Miami Blues

The old school progressive drama within which ambivalence envelopes, as the deeds of a petty crook seem less contemptible at times.

He doesn't instigate many of his crimes but instead simply wanders around the city, and waits for others to break the law before unexpectedly stepping in (Alec Baldwin as Frederick J. Frenger Jr.).

He then uses a fake badge to pretend to arrest the violent assailant, and then steals the loot they've stolen before making off scot-free.

Thus he seems like Robin Hood if he'd had a lingering head injury, therefore he doesn't share his goods, nor rob the rich exclusively.

But he takes in a struggling lass who's had a seriously rough time of it, and they attempt to live together in the 'burbs like a sure and steady upbeat couple.

Meanwhile the cop whom he stole the badge from can't catch a freakin' break (Fred Ward as Pork-Chops-Moseley), and moves from the hospital back to his hotel apartment before being assaulted by a fellow policeperson (Paul Gleason as Sgt. Lackley).

He's one of the most unfortunate cops I've seen effectively portrayed in bizarro detective drama.

With an uncanny comic edge.

Like nothing I've seen before.

Mostly because I've never seen the police at such a disadvantage, and I'm not used to seeing petty thugs randomly commit crimes without fear of consequence.

The intricate focus on precise details leading to the capture of violent criminals, generally eludes this oddball caper in which the cops are understaffed, underfunded, and corrupt.

There's no shortage of corresponding crime and as they proceed like a comic noir, they make the case for a more robust economy in which there's ample steady work.

Jennifer Jason Leigh (Ms. Waggoner) excels as her character intuits a domestic role, having spent much of her life being overlooked, she responds with vigour to her newfound calling.

Fred Ward takes on a new role where he isn't a smart-ass confident phenom, in Miami Blues he struggles more than J.J. Gittes in Chinatown and even loses his set of false teeth.

Alec Baldwin alternatively struggles and shines throughout his discombobulating task, some scenes certainly memorable, how was he ever that thin?

Not the most convincing of cop dramas but still abounding with oddball novelty, Miami Blues takes a well-worn genre and reasserts stray originality. 

Perhaps the story comes from Europe, it's difficult to say.

Fun if if you love offbeat characters.

And omnipresent gristle.   

Running on Empty

A family nurtured on the run from the law, as two aging radicals domestically innovate.

They were both once somewhat younger but not much less idealistic, and they engaged in destructive violence, by blowing up the lab responsible for making Napalm, no was supposed to be there, but an innocent janitor was blinded.

Their network was vast and organized and managed to keep them on the move, to help them avoid incarceration for enough time to raise a family.

Their family's tight and genuinely loving full of creative exploration, the imaginative alternative means cultivated by clandestine life.

It's all the children have ever known and they've matured and adapted well, at least inasmuch as they love each other and are correspondingly respectful.

Mom (Christine Lahti) and dad (Judd Hirsch) feel somewhat guilty but there's little time to wallow, yet when their eldest son (River Phoenix as _______) reaches his late teens he starts to think about University.

He has a musical gift and is earnestly supported by his teacher (Ed Crowley), he even falls for his feisty daughter (Martha Plimpton) and dares to share his courageous plan.

His competing responsibilities are rather solemnly negotiated, as he deals with teenage impulse and unanticipated affection.

It's a bizarro shout out to active engagement generally presented with caring sympathy, I tend to think no one would make a similar contemporary film (in North America), but I'm likely mistaken, you never know what's out there.

I fully support the critique of the manufacture of destructive weapons like Napalm, and the war machine in general, a peaceful world praises productivity, contemplative virtues beyond the utilitarian.

But I can't get behind using violence to putting an end to violence, unless you're forced to do so, as in the case of Ukraine. There are just so many innocent victims. So many people who may have been keen carpenters, teachers, actors, even accountants, if they hadn't got caught up in an ideological conflict. I'd prefer to see concerned citizens capture violent leaders from different sides and force them to fight it out like gladiators on TV. When the people see the hopeless position the gaunt promoters of warlike violence find themselves within, it would no doubt produce a comic effect, which may generate a sustained resonance.

I don't claim to know a universal path forward, there's so much contradiction in an active thoughtful life, so many unforeseen intricate complications that mass cultural endeavour seems foolhardy.

A disposable income seems to help, however, keeping people away from poverty. If they aren't stressed about food and shelter they're more at ease with things in general. 

And businesses flourish and there's less of a need for credit and people can relax and have fun after a busy day's work.

With friends or with their families. 

Disposable incomes.

A huge win win. 

Confidential Report

Spoiler alert.

A man of humble origins obtains astounding wealth, and lives the ostentatious lifestyle well-attuned to extravaganza (Orson Welles as Mr. Arkadin). 

But he has trouble living in the present for some self-obsessed depressing reason, free to do whatever he pleases, he decides to track down old associates.

With ill-intent.

He hires a somewhat clueless blunt do-gooding would-be detective, to discover where they've wound up and any additional information he can find (Robert Arden as Guy Van Stratten). 

He had hoped to blackmail Arkadin with his knowledge of an old school name, and managed to fortunately meet him after getting to know his carefree daughter (Paola Mori as Raina). 

He travels far and wide in search of crucial extant intel, leaving a well-trodden path to follow should one scrutinize his investigation.

He encounters several oddballs enigmatically versed in levity, who supply ample scandalous details of Mr. Arkadin's criminal past.

But he realizes too late that he's been followed and they've been murdered.

