The Abyss

Undercover underwater exploration yields illuminated booty, as the navy teams up with rig workers in search of a lost submarine.

The navy's more concerned with the whereabouts of a noxious radical however, which may lead to mass destruction if acquired by belligerent ambition.

But as they're searching intent deep down they're freely greeted by a burst of light, accompanied by frisky cognizance and inquisitive concerned awareness.

The lifeforms initially remain aloof solely presenting themselves with hesitance, but they're crystal clearly lucidly detected as a feisty doc curiously ventures forth (Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio as Lindsey Brigman).

Her feisty husband doubts the provenance of what she earnestly claims she's seen (Ed Harris as Bud Brigman), their upcoming divorce complicating things further as a storm approaches high above.

The aliens eventually appear for most of the crew in aqueous form, possessing the ability to transform water into a conscious mobile thermocline. 

But they get too close to the nuke and one of the navy personnel goes psycho (Michael Biehn as Lt. Coffey).

Deciding it's time to nuke them.

They were just trying to make new friends.

Severely critiquing warlike ambition while fluidly celebrating animate life, The Abyss problematizes piqued peculiars with maddening flush improvised contention.

It was made with concern for particular individualistic collegial resonance, so multiple characters alertly express themselves throughout both the merriment and the malevolence.

What's to be found deep down in the ocean's an enigmatic imaginative catalyst, I'm surprised these kind of films don't show up more often, so much submerged terrain remains unexplored.

Recall the episode of Star Trek: The Original Series where they survey the pleasure planet (Shore Leave plus Once Upon a Planet in Star Trek: The Animated Series), to fathom unpredictable eccentricities resolutely emergent in manifold epochs.

Could this idea have been ethereally transmitted by mischievous immortals living far below, equipped with an evolutionary laboratory hellbent on nourishing life?

The balance of nature is somewhat awe-inspiring in its multilateral environmental harmonies.

The omnivorous bear, the speed of the cheetah.

How do plants evolve to mimic their surroundings?

While that idea's rather ridiculous I can't deny I like television and film.

How does something mimic without consciousness?

An ethereal level unilaterally imperceptible.

*With Chris Elliot (Bendix).

The Lighthouse

Strict definitions classifying purpose, semantic utility assessed disfavour, forlorn yet productive acclimatized assertions, grim dismal chortling lugubrity, solar solace sequestered soliloquy, new days dawning in spectral quotes, quibbles quays seaside haze interrogative, must abide, attuned dactyl duties, caught up unaware, latent anger irascible breeze, Unicron scribbled courtly disclosure, endemic disputes surveyed frayed delirium, albeit the shock teeter totters and sways, as incumbent reason fritters away, the boundaries dividing labours concoct, dependable shaved categorical flocks.

Uplifted.

Upheld.

Within Robert Eggers's The Lighthouse.

Wherein legend and superstition frenetically fuze, with old school and ancient praised biblical dues, no comment no quarter no quarry no flight, just master and slave excavating the night.

A friend. A drinking buddy. Not so shy. Not so supple.

Who creates the casts and codes and who then seeks authoritative clarification?

To yield invokes oblivion.

To provoke kindles madness.

Yield provoke, yield provoke, yield provoke, yield provoke.

Resigned inarticulate fever promulgating brands upon brains, the dreamlike hierarchical breakdown dishevelled unfathomed treatise, stately astute confined delineations ill-prepared for potent protest, reproachful uninspired lamentation ill-equipped to lead to follow.

The film locks you down in sombre isolation, presents setting and character, inaugurates daily routine.

But how well can a film with only 2 characters tightly hold itself together for 109 minutes?

It starts off bored, slowly becomes more bleak, then increasingly dire, before settling for full-on nutso.

Fortunately time and care were taken with this one; I'm wondering if there'll be Oscar nominations?

Willem Dafoe is outstanding.

It's tough to tear yourself away, immersed in fog and storm, distressing syntheses hemorrhaging detail.

Like Lucy in the Sky, it sides with the straight and narrow, not without critiquing caprice, or hauntingly assailing rule.

Should have never touched a drop.

Should have kept it real notwithstanding.

A tragedy if you consider how easy it must have been.

To just not be a dick.

Relax.

Extrinsically.

*What's with the details? They give everything away.

Lucy in the Sky

The mind-blowing levitations of supersonic space travel leave go-getting astronaut Lucy (Natalie Portman) high and dry.

Overwhelmed by joyous reckoning astronomically substantiated, she can't readjust to terrestrial tremens and slips up where she once shone.

Asked to join a prestigious club well-attuned to astral planes, she spares time she's never had for spontaneous acts forbidden.

Coaxed on by hulking brawn, which opportunistically sways euphoric, she soon embraces chance, deception, caught up with gracious praise.

Ill-equipped to negotiate raw emotion, while making snap judgments which make things worse, psychosis dawns and fiercely beckons, she's never lost, can't let go, recede.

He is a huge tool (Jon Hamm as Mark Goodwin) who must haven known something like this would happen.

Eventually.

A lot of people live this way though.

If it's not your style, best leave it alone.

Especially if you're prone to obsession.

Lucy's prone in Lucy in the Sky and the results are grim yet fascinating, the whole world innovating unaware, a moment's slack mind-melded menace.

It's like the film's critiquing drug abuse in a way, but rather than deride narcotics, it looks at post-ecstatic stress, if that's a thing, I've never heard of it.

Adulterous sensations reinvigorate the high, but then lead to stark addiction, that's destructive, by and by.

If the other's unresponsive.

Natalie Portman's revitalizing her career by portraying elite achievement recklessly abandoned, her roles rich with intense emotion as they wildly yearn and contemplate.

There's a mystical element in Lucy in the Sky that could have been explored with more depth, as if travelling in space gives Lucy superhuman power, its unknown effects increasing the tension, but it's left behind with vengeful cause.

Perhaps watching as she slowly developed superpowers would have been cheesier than seeing loss drive her mad, although not necessarily so, depending on narrative finesse (even an idea that seems fated to be incredibly cheesy may not turn out so if crafted with thought and care).

Sad to see such an accomplished woman self-destruct so, nevertheless.

A warning to stick to the path you've chosen.

And beware of sedate sensation.

*Of course, who knows, who knows what path to follow, perhaps best not to even consider it, honestly. I find that when change gradually occurs it's less disruptive in terms of serious things like relationships, unlike choosing a restaurant, or a film to go see.

**Bananas.

***Grapes.