Soleil Ô

It's important to play an active role, to take part, to add your voice, racial discrimination is an unsettling reality that consistently frustrates able bodied workers.

It's wonderful to see when citizens engage and write books or direct films to help struggling minorities, a lot of genuine sympathy and sincere care diligently goes into their compassionate construction.

Soleil Ô follows the plight of African migrants who move to France in the post-colonial period, but it wasn't made by concerned French citizens, it was created by Africans themselves.

According to the colonialist dogma they had been brought up with, they were equal citizens in France, and were surprised to find a lack and housing and employment after they picked up one day and moved there.

The film experiments with narrative techniques as it explores various aspects of racist tensions, which still pop up with alarming regularity there's still so much work to be critically done.

Back in Africa for instance, the abundance of languages is thoughtfully presented, before the colonized citizens have to fight one another in English and French with crosses turned into swords.

A grouchy bigot cantankerously complains about immigration in a relaxed restaurant, before a black singer inspires the patrons and he suddenly changes his stubborn mind.

A mixed-race individual who looks white has to suddenly walk away, from an angry man who just can't help his instinctual hatred and knee-jerk prejudice.

As a white woman and a black man playfully flirt with one another on the street, passers by look on in shock and offer multiple awkward different takes.

Even though black people possess requisite skills they're still forced to work in specific sectors, many of which demand no education and involve industrial cleaning.

I would argue that Soleil Ô's multiple exploratory scenarios, present pioneering mockumentary techniques decades before they became conventional (they may have also been popular at the time but were referred to by a different term).

The comedy is instructive without being violent and there is one character who keeps showing up, the events loosely tailored around his experience as he tries to make coherent sense of things.

It effectively uses humour and logic to rationally comment on distressing realities, hopefully convincing hard-hearted peeps that there are less drastic solutions to economic problems (people shouldn't be assigned specific jobs solely based on the colour of their skin for instance).

First rate experimental cinema perhaps decades ahead of its time, courageously created by the actual citizens whom the racist attitudes affected, Soleil Ô is worth checking out by concerned multicultural citizens, especially because the same attitudes still persist, and need to be fought by the next generation. 

Piccadilly

A popular night club routinely offers exceptional dynamic crowd pleasing performances, its dancers showcasing sundry coveted moves and flourishing finesse with fluid elegance.

The spice freely flows the rhythms distill freeflowing upbeat pleasant fun merrymaking, half their tables zealously reserved (by noon) intense sprightly jocose reliable industry.

But as so often happens, the urge to change one's steadfast surroundings bluntly coaxes, and one of the famous sought after dancers decides he'd rather entertain North America.

The blow is indeed distressing as dependable revenue streams quickly dry up, his equally flexible former partner remaining but not enough of a draw to firmly bring hundreds in.

Then one night an ornery client vehemently complains about a stain on his plate, which prompts the owner to visit the kitchen the scullery in fact where he finds a new spectacle. 

Soon the act is passionately displayed for the curious public who responds with praise, the newfound sensation turning critical heads and swiftly redefining the business's mantra.

But the old act once incredibly loved isn't as willing to be warm and pleasantly accommodating. 

The owner caught between the stubborn lithe rivals.

Following his heart, wherever it leads.

Several decades before the Civil Rights Movement emerged with formidable vigour, Piccadilly sought to break down race barriers with a bold and courageous daring silent film.

Released in England not the United States and in British cinemas not on American television, it still predates William Shatner and Nichelle Nichols's kiss by almost a dashing and carefree 30 years.

I don't know enough about silent films so I'm not sure if such stories were often told at the time, I just know from my own observations that I've rarely seen interracial tales pre-1960.

Pioneering no less and also cool to watch it's still a captivating film, I was interested to see something starring Anna May Wong after she appeared on the American quarter.

She was tired of being typecast in early Hollywood and moved to Europe to find more diverse roles so I'm told, bravery rewarded in this instance at least she clearly steals the show in Dupont's Piccadilly.

If curious about silent film and alternative ways to tell compelling tales, it's worth checking out for sure with many of its themes still resonating today.  

Ragtime

Sigh.

Ragtime's ambitious no doubt indubitably it proceeds with grandiose lofty intentions, most likely seeking academy award nominations with the sets and the period and the subject matter.

It's one of those films that examines freedom from a despondent viewpoint however, and a sympathetic character resorts to violence to achieve just dividends.

