Shazam! Fury of the Gods

And while engaging in acts of heroism the mighty Wizard's Staff was torn asunder, and the powerful spells it had indeed cast broken, thereby encouraging blatant disharmonies.

The daughters of Atlas in fact wildly reinvigorated at last, the staff having kept them interminably imprisoned within a labyrinthine ancient realm.

Obsessed with divine pretensions and extravagant disastrous displays, they seek to rob Shazam and his friends of their powers, with even more fury than the Philly Press!

Yet feuding erupts amongst them since they can't agree upon a plan, the youngest having fallen for trusty Freddy, the eldest comporting herself with age old wisdom. 

But in the middle lies contemptuous envy who remains inconsolable, bitter and wrathful, and rather than simply pursuing peace it unleashes hellbent devastating carnage.

Mythological beasts and a ferocious dragon attempt to lay waste to the oblivious planet, who once dared to divide their realms, contemporary generations having no idea.

Shazam must come to terms with his habitual doubt and long lasting depression, to embrace the strength resiliently needed to definitively challenge the irascible god.

And deep down in emboldened depths he bravely searches for formidable traction.

To challenge the delirious dragon (cool to see Lucy Liu riding a dragon).

With every ounce of extant vitality. 

Much less sure of himself than Batman or even Clark Kent or the furtive Blue Beetle, Shazam struggles with excessive self-criticism which at times results in self-defeating paralysis. 

As I've mentioned before, logical self-criticism is an effective tool as generally recommended, but it needs to be balanced with reasonable confidence to ensure spirited soulful synergies.

As Shazam! Fury of the Gods proves with resonant disputatious self-awareness, to champion honest mass exclamation through sensational tasked theatrics.

What to make of the ecstatic blend of ancient mythology and modern culture, the regenerative protean of metastasized matrices habitually enabling multivariable mélanges. 

The claim to humanistic divinity still remains widely challenged.

Keeping within realistic rationales.

To avoid mad imperialistic expansion (go Kamala!).

*Still makes for fun movies though.

Gojira tai Mekagojira

An ancient island peacefully existing off the enlivening breathtaking coast, known for its stewardship and amiable governance suddenly embraces emergent chaos.

A prophecy enigmatically predicting the brazen arrival of a destructive monster, haunts the descendants of the Royal House which once freely administered the land.

Nevertheless, said prophecy also foretells the upswing of two courageous protectors, to halt the progress of the beast, and reinstate harmonious accord.

Without much pomp and circumstance the fated creature uproariously arrives, and begins pugnaciously a' plundering the calm and tranquil unsuspecting countryside.

Looking indeed rather like Godzilla yet not on friendly terms with his monster friends, it soon becomes apparent he's a massive robot after the real Godzilla burns off his skin!

Confrontation leads to complication and soon this Mechagodzilla needs repair, a reputed scientist coerced into fixing the damaged mighty formidable automaton.

When he's once again unleashed will Godzilla disputatiously authenticate?

With the help of the island's mythical saviour?

Once again, it is the legend.

You never know what to expediently expect when the aggrieved Godzilla supernaturally awakens, has he reemerged to engage in conflict or act as combative spiritual advisor?

In Mothra vs. Godzilla it's clear that he's furious with the mainland, and seeks uncompromising visceral discord as he belligerently proceeds forward.

Yet in Gojira tai Mekagojira he demonstrously radiates heroic acculturation, and sets about saving the honest land from covetous invasions from outer space.

Thus, it seems that ye olde Godzilla isn't instinctively interested in traditional teamwork, otherwise he would have noted a keen and like-minded ally in the bellicose bombastic bellwether beast.

Therefore, it appears Godzilla of old prefers to unleash carnage on his own, and must take the lead if disruptively disabling versatile socioeconomic infrastructure.

Hence, he's somewhat like an immortal and intuitively agrees there can be only one (in monster movies), I suppose it would be quite the problem if manifold Godzillas were roaming at large (note the current upsurge in right wing politics).

But has anyone ever considered a Highlander/Godzilla crossover where manifold Godzillas contend for the prize?

Would it be any less ridiculous?

Godzilla Highlander.

Or Highlander Godzilla?

Tenkû no shiro Rapyuta (Castle in the Sky)

A largely unknown mythical heritage gracefully envelopes young aloof Sheeta, who would rather just be left alone than frenetically chased by an irate military.

