Dreams

Engrained obsession compulsively guides the immediate actions of a career model, who desperately yearns to be with her beloved who cast her aside to be with his wife.

Day after day she interminably imagines a breathtaking return to the way it was, her thoughts ceaselessly revolving around their carefree intimate improvised time together. 

Another model suddenly breaks up with her devoted charming spry young lover, after he plans a lavish picnic and she stubbornly refuses to play sick and join him.

While waiting for work to begin another man takes keenest note, and with bottomless resources at his disposal he buys her ostentatious gifts.

Alas, his daughter interrupts them after she tries her new dress on, having just visited her insane mother who still believes she was born half wolf.

Meanwhile, the sought after husband agrees to meet his former mistress, at the same hotel and in the same room they used to share back in the day.

But his suspicious wife soon comes a' calling with sober advice to cast on the affair. 

As awkward tension superlatively stagnates. 

An otherwise longed for stately reunion.

With blunt prolonged exploratory depth Ingmar Bergman flirts with betrayal and loyalty, Dreams (Kvinnodröm) emancipating cloistered reveries with tormenting frank expedient disclosures. 

She finally possesses her love once more the compelling subject of her mad desire, only to confront the austere obstacle cruelly stomping their coupling to dust. 

In a heartbeat, she has everything she wants and looks incredible in her dress and (Canadian) river pearls, only to be confronted by proud class prejudice with its inherent hatreds and dismissive candour. 

I don't even know how seriously people take their marriages these days, having lost touch with the people I used to know, mostly due to the fact that they got married (single for life), and seemed to have more or less stuck with it.

Marriage and relationships were no doubt integral to Bergman's audience way back when this was filmed however.

Or they were integral to what was permitted to be showcased on film.

Through censorial flux and critical liberation. 

French Cancan

A sophisticated yet chill theatre manager intricately constructs engaging spectacles, with a keen versatile eye for talent he showcases skill and drive and virtuosity. 

Financing the show and paying the bills along with the performers has its share of complications, which he imaginatively overcomes with personality, as enthusiastic patronage ebbs and flows. 

Another potential dancer catches his eye so he goes to great lengths to deftly train her, her husband-to-be none too fond of theatre nor its endemic sensational ways and means.

She demonstrates considerable talent and gives it everything she's rhythmically got, vivaciously responding to the stern bright tutelage benevolently offered on her behalf.

Theatres come and theatres go as grand designs and monumental hypotheses, eccentrically endow legendary prowess with extant fluidity and resourceful spawn.

Worlds colliding, the rough and tumble the idle rich the strict performers, inherent bedlam chaotically subscribed to creative enlivening tactile expenditure. 

From their inquisitive interactions lay jouissance enigmatically rejuvenates.

Fresh ideas, omnibus character.

Indeterminate structure. 

Foundational fugacity. 

Such a shame the theatre so often relies on finances otherwise disdained, and the people who want to put on a show haven't the slightest regarding flair or subtlety. 

Not that good friends who study science and math don't occasionally appreciate artistic independence, and lend a hand to struggling performers with no explicit strings narratively attached.

Yet how often does artistic independence mean "superhero film" or "adventure romance?", "did you see the latest Batman film?", "it had the heart of supernatural engineering!".

Not that the films aren't entertaining or that Truffault and Godard would have severely criticized them, they're just so easy to instantly love, with adoring characters implored, succeeding.

Remember, they're in charge so don't remind them of their bad taste. 

It's even worse when they've been offended.

Especially when they notice your flattery's awkward.  

Cloud

A young entrepreneur thinks big and sets up his own novel company, where he buys unused goods cheap and then sells them for enormous profits. 

Things go so well with one deal that he's able to quit his day job, after his obsessed infatuated boss strategically offers him a managerial position. 

Life in the country bucolically starts to romantically sound appealing, so he rents a chalet lakeside, hires an assistant, moves in with his partner. 

Things go well for a prosperous short period before a group of irate customers, upset about the cheap products he's sold them, come calling with fists of fury. 

He makes a last ditch effort to honestly sell legitimate goods. 

Before he's outrageously kidnapped.

And taken to an abandoned factory.

The film has a really cool ending where a friend efficiently emerges, unexpectedly enabling effective synergies relaxed and calm, humble and self-sacrificing. 

