The Hummingbird Project

Cantankerous competition, bitterly motivating high-stakes vitriol, necessitating vast fluid resources whose liquidity lubricates mass, encouraging dynamic cerebral calculations the practicalities of which harness synergy, theoretical computations duelling in concrete enterprise, boldly navigating luscious landscapes in hard-driven entrepreneurial schism, ingenious thought desperately relied upon as if novelty could be canonically conjured, and instantaneously set in motion, to quickly generate multi-millions.

The improbabilities surrounding Vincent (Jesse Eisenberg) and Anton's (Alexander Skarsgård) attempts to drill a thousand-mile tunnel between the New York Stock Exchange and Kansas, within which they plan to lay fibre-optic cable that will outperform their former employer's minions, are astounding and truly incredible, especially considering Anton has yet to figure out how to save the plutocratic millisecond, and mountains, malcontents, miscues, and maladies lie mischievously waiting, before they ecstatically break ground.

The confidence required to move forward with such a plan is mind-boggling to say the least, yet Vincent's undaunted and inspiring enthusiasm still persuades financial managers to invest.

Mark Vega (Michael Mando) and many others sign on to build the tunnel, their subterranean expertise as lively as their adventurous spirits.

But Eva Torres (Salma Hayek) unleashes pure fury after Anton quits, and boldly sets about to ignominiously destroy him.

With vast resources at her enraged disposal, and an alternative theory which Anton disputed, she sets out with devoted crews, to disenchant his blind flexible resolution.

It's as if Kim Nguyen's Hummingbird Project takes ludicrous Marvel heroics, rationally exclaimed in their own fantastic realm, and practically applies them to the world at large, a more fragile world wherein which failure is a possibility, superpowers are strictly relative, you do have to consult people, and the opposition isn't quite so evil.

Most of the time.

In fact, Anton and Vincent were doing rather well when they worked for Torres, not millionaire well, but well enough, regardless.

Nevertheless, Vincent emphatically believes in his enviable idea as if he possesses bold superpowers, and willfully embraces godlike responsibility with the daring conceit of courageous miracle.

It's a solid film, complete with the coolest chase scene I've seen in a while, and it wouldn't have been nearly as chill if Vincent had been questioned more critically in the beginning, if doubts had disabled his radical undertaking.

Legalistic and tunnelling superheroics combatively abound within, with no sincere guarantees, no legends, no magic, no assurance.

Cultivating the great beyond.

Great cast.

Realistic enough.

Eye on Juliet

Love blooms in the North African desert as two romantics meet in the hills surrounding a sleepy town.

Uninterested in following the paths prudently yet sterilely groomed for them, they agree to spend everything they have on secret passage to Europe.

A lonely American, who just broke up with the love of his life, remotely observes them from a small surveillance robot he's tasked with operating, their innocent devotion saliently touching his heartfelt grief.

He decides to do everything he can to help them.

Yet trials belittle their imagination as knowledge of their plans reaches Ayusha's (Lina El Arabi) parents, who have already made arrangements for her to marry another.

She's locked up and forbidden to protest, austere calculation, in full-blown concerned restriction.

Kim Nguyen's Eye on Juliet playfully sculpts traditional and technological raw materials to present a passionate tragic embrace which caresses love requited.

Revitalizing age old themes with clever contemporary contents, it celebrates choice without mocking tradition, and risks that resiliently bloom.

Myriad abstractions block amorous integrities from ascending within, yet belief in oneself matched with mutual warmhearted understandings generates spiritual synergies which strictly transcend obedience.

By confidently wielding the spontaneous, it critiques cynicism while dismissing naivety, offering emotional appeals to the mind which stimulate soulful thought.

Tragedy does indeed strike after which responsibility makes amends, mistakes generating amicable relations, alternative options creating something new.

Loved the blind man in the desert (Mohammed Sakhi).

*That makes 1000 film reviews on this blog.

Two Lovers and a Bear

Isolated Northern ubiquitous unity, tumultuously tethered, erratically inundated, to immerse yourself in wills withstanding galavanting glacial inefficacious lugubrity, viscid amorous personal sacrifices stabilizing paramount im/permanent tidal proclivities, embraces pure and reckless harmonizing disputes like polished flagellated leather, seductively saddling sentimental sensations, buckled broncos buck, minus 30 below.

Inexhaustible lovers suddenly bitterly torn by news that one must head South, Roman (Dan DeHaan) derelict in distress, Lucy (Tatiana Maslany) aware of the agony.

Obscurity.

Frigid lunge frolic.

Kim Nguyen's Two Lovers and a Bear everlastingly exonerates to latch in longing, passionately deconstructing itinerancy, bashfully needleworking flukes.

She understands the terrain and smoothly works in several serious issues facing Northern communities without saccharinely besieging her wild poetic narrative.

Inflammatory psychiatry.

Testaments of true love.

Currently my favourite fictional act of love ever.

The past haunts them both.

Great things happening in English Canadian film.

It doesn't introduce you to the North or acclimatize you piecemeal, rather it farsightedly attunes the flight in distance, freeing the story from hewn explanations thereby.

Interiorized.

I would have handled the bear's introduction differently, his first scene with Roman anyways, a bit more time to groundwork the shock.

The abruptness integrates a cheese factor which fortunately melts as time passes.

Supernatural.

That's two romantic films I've loved this year.

That could be unprecedented.

Hearts hearthbeating.

Rebelle (War Witch)

Calmly passing through a series of tumultuous events, Kim Nguyen's Rebelle (War Witch) follows  Komona's (Rachel Mwanza) path as she's forced to serve as a child soldier.

Viciously separated from her family, she despondently acquiesces to her chaotic surroundings, inductively developing psychological survival strategies which enable her to tactically trudge through her wartorn environment.

The film placidly displays the bitter helpless wanton affects her predicament necessitates before accentuating their terror by transferring them to a supportive realm wherein their sublimation proves perplexing.

It's not emotive or sentimental, just a raw exemplification of debilitating dissonance which presents a reality the victims of organized violent insurgencies must endure.

Under the guise of their best interests.

How one suddenly returns to a constructive life after suffering under such hardships without occasionally expressing themselves with fits of irrepressible anger is beyond me.

Complete with contextual symbolic sabotage.