And he's been framed for a murder himself.

And there's nowhere left to hide.

Leave things be I say in terms of controversial fascinations, there's peace of mind in a steady job and a potentially loving fulfilling relationship.

After work, there are art museums and a fluid stream of homegrown spectacles at Place des arts, delicately blended with international intrigue the seductive synthesis viscerally reeling.

Plus sports.

A sudden inspired idea can generate piquant multilateral harmonies, ephemerally akin to serendipitous spectrums as genuinely concerned as they are suspicious. 

Perhaps the accumulation of wealth does beget a desire for public recognition, it seems to happen often enough in film and literature, even if the riches were acquired somewhat scandalously. 

Does nominal philanthropy exculpate suspect acquisitive propulsion, like secular sociopolitical tithing written off with a lack of pretence?

It seems like social media would lead to a less ambiguous historical take.

But there are so many competing narratives.

Who tells the most gripping story?

Confidential Report presents a cool cast of characters comically united through witless candour.

Live in the present I say.

Augmented tradition.

Novel change. 

Across the Pacific

A career soldier in possession of rank is kicked out of the American military, he attempts to enlist with the Canadian Forces, but word of his disgrace has travelled quickly (Humphrey Bogart as Rick Leland).

With nothing to do, and no local armed forces to fight for, he boards a ship heading west, hoping to serve a country oversees with resigned mercenary indifference.

With time on his hands, aboard the ship in question, he relaxes with some of the guests, meeting an adventurous maiden from Medicine Hat (Mary Astor as Alberta Marlow), and a bored professor who lives in the Philippines (Sydney Greenstreet as Dr. H.F.G. Lorenz). 

He soon discovers work is available although it's somewhat treacherous and controversial, but if he's willing to supply Lorenz with information he may have found a lucrative track.

The ship stops in New York, in Panama, where it's refused passage along the canal, stuck with nowhere to go unattached he's forced to make a critical decision. 

But does he betray the Allies and sign-up for colonial aggression?

Or will he remember his Native soil and dreams forged with less bellicose intrigue?

I'm so used to seeing John Huston films thoroughly unconcerned with the master narrative, taking place far underground with enticing nondescript wicked levity.

That it was strange to view Across the Pacific and see something much more patriotic, rah-rah, or at least directly concerned with world events of an imposing and nationalistic tenure.

We have a traditional troubled wayward confused embroiled protagonist, confidently navigating ineffable obscurity with courageous inspiring hapless tenacity.

But there's a secret, he may be unorthodox but he isn't out on his own, although his position is still rather tenuous reputed suspicions notwithstanding.

Perhaps Mr. Huston briefly flirted with a more traditional Hollywood career, and considered making standard films to cash in on predetermined trajectories.

But Across the Pacific's so over the top in the final moments that it seems like Huston's critiquing himself, going the extra yard to prove his ironic mettle even if he couldn't really care less.

Not about the subject matter, the mainstream story itself perhaps didn't generate alarm.

But about working within the ornate system.

The most peculiar John Huston film I've seen.

*According to the IMDB Vincent Sherman directed the final scenes. Perhaps Huston refused to do it. Bizarro either way. 

Captain Marvel

Spoiler Alert.

There was another time, dynamically transisting not long after the synthesized age, during which new technologies arose and alternative art forms flourished, perhaps lacking the clarity of its legendary progenitor, it still effortlessly distinguished itself in unsung awestruck parallel, and racism wasn't tolerated, and collectives were still ontologically featured, working people still telling their tales, which were told with honour and integrity.

Captain Marvel unreels in such a frame, and its characters find sanctuary within.

Although conflict and peril do bellicosely present themselves, and the keys to the past lie dormant in shielded oblivion.

Representatives of a colonialist empire come covetously calling after a pocket of resistance fighters escapes with one of their soldiers.

As resourceful as she is unyielding, Carol Danvers (Brie Larson) sets out upon Earth to discover truths dissimulated.

She is aided in her pursuits by feisty Agent Fury (Samuel L. Jackson), who is still somewhat green, and unaware of extraterrestrial life.

Thus, even though Captain Marvel excels at cultivating the new, it's also an origins story, the tantalizing mélange simultaneously revelatory on at least two distinct temporal levels.

Spatially pontooned.

It starts out slow, not that the action isn't constant, but it takes awhile to find its footing, as Danvers gradually learns more about her former self.

Or at least how to go about learning more about that self.

But it gets better as it proceeds, its overt focus on identity transformation skilfully worked into its cinematic ecology.

It uses comedy but isn't flip, takes things seriously to break them down, works in some Indiana Jones, and creatively plays with cyberspatial time difference.

Time differentials.

It may be my favourite Marvel film, inasmuch as it vigorously stands out on its own.

Great acting all around, but Lashana Lynch (Maria Rambeau) steals several scenes, she totally makes the most of her role, and perhaps delivers the best Marvel supporting performance to date.

Cool soundtrack too.

There's a surprising twist you don't often find in these films as well.

Oddly, even though I don't believe that aliens taught the ancient Egyptians anything, but rather that their geniuses created pyramids etc. while ours built hydrogen fuel cells, and the internet, the genius of a particular time, any given time, even caveperson time, making the most of the materials at her or his disposal, crafting ingenious artifacts/theories/structures/. . .  accordingly, while modifying them at times as he or she sees fit, I still entertained the notion that cats had been brought here by aliens one day, because the ancient Egyptians worshipped them, so I've heard, and, so far, it hasn't been possible to domesticate large raccoon populations, and I was discussing this with a friend one day, and I turned to look and saw his cat staring at me intently, with an otherworldly look on his face.