If you've ever wondered what it might be like to resell sought after goods online, it's a cool story that feverishly examines the stunning highs and disastrous lows. 

Yoshii makes it look easy he just buys a bunch of old machines, takes a picture, makes an ad, waits 'till they sell, quickly mails them. 

I was going to sell some old records online but it seemed like such a hassle, taking pictures, making individual ads, placing them in the mail one by one, for maybe 15$ apiece, it seemed like my labour was worth more than that.

So I gave them to the Restore, but if you could buy 40 of the same new record, and just make one ad, and then package them all swiftly and mail them at the same time, costs would go way down, and you could potentially earn some sweet casholla.

I imagine things would go well if you weren't that greedy. 

Could be super chill self-employment. 

Opening a record store may be much easier. 

Antoine et Colette

Having graduated from the sterile confines of his sentence to juvenile delinquency, Antoine Doinel moves back to Paris where he finds work and independence. 

Alertly dreaming of the wonderful day when he can no longer be hounded by institutions, he buckles down and digs in deep to keep his room while embracing the arts.

While at an intriguing performance with his old school friend René, he notices a stunning brunette to whom he takes a modest fancy.

Consistently seeing her at the same venues he cavalierly entertains, he eventually finds the courage to ask her out to see a film.

It isn't love at first sight though, from her objective point of view anyways, and although they spend a lot of time together, the relationship goes nowhere.

Forget her, M. Doinel, can't you see she'll never love you!

You've been collocated not collected.

The resultant frustration despondently shrill.

Difficult to imagine an otherworldly culture so serious so borderline obsessed, with rules and regulations it doesn't fit the France I'm more familiar with chill and peaceful (from books and films).

I suppose I grew up post-Antoine Doinel when his influence was more widespread, and you no longer had to tiptoe-through-the-meanies with nauseous cryptic jaded dread.

Hopefully this blasé revival of excessively devout austere mendacity, will fade without the dull recognition that any culture could have ever been so boring.

Antoine Doinel's still not the heartthrob more familiar in later films, but he still seeks lavish amorous illusion in this less accommodating fluid short feature.

Ironically getting along so well with any set of parents other than his own.

Nice to see him gathering his own vinyl collection.

Even working for a record company.

Vinyl still blows my mind.

*A couple cool scenes even present the mechanics of the old school vinyl industry. 

Mojave Moon

Bored and withdrawn yet colourfully animated, a middle-aged carsalesperson orbits his existence, neither dissatisfied nor sincerely content, he curiously acquiesces to life's tomfoolery. 

The unexpected then emerging and quaintly tantalizing as he considers a proposal, a long day a drive into the unknown the desert notwithstanding its sweltering synergies. 

He's been recruited, a gorgeous damsel has indeed been locked down with abject familiarity, as has her daughter the brute's ambition for eternal stasis insipidly solidified. 

He doesn't quite understand the details the grand misfortune accompanying the fam, nor why he's there nor what he's to do with no explanation forthcoming aloha. 

The brute sees his happiness ruined as the tradition he loves is threatened by others, and conceives a rotten and fiendish yet clever plan to simultaneously dispose of his oblivious rivals. 

The desert abandoned things haunting peculiar when the trusted saviour finds a dead body in his trunk.

After which people steal his car.

Not boring.

Still one of those days. 

*Best not to grow too attached to things, eh dad, like the psycho in this movie?

**It's okay to be attached to things son, but you also have to be open to structural change. 

*I guess that kind of makes sense. Sometimes I hate it when things change, but at others it's kind of fun. 

**It's a shame you can't manage the unknown factor like a science experiment or a 500 word essay.

*But wouldn't that bring about artistic ruin?

**I suppose that's correct son. I suppose that's correct. 

Chrysanthemumbles

Florial stigma calisthenic clutter

chatterbox chowda grimacing gruel,

discordant snag touchdowncast iron

tenacious troll bitesize embankment. 

Cheerio chisel postal precision

indented margins Kodiak foal,

dilapotato tumbledown thesp

neolithic narration sculpted foam.

Tame effervescence mild precipitation

meteor showerefore chocolate chips,

decadent fluke lithe charisma

gloatisserie gleam sugar shack shimmy. 