What he's asking for isn't outrageous he just wants his car cleaned, fixed, and an apology, from the scandalous band of misfits who themselves behaved outrageously.

He had done nothing to them his only fault was to have been successful, and then to have lived as other successful people do, even though his skin was black.

What does it matter, why do such petty jealousies motivate so many people, do your best, apply yourself vigorously, have a laugh, what else can you do?

Coalhouse could have just taken his car and cleaned up the mess and eventually forgot about it, extremely frustrating to have to do that but a better outcome than what happened in the long run.

He would have returned to his successful life and left the goons behind to rot, he certainly complained to everyone he could and naturally became more angry when they couldn't help him.

Now, they recked his car and abusively humiliated him there's no question he deserved satisfaction, but turning to acts of terror goes far beyond the initial crime and riles up collective prejudicial misgivings.

And he doesn't get satisfaction in the end, rather the police wind up shooting him after he threatens to blow up a museum, they gun him down when he eventually gives up even though he's unarmed and helpless.

Depressing is the word for such a film it's extremely depressing and sad and hopeless, it makes you feel ill and sick after it's over and by no means encourages another viewing.

I know this is what is recommended by many searching to expand minds and cultivate consciousness, but the revolting way you feel when the film finally ends also makes its shelf-life and influence less long-lasting.

Take a film like Dances with Wolves which tells a tragic tale of honour and friendship on the other hand.

The statistics presented at the end are grim.

But the fight against racism isn't tragically lurid.

The Great Dictator

I find the introduction of disclaimers (although at times necessary) provides an unfortunate layer of stress to an otherwise upbeat festivity, but nevertheless, please note that when I write about abounding mesmerizing life, I'm doing so to celebrate the fleeting natural world and critique flagitious warmongers. As humans encroach further and further into natural realms they become more and more precious, as does celebrating their vivid wonders with elastic readiness and proactive verve. Simultaneously, as a new generation far removed from the horrors of World War II ignorantly and childishly plays with the world like the Dictator of Tomania (Charlie Chaplin), with no regard for human frailty, the celebration of life becomes inclusively paramount especially concerning the bombarded Ukraine.  I'm not trying to secretly make an argument that is pro-life in regards to abortion, since I believe it is a woman's right to choose and that men have no say in the unfortunate scheme of things. The argument laid-out in (the now unfortunately titled) Freakonomics makes a strong practical case for the sociocultural benefits of permitting abortion within reason, and the ways in which poverty and starvation significantly decrease in jurisdictions where it's allowed.

But it's still an untoward topic when lauding the return of ebullient spring, as the animals wake up from their slumbers and venture forth to see the world again.

I sometimes wonder what their dreams are like while they efficiently sleep throughout the winter, and if they're indeed more inclined to hibernate than they are to reemerge.

There's even an animal dream sequence in Jean-Jacques Annaud's sympathetic The Bear, the idea perhaps deserving of longer treatment within feature length animated films.

It's wonderful to see different life forms the shapes and sizes the species and families, each one of them a thoughtful miracle effervescently composing holistic community.

Although there are many beautiful things various people have crafted throughout the centuries, they'll never be more radiant than a dragonfly, or more worthy of respect than a resilient wombat (as others have noted).

But the cultivation of brilliance at times leads to the dismissal of other life forms, since they struggle with advanced calculus and have never constructed an ornate palace.

As Chaplin relates in The Great Dictator's climax as he presents his bold attempt to end World War II, while intelligence is indeed a remarkable gift, it still shouldn't lead to widespread cynicism. 

I always thought it was the duty of the naturally gifted to nurture the flock and wholeheartedly care for them, notably taking into consideration the lessons they've learned through practical experience. 

It wasn't just to sit in an empty room and listen to fawning praise lacking constructive nerve.

Lost in self-obsessed blunder. 

Lacking animate resonant vitality.

The Fabelmans

Complications emerge as a young filmmaker comes of age (Gabriel LaBelle/Mateo Zoryan as Sammy Fabelman), traditional paths proving rather unorthodox, natural rhythms and dynamic imagination vigorously challenging habitual routine, bewilderingly misunderstood at times, what can you do, but keep moving forwards?

His father's (Paul Dano as Burt Fabelman) gifted with electronics and keeps finding new jobs in different cities, his career idyllically advancing, his family life somewhat haywire.