It's utterly ridiculous of course, but I still appreciate the mystery, and unless Robert E. Kahn and Vint Cerf (the internet guys according to wikipedia) turn out to have really come from space, or to have taken orders from alien rulers, I'll lean heavily towards the terrestrial origins of cats, until substantially proven otherwise.

Those little cuties.

😜

Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri

Martin McDonagh cranks up Sympathy for the Devil and holds nothing back in Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, as an abusive bigoted homophobic policeperson does the right thing for once after a lifetime of gross civil indecency.

The schematics.

A grieving mother (Frances McDormand as Mildred), whose daughter was brutally murdered, rents three billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri, to boldly call out the local police chief (Woody Harrelson as Chief Willoughby) for having made no progress on the case months later.

Her fury is justified and her disobedience sincere, even if members of the local constabulary don't see it that way, members who no longer take the case seriously.

An individual's reasonable observations therefore conflict with statistics and precedents, the police having handled similar cases before, and done relatively little after their initial investigation led nowhere.

Did complacency brought about by years of cold routine cause them to simply ignore the case?

Possibly.

Spoiler.

The police chief, who is dying of cancer, does commit suicide not long after the billboards go up.

This isn't Mississippi Burning.

Even if Ebbing's blunt righteous inspirational indignation generates hardboiled perdition, wherein which everyone is scorched in the flames, including James (Peter Dinklage), unwittingly, who's introduced to critique Mildred, or to reflect upon a culture so saturated with stereotypical thinking that no one's done anything genuine for decades, until the three billboards go up, after which people who don't have much experience feeling suddenly find themselves culturally enraged, unprecedented emotions wildly seeking semantic clarification, it's no Mississippi Burning, a film that doesn't present the racist pretensions of the local police force so lightly.

But the Feds aren't called in in this one, and even though I'm a forgiving man, and love a story that sees the hardboiled ethical transformation of a character like Dixon (Sam Rockwell), a grizzly tale that doesn't shy away from gruesome cultural codes, he still brutally assaults people and the law doesn't hold him to account, apart from taking his badge away, and I don't see why the metamorphosis of the brutally violent police officer is being celebrated with awards, when Wind River, another dark film that examines stark polarized realities, which is also well-written and compelling, was released in 2017, and ignored by the Golden Globes.

That's called white privilege, I believe.

Was The Revenant too soon?

The Danish Girl

For a terse, inadequate, understated, rushed synopsis of Foucault's Madness & Civilization, one might write that qualitative evaluations, at any given moment, have specific psychological preferences, stereotypically spiritualized in what they consider to be rational, enticing, praiseworthy, while alternative dispositions which don't snuggly fit the definitions must still attempt to forthrightly applaud them, or fall prey to a legion of mental health authorities who make a living cultivating them, using various methods to diagnose and cure the afflicted who can't help but stand out in sharp contrast.

These definitions change, In Search of Lost Time's examination of the Dreyfus Affair highlighting malleable pretensions to culture, the Affair not relating to definitive mindsets particularly, but Proust's compellingly interminable investigation of its protagonists and arch-villains, themselves changing their positions depending on their analysis of the popular, thereby behaving politically, to parlour, antiquate, and esteem, demonstrates how madness and civilization dialectically contend, embrace, synthesize, in rhetorical applications of epistemological virtue.

There are people who seem to be lacking in reason, people who adamantly believe their pet guinea pigs are reincarnated Julio-Claudians for example, but The Danish Girl's Einar Wegener/Lili Elbe (Eddie Redmayne) is clearly sane, kind, gentle, yet has no means through which to access inadmissible components of his personality, and is therefore labelled undesirable.

He escapes curative clutches however, enduring minor experimental encumbrances but still maintaining his freedom, and, with the aid of his idyllic wife Gerda (Alicia Vikander), eventually finds a doctor who recognizes his sanity and wholeheartedly assists.

Before discovering this doctor you seem him struggling to animate, as he seeks out the compassion of the civil who misguidedly think him mad.

The film is a quiet timid exploratory illustration of gender identification which focuses more on Lili/Einar and Gerda's brilliant relationship, effervescently brought to life by Redmayne and Vikander, true compassion and understanding, than the horrors Einar/Lili faces as he transforms.

Illumination.

Trying to find markets for art complements Lili/Einar's discoveries, selling paintings like trying to invigorate public opinion, open up new worlds, and encourage sociocultural inclusivity.

Gerda's paintings are quite beautiful.

As is a world where difference is an integral strength.

Intimately unrecognized.

Self/less

The prospects of immortality, rearrange and shift, mutate, transform, galavanting through the epochs with illuminated historical flexibility, observing, unnerving, acting, forlorn fountainheads cartesian factotums, watching from the sidelines, taking direct roles, zigzagging away through the here and now like mesmerized counteracting resonance, a comment, a plan, an insight, a lyric, a strategy.

The choice is Damian's (Ben Kingsley/Ryan Reynolds).

Repercussions be damned.

Or not, as it soon becomes clear that the body he's purchased wasn't grown in a lab but was once inhabited by another whose consciousness still resides within, regular doses of potent pharmaceuticals required to maintain control, limitless ethics, the conscience of consciousness.

