Godzilla vs. Hedorah

Embryonic entity necrobotically nurtured infrequently on toxic sludge, post-war excesses woebegone waste detrimentally devastating fertile environments.

Non-existent strategic sustenance absent agendas a lack of will, built-up battlements pestiferous platforms swathed in sewage pernicious poison. 

Centripetal citizenship delicate direction scientific treatises elastic experiments, improvised research piecemeal prognoses acrimonious accidents exacting detail.

Innocent emphatic hopeful reveries freeform playtime spirited dreams, once widely feared and collectively criticized the colossal Godzilla resolutely revered. 

Alien life awkward extraterrestrials fumigaseously feasting on industrial run-off, handlebar hostilities universal clash intergalactic gauze interstellar antipathies. 

Rhythmic reverberations mythical music mirthful melodic hucklebear harmonies, serendipitous scales chromatic metre choral choir clef aerodynamic accolades. 

Worrisome windswept whac-a-mole waffling gargoyle gargantuan maladroit membrane, corporeal carnage objective lesion autocratic cauldron despotic debacle.

Thunderous thermal radioactivity electronic seven-eleven endocrine, scuba-divining oracular auspices clairvoyant cavalcade omniscientific. 

Bellicose brawndywine consistent contagion cumulous cudgel Florentine femurmur, nebulous 'nagerie opaque quibulletin austere obscurity pestilent penchant.

Sustainable mercantile healthy matriculation robust reclamation febrile reforestation, salubrious soil unembellished breath ameli'ore aquifer nutrient Nanabush. 

Refined respiration jungle gymnastics débutante desert mountainous malternate, undersea sequential subsumed serenity verdant conglomerate camplified glade. 

Cool to see the Godzilla movies sticking up for healthy environments.

Science constructively woven in as usual.

With the traditional focus on artistic expression.

Embowering conscience.

Cerebral simplicity. 

Gezora, Ganime, Kameba: Kessen! Nankai no daikaijû (Space Amoeba)

An unmanned vessel is sent into space with the inquisitive ambitions of studying Jupiter, alone and courageous it magnetically travels in resourceful steady industrious wavelengths. 

But as fate would have it, a discourteous entity serendipitously commandeers its research & development, and immediately sets course for the unsuspecting Earth where it inauspiciously lands in the Pacific Ocean.

The craft is reported as missing and daily routines mysteriously sublimate, the enervating misfortunes scientifically smothered by polemical disputes concerning the galaxy. 

Nevertheless, an observant photographer saw it awkwardly land while travelling by plane, and even though no one authenticates the sighting, he vigorously maintains his fortunate vision. 

At the same time, he's reliably hired to diligently photograph an island in the Pacific, which happens to be situated around the same place where he accidentally saw the spaceship descend.

Gregariously accompanied by an amicable team they bravely head out to the isolated wilderness, curious to meet the local inhabitants who have imaginatively lived there since the dawn of time.

They superstitiously fear a giant sea demon by the name of Gezora who lives in the depths. 

The alien entity having unwittingly assumed.

The ancient enigmatic uncompromising deity. 

Not the most well-thought out of the captivating freeform creative monster movies, Gezora, Ganime, Kameba: Kessen! Nankai no daikaijû (Space Amoeba) still startles and accentuates otherworldly absurd and ludicrous pretensions. 

A more sincere critique of the commercial desires to turn the island into a resort, would have materialized virtuous acclamations ethically attuned to Indigenous agency.

Yet perhaps it indirectly critiques commercial endeavours through its bizarre depiction of the covetous alien, who is rather diminutive globally speaking yet still seeks to effectively conquer the world.

Is that not the initial hubris of so many adventurous businesspeople, who hope their products will establish footholds in worldwide markets internationally speaking?

Starting out from humble origins they create commercials to advertise their wares, which are somewhat like the creature in Space Amoeba who effectively irritates the tenacious locals.

Ridiculous to see interplanetary ambitions maladroitly unleashed in animate obscurity. 

Endemic wildlife saving the day.

As it has throughout the millennia. 

*Criterion keyword: turtle.

