Spiderhead

The pursuit of manufactured obedience follows the pharmaceutical path, as Spiderhead's solo unattached dismal warden despotically pursues reckless inactivity. 

Unsupervised with serious responsibility he develops several potential new drugs, and tests them on his prison's inmates every decision he makes of his own free will.

Fret not concerned enthused viewer, he wants to keep things friendly and fun, and even strikes up acquaintances with his test subjects while becoming addicted to the drugs himself.

They're far off so far away inimically isolated from spirited criticism, idyllic mad spontaneous digressions only provocatively questioned by one rogue assistant. 

Seeking to make billions on joy and happiness not to mention free form conversation, he still can't dishonour discreet somnambulism with soporific sequestered sedulity. 

Problem: to make sure the obedience drug works he needs to challenge ethical parameters, and see if people will do horrifying things simply because they've been recommended.

Thus, he convinces a test subject to administer his "paranoia" drug to another, but "paranoia" isn't really the right word, it rather encourages excessive terror. 

The subject's driven to suicide after the dose is accidentally augmented. 

But genuine guilt indeed manifests.

With the mass megalomania in jeopardy. 

Here we go again with the pursuit of hegemony unilaterally applied, attempting to accomplish sadistic ends to alarmingly overwhelm free choice and expression.

Odd how so many people spend so much time consuming arts and entertainment, while also cutting down creative synergies, the 1970s and David Bowie were miracles.

The irony let loose in Spiderhead is that independence itself seeks mindless automatons, who'll listen and follow the guidance of whomever no matter what the proactive cost.

Like the dreamy demagogue preaching equality who locks everything down after the revolution, Abnesti proceeds to definitively ensure no one else like him will ever co-exist. 

As others have likely suggested, is it not better to mal/adroitly attune, independent instincts to constructive endeavours to promote diversity and innovation?

Without such inherent expression does decay not metastasize with fetid impersonality, and prevent the development of sundry alternatives from multivariably delineating enchanted metamorphosis? 

Never stop writing poems just because you're convinced someone else is better. 

Keep writing absurdity ad infinitum. 

Who cares if no one else is interested?

Top Gun: Maverick

In terms of successful careers, of maintaining an enviable cool for 35 to 40 years, Tom Cruise is practically in a class of his own, only Tom Hanks perhaps as comparable, it's incredible how many solid films they've made in my lifetime.

As far as I know, Cruise has never starred alongside a dog, nor engaged in nonsensical shenanigans, he's been sure and steady throughout most of my life, and in terms of action-adventure, in a league of his own.

Regarding consistency, his films are usually cool with numerous elaborate death-defying sequences, to make so many over such a long span of time is a definitive salute to finesse and professionalism. 

Take Top Gun: Maverick, within there's a new generation of actors one of whom may have a career that rivals his own, and it's his responsibility to guide them on a dangerous highly-specialized mission.

His character's idyllic cool he's been playing by his own rules for impressive decades, in the armed forces no less, that's an outstanding feat.

But can he trust these younger pilots to execute their mission with impeccable precision, as he teaches them what no one else can efficiently transmit through heroic calm and legendary expenditure? 

In the end, no, a way is found for him to take part in the mission itself, an indefatigable challenge to the youth of today to have a Hollywood run as successful as his own (that is just an interpretation and by no means reflects what Tom Cruise actually intended).

I suppose when engaging in extremely precise and resoundingly requisite covert missions, the first run should be trusted to the most gifted personnel, who have passed the unrelenting onslaught of multivariable tests designed to flexibly discover the most loyal and battle worthy.

But there's still what I (and probably many others) call game time instincts, the skills that can only be developed in the field against intense opposition, and a well-rounded spectrum of diverse soldiers and pilots can perhaps ensure greater success under such conditions.

I'm thinking of Saint-Loup's admiration for the bakers and other less aristocratic soldiers in World War I (In Search of Lost Time), and the British pilots who extemporaneously arose during the Battle of Britain to outmaneuver Nazi scum.

Had a wide spectrum of diverse capability not been trusted to exceptionally command (isn't this why the American economy has traditionally functioned so well?), would the haughty Nazis or even Putin's Russians have had greater success on the field of battle?

You can no doubt simulate similar conditions but there's no substitute for direct engagement.

Will anyone ever perform as well for such a long period of time as Mr. Cruise?

I doubt I'll see it again in my lifetime. 

Perennially committed to entertaining through cinema. 

Oblivion

A cataclysmic war has been fought and the once verdant Earth lies in thunderous ruin, scattered remnants of the alien aggressors still subsisting in the barren wastes.

Robotic spherical patrols scan the inhospitable terrain from above, their technological ingenuity a formidable frank deterrent. 

They break down at times however and require attentive maintenance, teams spread across the planet to quickly diagnose and discern.

The fortunate survivors have relocated to one of Saturn's moons in a desperate attempt to save the species, their bold intergalactic reckoning cultivating innovative community.

A couple left behind hopes to congenially join them shortly, their tour of duty approaching its end their dedicated service to be rewarded justly.

But as their departure date approaches a ship chaotically crash lands, and _____ (Tom Cruise) is sent out to investigate whether or not there are any survivors.

He finds one in the wreckage and swiftly saves her from critical dysfunction (Olga Kurylenko as ______), bringing her home to his exotic pad to meet his shy suspicious partner (Andrea Riseborough as _______).

Others seek her extant wisdom hiding in caves far down below.

Ensconced in the inexplicable.

Beyond master narratives pontificated.

Is it in fact true love that fuels their imaginative interactions, as the past hesitantly reemerges in vibrant shocking grand distortion?

Confounding astronomical odds prohibit their joyous rapprochement, as miraculous fated resonance galvanizes amorous schemes.

Is true love yet another master narrative then romantically taking hold, in the midst of armageddon, mission prerogatives deconstructed?

The competing master narratives juxtapose duty with rebellion, as profound psychological conflict seeks uninhibited lucidity.

Serendipitous science-fiction soulfully establishing solar sentience, Oblivion countermands cryptology to court sentimental echoes.

Times change and preferences mutate but on occasion familiarity uplifts, the nostalgic tenderness of reliability persevering unsolicited.

Trusty tradition pervading tumultuous unexpected modifications.

It works so well in books and film.

As to reality, who's to say?

*Clearin' out 2021. What I wrote in 2021. Still a sucker for sci-fi romance.