Sonarly squiggle sonorous swag

écoute les hiboux verdant pulse,

evergreen surroundings wild inculcation

incorrigible shuffle lay 'doctrination. 

Glade befuddle transfixed aura

solar elixir ceremonious glide,

edible berries serene implosion

subconscious subset manifest slumber.

Ludicrous luncheon anthropomorphized 

exacting impossibility convex shards,

mid-afternoon tea recuperative snack

animate alchemy wondrous conv'lution.

Crisp calabreeze dainty declamation

febrile compartment improvised custom,

embeelzebubbly uproarious hilt

glib variation fomenting blush. 

Trowel delegation indesjardins

potentate proxy Methuselah mettle,

indisposed quake irrelevant zounds

primordial spool waylaid tricoté.

Decathlon flummox insolvent decorum

itinerant craze barmy sombrew,

mellow expedient corrugated crib

impersonal jinx delicate moj'.

Cloven dispersal magnanimous herd 

ungulate gammon Venetian blinds,

coal collocation charming flamb

disorderly douse famished liaison. 

Stagnating roundabout coiled disposition

slithering sidewind donutter frill,

lucid illusion chomp chomp chomp chomp

acquisitive faction surmontivideo. 

Gallant excursion fluid residual

snowbelt contorsion bonhomme luge,

insatiable iris tasty cuisine

convivial vacay studious sliver. 

Celluloid

Exotic alternative featherwing fathom

gargoilic flight itinerant strand,

innocuous stride jaded carcajewel

evergreen bowrider enveloped song.

Candid seclusion orcaestral cloister

aesthetic shroud velveteen verse,

enlivening shrug joyous sashay

delicate warmth elusive jive. 

Florentine refresh expedient spine

carmellow marshel floral elegance,

latent liaison subconscious swarm

meteeyore mingle preposterous gala. 

Mulletiquette merge bourgeois rebellion

insincere duty jitterbug vibe,

inarticulate vicar amorphous swathe

imperceptible stave sheer instability. 

Corresponding bloom interactive jam

swaggregatorial watershed wriggle,

comatoastie hyphen weathervanguardian

exclamatartarso baleinear. 

Frivolous foray bootcamp blazer

acrylic scripture limestone blues,

emblazoned barnacle suffrage surge

flagship frugality lunar eclipse. 

Flantrepreneurial blithe cherubim 

chillaxed cupidity fletching flex, 

beeswax brethren strident hive

honeycombrackenrig elixir distilled.

Breathtaking ballast temperamental shrill

awkward improvisation serumdipitous salsa,

by the light of the moon quixotic tenure

fanciful frequencies chill affinity. 

Industrious vision resourceful acuity 

cynosure sideline molecular 'moji,

maneuvering magpie acritical crux

aloof quintessentials brittle substance. 

Wholesome weetabixby homely incandescence

cherished camaraderie curious fold,

coordinates clashing sly dissimulation 

mystical conjuring mercurial clips.

Visual inertia ballpoint pendulum

chime illusion rustic clay,

vehicular speed resilient caution

baroque flow swift currentbun. 

Scrutable swishnet legible squire 

victual varmint dormant chant,

taciturnabout clam androgynous boulang'

satchel neutrino gossamer globe. 

A special time of year.

Romantic. 

Chill. 

Blood Simple

Ligament liturgy ecstatic entropy impassioned unleashed covert clandestine captions, fledgling fervour innocuous oater newfound necessities cradle crunch.

Resigned shamanatee hesitant harbinger grotesque gumption supine shutterbug, despotic disclosure tragic forbearance reluctant ransom accurséd accounts.

Vigorous fury toxic engagement outcomes unexpected incipient fugue, disgruntled affection fusillade photoshop disclaimed deceptions demonstrative nerve.

Serendipitous enterprise curmudgeon cashew expedient itinerary audacious embrasure, scurrilous sand-wedge lugubrious sigma gossamer getaway gallantine grief.

Accidental discovery mynock misfortune despondent discomfiture hyena hysterics, improvised onrush maladroit excavation environs entombed disconsolate guava.

Awkward ubiquity psychotic stern renegade reanimation potentate pulse, egregious centigrade uncharacteristic bellicose burmeasles inspired feeling.

