Cutthroat Island

Born into the pirating lifestyle nimble Morgana instinctually dissembles, wary of trust yet a Captain indeed after her emboldened father is scurrilously betrayed. 

Her crew isn't sure what to think and she must challenge an usurper egads at the outset, her noble lineage fortunately enough to momentarily win over the superstitious complement.

Along with treasure, the knowledge of treasure its lucrative existence at least under consideration, but to exactingly locate it she needs two more sections of a sought after map, one part apiece held by each of her uncles.

One uncle's no doubt rather chill for someone living a mischievous lifestyle, not that he's easy to find or talk to he's just so much more agreeable than his aggressive counterpart. 

The covetous uncle murderously prone who sincerely sent Morgana's pop to frigid depths, isn't quite so avuncularly inclined as she bravely sets out in search of manifest booty.

A loyal cadre rests by her side unwilling to entertain freeform mutinous chatter.

An idle thief introducing an amorous wild card.

Uncanny insistence not to be trusted?

What a strange lifestyle how do you manage to even find markets for your ill-gotten plunder, or obtain a ship or convince a crew to courageously follow you blind on the ocean?

It may be relaxing out on open waters delicately gliding along currents without storm, if you had reached an ingenious understanding with tempestuous fate to contract sights forlorn.

I've often wondered if I would get seasick if an imposing storm suddenly emerged, or if I would just sit back and curiously watch as the incredible spectacle tumultuously unfolded.

I was stuck far from home in my kayak one day when a disturbing storm suddenly dishevelled, but rather than simply land and wait it out under some trees I paddled right through the heart of the tirade.

There was no thunder and lightning and if there had been I may have hit shore.

It was a cool sensation out there on the lake nonetheless.

Paddling through inhospitable bearings.

Cutthroat Island's not so bad if you like pirate movies they don't come out as often as you'd hope, the treasure's buried in a really cool spot that was a nice touch no doubt to be certain.

Must be fun to film out on the ocean the natural elements corresponding at play. 

With all the old ships as well.

The action's consistent and lively. 

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. 

Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas

Two friends choose a different path upon the raging seven seas, one upholding peace and spellbound honour, the other engaged in piracy.

They meet one fateful day when a mythical beast attacks one of their ships, as the other tries to rob it, he's after the seminal Book of Peace.

As is the covetous Goddess of Chaos (Michelle Pfeiffer as Eris) who has to admit she finds Sinbad (Brad Pitt) attractive, so adorable she maddeningly establishes a series of treacherous tests for him and his crew.

But first she disguises herself as Sinbad and lets herself be seen stealing the Book from Syracuse, where nobles have gathered from across the land(?) to take in its ethereal wisdom.

Sinbad swears, "'twas not I", but the royalty stubbornly refuse to believe him, and sentence him to a violent death, from which there's no escape.

Unless his childhood friend (Joseph Fiennes as Proteus) should agree to take his forlorn place, and triumphantly await his valiant return from the Realm of Chaos with the Book.

Accompanying him on the journey is Proteus's illustrious betrothéd (Catherine Zeta-Jones as Marina), whom Sinbad's loved since the moment he first saw her, so many years ago.

Thus should one consider honour he or she will find it on display, in this bold and virtuous undertaking known as Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas.

Purists may critique the interpretive flair presumed to adjust the recourse to legend, but who's to say with authentic pluck what really took place so long ago?

If perhaps concerned with specific volumes canonically upheld as verifiable postage, a difference of opinion may sapiently simmer, but the film was made when the '90s still held sway (2003), and there were so many multitudinous creative ruptures. 

I can't say I kept in touch with currents and trends for the past 20 years, as their vicissitudes mutated into newfound critical and philosophical voyages.

It seems that relativity no longer holds sway however as an advisor may have mentioned, even though ethically and experientially it makes more sense than other less inclusive strategies. 

It was always generally heartwarming to think historical figures were being lightheartedly re-imagined, but it seems like perhaps the purists are still intent on re-establishing a more rigid code.

With Putin on the warpath there's no mistaking absolutist pretensions. 

Trump, the Plague, Putin.

Why ever leave the island of Montréal?

Captain Ron

Oceanic endeavour.

The wide open seas.

From island to island.

Serendipitous spawn.

Martin (Martin Short) finds suburban living somewhat humdrum even if he's ensconced in a bountiful bower, and one day unexpectedly discovers he's inherited a seafaring vessel, barnacly and boundless, ye olde ad hoc treasure, a novel idea expressing itself forthwith, pack up the fam, ride arrhythmic waves.

His wife's (Mary Kay Place as Katherine) none too thrilled with the idea but agrees without hesitation, after hearing of their daughter's (Meadow Sisto as Caroline) engagement, to a freewheeling modicum of ill-repute.

The plan is to sail the Caribbean for a month or so and then quickly sell the ship in Miami, but there's just one prim prohibitive problem, none of them know anything about sailing.

