The Iron Claw

I've never really been that concerned. 

In The Iron Claw, the determined father employs strict uncompromising codes, to drive his children to pursue excellence and become prominent exceptional wrestlers.

They do experience a lot of success and the family becomes well-known and respected.

But the lack of compassion and blunt disappointment leads to habitual shock and dismay.

One brother, driven by high expectations, refuses to see a doctor when he becomes quite ill. He has to keep up appearances to become world champion. And unfortunately dies in his hotel room.

The 4 brothers love their father but he's a cold and stubborn man, who refuses to embrace even harmless emotions as he drives his children to become the best.

As they strive to superlatively improve they're totally reliant on his admiration, as well as each other and their mom but they seek his attention in the cloistered enclave.

But he judges seeking attention as weak which leads to genuine familial dysfunction. 

Two sons even take their own lives.

One still resiliently soldiers on.

My dad wasn't Mr. Affection but he wasn't a prick either. And he was proud of what I was doing. And let it show from time to time.

In regards to competition, I have to admit that I'm heavily influenced by Fish: The Surfboard Documentary. Within, a talented surfer loses a competition and points out that he felt awful because he lost, even though he had performed exceptionally well. He therefore stopped taking part in future competitions because they made him feel awful.

That makes a lot of sense to me and most likely millions of others.

The Iron Claw's a cool critical examination of sport.

In the end championing the human factor. 

Just gotta note if the strategy's working.

If it ain't, there's alternative options.

Doug's 1st Movie

Daydreaming can be a trusty friend if it doesn't interfere with material necessities, at least I've found that healthy daydreams consistently revitalize inanimate life.

Not to be taken too seriously yet not to be dismissed offhand either, the careful maintenance of lively imagination is a helpful tool for countering malaise. 

Doug's 1st Movie captures this potentiality with active assertion and cerebral levity, as Doug's (Thomas McHugh) prosperous lighthearted daydreaming productively blends highest hopes with bewilderment.

He's faced with a daunting challenge after a pesky lake monster befriends him, and he discovers that local waters have been overwhelmingly polluted.

With the help of his trusty friend Skeeter (Fred Newman), they alert the local authorities, but the principal culprit owns most the town, and heavily influences trusted news outlets.

It's strange how polluters spend so much money advertising that they're environmentally friendly, a comparison between oil sands documentaries and industry ads providing an example of bleak disparity.

In Doug's 1st Movie a legion of well-heeled minions rivalling Sejanus's network of spies, is instantaneously and elaborately employed once the threat to Mr. Bluff's (Doug Preis) business is detected.

But rather than spending so much to conceal a reality that pejoratively effects the health of the town, why didn't he spend a commensurate amount of casholla actually cleaning up the polluted lake?

I suppose it's ideological, it's the belief that pollution isn't harmful, and the exponential generation of profits sacrosanct, devoutly tilled and strangely upheld.

Thus, a portion of the operating budget (or some budget or other) is spent casting a rosy image of disastrous environmental effects, to uphold an ideological perspective that equates health with profit generation.

I don't want to see people out of work, I'm in favour of patiently making industry as green as possible without job losses, I'm certainly not ideologically opposed to industry and the ways in which it sustains the livelihoods of so many.

But spending so much to suggest industry has no serious environmental effects, when that money could be alternatively used to mitigate them, doesn't make much sense to me, and many many others.

Fortunately, Doug's also prone to daydreaming which keeps his mind active and imaginatively composed, giving him the strategic hypothetical wherewithal to keep his new monster friend hidden for quite some time.

A surprisingly relevant take on sociopolitical relations, this Doug's 1st Movie packs a precocious punch.

A solid introduction to unfortunate realities.

Composed through thoughtful reverie.  

Bombshell

You should always be wary when a film about Fox News comes out shining forth as a champion of the Me Too Movement.

It certainly is full-on Me Too, but what else does it have to critically say about Fox?

Within, female journalists are harassed as they assert themselves, but they're still sternly dedicated to Fox's opinion based sensational broadcasting, as opposed to the evidence or fact based reporting you find on CNN or in The New York Times, and except for one behind the scenes worker (Kate McKinnon as Jess Carr), who can't find work elsewhere, the journalists seem happy enough with Fox, just not some of the men who work there.

The men who work there whom they're upset with are total pigs who have transferred private adolescent locker room shenanigans to the grownup public sphere, wherein which they still behave as if they've never met a woman, or have never once even considering respecting one.

As seems to be the case in many American businesses, hence the rise of Me Too, women persevering in toxic environments till they accumulate enough evidence to prove they've been sexually harassed in court.

They're worried about their careers and futures as they proceed.

Such actions take an enormous amount of courage.

Total respect.

Bombshell (I get the double entendre, but still, that's the title you give to a film about Me Too?) excels at presenting strong courageous women who take huge risks to stick it to their perverted manager, Roger Ailes (John Lithgow), and highlights their struggles as they do so, as many of their fellow workers line up to defend him, and their own support staff voice apprehensions.