Reticent explanation hardboiled anxiety encrypted confusion illiterate torque, bewildered bombastic diagnostic distress unwitting algorhythmic detrital spunk. 

Spontaneous chase forensic foreknowledge oblique discretion carcinogen clambake, ambivalent aloha nebulous necromancy beguiling glenigma otiose oblivion.

Gruesome unsettling ominous scenarios borderline barking mendacious maestros, frigid and frozen fugacious fumigation albeit squishy traumatic high tide.

To stay so dismally determined calabrese calculation pervasive ghouls, hemorrhaged matrimony unyielding formulae enervating exotic tollgate truncheon.

To go so wild and spirited jocose rejuvenation on the road, rekindled rebirth exuberant partner uncertain finances chillaxed extolled. 

Obsessive disabled bleak bland envy power-mad meticulous critical observation, lascivious lifestyle no curious family routine remonstrance dull disquietude. 

Darkly comic embalmed compulsion exhaled disillusion cadaverous consignments, concrete contusions objective misalignments worthwhile macabre mordant malaise.

Inchoate gambit excessively beloved calibrated careers acclaimed and distinguished, varicose variety perpetual motion delirious decades homegrown Americana.

*This is the Coen Brothers's first film.

**Noiresque. Worth checking out. 

Pokolenie (A Generation)

In occupied Poland in 1942, a group of courageous citizens unite, and bravely fight back against Nazi oppression, while looking towards a much brighter future.

Youthful Stach has never worked before and spends his time stealing from trains as they pass, but after his friend is shot by a lone watchful guard he hesitantly decides to try something new.

He's fortunately introduced to strong nimble workers serendipitously in search of a bold new apprentice, who take him in and teach him the basics through focused yet awkward diligent trial and error.

A conversation with one of the older hardworking determined reliable journeypeople, leads to a meeting of likeminded souls unilaterally eager to end Nazi rule.

In their company, he fortuitously finds he has requisite skills he never knew he possessed, his innate resiliency of substantial benefit as he recruits and carries out missions for the resistance.

He's able to assemble a discreet active unite who efficiently engages in covert operations. 

Their latent daring and inherent resolve dynamically leading to lauded camaraderie. 

Difficult days, inordinately tempered by effective spirited active teamwork, smoothly co-ordinated by conscientious compassionate caring ethical individuals.

The overwhelming authority the imposing restrictions far far far too much for any citizen to bear, especially while living within your homeland beneath the hardhearted heals of another nation.

I've often wondered how they organized different resistance movements in Europe during World War II, and how they ran with such fluid dependability and consistently thwarted Nazi ambitions. 

Multilateral interpretive skills imaginatively create multivariable conditions. 

Thrilling to plan something concrete and definitive. 

While constantly engaged in fluctuating experiment. 

Moonshot

You know, if I had my own spaceship and I was heading to Mars, you could have a ride with me. 

If you spend a lot your time rolling bagels and your arm hurts from time to time, there'd be a special masseuse onboard, and you could have a ride with me.

If you wash métro stations at night with those giant industrial floor cleaning machines, your cabin would be idyllically polished, and you could have a ride with me.

If you bust out ye olde weed whacker and cover at least 10k a day, trimming grass with agile endurance, while transitioning to mow and plant and clip and prune, you could have a ride with me.

If you wash dishes with categorical moxie and efficiently keep the supply chain moving, there'll be plates for your cake on board, and you could have a ride with me.

If you enjoy playing the keys as a rhythmic specialist or even a frenzied soloist, we could put the band back together, and you could have a ride with me.

If you can keep the orders in your head and delicately time all the dishes in turn, we can feast on freakin' whatever, and you could have a ride with me.

If you love sundry different films and appreciate vast international diversity, perhaps taking in Fantasia while searching for Criterions, you could have a ride with me.

Pretty much anyone could have a ride with me, but why the hell would we go to Mars, which is basically a barren hostile rock, and live in an oppressive small town settlement, that we could never leave? 

When we could go to Colorado, Tadoussac, Montréal, Hamilton or downtown Muskoka?

There are still billions of years of life left on this here planet.

Give or take a challenging millennia. 