Gojira (Godzilla)

In the original demonstroustive lobotomy, Godzilla haunts the forbidding seas, nuclear testing having enabled his reemergence, with fabled bellicose unfiltered brawn.

Ships begin to disappear and the mainland must take observant action, and indeed scientifically investigate the forlorn embattled terrified region.

Island legend warns of a giant-dinosaur-like-creature who once roamed the surrounding waters, in excruciating flagrant frenzy from time to time or epoch to epoch.

Upon arrival, noted scientists bask in prehistoric awe, as the colossal-beastie revels chaotically throughout the aggrieved distant locus.

ReBorn of nuclear experiment which greatly enhanced his body armour, invoking proclamations of invincibility throughout the industrious domain. 

Yet another disastrous weapon may be able to resoundingly sting however.

Its creator hesitant to deploy its hubris.

In light of fervent fee-fi-fo-fum.

Making much more of a tantalizing attempt to bombastically craft a compelling narrative, the first enraged Godzilla feature proceeds rather like a serious film.

Complete with a definitive way to radically save their island home, as opposed to the habitual acquiescence to Godzilla's unhinged distraught fury.

Reminding me at poignant points of ye olde Frankenstein or even Dracula,  there's much much more of a diabolical urge to effervescently ferment a legitimate film here.

With the incumbent scientist battling his will to painstakingly study the ancient beast, as it recklessly employs surreal embittered conspicuous contumacious brevity.

If only Godzilla had peacefully remained inattentively submerged below, and refused to unleash devastation at random upon the unsuspecting surface.

Nuclear experiment having audaciously mutated his once sedate and aloof spirit.

Grandiose ambition, ominous relief.

Fortuitous fuel. 

For so many sequels. 

Godzilla vs. King Ghidorah

Unlike any Godzilla film I've seen before, Godzilla vs. King Ghidorah (1991) unreels as special effects were improving in Japan. They're still a long ways off from where they are now and a bit behind films like Star Wars or Aliens, but that doesn't mean the production team didn't use them as frequently and conspicuously as possible.

Plus, instead of using model vehicles real world tanks etc. were employed, more money spent on this instalment which radiates novel curiosity like none other.

Things are relatively peaceful in Japan as sundry professionals go about their business, a young writer tired of covering the supernatural hopes to break into the nonfiction market.

He hears a tale of an extant dinosaur who saved a battalion during World War II, and wonders if it was indeed the very lifeform whom nuclear experiments transformed into Godzilla.

Meanwhile, ambassadors from the future suddenly arrive with mischievous intent, claiming that Godzilla is such a pest in the future that he threatens the very existence of atemporal Japan.

They have a copy of the writer's book and hope to use it to find the dinosaur, whom they will then transport to another location so he never absorbs the transformative radiation. 

But it soon becomes apparent that contemporary politicians have been duped, as three cute bat-like genetically altered animals are transformed into King Ghidorah!

As Ghidorah levels Japan people realize once again that they need Godzilla; will approximate manifested manipulations exotically enable further monstrous malevolence!

It's actually a lot more complicated than that director/writer Kazuki Ômori went all out on the script, perhaps too much for one single Godzilla film but no doubt a feast for the over-the-top senses.

My theory that some dinosaurs lived for a great deal of time after their mass "extinction", seems to have been shared by inquisitive others actually brought up with ancient oral traditions.

Perhaps there's too much taking place in the inventive comprehensive macromanic King Ghidorah, but if you like consistent twists and unexpected developments legitimately hatched it's a frenetic frenzy.

Complete with a futuristic scenario where Japanese corporations control the world, it leaves no exuberant stone unturned as it ludicrously theorizes things yet to come.

Likely generating controversy in Godzilla circles around the experimental world, due to its incredibly ambitious undaunted seemingly limitless narrative daring, there's no doubt it's a fluidic must see in a league of its own crafting kernels incarnate, tantalizing transmutating treatises, disputatiously reverberating confounding as one.  

The Thing from Another World

Finally watched the original film depicting John W. Campbell's story Who Goes There?, which is much more of a lighthearted romp than the chilling masterpiece hewn by John Carpenter. 