Inasmuch as Bombshell sets out to champion the Me Too Movement and sincerely critique sexual harassment in the workplace, it succeeds, that aspect's well done, and it isn't preachy or sentimental, it's rather a comprehensive factual account.

It's shocking to read about how much sexual harassment persists in the workplace, and the ridiculous "boys will be boys" mentality that assaults daring brave professional women, as chronicled in various news media at length for what seems like freakin' ever.

In the '90s it seemed like 2000-2020 would be much much much much different.

A world free from sexism, racism, ethnocentricity, and homophobia.

But unfortunately things seem to have become much worse.

Or haven't changed much and there's currently more exposure.

The number of unions have also decreased in the last twenty years, if I'm not mistaken.

And job losses and low wages have ignited tensions.

A strong mix of gender, sexuality, culture, and point of view can lead to dynamic working environments, as long as there's mutual respect, and a willingness to work together as a team.

The best working environments I've been fortunate enough to work within have been composed along such lines.

Doesn't sound much like Fox News does it?

When I think of Fox News, I think of sexist, bigoted, privileged caucasian men.

Bombshell critiques the sexist men who work there but doesn't sincerely critique Fox News itself, the style of overly opinionated news Fox delivers.

Some of the women who have been sexually harassed still want to work there.

Just not with Roger Ailes.

McKinnon does sum it up in a clever frightening nutshell, but I think the people who like Fox, upon hearing her summary, will probably just think, "totally".

Instead of, "damn, that sucks!"

I'd argue Bombshell is another attempt by the right to make it appear as if it cares about women's rights by severely critiquing its own.

But the characters within are still loyal to Fox's sensational opinion based misleading ludicrous brand of news.

And that brand of news itself isn't sincerely critiqued, only the sexist men who work there.

Which makes Bombshell like an advertisement for a new fresher Fox News that cares about women's rights (come on!).

There's no emphasis on changing its style.

And that, I'm afraid, is a fact.

Antigone

Tragedy strikes an immigrant family as their eldest son (Hakim Brahimi as Étéocle) is shot down while protesting his brother's arrest.

His brother (Rawad El-Zein as Polynice) sees what has taken place and responds with violence, adding assaulting a police officer to his crimes, which may lead to his deportation.

Their family bonds are tight and strong, and his sister Antigone (Nahéma Ricci) has a plan, to secure his dauntless release, even if it means she'll have to do time.

Her plan's a success, he escapes, she's arrested, and she settles in at the juvenile detention centre.

Where her brave actions are swiftly called out, in consideration of her brother's transgressions.

She's determined, dedicated, feisty, immutable, her conscience uprightly resolved.

Her partner (Antoine Desrochers as Hémon) fights for her integral freedom.

Stirring up quite the intense media frenzy.

No easy answers in this one.

The classic compelling mind*&%#.

Ethical issues abound as hearts clash in Sophie Deraspe's Antigone, a brilliant reimagining of the play, creatively and controversially brought to life, through the art of aggrieved contemplation.

Antigone's somewhat well-integrated.

She even won a scholarly prize.

She's by the book, constructive, rational, no-nonsense, the film critically absolved by her defiant reserve.

It's puzzling that she takes such risks for a career ne'er-do-well, yet provocative inasmuch as she avails.

The film intermittently interrupts the action with clever feverish pop-cultural analyzes, energetically presenting high octane observations, situating the narrative in the world at large, a broader multicultural context, that expands as the trial gets underway.

It's a convincing drama that excels at realistically depicting youthful and aged antagonisms, clearly in touch with the alternative views, and the ways in which peeps struggle to understand them.

Although Antigone's youthful rebellion ironically upholds old patriarchal schools, a cunning syntheses on behalf of Deraspe, who boldly articulates so many sharp distinctions, without seeming sentimental or preachy.

I'd argue Antigone upholds a great Québecois tradition of crafting rebellious films which make you think, like Mommy, Vic + Flo ont vu un ours, Quand l'amour se creuse un trou, or 1er amour, a unique style that's totally its own, that asks hard questions that have no answer.

But it's in trying to answer them that these films imaginatively assert themselves, as life presents impenetrable codes, as disconcerting as they are enlivening, basking in comprehensive intrigue.

There's no frosty sugar coating.

Just reality, action, dilemmas, mistakes.

Life.

Active living.

Insert The Matrix.

Bewilder.

A Simple Favor

Goodwill and zealous care giving fashionably articulate elementary communal grammar, A Simple Favor's domestic athleticism convivially contending in audacious absence, a mystery hauntingly captivating studious literature under composite examination, latent auspices duely animated, ambiflextrously endeavoured embroiled.

Beyond implicity.

Suspects torn.

Prudent assumption underestimates meticulous resolve as clandestine excursions regenerate volumes.

A writer (Henry Golding as Sean Townsend) caught between opposing factions caresses seductive leaves.

Mercies meddling concoctions settling dreams incarnate dispute.

Someone is guilty of murder.

Others vent droll miscues.

A film cleverly mixing the brave and the rash while tempting exclaimed propriety, delicately nuancing characteristics blandly dismissed for upholding traditions, alternative fascinations as experimental as they are devout, imaginative tremors subtly bracing reasonability, untamed emergence grasping shocks with steady calm, conceptions oft overlooked or undervalued diversified, to vindicate bourgeois innocence, and celebrate tact defused.

