The Last Black Man in San Francisco

Two friends chillin', creative paths, the days go by.

One, a gentle artist, the other immersed in local history.

His old family home, in fact, built generations ago, in which a new family now resides, whom he visits all too frequently.

To do housework, to maintain its atemporal integrity, a bewildering skyline nurtured with tact, the confused owners not quite sure what to do.

'Til tragedy strikes and they have to move out, leaving the age old mansion empty, at which point Jimmie (Jimmie Fails) and Montgomery (Jonathan Majors) move in, and make plans for a not so certain future.

Livin' it up.

Integral crosshair chronicles.

Dreams and reality quizzically coincide within, as a harmless inability to let go nurtures tactile belief.

It may be absurd in terms of expectations, but it's poetic as a matter of fact, as romantic people seek solutions beyond the law, and loving sympathy promotes amiable construction.

There's enough reality to challenge accusations of the ludicrous, inasmuch as traditional criticisms gradually emerge, but it's an old school brand of spiritually enriching understanding, that builds warm communal bonds, and encourages compassion as opposed to conflict.

Perhaps it's somewhat naive or a little too innocent, but wouldn't more innocence and less condemnation develop a less violent world, a thoughtful embrace, a declaration of love, or one less prone to desensitized destructive carnage?

The film isn't solely concerned with a house and who happens to own it.

Lives living adorn its fantastic frames with inquisitive dynamic yields, which add multidimensional depth.

A group of struggling youth question if not heckle on a disputatious daily basis.

Atomic legend and environmental impacts validate feisty folklore, as conversations define the moment, and move beyond the strictly personal.

An impassioned preacher assails injustice with mesmerizing soulful beats.

Subtly attired pedestrians and other curious randoms shake things up with unorthodox flax and thought provoking comic contrariety.

Montgomery ties so much together in a remarkable performance held in Jimmie's home, attended by friends and family, perhaps cut much too short.

Captivating in the moment nevertheless, observant vivacious infinites.

Joe Talbot's directorial skills erupt in the opening moments as he roller coasters through the community, struggling to get by yet still overflowing with life.

If you're looking for law and order and a predictable clamp down on bizarre behaviour, this film may not suffice, who looks for that?, but if you enjoy non-violent alternatives flush with lively independence, you may thoroughly enjoy it, as much as I did.

Abounding with creative grace.

Damned impressive.

Saving Mr. Banks

Artistic visions begrudgingly meet, in a story whose timelines derail the discreet, innocent childlike paternal love, textually flexed, romantically shoved into glittery glistening bedazzled shapes, affably born through divergent tastes, differing cultural curtailed conceptions, tenacious tempests, animate tensions, the question of ownership reputedly trusts the picture's polarity's pulsating thrush to sustains which wisely and playfully stray into micro and macro cosmetic brays, the genuine article exists in flashbacks, tragic addiction, familial shellacs, heartbreaking integrity guides P. L. Travers (Emma Thompson), a commitment unwavering forthrightly flatters, a confident stubborn unyielding resolve which Disney (Tom Hanks) respects, having been there installed, yet he's also a father taking care of the kids, a promise was made, indentured votives, but trifles and mercantile paraphernalia, can't loosen the grip of Ms. Travers's regalias, her steady inflexible inspiring song, betwixt the mercurial commercial throng.

Saving Mr. Banks presents a fun lively look at creative expression, uniting two revered works from different domains while managing to apply its own historical take on the narrative's competing geneses.

A poignant picturesque blush of the abrasive, empathetic yet covetous, principled, and cherished.

Toy Story 3

College. Suburbia. Daycare. Coming of age. Andy (John Morris) is all grown up and preparing for college near the beginning of Toy Story 3, and his favourite toys are worried about their resulting fate. Happy to live out their days in the attic, they suffer a crisis of conscience after having been accidentally thrown in the trash. Narrowly escaping their curbside predicament, they then stow themselves away within a box of donations travelling to Sunnyside Daycare. Accepting that Andy has outgrown them and happy to be living within an environment populated by energetic toy-loving kids again, Buzz (Tim Allen) etc. embrace their new surroundings and approach the transition enthusiastically. But Woody (Tom Hanks) knows that they were supposed to be sent to the attic and refuses to play any other role than that of one of Andy's toys. He therefore sets out to return home while his friends discover that Sunnyside is actually a maximum security prison run by a despotic toy named Lots-O'-Huggin' Bear (Ned Beatty). Will Woody be able to convince his friends that they should return home to their rightful owner, and if so, will he be able to help them escape?

Sigh. So the toys leave the private comforts of suburbia to live within the public domain only to discover that it's being run by a tyrant. They try and grow up, move on, adapt, change, only to be ruthlessly beat down and outrageously abused. The tyrant is defeated and replaced by Ken and Barbie (who live in Sunnyside's most suburban residence) who turn Sunnyside into a warm and friendly place. Which I guess just points out that as you move around working you'll probably find autocratic and hospitable environments, many of which are hospitably autocratic and autocratically hospitable, depending on their socio-political dynamics and how well your personality fits within, and while living within the autocratic, you may spend time wishing you were still at home. But the film's predominant focus vilifies the world outside that within which servants cater to the well-to-do, suggesting that it's better to grow up and live in suburbia than try and develop a more gregarious public sphere. Meaning thumbs down to Toy Story 3.