It's Science vs. The Military in 1951 and in The Thing from Another World the army reigns supreme, the resident scientists made to look like fools who can't reasonably understand the imminent danger.

In fact the scientists take great risks in the pursuit of knowledge to save the monster, who rebukes their heartfelt efforts with morose haughty intergalactic derision. 

They even have foreign accents and are much more internationally inclined, facets which latently upset the good old commandos who quickly take charge of the distressing scene.

The pursuit of knowledge is indeed not nearly as reckless as its dismissively portrayed in this film, which came out as ruthless McCarthyism was ignorantly spreading across the U.S.

The Thing is even organic in this version it comes from a far off vegetal world, where veggies evolved to become the dominant lifeform as humanoids did upon our own (although I'm starting to think bees are a higher form of life [they have wings]). 

In the film the military worries that the highly advanced commie vegetable from space, will eventually take over the entire planet and no doubt unleash ubiquitous environmentalism. 

The scientists look like mad unAmerican conspirators as they struggle to save the alien.

Imagine a time when this kind of thing proliferated.

Hopefully it never comes to pass again.

At least one scientist must be crazy in Who Goes There? since one of them loses it in The Thing (1982) as well, although his data makes hysterical sense considering how much more adaptive it is in Carpenter's film.

Whereas The Thing from Another World is happy-go-lucky sci-fi within which you'd never expect anything to go wrong, Carpenter's Thing is a chilling opus where it's tough to imagine anything going right.

If you watch monster movies throughout your life because they exist and you're sporadically curious, it's tough to find ones you want to watch again, since a lot of them just seek to make quick casholla.

But every once in a while visionary directors roguishly emerge to offer something different.

And take their time to craft memorable metastases. 

With alarming accuracy.

And emboldened vision.

*It looks like Carpenter was fun to work for. It seems like some of his casts really enjoyed working together when you watch his films. That kind of thing can add so much to an aesthetic, or ironically create a friendly dreamlike counterbalance to the mayhem. 

Love & Monsters

As a giant asteroid heads towards Earth, international consensus launches a strike, of hundreds of volatile nuclear missals, which mange to chaotically get 'er done.

But unfortunately the fallout from the explosions leads to extreme environmental disaster, as tiny insects see exponential growth, and proceed to take out most of humanity.

The survivors live in isolated communities kept in close contact through radio, able to survive and gather food on the surface as long as they can avoid the inveterate beasties.

Joel Dawson (Dylan O'Brien) lives with a tight-knit community resiliently composed through extracurricular agency, but he's generally critiqued by his fellow survivalists for lacking determined battle hardened wherewithal.

But he still adventurously dreams of love lost in the bitter apocalypse, and is able to contact his cherished love interest through old school tenderized trusted technologies. 

Tired of having no opportunity to prove himself, he decides to head out to meet her (Jessica Henwick as Aimee), the distance daunting the quest calamitous, resources scanty, awareness, lacking.

But to dream is to resonate spirit ethereally expanding through limitless boundaries, and Joel possesses indomitable daring romantically synergizing illustrious l'amour.

Naturally, she's moved on when he reaches her but it was still worth the herculean effort.

Which taught him to cultivate courage.

And randomly reflex and improvise.

A dramatic tale comedically denoting sci-fi love in a time a horror, Love & Monsters champions reveries within localized epic congress.

The foolish flourish, ferment, and flounder, yet still matriculate through honest endeavour, trials tantalizing friendship impressed with neither recollection nor spastic endurance.

I suppose if at one time you have billions of insects and then perhaps millions of them mutate to gigantic proportions, their numbers may drastically decrease in the aftermath, if they also take on the reproductive rates of lions or tigers.

But would reproductive rates have been effected, wouldn't the abundant gigantic insects reproduce at such a rate that the Earth's bountiful resources would be consumed in less than a fortnight?

Perhaps not, there's not much data to go on, but fortunately forests remain in tact, and even if humanity's scattered and demoralized, there's still communication and interactive hope.

Joel's an understanding protagonist who can go with or direct the flow.

Encouraged by trial and error.

Seeds of resolute calm. 

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.  

