Un 32 août sur terre (August 32nd on Earth)

A near death experience regenerates instincts to daringly embark on the path of motherhood, a coveted model having barely survived after falling asleep at the treacherous wheel (Pascale Bussières as Simone). 

To suddenly go about the definitive business of engaging in acts which will lead to pregnancy, she relies on the dedication of a trusted friend who has been obsessed for many a year (Alexis Martin as Philippe).

He's somewhat uncertain as to how to proceed and his closest friend recommends refusal, yet even though he's found a new loving partner, he maddeningly can't find the guts to say no.

So it's off to peaceful Utah to accomplish the deed in the heralded salt flats, but they're unable to rent a car and must depend on a suspicious cab driver.

Unfortunately, the offbeat romantic isolation fails to inspire spry animate parlay, the shocking nature of the surprise interconnection leaving studious Philippe shaken not stirred.

The cab driver returns and ups the price, they refuse to pay and are left in the wild.

With nothing but time on their hands.

Incarnate impromptu fascination.

An unorthodox take on romantic true love clad in crazed cheeky carbonite crucible, habitual discussions regarding procreation generally absconded in abstentia.

What lengths will anyone go to if their compulsive daydreaming miraculously matriculates, and a conducive schematic instantaneously materializes out of thin air ze reified rapscallion?

'Tis a tantamount tale for romantic young adults perhaps too prone to radical reverie, highly charged through amorous immediacy the inherent amusement disenchanting fact.

Although to engage in random speculation, I would wager that at least 60% of newborns emerge by accident, and that such an off-putting yet versatile possibility keeps the gene pool rich in non-determination. 

So many thoughtful reasonable people sterilize particularity through prudent planning, and even though they resonate lucidity, lack the wild random vivacities of life.

Do these vivacities produce more novelty than steady reflection and scientific trial and error, I've never heard anyone who lives that way complain, in fact pointing out discrepancies is anathema. 

But why worry about what might have been?, it serves no useful productive purpose.

The present is much more interesting. 

Just have to stay constructively active. 

The Neon Demon

Authentic unawareness, a genuine ingenue, immediacy pressurizing the social with vindictive amorous jealousies she neither comprehends nor contemplates, august angelic agency, harpies heaven sent, an agonizing struggle having hawkishly conditioned their credence, as innocence mingles with disillusion, naivety nascently nocturnalized.

A young model whose natural beauty crushes her competitors suddenly reaches the heights they seek, forever and ever, without even having coquettishly furrowed, finding herself virulently enveloped in invariable viscosity shortly thereafter.

Unapologetically resigned.

To psychotic desire.

The Neon Demon starkly examines discourses of purity with venomous brevity and blunt exactitude.

Mortality.

Ostentation.

The hypnotic hallucinations impress as does the soundtrack and the scenes at the hotel (music by Cliff Martinez).

Director Nicolas Winding Refn pays homage to Stanley Kubrick and David Lynch and at times seems as if he may possess a similar sense of maniacal eccentricity.

The Neon Demon's hit and miss though, some scenes pulling you into a dark carnal frothing extremity which skilfully blends the opulent and the oblivious, others just sort of hangin' out and dipsy-doodling like those you often find in generic horror.

Perhaps this approach is meant to reflect young Jesse's (Elle Fanning) shock, the uplifting yet haunting psychosocial affects of elegant effortless ascendence.

A larger budget may answer this question, one which gives Refn more time to cohesively structure a sustained chaotic incrimination, a more visceral sense of bleak wanton menace, like that which you often find in both Kubrick and Lynch's darker texts.

Wave upon wave.

Liked Jena Malone's (Ruby) performance.

Jubilance.

Zoolander 2

Lost in the wilderness, hard-earned accomplishments reduced to ash, ever evolving fashionable escapades firmly embedding debilitating doubts, two men once experimentalizing their flair with unconcerned immaculate retention cast out to cower shamefully in oblivion, suddenly once again required to indubitably vanquish the wicked, a sultry almost swimsuit model guiding their investigations, into the deaths of the innocently unfathomable, extracurricular intricacies, defiantly orchestrated by a fragile bested foe.

Derek Zoolander (Ben Stiller) and Hansel (Owen Wilson) must return to the limelight to reassert their exploratory finesse, for a criminal mastermind has targeted the world's most good looking people to fulfill a prophecy contraceptional in its cunning.

Shenanigans and blundering complicate their inquiries yet naivety and credulity reward their perseverance.

Derek's son Derek Jr. (Cyrus Arnold) must play a primary role, as it becomes apparent, that he may be the chosen one.

Exglamatory.

Providing laughs and hilarious situations with endearing supporting characters and a profound respect for its origins, Zoolander 2 succeeds at extending the franchise, but doesn't eclipse its starlit predecessor.

It terms of ridiculousness, it does surpass the original with ludicrous lubricants and transitional rebounds, but, even though it's a lot of fun to see the old characters back at it once again, mixing with new additions who socialistically and religiously spice things up, I wasn't as captivated as I was with Dumb and Dumber To, Anchorman 2, or 22 Jump Street, although I did prefer it to Hot Tub Time Machine 2, Airplane II, Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me, The Hangover Part II, and Ghostbusters II.

I loved how it validated Hansel and Derek's professional competencies and juxtaposed them with the errors they sometimes make taking care of real world demands, like cloistered vestals suddenly fending for themselves.

Hansel and Derek's dynamic reminded me of that cultivated between Ricky and Julian in Trailer Park Boys.

Could there possibly be a Trailer Park Boys/Zoolander crossover shot in Montréal, one of North America's most beautiful cities, with Mugatu (Will Ferrell) teaming up with the one and only Xavier Dolan to kidnap Céline Dion and antiquate Cirque du Soleil?

I'm thinking, best idea, in the history of ever.

Ever.

Ever . . .