Silkwood

A difficult life tempestuously driven by the sincere desire to share bold reckonings, dynamic friendships and bohemian protocols keeping things multilaterally attuned.

Work at the fuel fabrication site where she makes rods for nuclear reactors, has its life-threatening ups and downs while employees maintain a chillaxed atmosphere.

What to do when there isn't any work and you don't want to move far away from home, the overt danger seeming much less perilous when the steady paychecks start rolling in.

But day in day out as people get sick or find themselves exposed to cancer generating elements, builds up the tension and ensures the union actively engages on their behalves.

Trouble intensifies for Ms. Silkwood after she agrees to go undercover, and obtain photos of a technicians's alterations to definitive indicative core sample negatives.

Her partner leaves her after she takes on the increasing clandestine covert responsibilities, and problems get much much much worse to the point where she's left on her own recognizance.

The life of an activist hardships incumbent serialized dilemmas consistently challenging, the disappearance of networks and friends and colleagues as the stealthy work boldly intensifies.

With the union helping to coordinate hardworking team-based initiatives however, effective groups of likeminded people can efficiently criticize industrious greed.

I've never been a fan of nuclear power I imagine I've mentioned this before, it's certainly convenient if you can't build massive dams but still leaves an ominous environmental footprint.

Nuclear material takes thousands of years to gradually break down into harmless components, that's a long time to have to monitor deteriorating waste at different sites.

You'd have to outlast the Roman Empire have a much longer run than The Simpsons or Frasier, how can you guarantee the monitoring of such sites for the non-foreseeable future over the years?

It's easier to do what Hydro Québec has effectively done in La Belle Province, are there not massive rivers in Northern Ontario or Manitoba or Alberta that can also be dammed?

Working with local First Nations to facilitate smooth beneficial transitions, is hydroelectric power not more reliable than nuclear, and respectfully characteristic of a sustainable future?

*I don't want to argue with the people who don't like hydroelectric power either. We're on the same side at the end of the day. Hydro Québec just makes so much more sense to me. 

The Birdcage

A young couple hoping to wed attempt to deceive the would-be bride's father (Gene Hackman as Senator Keeley), for he's a politician with a traditional edge that may frown upon his new festive in-laws.

The potential in-laws themselves are also hesitant to support the union, for the couple's rather young and lack multidisciplinary life experience. 

But, decision made, they proceed abashed yet disrespectful, asking the lively freespirited couple to cloak their natural inclinations. 

They've done quite well for themselves and live within an inclusive open-minded realm, where they even own their own successful nightclub in which Albert (Nathan Lane) regularly performs.

It's easier for Armand (Robin Williams) to give in since it's his son who's matrimonially disposed, even if he's moved far past having to conceal his conducive clutch commercial savvy.

They redecorate their apartment and even practice earnest mannerisms, Armand even going so far as to ask an ex to play a leading role (Christine Baranski as Katharine). 

She happens to be the boy's (Dan Futterman as Val) mother but she hasn't seen him in years, the ethics becoming more and more disreputable the closer and closer they come to seeming orthodox. 

But Albert won't be treated this way and remains a star of first rate standing.

He's ready for a surprise performance.

As his audience arrives for dinner (with Dianne Wiest as Louise). 

The result is a resplendent debacle abounding with resonant tact and mirth, a performance precious in its incomparability delicately redefining eloquence.

I'd argue indefatigably that Laurence Olivier's the best actor I've seen, but I've never seen him reach the heights Nathan Lane ascends in Mike Nichols's Birdcage.

Backed up by Robin Williams whose transformative prowess mischievously bewilders, saving the best of his awkward orchestrations for the detested gastronomic dissimulation. 

But as fate would have it within the film invasive hounds inspire an otherworldly rapprochement, and an uncanny serendipitous synthesis effortlessly enchants as it chaotically unites.

Bizarro bastions bounteously bursting as merrymaking matriculately mingles, I'd hope The Birdcage would dazzle any audience from whatever political or ethical stripe.

Things could be much more chill and compassionate without having to make impractical sacrifices. 

That's what it seemed like in '90s movies anyways.

Or at least many of those I happened to see.

*Most of which are still available for rental.