It - Chapter Two

A disturbed slumber, 27 years of rest woebegone, sedate irascibility, contumely comas, hellbent on dispensing despotic discontent, extremely confident of his monstrous prowess, as the virtuous gather, somewhat unsure of their deadly purpose, most of their lives having briskly moved on, careers and love, duty and responsibility, adulthood, maturity, they've forgotten what once fiercely threatened them, although one remained staunch and vigilant, conducting devout immersed freelance research, constructing a strategy to fight round 2, sure and steady, carrying on, assured and brave unwavering commitment, adroitly aware confined productive obsession.

He makes the calls.

They are awkwardly heeded.

But with what seems like miraculous good fortune, they return to Derry minus one, the details of their trauma somewhat hazy, a refresher dynastically awaiting.

Mike Hanlon (Isaiah Mustafa/Chosen Jacobs) believes he's discovered the secret to defeating Pennywise (Bill Skarsgård), but it's complicated if not unnerving.

After visiting local First Nations, who have known of Pennywise since time immemorial, he discovered that they each must locate something personal, they'll just know it when they see it, and that each of these personalized items must then be burned together as one, within a cavern deep below ground, to which the beast will be immediately summoned.

But Pennywise has thought of little else over the years, throughout the tormenting intervening period, and is ready to plague them with fear, as they set out in search of nostalgic essentials.

Alone.

Even though the errors of proceeding individually are pointed out, Hanlon states that the ritual requires personalized sleuthing, Pennywise conscious of their adversarial intent, and everything else that they're blindly thinking.

If you saw the made-for-tv version of It as a child, you can't miss the new cinematic enterprise, which supplies fresh hearty chilling frights, and a corresponding sense of unease.

The narrative's compact, it focuses almost entirely on the adults who defeated Pennywise as children, or were psychologically enslaved by him, there's no police or community at large, just a monster and its courageous foes.

Even though it's 2 hours and 49 minutes long, it still unreels with startling brevity, the wayward adults returning to Derry rapidly, leaving work etc. behind far too quickly.

Except for Mrs. Marsh (Jessica Chastain/Sophia Lillis), who needs to get the *&#* out of there.

The scenes are kind of hokey, passing too abruptly to nurture the genuine.

They each encounter Pennywise again, however, on their own, and these scenes are more lengthy and convincing, the film less concerned with matters beyond the terrifying world of Derry, a tight knit group keeping things crisp, shipshape.

The hasty returns, individual pursuits, and lack of community-at-large involvement, make It - Chapter Two seem a bit slapdash, scary and morbid yet slapdash, especially since each character must accomplish a difficult task after suddenly finding themselves in a frightening inhospitable world they left long ago, and they all succeed while only suffering slight mental distress.

But if the realism isn't going to cut it, or will at least only lead to banal shocks, the ridiculous can indeed be relied upon, fantastic excess outwitting routine expectations.

If horror films are supposed to leave you feeling ill afterwards, It - Chapter Two is a blunt success.

Even if it's kind of corny.

And the Henry Bowers (Teach Grant/Nicholas Hamilton) subplot doesn't add much.

Hotel Transylvania 3: Summer Vacation

A getaway.

A surprise.

A much less terrifying Drac (Adam Sandler) heads out for some rest and relaxation, a well-earned break from managing his infamous hotel.

His friends and family enthusiastically accompany him, adding communal comedic style to his travels similar to that found in A Muppet Family Christmas (1987).

It's not Christmas, not even Halloween, yet the cruise they find themselves upon does come equipped with stunning Summertime festivities, attractions, designed specifically for monsters, who are unaware it's a vengeful trap.

The Van Helsings (Jim Gaffigan as Van Helsing and Kathryn Hahn as Ericka) have sought to finish Dracula off for generations.

Without success.

But now their family has come up with their most diabolical scheme ever, and have successfully lured everyone into their exhaustive clutches.

An aspect that has never been considered may foil their antiseptic ambitions, however.

Known to both human and monster kind.

As unabashed true love.

Or zinging, as it's referred to in Hotel Transylvania 3: Summer Vacation, and it does perhaps generate the odd blush or two, as aged Drac comes to terms with his emotions.