The Smiling Lieutenant

A bored yet daring idle officer (Maurice Chevalier as Lt. Niki) is begrudgingly convinced to assist a friend, who's fallen for a violinist (Claudette Colbert as Franzi) who swiftly plays at a nearby nightclub.

He heeds the fraternal call but during the performance finds himself smitten, his sudden infatuation generously rewarded with a spur of the moment late evening call.

It doesn't pass in jest something long-lasting seems to materialize, but as his exuberant feelings manifest, a sensitive Princess (Miriam Hopkins) happens to notice him.

She thinks he's smiling at her and indeed ridiculing her august manner, her father the King (George Barbier) soon bringing him forth so that he can clearly explain his strange facial expressions.

The King's country isn't a large one yet he still seeks routine pomp and circumstance, and is somewhat annoyed when his Austrian relatives don't provide an elaborate reception.

He's rather habitually ill-tempered but easily placated as well, thus while furious with the confused lieutenant, he doesn't outrageously break down.

Unfortunately for Niki, who has no interest in moving to Flausenthurm, he's soon betrothed to the aggrieved Princess, and festively married shortly thereafter.

But he longs for his highly strung belle who genuinely reciprocates with amorous duty.

The Princess lacking worldly orchestrations. 

Trusted to find versatile improvised harmonies.

It's an awkwardly scandalous vision playfully subverting regal pretensions, wherein which cosmopolitan mischief overwhelms age old ostentation. 

A role likely coveted by many disingenuously finds itself bitterly upheld, the bewildered disconsolate provincials at a lugubrious loss to restore wholesome decorum. 

With their honest and sincere trust I found myself somewhat taken by these royals, having fallen into the romantic trap, accidentally set through hardboiled declamation.

I don't really follow the British Royal Family, I have to admit I've never been that interested, not that I didn't respect the age old Queen who seemed to genuinely care about her subjects.

But considering what Harry's given up and the risks he's taken to defend Duchess Markle, there's no doubt in my mind she's a bonafide Princess, even if she's not playing the role.

An American Princess I suppose imaginatively fusing the grand juxtaposition.

I don't pay much attention to them either.

But I do admire their courage. 

A Woman of Paris

A curious belle habitually considers the manifold opportunities awaiting in Paris, should she be able to cleverly break free from the dismal prison her father's constructed.

A local lad to whom she's betrothed ventures forth one evening in aid, and after her father discovers she's fallen in love he locks his door to her forever.

The lad's own father is also unimpressed and refuses to provide his heartfelt blessing, but as she buys their dependable train tickets, he suffers a fatal collapse.

She doesn't wait around however and years later she's settled à Paris, dating the richest man in town and rather taken with the luxury.

He's quite the cad notwithstanding and even though he does enjoy her company, he's too much of a carefree schmoozer to seek her hand in objective commitment.

Her former belovéd arrives in town and hasn't forgotten how things once were, hoping to secure a rapprochement yet somewhat crestfallen by how much things have changed.

The plutocrat finds it rather comic until he discovers he's quite distraught.

Tragedy awkwardly ensuing.

Remarkably different how things might have been.

I suppose if you're born into a family that takes particular guidelines seriously, and you mature respecting various categories that may have been established regarding oblivion, the earliest ones encountered being somewhat less scandalous, that when you consider historical narrative conventions, one naturally concludes that in the past they must have been stricter.

Since the past indeed took place at an earlier stage and your earliest stages were indeed quite wholesome, the emergence of contemporary scandal a hundred years ago seems out of touch with spiritual computation.

I've heard from time to time that comedic actors hope for dramatic roles, and want to break through in serious films from a desire to develop increasing clout.

But should contemporary comedians consider Charlie Chaplin's genius, what a great thought I had the other day, just watch Chaplin's films for weeks, and the ways in which his comedic films far outweigh his dramatic endeavours, and, to add further emphasis, remain more appealing than so many contemporary dramas, perhaps such comedians shouldn't feel quite so downtrodden, should they rarely abandon humour.

Although comedy has changed remarkably what would Chaplin be creating this postmodern day?

That's a question that should be asked.

I enjoy his dramatic films, but his comedies usurp reason. 

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. 