A proactive film capable of appealing to a wide audience, it's also so much more, like a rarefied precious eccentricity concealed yet scintillating in traction, mischievously whispering je suis essentiel, before phasing out of time with reticent cheeky indifference.

If films were still rented in physical stores and viewed with less distraction it may have been a vital exception for film lovers still immersed in the mainstream.

Boredom and desire play definitive roles which pose disquieting ethical questions while sorting through phenomenal intrigue.

I love Theodore Shapiro's soundtracks and have for quite some time, but I wonder why the music not written by Shapiro for the film isn't also available on a downloadable disc in the Itunes store, as compelling as it is with so many bright compositions.

Sandra Kendrick (Stephanie Smothers) is perfectly cast for the role (casting by Allison Jones).

I've noticed her over the years but have never seen her in something where she's clearly stood out.

Historical form and content.

Blake Lively (Emily Nelson), also good.

Comedic observations are worked in well and I loved it every time Sona (Aparna Nancherla), Stacy (Kelly McCormack), and Darren (Andrew Rannells) popped up, especially at the end.

The Vlogging's cool too.

Although the film shouldn't be thought of as educational, Paul Feig still brilliantly demonstrates how young directors can authentically work within Hollywood and still earn a respectable buck or two, throughout.

Loved it.

Costume design by Renee Ehrlich Kalfus.

Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice

The Highlander spirit invades the filmic realm of DC Comics as Bruce Wayne/Batman (Ben Affleck) jealousy covets Clark Kent/Superman's (Henry Cavill) illustrious fame.

Politicians fear Superman as well due to his pseudo-invincibility and total lack of accountability.

The unlikely possibility exists that this polite self-sacrificing all-powerful lightning rod may one day grow tired of protecting the innocent, and instead choose to subject them to the whims of his desire.

Thus, both Batman and leaders from the United States decide to chip away at his impeccability, in attempts to achieve superiority over that which cannot be subjugated.

Lex Luthor (Jessie Eisenberg) is also involved, diabolically ensuring the three battle judiciously.

Superman, who doesn't understand the point (he's committed to do-gooding), infuriates Batman with his lack of concern, his foolish disinterested dismissals driving Batman into a bigoted raged-fuelled arms race (Batman doesn't like that he's an alien) which eventually constructs überBatman.

While conducting his research, he also discovers the existence of other potential superheroes, eternally co-existing with humanity incognito, like Star Trek's Requiem for Methuselah, one showing up at his darkest hour.

When it becomes clear that there can be more than one, teamwork transcends, and vision radiates.

Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice passes, but slips-up from time to time.

How many times can Superman save Lois Lane (Amy Adams)?

It takes awhile for the new Lex Luthor to gather steam (his introductory scenes lack character).

Would have liked to have seen him learning more from the archives on Zod's (Michael Shannon) ship as well.

You can tell Batman's fighting in a computer generated filmscape during one of his sort-of-cool dream sequences, and it's kind of lame.

The batmobile chase which Superman abruptly halts is also kind of lame; some of the action is precise yet slow in its frenzied variation.

Love Jeremy Irons (Alfred) but Michael Caine's Alfred is tough to beat.  Irons looks too young.

I watched The Dark Knight a couple of times recently and I'm convinced it's the best superhero film ever made. It rationalizes the sensational with polished grit and streetwise poignancy while making the highly dubious seem plausible through expertly timed captivating motivations.

Not easy to follow Christopher Nolan.

Still, Dawn of Justice has merit. Batman's introduction is startlingly clever.

Wonder Woman's (Gal Gadot) introduction is epic.

Politicizing Superman works while highlighting petty indignities that often pervade political realms.

I liked how Clark Kent fights with Perry White (Laurence Fishburne) to bring back the American consciousness, and how Lois then fights with Superman to remind him of this insight.

Solid Kevin Costner cameo (Jonathan Kent).

Batman's descent into villainy functions as a warning to activists on the left, as does Superman's dismissal of Batman, the activists who want to be the best activist out there and proceed to alienate all kinds of fellow activists in the process, potentially turning them into bitter cynics, making peaceful activism seem like olympic gymnastic tryouts, it's supposed to be the right that believes there can be only one, pre-emptive strikes are most recently the product of the George W. Bush Administration.

Liked how they set up the expansion of the DC film world.

With Marvel, Star Wars, and DC creating film after film after film, I don't know how the world/galaxy/universe will ever survive the constant bombardment of heroism.

I like it though.

It's kind of fun.

Most of the time.

Nightcrawler

This film's way too heavy on the psycho for me.

It follows a creative innovative narcissist on his rise to the top, as he tenaciously works to excel, diligently researching his subject to gain a strategic edge, maximizing his manipulations to leverage a precise position.

A competitor recognizes his strengths and offers him opportunities which he ignores, trusting to his own professional instincts, obsequiously going at it alone.

The small fry.

The competitor winds up seriously injured.