Nevertheless, daughter Mavis (Selena Gomez [not Winona Ryder?]) stays focused, and detects peculiar behaviour as she monitors the actions of dad's commanding love interest.

With the help of her chill surfs-up! beatbox husband Johnny (Adam Samberg), they may just be able to dispel the leviathan.

It's a cruise after all.

Replete with Bermudan triangulations.

Some funny moments, some serious camaraderie, death-defyingly wicked yet convivially chummy and endearing, Hotel Transylvania 3 innocently blends mirth with the macabre to highlight collective curses, synthesizing Capulets and Montagues demonstrously, while adding myriad spicy flavours askew.

An odd narrative technique that didn't really work with me, it consistently focuses intently on one character at the end of a sequence and then pauses for dramatic effect.

I imagine I'm outside the targeted audience's age range, but I found the technique to be more sluggish than profound.

The kids in the theatre were laughing though, and seemed to have thoroughly enjoyed themselves as the credits rolled.

I did rather enjoy the ways in which so many characters were diminutively featured throughout nonetheless, especially Blobby (Genndy Tartakovsky), and lovestruck Drac in denial.

Plus the DJed dénouement.

Gremlin air.

The underwater volcano.

And the inherent ridiculousness of it all.

Nice.

It

Plagued by an ingratiating ravenous monstrosity, a team of creative outcasts struggles to envision.

It preys upon them in isolation, shockingly manifesting their most potent fears in trepidatious real-time after they've been discovered alone.

Or at least passing by unnoticed, adults being immune to the clown's pestiferous ploys, and unable to assist their young as they struggle to outwit vicious appetite.

Yet one boy (Jaeden Lieberher as Bill Denbrough) boldly decides he will not yield and convinces the others to affirm contention.

Thereby emerging as leader.

Having realized they are stronger if they resolutely unite as one, they set out in search of conflict, whether engaging with the malevolent Pennywise (Bill Skarsgård), their parents, or other unhelpful adults, things are bleak, castigating apprehensions woebegone, they eventually strike with vehement poise.

Umbilical.

They mustn't be afraid you see, and contending as a group helps them face then overcome their fears, Pennywise functioning as the haunting prospect of a spoiled unproductive lonely maladjusted youth, it doesn't necessarily kill them but transforms them into mature horrors, mired in a revolving stasis, the sought after younglings organized in It, finding friendship like an antidote to venom.

Articulate idiosyncrasies.

Improvised bedlam.

It's unconcerned restrained yet volatile examination of unsung heroism shyly elevates the versatility of teamwork while cohesively combatting bullying and rumour.

It's a matter of timing, strategizing, envisioning, coordinating, communicating, adjusting, adapting.

The film mechanically delivers some solid frights while still developing young adult character and plot without overemphasizing the grotesque or understating childhood trauma.

All around bad, being a kid in It's filmscape.

That is one crappy fictional town.

Spotlight

A community, bound together by traditional bonds stretching back for tightly knit centuries, growing and changing over time yet remaining loyal to specific ways of life, to institutions, whose reputation for kindness and charity has lovingly guided initiatives structured by compassion and understanding which encourage warm hearted gatherings in order to anchor humanistic trusts throughout, within and beyond the great city of Boston, which is under fire this year in American cinema.

But it's not as fuzzy as all that, as Tom McCarthy's Spotlight points out, a filmic examination of the Boston Globe reporters who brought to light monstrous religious failings, abysmal breaches of trust, and an entrenched sociopolitical culture devoted to covering it up, to overlooking its monumental shortcomings, its violence, its subversion of its fundamental principles.

True believers who attempt to tenderly encourage inclusive communal growth are exceptional people, it's only when they either exclude large portions of the population who believe in something else or commit acts of terror that serious problems arise, augmented by parts of the population who try to exclude them for believing what they do.

But for true believers, the bonds they cultivate between themselves and religious authorities are truly sacred, and if such authorities take for granted the sacred nature of these bonds and viciously exploit them to corruptly satisfy perverted desires, relying on their image and authority to prevent people from coming forward with shocking contradictory truths, they shatter their aura of integrity and obscure their charitable foundations.