His oldest son for instance finds constructive camaraderie in Phoenix, and as his filmmaking aspirations develop, a curious legion facilitate his dreams.

Questions of race or ethnicity don't become confusing until they move later on, and non-sensical religious tensions frustratingly divide what should have been non-violent friendships.

Whatever happens he keeps creating never shying away from visionary responsibilities, sexuality a bemusing mistress, elaborately examined through multivariable storytelling. 

It's fun to watch as his narratives come to life and his ideas bedazzle and entertain, I'd argue it's essential viewing for any youngster hoping to one day make films.

The way he intuitively learns to encourage performance and produce special effects without any training, skilfully blended in far reaching scenes abounding with props and a large cast in motion.

I started writing poems in the woods as a lad and kept it up throughout my adult life, I never really wanted to coordinate people though, I generally preferred being alone.

It would have been cool to actively take part but everything was always quite serious, and creativity flourishes at play, when y'all ain't mad about somethin'.

Sam does extraordinarily well when directly engaged with others, however, and builds up what appears to be a genuine rapport in enthused environs.

I sort of wish I'd had an odd experience with an eccentric uncle like his in the film (Judd Hirsch as Uncle Boris) in my youth, I always thought the arts would be like a friendly union, remarkably incorrect was I.

But at times if I read the signs correctly there are definitely prolonged periods of fascination, and I'm very grateful to the people who support me, and put up with my variable moods.

Perhaps I should steer clear of the middle as is also advised in They Live, but I usually don't proceed with a plan, I just sit down and see what I come up with.

I suppose to be honest I'm guided by how I was taught to behave in my youth, in school, on TV, with family, and at church, the pedagogical strategies often at odds.

I imagine everyone's like that while trying to negotiate mutating stimuli.

If I don't say it often enough, I'm thankful.

Spazz may just be my best.

*I was really impressed that the mom in Everything Everywhere All at Once never abandons her daughter, not even with the universe at stake, she still believes in her troubled child. In The Fabelmans, Mitzi (Michelle Williams) leaves her husband for another man (Seth Rogan as Bennie Loewy), but it isn't a spur of the moment decision, and she struggles to hold on to her marriage for years before leaving. It must have been an incredibly difficult decision to make and I don't blame her for making it. I think people should try to make it work. But if it doesn't and you're miserable, there's no harm in leaving. She still looks after her kids and they continue to forge loving bonds. I always wanted things to work out as a kid. But so many things change with the passage of time.

The Tracker

*Spoiler Alert.

I'm unaware of another director who critiques patriarchal excesses as well as Rolf de Heer, I'm thinking of Alexandra's Project and The Tracker, wherein which he holds nothing back in his critique of men.

Not men in general or every man but definitely racist and sexist men who go to extremes, in The Tracker's case a rifle toting lawperson who shoots every Indigenous person he sees (regardless of whether they're the one he's searching for), including women and the elderly, and in Alexandra's Project, a lusty husband who gets outduelled through passionate disillusionment.

Most of the men I've met haven't been quite as arrogant as the jerks in Heer's films, not that they don't like to have a laugh or air grievances (you really shouldn't try to take away or prohibit the means by which decent men let off steam regarding relationships [it leads to naturally angry people who don't want to change becoming more and more furious because they have no outlet for their frustrations {which aren't even that serious if the outlet exists unless they're extremists, but become much more intense if severely limited }]), but I picture them discussing other things besides sex and gender roles with their wives (especially after this long), and doubt they would take their prejudices to genocidal extremes (most of them were pretty chill back in the day).

In The Tracker, 4 men set out to find an Indigenous person in the Outback who's accused of killing a caucasian woman, one of them a multifaceted guide (David Gulpilil as the Tracker), one ruthlessly dismissive of Native culture (Gary Sweet as the Fanatic), another young and new to the territory (Damon Gameau as The Follower), and another just along for the ride (Grant Page as the Veteran). 

The Tracker mischievously leads them in the right direction at a slower pace than the fugitive, so he (Noel Wilton) always knows where they are and they never brutally overtake him.

Early on during the search, they encounter free Indigenous peeps enjoying their day, and the mad institutionally supported leader starts firing shots with reckless abandon.

The young recruit is utterly horrified which leads the old timer to question his intelligence, I've said it before, I'll say it again, belligerent jingoism doesn't inevitably monopolize the constructive mind. 