Ansiktet (The Magician)

A different time, a feudal age, wherein which independent theatre was severely scrutinized, authoritative sadists ridiculing mystery applying cold-hearted principles to magical daring, inspired performance requiring sanction to entertain through fascination, the hard work sarcastically ignored the illusions castigated.

A tortured artist once proud of his talents travels from town to town, awaiting dismissive observations and outright refusals from obtuse officials. 

Happiness has been transformed into resigned melancholia, for even though he possesses great talent he's governed by austerity. 

Audiences wish to be amused by his tricks as he conjures and casts and calibrates, the integrity of seamless illusion widely sought after from age to age.

Star Trek may have never prospered.

There's no telling what would have become of vampires and werewolves.

The horrors of absolute control.

Far too concerned with practical reason.

It's not that practical reason is in itself a bad thing in fact it's obviously essential to daily life, the smooth flowing of robust commerce dependent upon its logical reckoning.

Practical film and reasonable books also generate compelling ideas, which fruitfully encourage thought and invention leading to progress and even more comfort.

But there's only so much rationality a person can take after working all week and taking care of a family, and if everything has a utilitarian purpose it may seem like work never ends.

Efficacious totalitarianism has no doubt spoiled many a relaxing weekend.

Comedy and the genres presenting absurd breaks.

Which congenially deconstruct obsession. 

Best if they don't get the upper hand either of course, surrealism best reserved for relaxed play, after work when there's nothing left to do but chill out sit back and dream.

Albert Emanuel Vogler cheats his haughty oppressors through an exceptional act of improvised dissimulation, their resultant angst increased ten-fold by the sudden news that they've been outdriven.

And a brilliant smile adorns Vogler's face as he prepares to perform once again.

The melancholia temporarily subsiding. 

As the middle-class emerges. 

Finding 'Ohana

A trip to Hawaii, to settle in with the fam, who's been sorely missed for the past decade, yet is still just as feisty as ever.

Leilani (Kelly Hu) moved away to New York shortly after her second child was born, embracing hectic traversed transformation, and acculturated distinct juxtaposition. 

Not that bad of a situation albeit fraught with geographical discord, the best of both worlds occasionally accessible, even if her children have trouble adjusting.

They're used to an accelerated pace innately attuned to unexpected variability, and although the countryside offers accredited novelty, Pili (Kea Peahu) and Ioane (Alex Aiono) still crave extrapolation. 

Fortunately, Pili discovers an old journal chronicling the history of legendary treasure, and after effortlessly making a new friend (Owen Vaccaro as Casper), has soon borrowed a vehicle in headstrong pursuit.

Her brother soon learns of their plan and after acquiring the aid of a new acquaintance (Lindsay Watson as Hana), proceeds to follow them with grouchy intent, eventually finding them in the depths of a cave.

They must sleuth and search synergistically if they're to locate the vast booty however, while bearing in mind additional myths which may complicate tonal procedures.

Gramps (Branscombe Richmond) and mom worry at a bright local hospital after the children cannot be found.

As New York and Hawaii unite.

Adventurous forays unbound.

Energetically disseminating bold exposition and grievous error, Finding 'Ohana ebullionly excavates inquisitive confident reverent equipoise. 

Character intergenerationally flourishes upon ancestral lands, disputes familially interlocking ignored free-spirited commands.

The family within is a striking example of innovative postmodern Indigenous peoples, many of whom work within the dominant discourse without having sacrificed code or tradition.

The film's generally light of heart even if its subject matter could have been much more solemn, several disheartening economic and spiritual realities endemically generating enlivened enterprise.

The voyage interrogates ecstatic endeavour in order to emphasize austere imposition, without losing sight of the playful innocence naturally embraced by active minds.

A campy blend of enlightened spirits temporally tempered and passionately gaged, Finding 'Ohana revels in multidisciplinary archaeologies at wondrous impacting play.

Genealogical. 

______ wishes.  

L'amour en fuite (Love on the Run)

The lighter side of romantic inhibition comically elaborates (through flashback) in Truffaut's L'amour en fuite (Love on the Run).

Antoine (Jean-Pierre Léaud) once again finds himself pursuing the irresistible shortly following his divorce after love interest Sabine (Dororthée) punishes him. 

