Don't Look Up

Adam McKay's Don't Look Up picks up on a pesky political particular, the unfortunate despotic aspect of truth, as applied to commercial controversy.

As it's become plainly evident during the pandemic, at times truth does enter politics, void of cunning or incisive angles, just raw clear unimaginative data.

For the people willing to accept the truth value of the data, things remain rational and balanced, proceeding with impediments perhaps, but still reasonably and logically composed.

For those who doubt its legitimacy, or the well-meaning intent of the cultural guardians, the truth takes on a tyrannical aspect, however, and can effectively problematize polls and predictions as it honestly reveals frank shocking exposure.

The people in possession of the truth, in Don't Look Up's case two astronomers who discover a massive comet is going to crash into the Earth and destroy everything on the planet (Leonardo DiCaprio as Dr. Randall Mindy and Jennifer Lawrence as Kate Dibiasky), may be somewhat confused when they attempt to share their findings, and discover a virtually impenetrable network of ridiculousness, wholeheartedly designed to fight off tyranny. 

You see, when people attempt to spread mass lies on an enormous scale the system usually works, and generates enough doubt and troubling dismay to prevent rampant mistruth from mendaciously enabling.

But what happens on the other end of the spectrum when something both serious and true genuinely emerges, and has to pass the elusive litmus which initially regards it as obnoxious madness?

The people in possession of the knowledge may not be media savvy, and may have difficulty with their newfound designations, like the scientists in Don't Look Up.

And as the media crushes their dreams and makes them appear like snake oil salespeople, it also crushes blind ambition seeking widespread banal influence.

It makes any effort to sincerely pursue anything seem dispiritingly grim (besides being a part of the media), and it's no wonder alternative websites have im/moderately matriculated. 

But I suppose most stories aren't adamantly concerned with doomsday, it's just a byproduct of the pandemic that can't help but transmit that aspect.

I thought Don't Look Up was a brilliant take on truth in media, or the commercial politics of truth, as applied to the less media savvy.

I'm wondering what people will think of it 50 years from now down the road.

It seems like it has a timeless quality.

Made by Netflix no less. 

Long Shot

A passionate writer (Seth Rogen as Fred Flarsky), dedicated to pursuing social justice, finds himself unemployed in protest, after a multinational swallows his resolve.

A close friend (O'Shea Jackson Jr. as Lance) sincerely sympathizes and soon they're out about town jocosely revelling.

Finding themselves at a decked out chandelier soirée, Fred notices his old babysitter, who's morphed into the U.S Secretary of State (Charlize Theron as Charlotte Field).

And as fate would have it, she remembers him, is looking for a new speech writer, isn't put off as he lambastes another guest (the owner of the multinational), nor after he engages in further awkward spectacle.

He joins her team, much to the annoyance of other team members, and must quickly adjust his independent style to something more suited to delicate black tie repartee.

He sort of does, although he eventually doesn't have to, as Charlotte falls for his charming rough edges, and the too craft an uncharacteristic bitterly critiqued political brew, less concerned with image and pork barrels, more attuned to environmental embyronics.

The result's like a Disney film written by a John Waters fan who watched too much Family Guy, love driving a highly unlikely scenario, the raunch gaseously scandalizing atmosphere.

But it's still too polished for its lascivious underpinnings, and even if what takes place is ideal, its biodiversity remains somewhat undernourished.

It seeks a less corrupt political sphere wherein which politicians can enact laws beyond the influence of the plutocratic lobby, but it doesn't present a complex narrative that cultivates alternative pastures and therefore fizzles when it should be flourishing, as if it's more concerned with making clever references and sleazy comments than developing a convincing plot, while relying on truest romantic love, alone, to justify its wild ambitions.

It doesn't need much, just a few more scenes explaining how a novel political approach could successfully lead to a less top heavy political spectrum, plus a couple more depicting Fred becoming more accustomed to political life, and more that profoundly explain how playing the maverick card could produce sustainable initiatives, by contradicting long established evidence-based mainstream convention.