Pazu has found work and community when he suddenly finds her one fortuitous day, and helps her feverishly escape when her former captors defiantly threaten.

Pirates also emerge in search of legendary boundless treasure, to which they believe Sheeta holds the key unlocking mad abundant riches.

They search for an ancient legend solemnly floating in the sky, where once a race of international influencers secretly advanced global sociocultural reckoning.

They also hypothetically accumulated mass resourceful mineral commodities, how to infiltrate and escape with such embroidered booty remaining a compelling infinite challenge.

The military naturally thinks the fortress could be used as an invincible weapon, and seeks to somehow control it with no prior knowledge of the structure whatsoever. 

A descendent of the race who once dwelt there seeks the same thing but possesses access codes, and could theoretically wield its power should he acquire Sheeta's magic talisman.

She's much more modern however and adamantly agrees with her mystical forebears.

Isn't it more exciting to live on the surface?

Away from lofty sequestered disparities.

I imagine it's fun to live everywhere perhaps even under the ocean in a secret sea fortress, which could furtively move undetected alongside pods of whales and ebullient dolphins (wrote this before I saw Ponyo). 

The tale still presents a classic narrative style congenially bent on less stratified collectives, wherein which mutual prosperity guides communal initiatives with fluent understanding.

I'm surprised a live action version of this story has yet to be made, it's the best fantasy film I've seen in years and has so many thrilling adventurous elements. 

The magical ties to ancient ways still potentially producing postmodern peculiarities. 

Is this just something people have always assumed?

Still fun to have (harmless) origin myths at times. 

Métamorphoses

Immaculate inviolable chill yet vengeful hipster gods graciously curve their way through Christophe Honoré's Métamorphoses, immortality enabling them to cruelly spurn the wicked or justly reward good deeds, as they randomly select un/fortunate individuals to masterfully assert eternity.

With judicious postmodern consternation.

And bewitching salacious tact.

It's capricious veracity, sensually applied, brazenly exemplifying discourses of the inquisitive, the amorous, the mercurial, the forbidden, inexhaustible excesses secreting broiled dis/continuity, born of tender infatuation, harkened by incredulous gusts.

Ecstatic endurance.

Courtly compunction.

Roman myth flourishing within contemporary realms, ancient momentum rawly rekindled.

According to Honoré's appetitive applications of the tales, and the ways in which they loosely follow the journey of a bewildered ingenue, Roman gods were obsessed with Earthly pleasures, enjoyed obtaining them, yet still excelled at fruitfully complicating one another's pursuits, as if the satisfaction of a desire was sheer punishment for the uninitiated.

That's standard isn't it?

In the beginning the film seems like a lofty excuse to celebrate young adult experimentation, flings, but as it progresses a visceral sense of relevant nonchalant mesmerizing streetwise countryside volition gradually emerges, a bona fide spiritual transmutation, as it were, artistically grasping fecund universal tranquilities, light yet vicious, hesitantly engaged.

Perhaps all of these individuals who came to be worshipped as gods were just chillaxed Joes anthropomorphic and insouciant enough to delight literary pretensions of old?

Much more literal than O Brother, Where Art Thou?

I'm Not There

Bob Dylan. Many different roads, many different worlds. Impossible to capture the essence of such a multifarious individual (or any individual really) within a film, wherein lies the strength of Todd Haynes's I'm Not There. Haynes takes several events from Dylan's life and weaves them into a fascinating biographical mosaic, challenging, creating, and invigorating different characteristics of Dylan's character (and caricatures), using intertextual, non-linear, subterranean, and heuristic devices to skillfully construct and deconstruct the myth. Different people live different lives at different points throughout their life, throughout their days, and I'm Not There aptly highlights this ontological feature. There are six Dylans, each with a different name, some with a different race or gender, each qualifying a different nuance of the legend, potently examining the potential reality within a fluctuating fantastic frame. At the same time, Haynes's portrait comprehensively analyzes what it means to be biographical, real, historical. Random quotes are interspersed throughout, riddles within conundrums within denotations, and several of them cater to Dylan's uncanny ability to simply chronicle the convoluted vicissitudes of life. Definitely long, definitely complicated, certainly challenging, positively electrifying, in a folksy kind of way, I'm Not There's not one to miss and will inspire new interpretations with each subsequent viewing.