The Presidio

A military policeperson (Jenette Goldstein as Patti Jean Lynch) is shot during a routine call, her death possibly related to another misguided crime.

Her ex-partner is assigned to investigate (Mark Harmon as Jay Austin) but jurisdiction leads to conflict, as he questions army personnel without respect for rank or standing.

Lieutenant Colonel Alan Caldwell (Sean Connery) realizes they'll have to have work together, a joint military/police operation with irate tensions steeping.

Lynch and Austin once arrested Colonel Paul Lawrence (Dana Gladstone) for disgraceful conduct, but when their work was scrutinized, Caldwell didn't support them.

Thus Austin left the army but now finds himself once again, in a position to arrest Mr. Lawrence if the evidence proves compelling.

Caldwell struggles to assist while calling attention to unwritten codes, thereby curtailing cowboy antics liberally applied notwithstanding. 

Austin starts dating his daughter (Meg Ryan as Donna Caldwell) much to his dismay, as the ancient clashes of stubborn cultures take on newfound ballistics.

The Presidio is very direct in search of blunt disgruntling fact, with no concern for feints or subtlety it blatantly marches on.

In a democracy there's room for manifold styles of film, and if one genre eclipses the others it can lead to incestuous deluge.

Thus I've kept an open-mind when freely viewing service films, to strangely embrace agile difference as composed through upheld traditions.

Frank exchanges between honest men often have otherworldly impacts, especially when immersed in rigid strata where trusted honesty is anathema.

It doesn't work so well in The Presidio at least it's not The Rock or Pulp Fiction, it works along the same lines but misses the mark unfortunately.

Still, remember that's just my impression and you shouldn't feel bad if you disagree, like what you like, get into it, artistic criticism isn't objectively orchestrated.

I've met people who had different tastes and at times I was surprised they liked certain films, but I always admired how earnestly they defended them since they weren't trying to impress.

Thus if you happen to love The Presidio I may be somewhat surprised.

Don't be annoyed by my alternative take.

Relativity upholds thriving democracies.  

Teströl és lélekröl (On Body and Soul)

You've seen practically everything.

Life is now void of excitement, and surprise has been replaced with disappointment.

Occupying a leadership role, many feel compelled to seek your advice, and since it is difficult to find people to work in your industry, you won't humiliate them for sharing their thoughts, and they therefore feel safe discussing things with you, as they would a psychiatrist if their wages were much higher.

Everything has been accounted for.

Accept a stunning new inspector, with a photographic memory.

Much too serious, she has never taken the time to develop social skills, or, listen to music, and she still sees her childhood therapist regularly, to discuss the ways in which other individuals interact with one another.

A strict unaltered routine dating from a precise moment recalled unaccustomed to feeling romantic desire, suddenly, tempted.

And after a depressed co-worker steals the mating powder their slaughterhouse uses to encourage timid cattle to procreate, and the detectives leading the investigation demand a psychiatrist be brought in to evaluate all and sundry, the two lovelorn brainiacs discover they've been meeting nightly in dreams, one a fearsome buck, the other, a curious doe, the novelty of the revelation encouraging them to start dating, even if, he's left all that behind him.

And she's never had a boyfriend.

Or anyone else to talk to.

It may sound absurd, but Ildikó Enyedi's Teströl és lélekröl (On Body and Soul) rationally disbelieves to its advantage, cultivating trusting yet hesitant sociopathic romance, as austerity calculates, and flexibility assumes.

How to take a cold industrial setting, one prone to driving even its most brutal employees to despair, and transform it into a cascading tantalizing mystery, restrained yet overflowing with life, may have been the question Enyedi asked himself before creating this brilliant synthesis of comedy, romance, and horror.

Search in the isolated shops of forgotten small towns and you might just find that priceless knick-knack you didn't know you had been looking for for the majority of your strategically planned life.

Teströl és lélekröl is a masterpiece of anesthetized shock, as awkward as it is enlightening, as unconcerned as it is revealing.

With bountiful tips on how to successfully manage a business, Endre (Géza Morcsányi) functioning like the cool level-headed supervisor risk based capitalism left behind, fired, demoted, shipped overseas.

As fun to think about afterwards as it is to simply sit back and watch, the cattle fortunately not focusing too directly in the narrative, it generates ineffable emotion, the clarification of which still leaves you confused.

A grotesquely beautiful mind fuck.

A bucolic must see.

A romantic comedic triumph.

Frolicking away.

Alone in Berlin

A husband and wife, conscientious citizens who watched in silent horror as their culture madly lit jingoistic imperialist flames, once more, as their neighbours and compatriots became communally intoxicated with the blind xenophobic ambition of institutionalized megalomania (Trump?), politically isolated yet industrially integrated, morosely aware of the overwhelming tyrannical dogmas that have consumed their beloved Germany, quietly protest by writing critiques of Hitler's government on postcards and leaving them in public places throughout Nazi Berlin, their messages blunt and to the point, boldly castigating a movement that reduced their country to ash.

Long past the age when passionate inexperience habitually motivates romantic rebellious protest, for those lacking inexhaustible wealth, their logical engagement soberly revitalizes their youthful commitment, tenderly captured by director Vincent Perez with tender aged compassion.

A civil bureaucracy (a police force) believing it can independently operate outside Nazi jurisdiction is assigned their case, the intelligent objective inspector soon castrated by totalitarianism.

Individualized governments require general violence to rule.

General violence inherently encourages revolution.

Until such a time as cooler heads prevail.

And different cultures forge diverse unions.

Alone in Berlin modestly visualizes proactive labour in action, as it takes social democratic steps to subvert authoritarian cruelty, using intellect to promote sustainable security as opposed to sensationalized sanity (fascist psychiatry), capturing active conjugal middle-aged bliss meanwhile, as well as constabulary sympathy and inspired materialism.

If that scene didn't break your heart you've stiffened your lip too rigidly.

I wonder if the film would have been stronger if other protestors from Berlin had played secondary roles, the Quangels (Emma Thompson and Brendan Gleeson) still isolated but part of a bigger picture?

It's a very patient film that excels at slowly and soberly building tension and character (note how the wedded dialogue becomes lengthier as the film unreels), however, in order to reflect realistic independent engagement, a simplified upright form harmoniously working with diverse mature content, lessening its multilateral impact to focus its robust character.

Too many distractions may have spoiled it.

Light yet hard and penetrating, it humbly captures aspects of resistance that many more complicated narratives fail to realize.

Sincere.