The troubled succumb to his designs as he continuously provides them with material to advance their own interests, graphic shots of increasingly violent disturbances, communal misery, cracked and capitalized.

No ethical considerations, just raw carnal base savagery, risk, action, advantage, success.

Murder.

Films like The Talented Mr. Ripley pulled this off in the past, but they usually contained a potent ethical element, a sense that the psycho is brilliant yet deranged; Nightcrawler celebrates Louis Bloom's dementia (Jake Gyllenhaal) like it's some kind of demonic virtue, the fact that he breaks the law repeatedly while abusing unwritten professional codes more of a high-five than a diminution, a harvester of death, moribundly reaping.

Without a sense of impending doom, Nightcrawler becomes a sadistic shock-and-awe jitterbug, he obviously would have been arrested, the ending like a strychnine-laced lollipop.

Gyllenhaal's performance is strong and his confidence inspiring but it's like the rest of the world is an infantile blush, possessing no agency, after the opening moments anyways.

Too focused on the individual.

Lacking the threat of consequences.

Revelling in exploitation.

The unregulated flow of capital.

Gone Girl

Just what goes into sustaining a successful marriage, what is that secret critical ingredient for ensuring the preeminence of your conjugal bliss?

Mad blind overwhelming desire may wear off, especially if the couple in question doesn't role play or at least dress-up from time to time, possibly as their favourite Star Trek character, and if the initial hard-pounding insatiable craze dissipates, the arduous work necessary to recapture its incandescence sets in, both participants required to reimagine its stringency, dedication and commitment, adhered to as pluralizing factors.

In David Fincher's Gone Girl, Nick Dunne (Ben Affleck) refuses to abide by such an adherence, succumbing to adulterous lechery, slowly destroying the love of his spirited partner.

Mistake.

Or mistakes, seeing how he's been ignoring her for years while living a life of sloth off her trust fund, after having moved from New York City (where he worked as a writer) to Missouri, much to wife Amy's (Rosamund Pike) dismay.

He's a jerk, he blames it on her, total jackass.

But he has no idea that Amy's pure psycho.

The film's divided into two halves, one focusing on Nick as he comes to terms with his inextricable predicament, the other which brings Amy into the mix, focusing on her troubles on the road, until a crucial accidental resurgence, of the romantic love which at one point defined her.

Kierkegaard style.

At first I thought the introduction of Amy was an unfortunate twist.

I figured the film would slowly continue to suffocate lacklustre Nick, his tension inimically increasing, a high-wired harrowing stench, accentuating paranoid asphyxia.

Amy's introduction eliminates this tension, replacing it with alternative constraints which infernalize her psychotic scenario, which is rather excessive, considering that she could have just left him.

But her passion demands vengeance, vengeance which she seeks eruditely, revelling in the media's saccharine sensationalization, before rediscovering that lost kernel of youth.

There's a great sequence where she's robbed after letting her guard down, the sequence diversifying the film's wedded hysteria by injecting minor seemingly ineffectual characters, who become common denominators in the subsequent action.

Gone Girl has plenty of variability, strong major and minor characters, ridiculous yet plausible logistics, competing disastrous degenerations, polarities within polarities, a sympathetic coach, an amorphous yet easy-to-follow blend of media, family, legality, and law enforcement, Proust is mentioned twice (in uncomplimentary fashions however), desperate strategic planning, and a non-traditional take on victimization.

The ending's solid, a bizarre reversal of what's-to-be-expected, the film's myriad depressions, sentimentally sanctified.

Quite dark.

Quite good.

Not my favourite David Fincher film, but you still see why he's one of America's best.

Horns

Cast out.

Disbelieved.

Betrayed.

Punished.

Horns begin to grow on young Ig Perrish's (Daniel Radcliffe) head as his beloved hometown accuses him of the murder of his one true love, Merrin Williams (Juno Temple), Ig valiantly proclaiming his innocence, searching, desperately, for the murderous guilty party.

Unbeknownst to him, in the beginning, his horns unwittingly command everyone he encounters to reveal their darkest secrets, or embrace violence and/or sexual desire, as if they're dislocating a contingent of vice, irascibly disdained, savagely enacted.

This proves rather confusing.

As does the film, which is a bizarre blend of the sentimental, the ambiguous, and the ridiculous, irreverently devout, as deduced by its spry submission.

The sentimentality seems to be appealing to its youthful market, juxtaposed with the ridiculous, which is generally subscribed to adult behaviour, to vindicate cracks of teenage rebellion, coming of age compartmentalizing certain tendencies, to outrightly misbehave, in preparation for the reign of jouissance.

But as Horns takes a moral turn, as Ig's investigation bears fruit, it becomes unclear whether or not the film is being serious, in which case it becomes quite tiresome, or pretending to be serious while revelling in playful incongruities, what's actually happening being rather serious, and sentimental, the situations themselves devilishly corny, and ridiculous, in which case the film excels.

Hence the ambiguity.

If this is what director Alexandre Aja intended, it's a stroke of maudlin genius, don't think about what's happening, just focus on what's being depicted, graceful in its contrite subtlety, overcoming the bounds of placated smarm.