Fortunately, a Captain is provided but he's not as bourgeois as they had innocently hoped, indeed even more freewheeling than Caroline's fiancé, playful unorthodox methods to boot.

But they're gamers so they freely make do until Captain Ron (Kurt Russell) starts driving Martin crazy.

But has he taught him something along the way?

Beyond landlubbed highly strung legitimacies?

It's the classic corporate/bohemian showdown and naturally the artist is unaware of the competition, he's sure and steady if not unhinged, yet still facilitates forthcoming formulae. 

It's a matter of dialect of comatose comprehension unforeseen patterns chillaxed yet cogent, unfettered flamingo flotsam familiarity, indubitably active, consubstantially withdrawn.

Ron shares his knowledge freely yet is unaware of its shocking import, and the ways in which the well-to-do dismiss it, with pretentious instinct and rationalistic calm.

Martin loses that calm however as his disbelief mutates into audacity, and even though Ron's advice proves wise eventually, Martin still attempts to assert autonomy.

Where do you draw the line between myth and reality when alternative dispositions suddenly clash, who's guilty of cynicism or embellishment or gullibility or honest sincerity?

It seems this subject needs more clarification insofar as communication is paramount, essential.

Misinterpretation par for the course.

Artistic abundance randomly flourishing.

Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales

Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales has some compelling ideas woven into its text.

There's a strong woman of science boldly using her brain to discover truths unbeknownst as of yet to humankind.

Astronomical insights are cartographically applied to exonerate the supernatural as a matter of practical paternal romance.

A comical misunderstanding of a highly technical term leads to jocular confusion blended with righteous incapacitation.

The mythological and the religious are conjugally contrasted, perhaps to subconsciously juxtapose alternative attitudes acculturatively adopted as one travels through youth to age.

The monkey's back.

So's Mr. Gibbs (Kevin McNally).

But Gibbs doesn't have the striking supportive role he endearingly cultivated in Dead Men's predecessors, as he's shortsightedly reduced to more of a decorative ornament.

It's much more comedic than the other films, the swashbuckling seriousness that held them together sacrificed for generally flat tomfoolery.

Henry Turner (Brenton Thwaites) and Carina Smyth (Kaya Scodelario) replace William Turner and Elizabeth Swann but they're no Keira Knightley and Orlando Bloom.

The action's steady and the confusing political threads that abstrusely adorned some of the sequels are absent, but don't let the barrage of buffoonery distract you from the fact that robust characters have transmutated into stock representations.

For instance, Jack's drinking has commandeered his wit and the mesmerizing incomparable lovingly brilliant captain is more like a bewildered wildebeest.

Johnny Depp should have won an oscar for his performance in The Curse of the Black Pearl. The apotheosis of his genius, which has recently fallen upon troubled times.

It may be my favourite performance ever, to appropriately apply an adolescent designation.

Did he ever make a film with Robert Downey Jr.? In a small town? Co-starring Emma Stone, Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson, and Ryan Reynolds?

Plus Mayor Orlando Bloom and Schoolmistress Keira Knightley?

It's actually a great idea, having a washed-up Jack Sparrow circumventing at the helm.

He has aged considerably while drinking recklessly, so toning him down a notch adds an instructive realistic touch.

However, to tone down Jack Sparrow, or to transform his cheeky inspiration into reflexive knee-jerk contractions is to forget why Pirates of the Caribbean films are so appealing, and made me think, this is definitely take 5.

With the classic "everything imaginable is perfect" ending, apart from a significant loss (although I imagine they may resurface for part 6).

Said and done, I almost shed tears to see them back together.

But the significance was still diluted by the humour.

A critique of postmodern sincerity?

Captain Phillips

Different worlds collide in Paul Greengrass's objective Captain Phillips, one wherein multiple possibilities exist yet the competition to obtain them is intense, the other, qualified by extremely limited options, life threatening and treacherous, suffocatingly sane.

Captain Richard Phillips (Tom Hanks) rose through the ranks according to a different historical set of his world's cultural economic indicators, which he describes early on during a conversation with his wife (Catherine Keener as Andrea Phillips).

Muse (Barkhad Abdi) then appears in present-day Somalia, a person competing as Phillips had in his youth, but within a market in which standing-out requires fire power, and impacts are made through violent confrontation.

The film doesn't judge.

Both Phillips and Muse have jobs to do and they do them.

Phillips's probing hard-hitting questions boldly challenge the ways in which Muse earns his living, but Muse competently defends his volatile endeavours, redefining impoverishment in the process.

Neither of them concedes.

Neither of them backs down.

The film's a realistic open-minded level-headed examination of how individuals from different nations go about putting food on the table.

Muse does what he can to be Captain Phillips.

Captain Phillips offers constructive recourse.

Kapringen (A Hijacking)

Pirates, sailing the seven seas, or the Indian Ocean in this case, in search of bountiful booty, navigate, locate, negotiate.