But Long Shot is somewhat of a mainstream conventional film that prefers instinct to logic inasmuch as it celebrates action without thought, unconsciously arguing true love's enough indeed.

True love may indeed be enough, but Charlotte is still a remarkable woman, and if she had been given more remarkable lines and had made more remarkable arguments, Long Shot would have seemed more like the validation of a remarkable woman, than the ascension of an ethical man.

Politicians around the world do seem to be making careers for themselves based on instinct, however.

Perhaps traditional parties need to embrace populist bravado to reestablish less reckless international relations?

Bernie Sanders comes to mind.

With his genuine charismatic appeal.

Eye in the Sky

Speculation.

Strategic planning.

Cold calculation.

The human factor.

A peaceful Kenyan family who loathes yet fears extremists lives day to day in a militarized zone, embracing their loving routine while terrorists plot suicide attacks in the compound next door.

The British military has waited years to either capture or eliminate these fanatics and is ready to strike but requires direct authorization.

At the perfect moment, extraordinarily complicated and dangerous steps having been taken to ensure legalistic legitimacy, the adorable daughter (Aisha Takow as Alia Mo'Allim) of the family begins to sell bread within the proposed airstrike's targeted area.

Eye in the Sky hierarchically examines the politics and ethics of proceeding with the mission, humanistically stylizing the decision making process at executive, legal, operational, and civilian levels, internationally evaluating torrents and tributaries to disputatiously justify the repercussions of its actions, debate clad in detonation, textbook points on cue.

Interrogating the greater good.

The crucial unknown.

Millions have likely been spent leading up to the moment and preventing suicide attacks which will result in dozens of casualties seems like the logical decision.

But the peaceful family, if their daughter is killed, may then turn to extremism, convincing friends and relatives to join in the call.

I'm surprised this point wasn't mentioned in the dialogue which otherwise intellectually explores several hypothetical perspectives.

Conditionally, there are too many variables to confidently predict certain outcomes, and it is known that the terrorists are preparing to launch suicide attacks, and that dozens of deaths are more serious than one.

Painstaking steps are taken to ensure the girl's survival and a brave clever conscientious objection is even made by the soldier responsible for launching the strike.

Colonel Katherine Powell (Helen Mirren), eager to terminate her target, eventually takes matters into her own hands and lies about the girl's survival odds in order to secure the right to annihilate.

The audience is left to decide whether or not she made the correct decision.

The concluding moments, reminiscent of speeches made by Jean-Luc Picard, suggest director Gavin Hood thinks she did not.

War laid bare.

Unforeseen probabilities.

Possibility obscured.

Eye in the Sky rationally supports opposing viewpoints with argumentative clarity yet is somewhat too neat and tidy and at points I thought I was watching television.

It still boils down incredibly complex structures and their inherent departmental checks and balances to an accessible narrative replete with critical controversies.

Open-ended investigations.

Well thought out yet too polished at times, Eye in the Sky materializes the imaginary components integral to the ethics of fighting the war on terror, to lament both conscience and innocence, while statistically analyzing bursts of compassion.

Pleasantly lacking in sensation.

Loved the Alan Rickman (Lieutenant General Frank Benson).

Hail, Caesar!

Film production, the magnification of dreams and ambitions, pluralizing heroism and gallantry with clear and precise occasionally ambiguous envisioned dexterity, precipices and pageants promulgating objectivity and sentiment with equally concise provocations, the contemporary and the historical rivetingly aligned, mischievously extracting, the im/pertinence of our times.

A film set.

A star.

A gathering of observers. 

Identity in flux.

