Showing posts with label John Crowley. Show all posts
Showing posts with label John Crowley. Show all posts

Friday, December 13, 2024

We Live in Time

Temporal constraints motivating and hindering the progressive development of vigorous contemplation, the ticking-clock accentuating bold constructive split-second or strategic plans.

The resonant calm seductively sustaining positive thoughts multivariably exercised, tantalizing fruition anticipated and swathed as definitive timelines filter and structure.

The potential for limitless editing as mischievously suggested by Mr. Orson Welles, also provides lithe and tempting bearings to the infinite reimagining of spiritual studies.

The thriving possibility the interminable tantrums the heuristic horizons the enchanting escapades, demonstratively connecting interactive achievements intermittently coalesced through spontaneous reinvention.

A play's history the variety of performances exceedingly relates to unlimited mutability, the contemporary difference the hubris assumed fantastically enabling bright ahistoricity. 

We Live in Time we adapt and age as newfound challenges and developments alter, well-rounded paths and convincing philosophies economically synthesized through cultural schemata. 

We Live in Time the inherent ridiculousness of geologic masses imperceptibly duelling, inspiring romance and chaos and tragedy as biological rubrics scale and rupture.

We Live in Time the capricious seasons habitually recalling tracks and trajectories, temperate enlivened invigorated festive potentially sentimental breezes crazing.

We Live in Time emergent generations interactively communicating multifaceted alternatives, incongruously compiled in abounding treatises ephemerally delineating temperate eternity.

What a gamer, this determined Almut, who refused to yield even though she had cancer, who still competed in an incredibly demanding event even though she might suddenly die.

The forecast wasn't hopeful but she still may have lived if she had taken it easy, but if she had done so and missed out on the challenge and still passed, it would have seemed so utterly unbearable.

Cooking mind-blowing meals that one feels sincerely embarrassed to eat, like you're devouring Deutschland CafĂ© XIII perhaps while discussing the weather with someone who isn't listening.

It'd be fun to compose a poem while examining and appreciating such a meal in real-time.

A picture will have to do for now. 

Dazzling and light, endearing forays. 

Tuesday, December 22, 2015

Brooklyn

The down home, the perspicacious, the loving, the transformative, a new life in Brooklyn awaits modest Eilis (Saoirse Ronan) as she leaves her hometown in Ireland in search of difference abroad, job prospects and alternative acquaintances expanding her conscientious integrity, homesickness and tedium challenging her burgeoning resolve.

It's a feel good tale, moving along at a brisk pace, Eilis's self-sacrifices endearing her to those she meets, who respond by opening doors which she resoundingly walks through.

There's character development but it's sparse and fixated, every aspect of the script calculated to polish stock responses, the polish heartwarmingly uplifting and consistent nevertheless, as every chance interaction collocates constitutional blooms.

A straight shooter, consummately conflicted when she returns home for a funeral, an idyllic pastoral future suddenly materializing, chanting out between worlds, delicately torn asunder.

If Brooklyn's momentum had occasionally paused, swayed, reflected, something more profound could have perhaps been stated, a visceral dimension arising from the resultant contemplations, a judicious milky way transcendentalizing urban and rural.

It's not concerned with such interstellar abstractions however, and competently accomplishes what it sets out to do, a straightforward yet enticing examination of goodwill, restricted yet nimble, acquiesced to trouble making.

This style of filmmaking makes the accomplishment of hard fought goals seem far too easy by reducing devastating complexities to a collection of brief highly saturated moonbeams.

Still, it's nice to see positive films that mildly if not naively celebrate change in flux.

Like roses or a box of chocolates.

Maple syrup.

Caramel.