It certainly didn't in the '80s, '90s, and early 2000s when many films like this were being made, but it's become much more fashionable these days, with World War III looming on the horizon (after a pandemic [pass the Ricard]).

If you want to see a Native person fight back and courageously strike a blow for his resilient culture, The Tracker is indubitably a must-see, fully equipped with Indigenous justice.

The trigger happy lawperson is captured because his youthful charge refuses to let him shoot innocent people.

And this youth's generation likely brought about the reforms of my youth.

Which have stalled amidst a colossal prejudiced backlash. 

Look Back in Anger

There was a period in my youth when I often went to the local library, and browsed the films they had for rent some of which were starring Richard Burton (The Robe, Cleopatra, The Night of the Iguana, The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? . . . ).

I admit I loved his work and found him instantaneously captivating, naturally gifted with cinematic composure enviously admired around the globe (but no Laurence Olivier).

It's honestly like he's not even acting, like he's just going about his daily routine.

What to the 50s and 60s Brad Pitt was to the 90s and early 2000s?

Irrefutable irresistible magnetism.

(Foucauldian investigation pending).

But angry.

In Look Back in Anger it's like you're watching solidified anti-spiritual acid vehemently castigate every moment of every day, with irate fury the superlative venom obdurately infects everyone he encounters (although he also uses it to productively fight racism).

Notably his wife, who's as right as rain, who just wants to chill and ethereally float, as modest as a Boston cream or perhaps mint chocolate chip, still adamantly tempting like chillaxed camaraderie.

Every time he sees her (Mary Ure as Alison Porter) he lays it on thick with bellicose rancour, fit only for the field of battle, the poor lass habitually scornful of things like separation.

But a friend comes to stay (Claire Bloom as Helena Charles) and his vitriolic fury regularly erupts, even going so far as to ruin one of her auditions, for the sake of meaningless voltaic banter.

One bitter interaction to the next he furiously proceeds beyonds limits or bounds, as if an aristocrat suddenly found themselves penniless, or an impoverished worker sought to make a fortune.

Apart from close family, every woman he encounters must endure his pernicious ramble, like watching one of the world's most idyllic cads consistently berate gentle fauns who then fall in love (written by men).

Do things still proceed so obtusely, is socioevolution just something you read about in the news?, I admit to having read several books and newspapers, and never really having met anyone who attempts to live that way (it's often a trap). 

I'm convinced that if I ever did I'd never know it because they're so stuck up beyond oblivion.

And doesn't that defeat the purpose?

Who knows?, discourses of the sincere.

A House Divided: Denmark Vessey's Rebellion

Strategic Planning.

Variable details.

Inherent volatility. 

Exacting daring.

With slavery still rampant in 1822, an established artisan seeks his people's freedom (Yaphet Kotto/James Bond III as Denmark Vessey), Haitian slaves having recently fought a successful rebellion, he wants to cut loose from Charleston (South Carolina) and head out to join them.

His situation is rather prosperous for he was able to buy his freedom, and set himself up with a profitable business, while reading books and embodying confidence.

The majority of his brethren remain enslaved but many listen to his unorthodox counsel, as he lays out their significant numeric advantage, and how they can access ships in port.

Many slave owners fear such a potential outcome but the mild-mannered governor isn't that worried, unable to consider the possibility that there would ever be an armed revolt.

But that's what Vessey plans and even comes close to directly leading.

He's outrageously betrayed in the end. 

Finicky familiarity. 

A House Divided: Denmark Vessey's Rebellion presents unfortunate realities associated with group dynamics, notably ye olde treachery while attempting to plan something controversial.

There must be people out there who are generally trusted by many (Biden and Augustus Caesar for instance), and who fellow group members respect and don't try to usurp with determinate mad power grabs.

Denmark Vessey seems to have possessed these qualities but he nevertheless quarrelled with a jealous African American, who preferred to expose his rebellious plot and remain a slave, rather than see his adversary succeed (it makes no sense and happens all too frequently).

There are other leaders who rule by fear and thereby command the respect of many, but isn't their world rather dark and dangerous, and don't their adversaries have legitimate cause?

I've met people who seemed rather rough and grouchy who weren't really that bad to work for, others who pretended to be right as rain until it became clear they bore secret grudges.

And people who were just generally cool who were respected because they dealt fairly.

