The Green Knight

Born of lofty rank yet lacking bold chivalric industry, King Arthur's nephew lounges and carouses as the dolorous days pass by in Camelot.

Age has greeted the King with kind and pleasant noteworthy grace, his deeds admired and celebrated his rule enduring just unchallenged. 

His days of colloquially questing have fondly passed into history however, yet he still considers ornate pageantry when congenially conversing with younger generations. 

His nephew's mother grows weary of the reckless ill-composed dissolute inconsiderate debauchery, and embraces witchcraft to conjure a trial which may bring honour and widespread renown. 

The King recognizes the stately spirit of bygone days in the cynosure sorcery, and grants his nephew torrential tidings illustriously reckoned with regal resonance. 

Thus, when an agéd knight of ancient legend arrives in court on Christmas day, and courageously challenges the solemn round table to a mystic exchange of bombastic blows, Arthur tasks his unproven nephew with urgently responding to the murky mischief, and uncertain of his honourable objective, he proceeds to cut off the Green Knight's head. 

But the challenge indeed firmly stated that that very same blow would be returned the next year.

At which point Gawain must head to the countryside.

And seek the Green Knight alone.

It's classic mismatching temperaments resoundingly radiating obscure elasticity, as a profound misjudgment unwittingly leads to upright disillusion and serpentine sentiment. 

Bravely challenged in front of the council whose habitual deeds had been highly praised, Gawain thought it wise to respond in epic fashion and diabolical display.

Nervous regarding his status and intuitively seeking his uncle's regard, he reacts with far too much ferocity to awkwardly fit in with ill-suited surroundings. 

Had he wisely announced that he had no quarrel with the mischievous knight, and refused to thrash him or exchange blows his humble recognition may been rewarded, he would have risked the gawking discredit of the emboldened nobles within the room, but many others would have noted how brave it indubitably was to refuse the challenge.

That wouldn't have been much of a film nevertheless I sedately and sensationally suppose, although it would have snuggly fit his reliable personality as it had been cast.

A maladroit meander through the surreal bewildering lands of legendary England therefore awaits, the knight becoming more and more distressingly confused with each passing unassuming spirited day. 

Pay close attention and make sure to catch the extant grizzly amidst the whale bones.

Mirthful macabre mayhem. 

A comedic foil in the superhero age. 

Sleepwalk

Can books harness immaterial authenticity possessing atemporal spiritual substance reified through literary practicality (reading)?

Can extant abstract imbroglios mischievously contextualize the present, without relying on ideological intervention (tricksters) as their readers extensively ponder?

Probably not, although indirect corresponding parallels may seem uncanny if not somewhat mystical, but had the material in question never been covered, would the events have still seemed otherworldly or enigmatic?

As you encounter variable idiosyncrasies (in books and films) it's only natural to narratively apply them, to whatever you happen to be doing at the time or as similar occurrences present themselves.

But are you simply randomly applying ideas chosen at random for different texts, to random storylines inevitably generated as you freely interact with others?

Or is there something beyond coincidence ethereally aligned like Jurassic Park's chaos theory, which attaches seemingly supernatural significance to disorganized interconnected (enticing) ephemera? 

Probably not, in terms of personal history as opposed to applied math.

But if you're ever bored it's a fun game to play.

As long as you don't take your wagers too seriously.

But at times you have to seem as if you're vigorously engaged, nevertheless, in order to inspire confidence in significant others early in life.

Logic aside, some people prefer elevating the absurd to inviolable levels, regardless of relevance to applicable rationalities out of an instinctual preference for determinacy. 

Without comedic reckoning.

Was never able to research the subject that much.

But I imagine there are many people who have.

Sleepwalk follows a bright translator/jack-of-all-trades as she's asked to translate an ancient Chinese text (Suzanne Fletcher as Nicole), the events from the forbidden parables uncannily haunting her life thereafter.

A cool independent low-budget examination of harrowing contemporaneous histories, it's chill yet still discerning much like birdwatching or métro station discovery.

An indirect advocate for libraries and archives, along with historical context and animate consistency, Sleepwalk presents its playful syntheses with less gravity than The Lord of the Rings.

Co-starring Tony Todd, Steve Buscemi and Ann Magnuson. 

Cinematography by Frank Prinzi and Jim Jarmusch. 

Rango

Having accidentally escaped from his comfy aquarium, the theatrical Rango (Johnny Depp) is thrust upon the real world's stage. Finding himself in the small Western town of Dirt, he must instantaneously invent a hard-boiled character and deliver a stunning performance. When challenged he doesn't back down and fate consequently hands him a thunderous climax. His reward: the job of town Sheriff. His duty: protect the people of Dirt from ne'er do wells and bring back the water. The town has been drying up and the water that used to vigorously flow has stopped delivering its revitalizing bounty. As necessity demands action and circumstances require trust, Rango mystically discovers his edge and instinctively prepares for the final countdown.

In Rango, Gore Verbinksi works within the Western tradition in order to try and democratize its black and white contours. A monopoly has been sinisterly established thereby preventing the fair and equitable distribution of wealth. A comical hero strikes back, affirming the rights of his citizens in the hopes of restoring their dignity. Aided by a shapeshifting divinity, he develops the confidence he never knew he had and learns to sublimate his fears. Unfortunately, while the basic plot attempts to champion democracy, the formal elements are conservative as they come. The lead female character (Abigail Breslin as Priscilla) is wooden and static, occasionally lapsing into comatose trances when overwhelmed, and doesn't exactly disseminate a multidimensional presence. The people are capable of understanding Rango's idiosyncratic diction but they are still portrayed as foolish and inconsequential in their attempts to do so. Rango does possess an intriguing degree of self-awareness insofar as Rango is aware that he is on a peculiar quest that is being mythologized by a musical group of owls, and from time to time the film highlights its self-referentiality (ambiguously suggesting that Rango never left his aquarium). But at sundown, the quest and story are predominantly Rango's, not the people of Dirt's, even though Rango's purpose is to save the town and provide its inhabitants with a decent standard of living. More scenes showcasing the personalities of the townsfolk would have increased the democratic value of Rango's currency ten-fold.