If not, the film collapses during its final third, the irreverence which sustained its peculiar plea, giving way to a uniform banality.

Need to see more of Aja's work to reach a conclusion.

RoboCop

Didn't think they should remake RoboCop, the original being one of the best action films I've seen, up there with Die Hard and Aliens, but they did, it exists, I obviously couldn't resist seeing it, and tried not to spend too much time comparing it to the original while watching, even though my efforts proved futile.

The first RoboCop's much more gritty, a different degree of debauched desperation. Pre-internet, its world is much more local, focusing on criminal thugs, corporate power struggles, and terrorized police forces more than international paradigms and their relationship to the United States, a raw frantic highly organized pedigree, wherein RoboCop's (Peter Weller) identity and family aren't primary to the structure of the narrative.

The internet-era RoboCop deals with multiple big-picture issues. The ways in which multi-billion dollar companies agitate to infringe upon integral civil liberties. Maintaining a humanistic identity while constantly embracing eclectic electronic onslaughts. Media personalities and their institutionalized agendas. Scientific ethics, parenting, global politics, cyborgs.

Cyborgs don't really seem like far-fetched highly aggressive airy-fairy daydreams anymore.

There's a Fido-like script involving a cyborg possibly starring Matt Damon waiting to be written.

Co-starring Benedict Cumberbatch and Sally Hawkins.

Like Archer, I still fear cyborgs however, and as RoboCop (Joel Kinnaman) loses his identity in the new film, fears regarding consciousness altering technocrats are rebelliously voiced, their counterparts receiving plenty of airtime as well in the movie's dialectic (the sequel's set up well).

More polished than the original, lacking its wild conditioned sense of experimental zealotry, the relationship between the two films reflects the potential maturation of the original's fan base, much like the first three Terminator films, while making me think today's youth must be hyperactively aware (Michael Keaton's [Raymond Sellars] presence perfectly establishes this transition [casting by Diane Kerbel and Francine Maisler]).

Perhaps they didn't like it.

I did meet a youngster who enjoyed Star Trek Into Darkness however (co-starring Peter Weller).

Anchorman 2: The Legend Continues

Ron Burgundy lead an extraordinary extracurricular promotional campaign leading up to the release of Anchorman 2: The Legend Continues, thereby suggesting that it must be an exceptional film, surpassing its comedic predecessor in varying degrees of hilarity, while stretching the boundaries of both ridiculousness and applicability, a voluminous viscosity, asinine yet chaste.

I'm used to seeing American comedies that are around 90 minutes in length but Anchorman 2 comes in at 119 according to its IMDB surrogate.

An out of the ordinary promotional campaign.

An extra 29 minutes.

Released a week before Christmas.

And Anchorman 2 delivers.

Ron Burgundy proves himself to be a sturdy bumbling honest easily upset independent intellectually discordant emotionally secure visceral champion for the everyperson, continuously and undauntedly moving forward, apart from when he decides to hang himself after a randy exhibition at Seaworld (see Blackfish).

He has his own polite style and definition of appropriateness which lead to conflicts when expressing himself within unknown vectors, yet he confidently bounces back and keeps focusing on the positive, action, reaction, proactivation, thereby inspiring his loyal news team.

Some team members function as reps for some somewhat revolting tendencies towards violence, but these tendencies are made to appear ludicrous, kind of, as Burgundy consistently outwits them.

The bats were a brilliant idea. The scorpions, the bowling balls, the bra covered in cats, the details, it's like every line and every scene were eruditely vetted by comedic veterans dedicated to making the best American comedy in years, many of the scenes appearing as if they were haphazardly thrown together, but you don't achieve this level of rowdy unconcerned reckless jocularity without patiently reviewing and editing every aspect of the production, while keeping in mind the havoc of the finished masterpiece simultaneously.

Film editing by Melissa Bretherton and Brent White.

Should I mention the battle?

The greatest most unexpected battle I've ever seen in an American film, with the Minotaur and a werehyena, that's right, a werehyena, plus a Canadian news team, introducing a fantastic sporty religious scientific historical mélange of postmodern acrobatic intensity, Alterius, Maiden of the Clouds (Kirsten Dunst) commencing the romp with her exclamatory horn, Vince Vaughn (Wes Mantooth), arriving at a pivotal, game changing moment.

Or Dolby? His song?

The figure skating?

The parenting?

Never really liked car chases but I do love animal stories.

Even better than Machete Kills.

Written by Will Ferrell and Adam McKay.

The Hunger Games: Catching Fire

Having won the previous year's Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer Lawrence) and Peeta Mellark (Josh Hutcherson) return to District 12 to attempt to resume their normal lives.

Trauma terrifyingly affects them both as haunting memories short-circuit various pastimes.

President Snow's (Donald Sutherland) fascist ideology continues to crush workers throughout the Districts but Katniss and Peeta have given them something to believe in.

That belief steadily intensifies throughout the progress of a mandatory nationwide tour during which they must demonstrate their loyalty.