Driven by genuine liberated invention, his expositions know no bounds, and proceed posthaste wholeheartedly, zephyristic zounds. 

I suppose this goes without saying if you're familiar with the narrative thread, which becomes much more endearing with each instalment frisked and fled.

Indomitable infatuation regal flush disposed curiosity, multivariable assumed inconstant freeform precious jocose romance.

In L'amour en fuite so prone to accident he rediscovers love lost forgotten, who's just purchased the sultry novel he's been writing from film to film.

He takes inquisitive note and seeks rapprochement upon a train, where the details of his book encounter critical acclaim.

He generates appeal beholden flourishes notwithstanding, but can't escape the legal shrewd exotic reprimanding.

Even though he's just incapable of remaining honest, loyal, and true, his partners still adore him unabrasive through and through.

Not to the point where they'll let him get away with it but they still can't deny their feelings, and the lack of boredom he freely generates as he ascertains impulsively.

There's no doubt that creative explanations are his supple imaginative forte, nor that if one enjoys a passionate argument he graciously accommodates.

If so much of life's caught up with routine I suppose there's excitement in experimentation, although it's by no means a general rule but how else to explain the reality?

I'm uncertain as to how feminists or Me Too would respond to the charming Antoine, is he to be condemned for his indiscretions or upheld through honest light?

His inexhaustible enthusiasm demonstrates a thorough love of women, and he isn't forceful or mean or brutal, he's rather quite innocent, inquisitive, enamoured. 

Rascally. 

Is such genuine affection preferable at times to duty and is this why feminists don't condemn him (in fiction), or has Truffaut simply gotten away with it scandalous film after scandalous film?

Antoine certainly means well as he honestly follows his instinct, and doesn't lack ideal sincerity in his explorations of l'amour.

Perhaps just a childish fantasy exaggerating infidelity, to lighten the austere mood that proliferates at times?

Either way it's a funny ending to a story that went way too far.

Not as much depth as Domicile conjugal.

But still traditionally entertaining.  

Cold Dog Soup

An uptight sheltered individual (Frank Whaley as Michael Latchmer) unaccustomed to the underground flow finds himself suddenly embracing l'amour in Alan Metter's Cold Dog Soup.

His flirting skills clock timidity and uncertainty regarding self-worth, yet an act of daring assertion generates shocking relational mirth.

He's soon out for dinner at a love interest's (Christine Harnos as Sarah Hughes) with residing inquisitive mom (Sheree North as Mrs. Hughes), but as they begin to pass around victuals the family dog acrobatically passes.

He's tasked with the objective of burial and sets forth to find a chill park, but the cab in which he accelerates suggests alternative dispositions.

It's piloted by affirmation inclusively metering knowledge freewheeling (Randy Quaid as Jack Cloud), the chauffeur believing a commercial exchange may be more apt than confidential interment. 

Latchmer is ill-at-ease with the proposed moribund scenario, yet lacks the backbone required to refuse and soon attempts to fetch a fair price.

He does briefly escape then swiftly return to Sarah's apartment, but Cloud frenetically follows and enthusiastically enlists her.

They travel together far and wide in search of an appealing price, even contacting the frisky afterlife, learning lessons along the way.

Cold Dog Soup presents a voyage of discovery improvisationally attired, pursuing unorthodox financial goals through the heart of robust intrigue.

Worry and courage conflict throughout as it critiques austere pretensions, or vast categorical dismissals in relation to free-flowing life.

(I recommend taking it easy on the free-flowing these days. The virus isn't disappearing. I'm masking up and remaining cautious).

You could easily replace "worry" with "prudence" and "courage" with "recklessness" at times, but to do so would spoil the fun, which celebrates jazzy absurdist meaning.

It does so well, you'll be surprised by the budget, there's so much going on in this film, the trick is to acknowledge the latent realism without being fully subsumed.

It's sort of like The Warriors but instead of a gang fighting its way back to Coney Island throughout the night, you have a trio attempting to conduct business with different clients till the wee hours.

It's much more clever than it initially seems, the overt ridiculousness cloaks sly observation, beyond predictable commercial conceptions, at wild interactive free play.

A must see if you like independent filmmaking and the joys of why-did-they-make-this? cinema.

So many hilarious scenes.

Lampooning traditional discourse.