He was an extremely successful businessperson during his first life, erudite and invincible, this aspect giving him an advantage as he begins to unravel the crime, while highlighting the importance of retirement to give the next generation a shot.

He slowly comes to understand this, that he's already come into existence, that new ideas and fresh perspectives invigorate evolution, as his new body persists, still thrives with the ecstasy of youth.

A decision must be made.

A balance must be spiritualized.

Tarsem Singh's Self/less works as a thrilling contemplative digestible crucial reflexion.

Perhaps Ben Kingsley shouldn't retire (any actor looking to star in science-fiction or superhero films should study Kingsley's performance in Self/less).

Age versus youth, activism contra avarice, death circling everlasting life, the theatrics of a dream, the investment of a lifetime.

Agile mainstream science-fiction makes you think while plausibly delivering a steady stream of action.

Self/less embodies these synapses.

A touching examination of transformations within transmutations, it investigates the moral, to powerfully project and diversify.

Note: I'm still quite young.

*I like this Tarsem Singh. He also directed Mirror Mirror. I liked The Cell too when I saw it in 2000.

Bird People

This one's sneaky.

About halfway through, as Gary (Josh Charles) decides to abandon his responsibilities, I was thinking, "okay, this would make a much better novel, I need to know what this character is thinking, why is he acting this way, apart from the panic attack, more detail, more psychology, without said value-added information, this film's becoming desolate, I have no reason to sympathize with him, no reason, to care."

I thought the film was awful but there were signs that director Pascale Ferran wanted me to think this, a number of shots, including one of Audrey (Anaïs Demoustier) standing by a window, which seemed like extraordinarily well captured moments of unconcerned bubble-gum bliss, like ads for soap or candy bars but exceptionally well done, bearing artistic imprints, working with the content, their exceptional qualities tenderly embracing the beautiful, finding art in lives where banalities pervade, revelations, serendipities, flowing with the material while subtly standing out, making a statement without suggesting anything, banality dematerialized, the life hidden within surfacing, rejoicing.

Then there's this, what?, are writers Ferran and Guillaume Bréaud on acid?, switch, which seems ridiculous and totally out of place at first, but then, as the subsequent action progresses, it's like this is incredibly beautiful, so much fun to watch, to take part in, logic and preparation be damned this is one of the coolest surprises I've seen in a film in years, joyous while remaining vigilant (there's a cat), so glad I didn't walk out, you can see why it's playing at Cinéma EXCƎNTRIS.

Patient, delicate, exploratory, curious, a continuation of the voyeuristic theme that doesn't seem intrusive or flighty.

It's a very cheeky film yet illuminatingly subtle, Ferran playing with her audience, setting it free from predictable preconditioned patterns of observation, tempting it to embrace something new, a soothing transformative catalystic swoon, the art of mesmerizing, discourses of the beautiful.

Lost in Laos

Alessandro Zunino's sly transformational obscurely poised Lost in Laos potentially situates a metamockumentary between two worlds, wherein survival is latticed with familial, relational, and biological vertebrae, adrift in the Laotian jungle, anxiously struggling at home.

On the bilateral, feisty student Daniela (Daniela Camera) sets out with her partner Paolo (Daniele Pitari) to intermingle inebriated and impressionistic filmic observations as part of a wild abandoned ad hoc international trance known as Lost in Laos.

She keeps in contact with her traditional parents until too many substances are consumed at once and she wakes up with Paolo miles from town, down the river, passports and related pieces of identification missing, no food, soaking wet, lost.

The credits set up the film's serious yet sardonic transitional identifications by creatively yet dazzlingly introducing each letter of the crew's names before the name appears in full, at that point in time each character possessing a stable conception of self developed over time, after which the full name breaks apart into its individual components, thereby foreshadowing the upcoming psychological turmoil by the letter.

The creative yet dazzling dynamic sets up the surreal metamockumentary exposition as well, Lost in Laos intellectually diversifying its subject matter while picturesquely percolating a piquant self-awareness, whose bright abnegations voyeuristically mystify.

The boundary between truth and fiction forms part of Daniela's thesis and this dialectical deployment caused me to wonder if the film was really about either an aging professional couple imagining what life would have been like if they had taken more risks, or a young adventurous couple theorizing on the benefits of a bourgeois life spent together.

At which point I had to take mockumentary itself into consideration, wondering if Zunino was eruditely lampooning this style of analysis to simply present a troublemaking voyage of discovery.

Difficult to say.

Les Misérables

And another film operating within an ethical economic matrix was released, whose focus is more generalized and critiques less gaudy, pursuing similar ends through divergent means, incorporating adherents of courage, wisdom, moderation and justice, religiously and managerially inundating the hardened prejudice of the absolute, with vibrant, comprehensive, itineraries, of conscience.

Also reducing a novel of considerable length to a lively cross-section, condensed further through the articulations of musical abbreviations, it, while lacking the artistic particularity of Anna Karenina, the meticulous style, still uses its harmonies to manufacture practical progressions, one of its most salient themes reminiscent of a concluding remark from Cloud Atlas.

The Master's logical mischievousness innkeeps, while Argo's spirit internally manifests.

Lengthy and full of purpose, Tom Hooper's Les Misérables chants out between two worlds, mercifully punishing criminal constabularies, while seeking to secure democratic law and order.

And another viewing of Lincoln. 

Lawless

John Hillcoat's Lawless ballistically perforates a hostile approach to rapid wide-scale systemic change, polemically posturing various players within a bucolic dynamic in order to counterpoise federal and local reputations.