Spotlight examines the tough decisions Boston Globe reporters, themselves Christian and citizens of Boston, had to make in order to bring the truth to light, the idyllic patience they required to expose corrupt religious and civic bureaucracies as they furtively waited until they had enough evidence to comment.

A passion for justice challenges the team's resolve at one memorable point, Mike Rezendes (Mark Ruffalo) demanding action, Spotlight team leader Walter Robinson (Michael Keaton) logically refusing, the film having carefully crafted a number of corresponding interviews and investigations the revelations of which frustratingly challenge the cohesivity of their discipline, not to mention that it's their community they're shocking, their heritage they're disillusioning.

It's not like someone took office supplies home here, government information was misplaced, high ranking officials from different cultural institutions attempted to block them, the law prevented truths from being discussed, testimony from scared impoverished victims was difficult to obtain, assistance from like-minded jaded professionals difficult to coax, trust, trust had to be relied upon but the issue they were investigating had resoundingly destroyed the bedrock of trust their contemporaries and interviewees had sought to preserve, making the situation highly volatile, its outputs, highly devastating.

Yet invaluable.

A tough film examining tough issues from tough perspectives with a tenacious resolve.

In search of true justice.

True reform.

For true believers.

Krampus

Take heed for the information contained herewith concerns spirits of a different kind, whose purpose in regards to Christmas is to malevolently punish and ruin those who disrespect its sincere generosity, arising from the fiery depths of ancient lore to assert his rank as naughtiest, Krampus the unforgiving unleashes his supernatural wrath, the postmodern world unaware of his vengeful agenda and Saint Nicholas unable to counter his chaotic disdain, a heartfelt letter warmly written with tender loving care representative of the true spirit of Christmas is torn to pieces after its author is ritualistically humiliated, said humiliation having cauterized the mutual contempt two related families hold for one another as they attempt to bond over the holidays, in a searing transcendent sweltering condemnation, the wealthier family unimpressed with the gruff pretensions of their less affluent cousins, the less affluent cousins none to subservient to the airs of their relatives, common decency misplaced as they assemble to dine, discourses of purity belittling the times, the letter is torn and they must maintain a united front to defend their families against Krampus's rancour, Omi (Krista Stadler) having met him before, inasmuch as her warnings demand that they exercise extreme caution, lassitude sets in and Krampus's minions infiltrate freely, the Christmas spirit revitalizing their familial fervency as they boldly defend their own, but Krampus is not prone to listen once he has risen, a desperate confrontation ensuing with the festively spiritual maladroitly abandoned, as Krampus reminds them that Christmas requires thanksgiving through his harsh and gratuitous penalties, necrobatically assigned by harbingers of the ungrateful, the absurdity of it all oddly upholding pleasantries like amazement and wonder, the gross infernal exaggerations, the total and complete lack of goodwill, grotesquely generating feelings to the contrary, to the contemporary, insensitively and unconsciously underscoring virtuous contemplations of both bounty and cheer, the beautiful communal ties of the season, rejoicing through the act of gift giving, celebrating life with family and friends, to renew a sense of endearing well being, a mirthful maturation, amusing in solace and laughter.

The Captive

Generally I find ambiguity enables scripts to reflect a higher degree of realistic contemplation, for it aptly accentuates the diversity of competing/cooperating points-of-view/interpretations/motivations/. . . that compose a multidimensional cosmopolitan filmscape, internally creating open-ended multifaceted polarized exteriorizations, thereby encouraging constructive debate.

But sometimes it's nice to simply watch good versus evil, a basic opposition of hero and villain, which is why I see so many action and western films.

The best of these usually have an ambiguous dimension; while it's clear who is good and who is evil, the protagonist often has several peculiar shortcomings (quick to anger, likes drinking, is never home), and the villains often seem honourable, or at least are quite appealing.

Obviously enough.

The villains in Atom Egoyan's The Captive are not honourable or appealing.

Nor should they be.

They are revolting monstrosities to be loathed and vilified in each and every instance.

Their monstrosity causes the heroes to act violently towards one another, as historical patterns and dead-ends necessitate the investigation of particularly volatile potentialities.