A shame Denmark Vessey didn't succeed.

Cool that this old school film still honours his memory. 

The Toy

A struggling writer suddenly finds he needs to come up with 10 grand, and has no job or book to speak of, but he's soon able to land a cleaning position, which he approaches with rowdy gusto, without a worry or care in the world (Richard Pryor as Jack Brown). 

He's somewhat too free-wheeling however, and soon he's reprimanded by his irate boss (Jackie Gleason as U.S. Bates), for disrupting the free-flow of his staff's communal meal, he's swiftly and firmly terminated.

But he doesn't leave he keeps on workin', still finding the time to wildly play, with showcased items in the toy department, while impressionable onlookers beam (Scott Schwartz as Eric Bates).

The curious shocked enthusiastic lead happens to be the boss's son, and he's been told he can have anything he wants, he rapidly chooses Mr. Brown.

Brown is instinctively aghast regarding the spur of the moment proposal, and has no interest in becoming a nanny, especially to a child so full of disrespect. 

But the father offers him ample compensation although it's not enough at first, but there's nothing he can do, the kid genuinely likes him.

His spirit's much more in tune with universal social democratic freedoms, and he's like nothin' Mr. Bates Jr. has seen before, at either the military college he glumly attends, or in his father's department store.

Brown teaches him about constructive criticism and enjoys the vast critical resources at his disposal.

Imagine pulling that off.

Unparalleled extrapolation.

The Toy bluntly examines taboo potentially shocking unsettling subjects, which may explain why it's somewhat hush hush, and might make a solid Criterion. 

It should be widely commended however for its frank condemnation of racism, and the ways in which it creatively vilifies high stakes segregating disparate tension. 

It also takes a heartfelt look at friendship with sincere honest and caring simplicity, an age-old traditional instructive strategy which produces results if not too sentimental.

If friendship did wholeheartedly flourish beyond race and financial divides, I would imagine the world would be much less violent, considering the catastrophic warlike Putin.

If there's too much of an emphasis on individualism teamwork falls by the arrogant wayside, but if the community becomes to one-dimensional alternative expression blandly suffocates.

Look for the historical periods where the golden mean consistently thrived.

Mutual respect incorporated.

Happenstance heartfelt harmonies. 

Across 110th Street

*Warning: this film examines racism from a hardboiled perspective. Be prepared for unsettling language and situations if you happen to view it.

3 bold and foolish citizens decide to rip off the mob, after learning where it meets to count its money, leaving the daring heist with 100,000 apiece, thinking they'll elude detection, staying put in the very same neighbourhood.

The robbery turns into a murder which leads to police interest, thus the rash impromptu entrepreneurs are pursued by more than one well-financed antagonist.

Both groups have grievances to air as they investigate internally and beyond, a steady stream of eager vitriol accompanying conversation after conversation.

With all the conflicting strategical approaches its amazing that group dynamics are able to accomplish anything, aggrieved fluid practicalities confronting active hostile brawn.

What a feast for character development, however, as at least 8 from different walks have their say, as much care and attention adopted to craft the corrupt Captain's lines (Anthony Quinn) as those which define the gravest of suspects.

Many detective films discuss the achievement of results, the pressing desire to move forward with a case as investigators theorize anew.

Their theories at times lacking evidence which they seek by using violence, assuming the resultant coerced information isn't tampered by survival instinct.

Across 110th Street prefers the law and the rights of persons of interest being investigated, as the brilliant Yaphet Kotto defends liberal reforms while critiquing totalitarianism. 

Imagine random conversation, taken as absolute empirical fact, with only a scant cross-section of specific subjects deemed aesthetically appropriate. 

At work perhaps so much concerned intrigue fluently adapts.

But why should one be bound by classification?

Beyond one's working life?

Across 110th Street provocatively pulsates as three interconnected adversaries raise disputatious hell.

Versatile character development recalled the cinema of my youth.

Characters that aren't whitewashed success stories.

Raw determination wildly overflowing.

No Way Out

Senseless racist irrationality destructively wallowing away, after an African American doctor (Sidney Poitier as Dr. Luther Brooks) attempts to save a life, and his truly sick patient passes.

The doctor just joined the profession having recently passed a requisite exam, and even though he's confident enough to make decisions, he still seeks guidance from established professionals. 

