romantic unconscious endowments, as accidental liaisons and inarticulate flourishes beget ill-disposed classifications, tradition and novelty subterraneanly disputing henceforth and ever after, flush comedic unresolved discombobulated tension, bubbling up, frothing forth, with vigorous effervescent itinerant dis/simulation.

The budding lifeforce.

Hearty pulsation.

Worked up worked through worked out, discredited on the fly, aggrandized parched momentum.

This Edmond.

Based on Edmond Rostand (Thomas Solivérès).

As he wrote Cyrano de Bergerac.

And didn't finish 'til opening night.

I'd say the film's somewhat too sheepish if it didn't revel in risk-fuelled agglomeration.

I'd say it lacks delicate nuance if that wasn't beside the point.

I'd say it's far too sure of itself, indeed, if it didn't extol extemporaneity.

I'd say it's just far too dreamy if it didn't relish in hands on burden.

It's quite mainstream, a studio celebration of independence, which doesn't shy away from romanticizing hardship, or embellishing means with exceptional ends.

I like hope though, and Edmond abounds with that innocent hope which has told so many inspiring stories without focusing too intently on catastrophe.

There are catastrophes of course, setbacks, misfortunes, banishments, but they're all caught up in a Disneyesque current that makes them seem less cumbersome than they indubitably must have been.

Perpetual motion.

Ceaseless activity.

I got caught up in Edmond's hope-fuelled excitement.

It was a million to one shot.

That still hits the mark to this day.

So I've heard.

Star Wars: The Last Jedi

I'd wager that when George Lucas set out to write Star Wars Episodes I-III he imagined himself creating sophisticated scripts which would politically and ethically diversify his intergalactic creation through a tragic appeal to universal social justice.

Tragic inasmuch as the Jedi would be betrayed and the Emperor would inevitably reign supreme.

It's possible that Star Wars: The Last Jedi writer and director Rian Johnson respected this aspect of Lucas's vision (he did achieve that aspect of his vision) but wanted to tone it down a bit, or to make Episode VIII easier to follow anyways.

If that's the case, well done.

In fact, The Last Jedi's a masterpiece of unpretentious chill ethicopolitical sci-fi activism, not to mention an explosive Star Wars film, way done to the nitty-gritty.

Best since Jedi.

Possibly better than Jedi.

Conflict.

As the last remnants of the resistance run out of fuel, star destroyers who can track them through hyperspace pick them off one by one, and after most of their senior leadership is suddenly wiped out by Kylo Ren (Adam Driver), passionate headstrong and defensive rebels bitterly dispute their remaining options.

Lacking the requisite rank to command, Poe Dameron (Oscar Isaac) improvises plan B, which an embarrassed Finn (John Boyega) puts into action, along with the aid of dedicated worker Rose Tico (Kelly Marie Tran).

Meanwhile, Rey (Daisy Ridley) and Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill) become better acquainted as her innocent forceful magnetism awakens hope in his forlorn Jedi consciousness.

Kylo Ren and Supreme Leader Snoke (Andy Serkis) seek to drive them apart however, to further delay the resurgence of the Jedi, and strengthen their sadistic stranglehold on the galaxy.

That's the bare bones, but I don't want to give too much away, nothing too out of the ordinary, I'd say, it's more of a matter of how it's held together.

Comedically.

Astronomically.

General Hux (Domhnall Gleeson) of all characters, looking much more pale and sickly, taking the brunt of the insults, he battles wits early on with Dameron, but if you think of their dialogue extranarratively, it's as if Johnson is brilliantly laying down his gambit, his new direction, his original take on Star Wars, his embrace of lighthearted extreme space tragedy.

Muck like Captain America: Civil War's bold mention of The Empire Strikes Back, The Last Jedi's uncharacteristic unprecedented Star Warsian ridiculousness pays off as nimble youthful energy, and Hamill, and Chewbacca (Joonas Suotamo), Chewbacca doesn't show up in spellcheck, and Leia Organa (Carrie Fisher), and Laura Dern (Vice Admiral Holdo)(Dern is super impressive), spontaneously and playfully redefine rebellious agency.

Apart from Rey and Finn, I wasn't that impressed with the new cast in The Force Awakens, but as Johnson's lighthearted humanistic fallible yet decisive characters joyfully play their roles with competent agile abandon, in situations wherein which there is no clear and precise plan of action, it's as if his direction creates a loving caring nurturing self-sacrificing bold aesthetic that's lucidly transmitted through every innocent yet volatile melodic aspect.

It's a risk, embracing the lighthearted so firmly in such a solemn franchise, but it works well, incredibly well, no doubt a byproduct of having the legendary Mark Hamill so close at hand, and, possibly, red bull, could this be the crowning achievement of today's youth's sober obsession with red bull?

It's like they know when to be funny, when to be furious, when to be desperate, grateful, condemnatory, sad, ruthless, gracious, assertive, feeble.