**With Calista Flockhart (Barbara Keeley) and Hank Azaria (Agador). 

***Surprised The Birdcage isn't a Criterion. 

Working Girl

Caught up in a fast-paced sleazy biased combustion, unafraid to bite back but running out of options, a creative, imaginative, brave cutting edge ingenue, moves forward with bold reckoning, to wildly make definitive things happen (Melanie Griffith as Tess McGill).

Her new boss (Sigourney Weaver as Katharine Parker) breaks her leg skiing so she's tasked with managing her affairs, and while taking care of this and that, discovers one of her ideas was stolen.

Since her boss is immobile and was likely going to pass her work off as her own, she decides to pursue it herself, improvising in nondescript motion.

Daringly poised on the boundless shifty breach, she accidentally makes first contact, and he's as enamoured as he is intrigued (Harrison Ford as Jack Trainer).

But she can't let him know she's technically not an executive, and can't believe her bad luck when she finds out whom he's dating.

Back home her steady beau has thoughtlessly found someone else (Alec Baldwin as Mick Dugan), and her plucky best friend (Joan Cusack as Cyn) wonders if she's gone too far.

But this is her chance and she's set on success, and her idea's a good one, even if she struggles ill-composed.

Unaccustomed to high flying competitive hostility, she still elegantly disarrays.

The results are mixed if not edgy inasmuch as Working Girl invokes sentimental style.

Since Tess is uncertain, as she applies the knowledge she's learned in school, without professional backing, it makes sense that the film should be a little bit wobbly, somewhat disjointed, like a working form in contextual motion.

As she becomes more sure of herself, Griffith and Ford piece together some convincing scenes, and the ending's sure and steady, as it soothes the latent aftershocks.

It's a sympathetic tumultuous testament to feminine strength, which sincerely values Tess's trials, and sincerely sways their sombre projection.

She's tough, and doesn't put up with nonsense, even though she's clearly dug in deep, and lacks a wide ranging social network, and has betrayed the only person who would hire her.

But even if the film's disjointed pulse aptly reflects genuine attempts to define oneself, some of the scenes still fall a bit flat, without enigmatically enriching the staccato.

There's one where Tess stands alone at night surrounded by mist for instance, that would have seemed much more classical if it hadn't been so sentimentally hewn (a number of solid scenes that don't fit well together at times coalescing in the end, is different from several solid scenes added to some melodramatic downers that don't fit well together at times stitched together in the end).

Mike Nichol's has made many great films but he's a bit off in this one.

It would have been stronger if Tess's boss had been a man.

And Griffith had received top billing.

It's still a solid examination of willful resolve struggling under realistic hardships.

With many endearing scenes.

Where the actors work so well together.

Postcards from the Edge

Constant motion, exceptional circumstances, wild indulgence, disorienting repercussions.

A blossoming actress well-versed in cinematic intrigue takes things multiple steps too far, and is sentenced to move back home.

She can therefore continue working after her overdose, even if incumbent oversight bewilders her resolve.

Things remain relatively calm, in Ms. Vale's (Meryl Streep) case anyways, but jealousy and deception neither flounder nor subside, as her mom (Shirley MacLaine) and newfound beau Jack Faulkner (Dennis Quaid) contend and philander respectively.

Explanations or reasons why disputatiously illuminate, as the struggling actress carries on.

Her strength is most impressive.

Her talent, undeniable.

Postcards from the Edge honestly presents a cerebral state of affairs.

Even though the situation's quite serious, lighthearted charm reveals resilient subtle character.

Blending in both sympathy and censure.

It resists impulses to sound too preachy and consequently doesn't infantalize.

It doesn't let anyone off the hook, but doesn't overflow with guilt or blame either.

I didn't know Carrie Fisher was such a good writer.

Postcards excels at offering versatile soul searching conversations between parent and young, examining the thought provoking envy that aggrandized their lives in show business.

But it's not simply envy, the envy's mixed with support and compassion, these beacons emitting clever conversational poise that tries not to offend as it resists temptation.

If it's blunt, it isn't overstated.

The conversations become more and more genuine as the film progresses, and director Mike Nichols gives them plenty of time to bloom as they patiently generate their own lifeforce.

Vale and Faulkner have some good arguments as well.

Some people who overdose don't get to return to work so shortly thereafter, so Postcards is a bit hands-on fairy tale.

But if forgiveness and mercy are to constructively abound, who's to critique such remarkable developments?

Cool film.

Wasn't on me radar way back when.