The year is 1931 and prohibition and the great depression are taking their toll.

But dozens of Virginian bootleggers in Franklin County have found ways to circumvent the prudish law while ensuring the availability of steamwhistlin' scratch.

Their business has its share of internal and external dangers, but if their entrepreneurial caution, confidence, and charisma is combatively backed-up, should the situation demand, it's possible for them to get by.

The film's social demographic places egalitarian commercial race relations in the underground, using its most formidable character to deconstruct Southern stereotypes without hesitating to allude to their pernicious influence.

This accomplishes the following: African American customers (unfortunately) occupy the underground but said occupation is directly (and vivaciously) displayed (bigots can spread their hate but they can't suffocate your spirit). Segregation's pernicious influence on the other hand is indirectly showcased on main street. Such an opposition realistically situates racist cultural dynamics within an historical paradigm while simultaneously suggesting that said paradigm isn't as prominent (in certain areas) as it used to be (without resorting to pointing out how bigoted things can be outside of the American South).

By making the underground activities lively and inviting, and those flourishing in the forefront antiquated and distasteful, Hillcoat subtly contemporarizes his narrative without aggrandizing it, thereby formally instituting a reversal of fortunes.

These commercial relations commence sharpening Lawless's predominant (and much more blunt) focus upon allowing local jurisdictions to settle economic matters according to their own industrious proclivities, the ways in which they particularly interpret the universal, one step at a time, or at least without dismissive, infantilizing, violent authoritative impositions.

Its narrative is quite different from Alan Parker's Mississippi Burning, wherein federal authorities seek justice according to the somewhat peaceful (and necessary) application of the law only to be stymied by local thugs (after which 'authoritative impositions' are 'enacted').

Lawless is of course more concerned with underground economies and identity transformation (or solidification), and Special Agent Charlie Rakes's (Guy Pearce) psychopathic abuse of his power to 'tax' and/or crush small businesses during an economic crisis, while using his knowledge to intimidate people as they try to grow/change, is grossly counterproductive.

His exaggerated character represents both the reputation a lot of city folk have for using their 'wit' to consistently enflame the age-old urban/rural antimony, and the ways in which many federal law officers likely abused their authority when transferred to the South (can you break down an institutionalized culture of segregation by treating everyone bigotedly?).

But he bats heads with the Bondurant Boys whose (justifiably) invincible reputation and refusal to back down on certain matters of principle have garnered them considerable respect within (and outside of) their community, although Forrest's (Tom Hardy) adherence to the doctrine of fear generates problematic socio-ethical questions.

I suppose if you live in an excessively violent location you need to physically maintain a resolute persona that demonstrates that it won't take any shit.

But who the hell wants to live like that? 

It's like cultivating paranoia instead of grain and such methods will have significant detrimental longterm effects.

Nevertheless, Lawless's explosive yet clever refusal to allow the South to be characterized according to a set of generalized notions, which legitimately carry substantial historical weight but at the same time demonize those who lived within a system without operating according to their divisive rules, tenaciously operates within an incendiary critical domain whose approach to achieving social democratic objectives isn't so light and fluffy.

Although it does ironically employ the cult of the individual (an individual family) to achieve them.

The Dark Knight Rises

Not feelin' it for The Dark Knight Rises.

Don't get me wrong, the rapid pace and intelligent script make for an entertaining thought-provoking film, packed tight with a judicial balance of solid and cheesy lines/imagery/situations, set within an armageddonesque scenario which exemplifies the apotheosis of campy mainstream political drama basking in subtly sensational ludicrousy.

Note that it's just a movie.

Within however, the villain Bane (Roger Hardy), who works in the sewers and is backed by some of Bruce Wayne's (Christian Bale) excessively wealthy competitors, has been using construction workers and freelance thieves to launch a strategic attack which will incarcerate Gotham City's entire police force, set up a kangaroo court to 'judge' the wealthy, get his hands on a source of limitless energy that can be turned into a catastrophically destructive weapon, the whole time acting like a person of the people.

It's a bit much.

And the ways in which construction unions are depicted is frustrating.

Of course it's just a movie, within which Bane is a fanatical lunatic who employs absurd methods to achieve insane objectives.

I mean, what person of the people would destroy a football stadium?

But making him a 'person of the people' does cunningly vilify genuine persons of the people like Franklin D. Roosevelt (who still had to operate in a political dynamic which encountered expedient matters I'm assuming) which is problematic.

He is financed by the excessively wealthy, as mentioned earlier, which logically states that plutocrats are theoretically capable of using popular tropes to achieve despotic ends, thereby making Bane's adoption of the label 'person of the people' all the more problematic.

But this doesn't mean individuals who come from privileged backgrounds don't care about structural issues relating to poverty, individuals such as Jack Layton, and want to try to do something about them using legitimate political methods (pointing out a social democrat's rich upbringing is a divisive tactic used by the right to discredit them, from what I can tell anyway).

Having a source of limitless environmentally friendly power that can be turned into a weapon of mass destruction is also problematic, inasmuch as it indirectly vilifies alternative energy sources while propping up the nuclear/petroleum-based-product status quo.

Obviously, when your economy is seriously dependent on this status quo (see The End of Suburbia, 2004) and the ways in which its revenues fuel social programs, you can't simply change everything overnight without causing mass unemployment (perhaps I'm wrong here, I don't know, but it seems to me that if your economy is functioning with a significant deficit, large scale structural changes to its infrastructure will be disastrous unless they can definitively generate mass profits in the aftermath [which is a pretty big risk to take if you're not flush with cash]).