Abused animals are set free.

Plutocratic weapons dealers castigated.

Vegetarianism presented as a conscientious choice.

Loving kindness shown towards animals leads survivors towards light.

Without being preachy or sanctimonious.

Just short random bursts well-threaded into the action.

It's not all cute and cuddly, the mischievous substance is backed by unyielding pressure, the entire film apart from the interactions on Luke's far away island is one massive extended fight scene, coming in at 152 chaotic minutes, a sustained accelerated orgasmic orchestration, that seems like it was just takin' a walk in the woods, or considering what to do on a long weekend.

New character DJ's (Benicio Del Toro) embrace of moralistic relativism left me puzzled.

You'd have to be a huge piece of shit to betray the resistance like that.

He's right that both sides purchase weapons from arms dealers and use them to pursue alternative ethicopolitical visions.

But he's wrong to have not chosen a side during a real conflict with physical casualties mounting by the minute, one group notably less oppressive than the other.

When shit hits the fan, when a Hitler decides he wants to conquer Europe, or the president of the United States starts directly supporting misogynists and white supremacists, or the right to unionize is threatened politically, when extremes govern, then moralistic relativism takes a back seat to action, and you fight them, with mind, body, and spirit, plain and simple.

Don't know what to make of Maz Kanata's (Lupita Nyong'o) labour dispute. If her employees are comin' at her that hard, she must be utilizing antiquated labour policies.

Too much praise perhaps, but I haven't really loved a new Star Wars film since I was 7.

It worked for me.

Big time.

Spoiler: I was glad they recognized there could never be a last Jedi.

The Jedi might take on a new name if future Jedi don't understand that the powers they possess were once referred to as Jedi powers.

They'd still be Jedi, however, or at least gifted individuals in tune with whatever word they use to characterize the force.

The universe would never stop producing them.

Although alarming build-ups of plastics could prevent people from breeding which could lead to even less Jedi, which would be a very small number indeed.

Kylo Ren the death eater, Rey, born of non-magical parents.

There's a Harry Potteresque magic to The Last Jedi.

Culturally conjuring.

X-Men: Days of Future Past

Evidently, cause and effect temporally deducing, internal philosophical differences debating an approach, the struggle to survive polarizing its parameters, the fact remains that a choice was made, its destructive consequences perspiring an end game, a solution transporting a stabilized atrophy, back to the source, to realign its origins.

Smoothly and shockingly aspiring to First Class, X-Men: Days of Future Past rivetingly integrates their two timelines, flexibly intertwining the old with the new, investing the best of both worlds with Wolverine (Hugh Jackman).

Harnessing irrepressible elasticities.

Magneto's (Michael Fassbender/Ian McKellen) might-is-right response continues to rebel against Professor X's (James McAvoy/Patrick Stewart) republic, as both are given ample contraceptives, their ideals tumultuously tested, by acts of genocidal supervillainy.

Perceived threats, prejudiced itineraries, Magneto's malignment, Professor X's stand.

Why difference has to often negatively preoccupy powers-that-be doesn't make sense.

Such attitudes can turn potentially productive community members into bitter antagonists, generations of Magnetos, time after time after time.

A cultural framework open to alternatives multiplies the conditions through which it can innovate and progress.

Infinite combinations and constructions.

Limitlessly inducing.

The film's really well done.

What a beginning.

Cube

Vincenzo Natali's Cube presents a group of strangers who wake up within a byzantine death trap with no choice but to work together to gain their freedom. Their prison is a giant cube in which some rooms are safe and others contain malicious contraptions designed to quickly end their lives. Enigmatic clues are provided the deciphering of which will enable them to pass through unscathed. As the trapped individuals begin to solve the puzzle, it quickly becomes apparent that a particular form of human nature is their own worst enemy.

The characters are divided into two camps, one nihilistic, the other content with the order of things. Paranoid anxious dialogue delivers extreme points from both ideological stances as their confines suffocate their more polite characteristics. One character decides that they must take control and takes it upon themself to lead. Believing in a strict, necessary, veracious, immutable relationship between things and the ways in which a particular school of thought has defined them, they consider themself to be a representative of austerity and therefore the purist candidate for leadership. Trying to apply the guidelines of a master-narrative to their random circumstances rather than negotiating and aligning themself with the organized structural ambiguity leads to violence and madness, and the laissez-faire nihilists must cope with this determined beast. But passively accepting their situation and progressing patiently and calmly does not guarantee them success, for the designs of the cube cater to both reason and madness alike where only the innocent can survive. According to the ridiculous ending anyways. The logic built into this ending works with Cube's structure however, Natali positioning himself within the very same technosocial-predicament he examines, like Rousseau in a pernicious futuristic state of nature, and delivering the predictable stereotypical solution (the fact that the villain somehow returns) that so often is designated "correct" by its designer's dementia.