There's no room for ambiguity in The Captive's case, and its greatest shortcoming could perhaps be that it didn't make its villains even more disgusting.

The controversial subject matter is perhaps too watered down to adequately reflect its wickedness, but there isn't much choice when creating works which examine these realities.

Otherwise they would be impossible to sit through.

Godzilla

The presence of two gigantic destructive monsters competitively reawakens the mighty Godzilla, perviously resting in his or her oceanic layer, content and comfortable, in its overflowing radioactive abundance.

Secrets have been kept from the people of Japan, and one man's overwhelming quest to ecolocute them, sets his son on the path to heroic indentation.

Project Monarch has known about the existence of these ancient beasts for decades and has been assiduously researching their origins, attempting to understanding what might be their purpose.

When it becomes clear that aspects of said purpose threaten the longevity of prosperous American cities, the characters hear the kitschy call.

Pinnacled to pressure.

If at one time in your life you found yourself watching every Godzilla film you could find, Gareth Edwards's Godzilla doesn't disappoint.

It's, pretty awful, intermixing enough cheesy sentimentality to settle anyone's disputes concerning the hyperactivity of microwaved plutonics.

But this is what's to be expected from a film respectfully paying homage to its amusingly light predecessors, like a refreshing glass of chilled mountain dew, stricken yet satisfying, all the way through.

Dr. Ishiro Serizawa (Ken Watanabe) impresses.

Some of the best deliveries I've heard in a blockbuster for a while.

How I looked forward to his next line with unfiltered anticipation.

The scene where the troops skydive into San Francisco is incredible.

Where the Wild Things Are

Where the Wilds Things Are is a fun-filled adventure for kids and adults alike. Young Max (Max Records) has a fight with his mom (Catherine Keener) and takes off to a mysterious island where he encounters several of Maurice Sendak's fabled creations. Cooly enough, Max soon finds himself elected King after befriending and destroying several dwellings with rage filled Carol (James Gandolfini). As time passes, Max and the beasties socialize, have a dirt fight, explore the mysterious island, philosophize about life, and build a new home (while Max comes to realize that being supreme ruler has its fair share of pitfalls). The subject matter's tame, the resolution picturesque, the narrative complex in its simplicity, and the characters overflowing with childishly provocative wisdom.

The friendly monsters each represent a different component of the troubled childhood psyche, generally united in their desire to remain somewhat aloof. Their observations are modestly delivered in a bewildered yet confident fashion that adds a significant degree of magical charisma to the film. Director Spike Jonze consistently displays his offbeat comic charm as educational systems and grown-up situations are subtly satirized. And every shot of the Wild Things gazing peculiarly into the camera produces youthful feelings of unrestrained happiness.

Pretty wild.

There Will be Blood

Paul Thomas Anderson's new film There Will be Blood is a chilling, relentless portrait of one man's incomparable brutality. The iconic entrepreneur, Daniel Plainview has the knowledge, the means, and the implacable constitution necessary to serendipitously succeed in the hard-boiled oil business. Brilliantly acted by Daniel Day-Lewis (who demonstrates that he's in the same league as Gary Oldman when it comes to consistently mining new depths of character), Plainview will stop at nothing to achieve his ends, will never back down from a confrontation, and will never even slightly consider the interests of anyone but himself. The insatiable maniac, Plainview's portrait is dark and sinister, malicious and diabolical, mostly because he succeeds, he wins. At first, I thought Anderson was spending to much time highlighting details that could have been easily left out with no effect on the plot's development (a lot of time is spent in the beginning of the film lensing Plainview's first strike [reminded me of the wedding at the beginning of The Deer Hunter]), but as the film gushes forth, every bit of the manifested minutia builds Plainview's bastard of a character, meticulously managing the menace, sleekly saluting the irascibility.

There Will be Blood insightfully examines one man's unilateral determination, cunningly illustrating the alluring qualities of the wicked. Robert Elswit's beautiful cinematography oddly accentuates Plainview's macabre character, ironically challenging the cultural image of the genial capitalist, perceived as the good, remembered, as the remarkable.