Hail, Caesar! converses with Trumbo, a comedic counterpoint to its tragic pen, wherein communists have infiltrated Hollywood and are engaged in criminal activities directly undertaken to support the Soviet Union, only a hardboiled behind-the-scenes gruff steady executive and his up-and-coming Western foil standing in their way, laughs consistently produced amidst the touching absurdity, which seriously suggests it's inherently ridiculous, without failing to shrewdly present itself as a matter of unconcerned dazzle, denoted connotations covertly overted, not the Coen Brothers best comic material but it passes, Burt Gurney (Channing Tatum) and his little dog, Baird Whitlock (George Clooney), defender of the dialectic.

It's a compelling tool, this, dialectic, oppositions and syntheses you know, but using it to predict the future with dispassionate inevitability is where it errs, the end of history functioning like a religious utopia (a 19th century form fused with secular content) which foolishly casts out history and religion, people are never going to stop remembering the past or believing in the fantastic, and attempts to laud a future which does so is a naive waste of critical resources.

Although, I suppose, in my mediocre understanding of the concept, in an egalitarian society things are, oddly enough, much more equal, and due to the equality of opportunity and resources people would be less willing to bear grudges, and less concerned with what happened hundreds of years ago, because they aren't labouring at all times for peanuts, make things more equal, more comfortable, and such grudges could decrease in severity because it's easier to let go of a grudge when you have free time and a disposable income, things to do, goods to acquire.

It's kind of like a generational thing though, if that theory is still taken seriously (it should be), new generations rebelliously critiquing whatever happens to be the norm, movements generated by boredom, generations growing up in a culture based on equality still seeking to define themselves by rallying against the system, even if it was that system that gave them the opportunity to rally against it, its opposite having no such recourse, taking it apart so their grandchildren can rebuild it.

I don't think you can eliminate the desire to change things and stand out through change no matter how perfect a system you create unless you can somehow materialize the affects of the adversarial without promoting stagnation and decay.

Sports do this well.

But the dialectic in terms of momentary observation, observances of historical mutations, brief narrative evaluations rather than definitive prognostications, is a constructive tool, fun to play with, there are plenty of oppositions out there to note, many of which haven't been thought up to strategically condition the future.

Maybe they should have been, maybe not, doesn't change my thoughts that Hail, Caesar! is funny and worth seeing, a lighthearted yet brash take on life, a minor film in the Coen Brothers's oeuvre. 

With Clancy Brown (Gracchus), Robert Picardo (Rabbi), Wayne Knight (Lurking Extra #1), Dolph Lundgren (Submarine Commander), Patrick Fischler (Communist Writer #2), and Christopher Lambert (Arne Seslum).

The Martian

Accidentally left behind and isolated on planet Mars, Mark Watney (Matt Damon) digs in deep in order to robustly flourish against overwhelming interplanetary odds, his team rapidly travelling back to Earth, unaware, that he still lives.

Contact is soon made with NASA headquarters yet bureaucratic dillydallying prevents him from communicating with his unsuspecting teammates.

Forced to survive, he employs his botanical ingenuity to boldly cultivate nutritious potato crops, while strategic planning contemplates his rescue back home.

The odds are grim that he'll ever return alive.

Yet trash talk and contentious humour ensure his independence is universally dispersed.

Spatial tenacity.

Temporal quid pro quo.

The Martian, juxtaposing the intense public relations of executive decision making with the humble orchestrations of an astronaut tilling barren countryside, indoors, mathematical inclusivity, scientific parchment, necessitated artistic leisure, perplexing public speaking, it strictly operates within established timelines to generate a complicated sense of extraordinary repartee by directly laying it down without overlooking conflict or relaxation.

Within this dynamic frame collegiality heartwarms and action accelerates whether it be physical exclamations or tense cerebral intersects.

Shaking hands and deliberating, the script's tight and the direction excites, from multiple starstrikes, with collective and individual decision making, infinitesimally precise calculations, and plenty, plenty, of disco.

Not bad.