But at the same time, not trying to find environmentally friendly alternatives to the petroleum/nuclear power base that can't be turned into WMDs or be inexpensively integrated into the grid is equally disastrous (I suppose while searching for such power sources it's important to hire people to continuously monitor whether or not their construction can lead to the creation of WMDs [obviously enough {perhaps this isn't so obvious: it took a very long time to cap the BP oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico in 2010 because they weren't prepared}]).

People often call me naive, but, whatever: "It was all the more [troublesome] because by nature I have always been more open to the world of potentiality than to the world of contingent reality"(Marcel Proust, In Search of Lost Time, vol. 5 [I don't think I'm like Proust, I just love reading In Search of Lost Time]).

Hence, as an escape, I did enjoy The Dark Knight Rises, but I can't support some of its structural issues inasmuch as, according to this viewing, they aren't very progressive.

There is the issue of Selina (Anne Hathaway) however who is trying to change her life around but can't due to the ways in which her criminal record prevents her from finding employment.

Just my thoughts on the subject.

Take 'em or leave 'em.

Total Recall

Whether or not the action within the Total Recall remake takes place solely within Douglas Quaid/Hauser's (Colin Farrell) mind or in the film's objective domain is obviously up for debate.

The evidence for both sides is provided within a functional formulaic opposition between two states, one who owns the means of production (The United Federation of Britain/UFB), and another who is forced to work within them (The Colony/Australia).

The rest of the planet is uninhabitable due to prolonged chemical warfare.

In the onset, Quaid/Hauser has become bored with the status quo and decides to check out Rekall, a notorious company who can directly plant living memories within your mind. After arriving, he chooses the secret agent program (with the double agent option) and just as he's about to drift off, seconds after he's intravenously hooked up, security forces rush in.

For the rest of the film he's a pseudo-double agent (Hauser) who has had his memory erased and replaced with the persona Douglas Quaid. He instinctively remembers details of his former life, usually gut reactions which help him escape UFB traps, but cannot reconstruct the big picture.

His situation directly relates to a bewildering recurring dream he's been having, prior to visiting Rekall.

I probably should have paid more attention to the myriad chase sequences and mushy one-liners that predominate afterwards, for it's likely that within their action/delivery lie clues designed to disambiguate Total Recall's 'dreamscape.' But said sequences and one-liners are abundant and I found myself zoning out after a while.

However, before Quaid enters Rekall, the one-liners are delivered with a self-reflexive gritty disengaged realistic dexterity.

After entering Rekall and then travelling to the UFB, Hauser's first olympian flight is characterized by constantly shifting ground and split-second opportune life saving reflexes, in short, the stuff dreams are made of.

Yet, as many people find themselves looking for permanent work, often having to travel and compete to secure it, their terrain constantly shifts, working for a year here, another there, perennially stuck in a probationary period.  

And while searching one must often use brief inter/national/provincial/regional expressions while communicating.

Quaid knows who he is. There's no doubt in his mind as to his identity nor to his historical path.

Hauser has to rely on hidden messages and/or direct support/condemnation, mired in contradiction due to his supposed status as double agent, apart from the messages he's left behind for himself, and his actions, to formulate a stable I, oddly mirroring the establishment of a dream identity, albeit purely rational within the space's systemic parameters.

His sudden epic coercive confusing circumstances require a leap of faith which he makes, choosing to fight for the oppressed (the UFB has run out of land and seeks to invade the Colony to take theirs), which he does with the aid of his stunning versatile partner (Jessica Biel as Melina) while his former wife (Kate Beckingsale as Lori Quaid) does everything she can to stop them.

And an enigmatic individual whose personality reflects the end of history prevents the colonialization while enabling the creation of a social democratic state, amidst cheers and celebrations and a giant advertisement for Rekall.

Is this resolution too good to be true?

Well, in order to openly discuss the legitimate claims of oppressed workers in the post-9/11 age of austerity while working within a domain that regularly produces works designed to infantilize them, it makes sense that such a discussion would have to take place within an ambiguous framework in order for everyone involved to avoid any imperial entanglements.

At the same time, if the narrative does take place solely in Quaid's mind, it's designed to provoke critical discussions of the ways in which the military industrial complex is using pop culture to substitute images for reality in order to disrupt collective left-wing political actions by situating them within the cult of the individual, thereby making them seem unattainable (director Len Wiseman having taken control of the means of production).

Meaning that either way, Quaid is Hauser.

Rock of Ages

Well, without digging too deeply into the ideologic-socio-political dimensions of Rock of Ages, here's a brief snapshot of what happens.

A beautiful young girl (Julianne Hough as Sherrie Christian) travels from Oklahoma to Los Angeles in the hopes of becoming a singer. It becomes clear early on that the odds are stacked against her but she's fortunate enough to catch the eye of a barback (Diego Boneta as Drew Boley) with similar dreams who finds her a job at the prominent nightclub (The Bourbon Club) where he works.  

In less than a week they've developed a strong emotional bond.

Known, as love.

Legendary demonic alcoholic singer Stacee Jaxx (Tom Cruise) and his band Arsenal are scheduled to play their last collective performance at the Bourbon Club, and the sultry studious astute Constance Stack (Malin Akerman) of Rolling Stone hopes to ask Mr. Jaxx some sharp related critical questions beforehand.