Their hostages crew a vessel of little value in the projections of their shipping business, so Tobias Lindholm's Kapringen (A Hijacking) shrewdly economizes a bureaucratic humanism.

Leading the company's negotiating team, contrary to the advice of the expert they hire, is company representative Peter C. Ludvigsen (Søren Malling), whose unassailable acumen accrues early on, but his superlative skills have never prioritized pirates.

The advice is to sternly yet non-confrontationally play hardball, and stern yet non-confrontational hardball is played, leaving the captives and their families submerged in agonizing limbo.

The film poses the question, "does Ludvigsen proceed within humanistic parameters, delicately balancing an incisive international reputation with the needs of terrorized workers, seeking to bring them home as quickly as possible, without bristlingly breaking the bank?"

Obviously you can't give into the initial demands of pirates, but Ludvigsen can't seem to comprehend that his genius cannot match this style of adversary, and he delays until everything the expert suggested would happen, happens.

The workers don't even complain about the length of their incarceration, which I initially thought was a problem with the script, but it actually accentuates Ludvigsen's insatiable misplaced resolve, since they're so lugubriously loyal, because of their situation.

Imperceptibly hijacking the bottom line.  

Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides

For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.

Femme fatales emerged to watch this creature fair.

Savvy?

The Pirates of the Caribbean franchise continues with its fourth instalment, On Stranger Tides. Its narrative starts fresh, reintroducing old characters and situating them within a redesigned filmscape. It took me awhile to get used to the new cast and storyline, but after examining the retooled schematic, I did enjoy the film superficially, but had problems with some of its internal mechanizations.

The playful dynamics are a lot of fun. Penélope Cruz (Angelica) mischievously stands in for Keira Knightley and her relationship with Captain Jack is somewhat more seductive. The quest for the fountain of youth creates an adventurous mythical dimension which duels with the quadrilogy's first overt religious focus. Captain Jack swashbuckles and alliterates his way through another consistently mercurial performance, attempting to break up would be battles with enumerical misgivings, and trying to ensure that his heroic acts are kept alive as part of an oral tradition. Also enjoyed how Blackbeard (Ian McShane) decides to fight Barbossa thereby flipping fate the bird, and Barbossa's character is strong (after his introduction) and he's given spirited linguistic room to maneuver.

An excuse to eat popcorn from the special edition Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides bucket has been established.

At the same time, the degree to which you must suspend your disbelief at times is troublesome, some of the acting, while encouraged to be either wooden or excessively flamboyant in order to support the narrative's larger-than-life characteristics, is frustrating (notably Richard Griffiths), Blackbeard rarely establishes himself as a captivating focus as his principle strengths are simply being in charge and a magical sword, Scrum's (Stephen Graham) character entertains but doesn't function as a substantial substitute for Pintel, Ragetti, and Cotton, and the harmonies maintained between the competing elements, so smoothly orchestrated by Gore Verbinski in The Curse of the Black Pearl at least, each scene sweetly flowing into the next, are somewhat disjointed as Rob Marshall conducts, and there are occasional pitfalls.

And is On Stranger Tides's narrative supportive of an anti-feminist framework designed exclusively for patriarchal ambitions?

Even though I'm not sure as of yet, you can still cue the hangperson.

You see, independent women are a problem for the patriarchy and it uses its control over manners of representation to vilify them consequently. Thus feminists become amazonian jungle beasts, or, in the case of On Stranger Tides, man-eating mermaids, when depicted by the patriarchy artistically. On patriarchal terms, the women are thought to be obsessed with a stereotypical definition of the male in the same way that the patriarchy is obsessed with the sweet, servile female, and only a man who embodies this stereotypical conception can win their affections.

In On Stranger Tides, the religious figure Philip Swift (Sam Claflin) captures the heart of the mermaid he accidentally helps capture (Syrena played by Astrid Berges-Frisbey), due to the undeniable purity of his own heart.

A mermaid's tear must be placed in one of two chalices and mixed with water from the fountain of youth in order to extend life, the person drinking the chalice with the tear having their life extended by the number of years lived and left to live by the person drinking the tearless chalice.

A mermaid's kiss can revitalize if you ask for her help, meaning, in patriarchal terms, that if you embody the stereotype cherished by the feminist, she can save you if you are fatally injured (how she goes about doing this is unclear), as you will be since your personality destabilizes the chauvinistic ideal supported by the patriarchy (which they seek to convince women to love without question).

Syrena (feminist mythology) kisses Philip (the individual religious figure) after he is fatally wounded. The Spanish (institutionalized religion) destroy the fountain of youth (mythology) around the same time. When religion is institutionalized it becomes capable of destroying its concrete mythological enemies but can never defeat those who embody their pre-institutional ethos who in turn can find refuge in the arms of that which the patriarchy is incapable of destroying, although it attempts to through recourse to belittling manners of representation, its night of the world, as it were.