But fascist kings stack fascist decks, not really even a deck, and an unforeseen revised savage sewer augustly swells, threatening to tether the people's momentum, to a coerced, despotic, desolate, plain.

Upon which obedience is the only option.

There's a lot happening in The Hunger Games: Catching Fire.

Katniss and Peeta's aforementioned trauma adds depth to Haymitch's (Woody Harrelson) character, justifying his excessive drinking.

Rob Ford is not Haymitch. Rob Ford is being legitimately criticized for drinking and driving and smoking crack cocaine. These are things responsible Mayors don't do. These are things responsible people don't do regardless of occupation.

You almost feel bad for Effie Trinket (Elizabeth Banks) as she makes the best of an abysmal situation by seeming to genuinely care about teamwork.

As one of the participants dies during the Hunger Games's Quarter Quell, the sun rises, thereby symbolizing that there is only freedom in death when living under extreme forms of government.

Protests at the highest level do nothing to dissuade Snow's executive, similar mechanisms existing in Canada before Baldwin and Lafontaine introduced Responsible Government.

Katniss's formidable resolve resplendently radiates as if her just constitution was forged by Barton Street Steel.

A crucial moment during which the expediencies of her predicament neurotically test her herculean will exemplifies this in/dependence (beautifully dependent on championing the rights of the helpless).

Trust becomes a critical factor.

The parts which necessitate action don't focus on the violence but rather the obstructions of the civilized combatants.

The film depicts what it could be like to live somewhere where 1% of the population hold 99% of the wealth and there isn't a democratic system in place guaranteeing fundamental freedoms.

Where one size fits all.

Should probably read the books too.

The Fifth Estate

The Fifth Estate's cold calculated construct of Julian Assange (Benedict Cumberbatch) maintains that he's a driven well-meaning intense prick whose inability to bend resolutely cost him dearly.

Guilty of high-tech intractability.

The portrait's possibly unfair.

It was a simple matter of redacting articles posted on WikiLeaks so that the names of covert individuals mentioned within them would not appear and the individuals themselves would likely not be violently punished (murdered) afterwards.

Not such a simple matter for Assange, according to The Fifth Estate, however.

He was determined to publish leaked articles in full on principle to demonstrate that he wasn't doing anything to hedge the truth.

I respect this on principle, but when people's lives are at stake I do have to agree with The Fifth Estate's condemnation of the practise, Assange being unable to recast his image as his freedom fighting persona gained international traction.

The problem in the film is this.

Assange rightfully despises tyranny.

It's what he fights against.

Tyrants tend to kill people.

In The Fifth Estate, as WikiLeaks's reach exponentially extends, it becomes clear that Assange is a general of sorts, more of a supreme commander, and that by releasing unredacted documents, he has the power to sacrifice troops for what he considers to be the greater good, but he still sacrifices troops nonetheless, somewhat carelessly, I might add.

So on principle, he makes decisions that could have cost people their lives, people who may have been fighting for the same things using different methods, when he really didn't have to, he could have redacted the documents without ruining them, which causes him to become tyrannical himself, an unfortunate development for such an heroic person.

What I loved about The Fifth Estate was its examination of history, contemporary history, how many of its characters are aware of the monumental changes the internet has brought about, like Gutenberg's printing press on hyperactive culturally enlivening intergalactic booster juice, The Guardian's Nick Davies (David Thewlis) offering some notable insights, moving the film away from the severely intensifying interactions between Assange and Daniel Berg (Daniel Brühl).

Looking forward to reading/viewing what other biographers have to say about Assange over the upcoming decades.

Compelling person.

Brilliant colossus.

Iron Man 3

Adding a surprisingly human dimension to Tony Stark's (Robert Downey Jr.) Iron Man, through which relatable stresses such as panic attacks are relativistically normalized through recourse to the exceptional, Iron Man 3 finds him suffering from the aftershocks of his debut with the Avengers, aftershocks which force him to begrudgingly confront his mortality.

Kind of.

At first, he compensates by stretching his extroverted insignia to the limits by trash talking a terrorist who then uses his arsenal to obliterate the Stark residence, leaving him theoretically helpless after he barely escapes.

He is exceptional however and thanks to an avenue of inquiry established by his prior research, fortunately lands himself in a crucial situation wherein his gifts are practically vetted.

Screenplay writers Drew Pearce and Shane Black (who also directed) do a great job here of rationally justifying a seemingly highly improbable scenario.

Colonel James Rhodes's (Don Cheadle) dialogue with Stark is used to rationally justify another seemingly highly improbable scenario later on as well.

They also play with the device which sees franchises seeking to extend their limits by introducing youth (something remarkably different more generally) to nurture a newfound pluralization.

Yet shortly after doing this it becomes clear that the Iron Man films will not be (heavily) relying on such devices, as Tony harshly yet avuncularly explains.

Excellent confident synthesis of the particular (the Iron Man films) and the universal (movie trilogies generally).

Some of the minor characters shockingly receive a lot of depth as well as comedic components of Machete's narrative unreel.

The film makes it clear that experimenting on humans is unethical by attaching this component of its narrative to the villains, villains who were created by Stark's callous self-obsession.