After three or four minutes she's prancing around in her underwear.

She does still publish a vitriolic article later on.

But by the end of the film she's carrying his baby.

Meanwhile, the clueless adulterous Mayor Mike Whitmore's (Bryan Cranston) religious wife Patricia (Catherine Zeta-Jones) hopes to put an end to the Bourbon Club's cult and is crusading against Mr. Jaxx as well.

The only man who ever made her feel like a real woman.

By the end of the film she's back in the audience, hoping Stacee will notice her once again.

Sherrie and Drew break up and she finds a job stripping while he gets stuck in a boy band.

And another monster rock ballad is sung.

I'm not really looking to complicate this film or anything, but it does present politics and feminism as hypocritical meaningless endeavours whose initiatives crumble beneath the seductive gaze of the established subterranean patriarch.

In this case, the political initiatives are invasive and counterproductive but if they function as a foil for such initiatives generally they can be considered belittling and grossly disproportionate (there is no alternative political option presented).

I prefer grassroots music to that manufactured by market based research but it's not as if classic rock isn't alive and well.  

It's nice to see gay characters given a strong masculine structural role within, not in terms of encouraging anti-feminist apolitical activities, but in regards to taking risks in order to establish an integral celebrated entrepreneurial identity.

I can't think of any other things to say besides the fact that the film's soundtrack contains some songs that I like.

Rock of Ages. 

Rollin' along.

Madagascar 3: Europe's Most Wanted

Well, I haven't seen the first two Madagascar films, but Europe's Most Wanted makes it clear that at some point the loveable animal stars spent time in a zoo in New York City.

And are hoping to return.

Their penguin and chimpanzee acquaintances ditch them at the beginning to fly to Monte Carlo and make a fortune gambling.

Frightened of having to spend the rest of their lives in Africa, they follow.

How they travel to Monte Carlo remains a mystery (it's possible that they swam).

After they discover their whereabouts, they accidentally fall through a glass ceiling, thereby simultaneously reuniting while interrupting a lavish spending spree of Europe's elite.

Which engenders a confrontation with the law.

As represented by a rather determined feminine figure.

From which they escape by posing as circus animals and finding refuge in a hostile yet hospitable train.

The penguins then buy the circus from owners who are eager to sell only to discover that it suffers from a serious lack of talent.

And that things need to be competently restructured in order to impress an American promoter who may finance a tour of the United States.

Starting in New York City.

Even though our heroes have no circus experience, they have lived in an American zoo where they acquired transferable do-it-yourself-know-how, easily applicable to any situation.

And the characters from Africa, who prefer life in a zoo to their homeland, teach the struggling Europeans how to dazzlingly manage their showcase, thereby enabling a tour of the U.S.A.

The revitalized Russian tiger is heard to utter 'bolshevik' instead of 'bullshit.'

Labour laws in France apparently only require two weeks of work a year, a subtle indirect (annoying) elevation of the 50 week work year.

A Platonic mode of political production is partially at work insofar as the wise penguins use the spirit of their inspirational lion, zebra, hippopotamus, and giraffe to reconstitute the European appetites, even after said appetites find out that they've been convincingly lied to.

In the interests of entertainment.

Can't say I'm disappointed that I missed its predecessors, nor that I find the title Europe's Most Wanted amusing.

Suppose a kid's film about the state of the American economy wouldn't be commercially feasible.

"God only knows it's not what we would choose to do (Roger Waters, Rick Wright)."

John Carter

Was surprised by the internal dynamics of Andrew Stanton's John Carter.

Within, one finds a disengaged despondent protagonist, John Carter (Taylor Kitsch), refusing to take part in any unnecessary interpersonal relations because his family was murdered by the North during the American Civil War.

He's searching for gold in the Arizona Territory.

After escaping from regional military authorities, he finds himself in a cave where he is accidentally transported to Barsoom (Mars).

On Barsoom, he winds up in a typical scenario where one side of a bloodthirsty jingoistic 'might is right' community (Zodanga) is using a weapon of unlimited power, given to them by godlike beings (the Therns) who want them to rule the planet, to defeat their ancient enlightened enemies (the citizens of Helium) who are on the brink of discovering a method of harnessing an infinite source of energy (the Ninth Ray) whose secrets have been manipulated by the Therns for millennia.

A third party, whose political structure and cultural activities are somewhat Romanesque (the Tharks), are avoiding the conflict.   

Helium can end the war if Tardos Mors (Ciarán Hinds) marries his daughter Dejah Thoris (Lynn Collins) to Zodanga's leader, Sab Than (Dominic West).

However, the resourceful, fierce, and brilliant Dejah refuses and escapes with the serendipitous assistance of Mr. Carter.

The Tharks provide them with sanctuary until their curiosity proves sacrilegious.

If one thinks of Zodanga's aggressive warlike colonialist activities as representing an ideology far to the right, Helium's feudal yet scientifically and socially progressive practices (women can be just as strong, intelligent, and successful as men and science isn't being used exclusively in the manufacture of weapons) as one that is left of centre, the Tharks as having adopted a neutral approach whose internal ideological dimensions are still far to the right (the non-voting uncritical receptors of Republican pop culture?), the Therns as a powerful interventional technologically advanced group seeking to maintain their immemorial monopoly, and John Carter as a jaded nihilistic entrepreneur only seeking to return home, then the altruistic effects of the following denouement could possibly play out.