The Rum Diary

An outlet exists for the transmitting of information in Puerto Rico, a newspaper, thoroughly saturated with colonialist prejudices, at which a journalist interested in reaching out to the people finds employment. When not engaging in the act of writing, the adventurous observer explores his surroundings making friends, experiencing difficulties, encountering the well-to-do, and cultivating his desire. The love interest in question's disposition is strong and free, committed and versatile and capable of viscerally understanding the repressed needs of an impoverished body politic, to which she responds charismatically. The well-to-do see land on which hotels can be built regardless of the fact that people already live there. Difficulties arise based on socio-political differences which necessitate miscalculations in regards to the motivations of representatives of the dominant group on the part of the oppressed. Friends possess grassroots contacts, cultural leverage, and corresponding instinctual insights. From these particularities a story takes shape into which an historical approach coalesces with the habitualizations of the new to generate a point of divergence. But in order for this point to be transmitted ruptures within the traditional order of things must be accepted by the powers that be whose interests are lined up to the contrary. With nothing but conviction and a creative solution Kemp (Johnny Depp) attempts to take control of the means of production in order to nurture the needs of the many (and expose the will of the few).

The Rum Diary is an effective examination of the ways in which a talented writer lives in the moment in order to utilize its strengths in the expression of his art, blurring the line between reality and fiction. Accentuating the difficulties associated with establishing an enduring point of reference while using both rigid oppositions and malleable characterizations to motivate the action, it functions as both a playful poetic capriciously altruistic romance and a harsh stubborn warning as it investigates the relationship between young and old professionals. A remarkably sober structure for a film wherein the major characters regularly abuse substances, its pacing successfully introduces episodic crescendos, comic staccatos, and tragic climactic allegros. Nice to see more of a focus on Hunter S. Thompson the writer within, as his stand-in intuitively stumbles from one scoop to the next.

The Devil's Double

Caligula meets Scarface in Lee Tamahori's The Devil's Double, a sickeningly volatile portrait of Saddam Hussein's lunatic son Uday and the unfortunate subject coerced into functioning as his double(Latif Yahia). Dominic Cooper plays both roles and displays a remarkable tenacity in their execution.

It's a shame they're so difficult to watch.

I have no idea what Uday Hussein was like while living but if the acts he's depicted unleashing in The Devil's Double are even seriously exaggerated he must have been a first rate fucker. The spoiled capricious tyrannical salacious vindictive murderous son of a despot, he never holds back when it comes to satisfying whatever whim crosses his mind, and operates within a mad ethical spectrum wherein he is the insane judge, jury, and executioner. If you should displease him, his forces will destroy you and everyone you love, brutally. Unfettered, energetic, unconditioned jouissance, with unlimited resources at its disposal.

As it pursues its desire.

He needs a double to represent him in public and the humble Latif tries to successfully yield to his will. The two form a tempestuous public/private yin and yang as they carve a place for themselves in their culture's destiny. Love interest Sarrab (Ludivine Sagnier) melodramatically complicates things as she craves them both. Munem (Raad Rawi) tries to maintain a hemorrhaged degree of order as his upright constitution continuously confronts Uday's.

Oddly, Saddam (Philip Quast) isn't presented as a monster and he occasionally attempts to keep Uday in check. Uday's brother is shown in a dimly flattering light as well as he responsibly handles his political affairs.

The film staggeringly balances the two sides of Uday's identity as it attempts to reasonably analyze a maniac while working within his irrational frame. According to Tamahori's portrait, there's little room for ambiguity in the construction of Uday's constitution.

Adolescence meets power and refuses to accept responsibility. Pleasure endures without consequence. A populace rages and weeps. Madness ruins a civilization.

The argument can be made that if reprobates like Uday were given free reign in Iraq to do as they pleased, their elimination represents a victory for liberty. But externally inflicting such liberation on an oppressed people robs them of the catharsis obtained from settling the matter for themselves. It also sets up a dangerous set of circumstances wherein the 'liberators' eventually become the 'oppressors' thereby opening up critical domains which attempt to justify the excesses of the usurped as their authoritarian rule becomes more appealing in the aftermath.

Helping the people's revolutionary goals after they've been set in motion and then departing after the misery has been removed is a different matter.