In the end, Stark perfects their methods, however, thereby leaving the film in an ambiguous domain wherein which it's difficult to discern what it's clearly stating.

Clarity is important regarding such matters.

The protagonists use technology to differentiate themselves, the villains, experimental performance enhancing pseudodrugs.

These drugs themselves were developed using nefarious methods, and in my opinion, the film would have been stronger if Stark had destroyed everything having to do with them, even though he was indirectly responsible for their creation, in order to find an alternative cure for his condition.

I understand that this is highly improbable, but having an exceptionally gifted iconic individual not use said gifts to actively create an ethically acceptable alternative by overtly employing different tactics while directly acknowledging said differentiation doesn't make sense to me.

Not using research obtained through such means to pursue beneficial ends does make sense to me.

The ending would have been stronger had Iron Man acted accordingly.

Kret (La Dette)

Familial misfortunes beget treacherous tenements whose paranoid genuflections produce pernicious pensions.

The issue of guilt permeates a media sensation whose adherence to the sacred threatens the individual liberties it upholds.

Key players in a pivotal Polish event scramble to defend their prevarications.

And trust is brought to the fore as Rafael Lewandowski thoroughly upends what it means to syndicate.

The film keeps a level head.

Life goes on.

Appointments are kept. Business is transacted. Most friendships remain warm and friendly. Social value appreciates.

Kret's (La Dette's) lack of emotion represents both its greatest strength and most serious weakness as its logic reaches ascetic heights while its emotional depth is stiffly squandered.

Like legal spirituality.

Joker

Wow. There's a lot goin' on in this film.

Antiquated misunderstood terminologies are cartographically forsaken for reasons of self-preservation only to remain fluid within their own internal landscape within which a lyrical agrarian dynamic flourishes in isolation.

Until external structural constructions cut off their carnivalesque currents.

Enter Agastya/Sattu (Akshay Kumar), a community member who tackled adversity and found himself a job attempting to establish communications with radical otherness within an international setting.

His talents are extraordinary and he returns home with his adventurous wife (Sonakshi Sinha as Diva) to altruistically put them to work.

The lone village is situated along the border of three Indian states, and he hopes to negotiate a resolution (a communal pact) with one of them in order to resurrect its crops.

While doing so, he adapts to local customs out of respect for their traditions.

Finding no bureaucratic streamline, he employs his knowledge of the sensational to create a spectacle, based upon one appropriated from another domain, with the aid of compatriots, which intrigues the media.

They promptly capitalize on the reconceptualized market as the villagers begin to exchange services for currency.

But a competitive dimension seeks to expose their fantasy's reality which results in the expansion of its theatrics and the intrusion of the American military.

Meanwhile, the three states attempt to incorporate that which they previously disregarded.

But when radical otherness miraculously appears, it becomes apparent that the misunderstood antiquated terminologies that had been topographically eclipsed possess the means through which to intergalactically communicate, and a gift is presented.

The gift enables the village to refuse each of its suitors and remain independent.

Unfortunately, it will also introduce an industrial peculiarity (at the beginning of the film the village has no electricity).

It's quite the present . . .

Yet hopes remain high and Agastya's wit is unmatched, which suggests a sanitary synthesis between two polar means of production loosely intertwined by an improvised intermediary stage.

Scintillatingly scored and jocosely choreographed.

To Rome with Love

For a summer in Rome, an office clerk finds himself thrust into the spotlight, his routine reflections hyperbolically sensationalizing influence, as an architect revisits his youth to bring back to life/cross-examine his most serendipitous subject of desire, a young communist lawyer contends with a retired opera producer when it's discovered that his humble father can sing exceptionally well, and a married couple, in town for a potentially prosperous employment opportunity, find themselves accidentally embracing exotic extramarital affairs.

Felicitously framed by a traffic cop's dissolving point of view.

The conditions of which inculcate calisthenic creativity.

Romantically mingling the celebrated with the starstruck and the ordinary with the hyper-intensive, while evoking the nimble necessity to unearth metaphorical mirth within corresponding psychoanalytic observations, Woody Allen's To Rome with Love's palpable playful pluck picturesquely procures impressionable popularizations, and salaciously serenades atemporal condensations.

Fidelity strengthened through chance, temptation tethered to testimony, regret distinguished from revelation, and dreams evanescently alighted.

A virtuosic variation on a theme.

There's a lot more to it than that.

The Hunger Games

Suppose most people are familiar with what happens in The Hunger Games so I won't spend too much time expanding upon the plot.

An uprising was launched by 12 impoverished districts which was crushed by the powers-that-be. In the aftermath, in order to brutally humiliate their subjects even further, they then created the Hunger Games, a competition wherein a youthful male and female representative from each district is selected to take part in a vicious fight to the death.

24 combatants are chosen and by the end only one remains.

The combatants, referred to as tributes, travel to the capital where they're elaborately decked out and paraded in front of the well-to-do in an ancient romanesque spectacle that's designed to showcase the oppressed and impress potential sponsors. These sponsors can provide you with assistance during the Games thereby enhancing your chances of survival. Ratings are provided to each contestant and they have their chance to prove their worth in front of a select group of interested parties and on television as well.