Sab plans to murder Dejah after their wedding thereby uniting the cities while eliminating the feminine scientific element. Carter overcomes his individualism, decides to fight for Helium, and uses his influence with the Tharks to secure their aid. Together they out maneouvre the Therns and Zodangans leaving the door open for the people of Helium to develop constructive means of utilizing the energy of the Ninth Ray to bring about a more sustainable perennial planetary infrastructure whose enduring surplus could break down the dominant feudal structures preventing the Tharks, Zodangans, and citizens of Helium from forging a united front capable of shielding themselves against the Therns's meddling.

And their preference for brute force.

And general smugness.

Men in Black III

The clandestine Men in Black security force is back to monitor Earth's alien activity in the franchise's third instalment, Men in Black III, fully loaded with neuralyzers, inexhaustible technological and knowledge resources, a law enforcing odd couple, and monumental temporal distortions.

Just in time for Summer. 

If the darkness is literally thought of as a nocturnal limiting force within which means of generating light must be creatively produced in order to enable vision (fire, candles, electrical lights), and this literal example is then metaphorically transferred to the domain of patriarchal construction (Men in Black), then perhaps this film is saying that one of the ways in which the male traditionally tends to visualize attempts to quarantine the unknown (the feminine, difference, egalitarianism) is by interminably equipping solid and steady agents of cultural homogeneity with flashy gadgets and binary intergenerational banter which provides the elder with a stubborn and taciturn way of expressing himself (he's seen everything before and seeks to waste no time discussing things) and the younger with an endless supply of frustrated curiosity.      

In Men in Black III we find Agent J (Will Smith) and Agent K (Tommy Lee Jones/Josh Brolin) at work preventing the public from preserving extraterrestrial information. Traditional heteronormative difference is supported while gender bending is not. Of the two most prominent female characters, one is motherly (she has a prominent position in the present but doesn't directly take part in the action), the other, a criminal (who dies early on).  Agent K, who reads the entire menu every time before ordering the same thing, is the more elderly of the two (while the options have multiplied, he remains resistant to change). After Boris the Animal (Jemaine Clement) heads back in time and kills him, Agent J's present turns into a war zone as aliens invade to destroy the Earth. After travelling to the past to save his partner, Agent J is pulled over because police officers are stopping every African American driving a nice car. Agent J has stolen the car and is African American. Now, he has stolen the car to save the perseverance of an unyielding content permanency in order to prevent the Earth's destruction. Meaning that if the side effects of this permanency had been successful in the past they would have resulted in their own annihilation (Agent J escapes).  Yet those very same side effects are indirectly legitimized by Agent J's actions. Which also include monitoring difference to ensure that its multidimensional presence doesn't have a disruptive effect.  

The Men in Black films do directly acknowledge and imaginatively fictionalize the existence of well funded secretive agencies designed to prevent the public from learning, but don't seem to recognize that this is problematic, since they're made to look fun and hip yet rigid and combative.

Like a euphemistic police state.

Which isn't very bright.

Mirror Mirror

Possessing a self-aware mischievous aloofly focused reflexivity which takes interpretive postures narratively to heart, Tarsem Singh's Mirror Mirror playfully reimagines Snow White and infuses it with lighthearted billowing charm. The Queen (Julia Roberts) is certainly wicked, the princess (Lily Collins), beautiful. Prince Alcott (Armie Hammer) bumbles along unwittingly thrust between the two and the seven dwarves provide voyeuristic commentary and transformative benignity which constructively pluralizes the action by creating an audience within an audience.

It's totally web 2.0.

Economic matters haunt the film as the Queen brutally taxes her subjects to pay for her ostentatious whims. The dwarves have taken to robbing those who pass through their section of the forest due to the fact that they were expelled from the village because the Queen found them ugly. The villagers didn't stand up for the dwarves which has lead to resentment. When they rob a royal coach carrying funds obtained through taxation they therefore have no desire to return them. But Snow White sees things differently and returns the levies and gives the dwarves the credit.

Thus we have a situation where a capricious exception was made which divided the struggling populace. Feeling helpless and seeing no way of securing a lasting productive solution on their own, this exception lapsed into criminal activity. Then, after taking into their care a royal outcast, a solution presents itself necessitated by the underhanded activities they were forced to engage in.

Unfortunately, this solution was brokered by the outcasted royal rather than the people themselves. Had they remained united, perhaps they could have taken steps to frustrate the villainous Queen and would not have had to rely upon accidental august interventions.

Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol

Can't say I've spent too much time watching the Mission: Impossible films, but as far as thrilling, accelerated, turbulent action movies go, Ghost Protocol is a success, as Ethan Hunt (Tom Cruise) improvises his way through another set of death defying circumstances, this time without the assistance of IMF.

Split-second decision making is instantaneously necessitated as plans see their counterpoints meticulously materialized through the systematic art of strategic vivisection.

Such decisions are supplied with as much logic as can be rationally fastened to their temporal limitations in order to obtain their furtive objectives.

Such logic need not be brilliantly qualified, but must possess enough cohesive extensions to readily trick its antagonists into falling for its deception.

If these extensions lose their psycho-material appeal, the related temporal limitations become increasingly restrictive.

Requiring an ass kicking.

Hunt and his innovative team still manage to move undetected from Moscow to Dubai to Mumbai with enough resources at their disposal to technologically infiltrate seemingly inextricable defensive infrastructures without being backed up by headquarters.

Agilely keeping an ace in the hole.