President Snow (Donald Sutherland) makes it clear that the Games were designed to instil a sense of hope within his destitute subjects, a sense that even though your chances of survival are slim, you still might win and be showered with riches forever after.

Obviously the hope he intends to cultivate isn't seen quite so romantically by the citizens of the districts.

Or the participants of the Hunger Games.

But those who have lucratively profited by the current composition of the state cheer and laugh at the hopeless in a disgusting exercise of affluent vanity.

Refusing to participate in the Hunger Games ensures your death.

Participating in the Hunger Games almost assuredly ensures your death.

So you have an extremist government that castigates the poor and suppresses any form of rational descent, demanding strict obedience to its self-serving whims and designs. Its supporters revel in the bloodthirsty celebration and the families of the participants forlornly sit back and watch.

But sponsors can assist you, give you critical support if you put on a good show.

Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer Lawrence) and Peeta Mellark (Josh Hutcherson) put on the best show they possibly can.

By falling in love.

Love in its true form enables them to change the rules of the game to the vouchsafed delight of their begrudgingly suppliant benefactors.

Thereby suggesting that true love saturated with sacrifice can momentarily defeat the agents of tyranny.

Or that true love fictions are at the heart of the tyrannical enterprise.

Working within a sensationalist frame to provoke a tear jerking deconstructive critical strike disseminating subliminal democratic aftershocks.

Perhaps I expanded upon the plot ad nauseum.

I can't figure out if the end justifies the means.

The First Grader

Post-colonial Kenya. A public education system is introduced. Free education for all is announced. The vast majority of new students are children.

But one 84-year old former member of the Mau Mau resistance who fought against the British seeks an education as well. Determined to learn how to read and write in order to have a better understanding of his surrounding worlds, and read for himself what is written in a letter he received from the government, he stubbornly adheres to the rules when his initial attempts to gain access are rebuked, and is eventually given admittance to an overcrowded rural classroom.

Kimani N'gan'ga Maruge (Oliver Litondo) becomes a peculiar presence at school but one whom facilitator of learning Jane Obinchu (Naomie Harris) finds endearing. The administration does not share Jane's sentiments and consistently reminds her that by 'everyone' the government means 'every child' and that they already do not have the resources to teach every child and would be incomprehensibly overwhelmed if every adult sought a free education from grade 1 onwards as well. Their statistical analysis coalesces with the community's jealous censure of Maruge's activities to make life exceedingly difficult for both teacher and learner.

But they endure.

Justin Chadwick's The First Grader is a powerful film that demonstrates the enormous benefits that can result from exceptions, or, in this case, literal applications, when the practical ethical results outweigh the economic forecasts. Obviously with scant resources at their disposal a Department of Education would be unable to educate every illiterate citizen right off the bat, let alone every child, but seeing how only an extremely small percentage of such citizens over the age of 20 would choose to be educated with children, why not make an exception for those who do, instead of blindly upholding a rigid principle?

Taxation is at the heart of the matter and the question of whether or not you want to pay higher taxes in order to ensure your children/relatives/friends/neighbours mature in a dynamic learning environment fully equipped with engaging professionals and resources (the same ones provided for students of private schools) that vigorously nurture and develop their gifts?

Maruge's gifts are nurtured and developed and he has a positive influence on his fellow classmates as well. His struggle to learn functions as a prominent example of someone courageously seeking to receive the same remarkable educational opportunities that many people in Western countries simply take for granted.

Contagion

Wasn't that impressed with Steven Soderbergh's Contagion. It successfully manages several different plot threads and introduces a wide variety of characters, positioning them in various socio-political quadrants as they react to the spread of a devastating global plague, establishing friendships, watching as loved ones die, exploiting the situation for personal profit, falling victim to the ludicrous ambitions of a culture of desperation. It starts out well, getting right down to it, not spending much time investigating historical details while still encouraging interest within its accelerated format, disease, widespread contamination, diagnosis, containment. But as it unreels, it inconsistently delivers its subject matter, some scenes astutely demonstrating the talents of its superstar cast, others falling flat and causing you to wonder if Soderbergh ran out of time and didn't have the resources to encourage multiple takes. I suppose that if everything is 'normal,' or the world isn't distinctly suffering from the effects of a plague, and then the disease quickly spreads and disseminates chaos, it makes sense to have orderly and traditional opening scenes followed by poorly executed bourgeois hokum (the film itself is infected). This device can work exceptionally well if the director carefully crafts a seductive self-awareness. I didn't spot such self-awareness within Contagion, however. It seemed more like actors with established reputations running through the motions, as if they had taken Law and Order or CSI's format, tweaked it for the big screen, made a number of definitive, instantaneous, unalterable conclusions based upon a shallow degree of ready made research, waited for the content to easily slide into its manufactured mindsets, threw in something heroic yet disengaged, and gingerly cantered towards an incredible turn out at the box office. Some scenes and performances stand out and it was better than mediocre, but still, a very formulaic piece disguised as hip and innovative entertainment, quietly fading into the trivial.