When his patient arrived the other night Dr. Brooks didn't have much time to make the call, Mr. Biddle (Dick Paxton as Johnny Biddle) had been shot during an attempted robbery, and was desperately clinging to life.

Dr. Brooks made a call nevertheless which the patient's brother attentively witnessed (Richard Widmark), after tormenting the humble doctor because he was born with black skin.

After the patient passed, another doctor appeared in the room (Stephen McNally as Dr. Dan Wharton), and Dr. Brooks honestly stated he was confident he made the right decision, but unfortunately could have been mistaken.

The volatile brother heard their conversation and reacted with racist venom, claiming his brother was killed due to incompetence while severely critiquing Dr. Brooks's race.

The only way Dr. Brooks can prove his innocence is to have an autopsy performed on the body, but the autopsy can't be performed without the consent of the surviving brother.

Not only does he refuse to give his consent, he also calls up his thuglike friends, and gets them to plan an attack on the local black neighbourhood, the situation becoming more and more insane.

And it's all because a bright student boldly determined he would become a doctor, and put in the necessary years of hard work and study to eventually attain the role.

Racism's disastrous stubborn ignorance almost prevents his career from moving forward, as someone too blind to see anything but skin colour goes out of his way to ruin a life.

Equal opportunity for every race and any individual willing to heed the call, objective analysis isn't qualified by a doctor's ethnicity as emergency medical decisions are made.

Even after Dr. Brooks proves his innocence Mr. Biddle refuses to believe, and with the resurgence of racism in the public sphere, the mass irresponsibility is most distressing. 

No Way Out highlights the pitfalls of racism with shocking language and blunt compression, I was surprised to see this film was made in 1950, I didn't think they made such candid movies back then (when dealing with sensitive issues).

Even though I think they're incredibly irresponsible I can support an individual's right to not be vaccinated, it's their body and even if they're being passionately foolish (remember how wonderful it was when they announced they'd found a vaccine! [with additional vaccines coming later!]) we live in a democracy not a totalitarian state.  

But if their protests start waving the confederate flag and they start preventing local businesses from operating, while irritating local residents, I simply cannot support them: I can't support freedom as it promotes slavery. 

Silverado

The lonesome forbidding bellicose treacherous bleak disabling frontier, wherein which justice falls prey to monopolized coercive forceful brutish clutches.

The desire for peaceful community still lightly reckons with friendly resolve, as adventurous settlers dream big and head west to forge new towns in the dangerous wild.

The law attempts to protect them as they settle and herd and farm, but the off the grid free isolation also attracts absolutist ambition.

What if you could in fact open a successful business in a flourishing town, one that adapts and grows and prospers and encourages the lively exchange of goods?

And what if your business prospered to the point where you earned an enormous living, and your town also needed a sheriff to uphold the immaculate law?

Without any regional competition or federal oversight to inspect what you're doing, you could engage in all kinds of self-obsessed law breaking to ensure steady streams of duplicitous profit.

But what if you took things too far and the peaceful inhabitants grew tired of wrong doing, and encouraged volatile alternative jurisprudence to sincerely critique your lofty stranglehold?

Do gooding virtuous antitrusts will inevitably counter your unilateral brigade, with the interests of creating inroads for manifold newfound multilateral enterprises.

Dreaming big the innocent upstarts boldly challenge the bucolic hegemony, to stop the violence and audaciously ensure the freeform countenance of an abundant multiplicity. 

As their businesses take root their owners also start to acquire capital, which can be used to break down the established boundaries which had previously strengthened the haughty few.

But those businesses are then prevented from prospering to see the monopoly upheld ad infinitum, and ill-mannered ornery brute force is cruelly engaged to stifle integrity.

Thus, a showdown looms to propagate expansive means of production.

With articulate offence and defensive reserve.

The impetus recast each exigent Sunday.

And also with Lawrence Kasdan's chaotic action packed tumultuous Silverado, where domestic longing and urges for independence communally clash via honest virtue.

A remarkable cast acrobatically abounding with resonant epic frontier contumacy. 

Taking on racism along the way.

The trials of any given century.

Shaft

Racism erupts with full-on blind distressing malevolence, as an African American steps outside, and is beaten to death by an irate brat.

Previously, the brat (Christian Bale as Walter Wade, Jr.) derisively employed stereotypical misconceptions in a distasteful attempt to brazenly humiliate him, but he responded with calm rebuttals which incisively turned the tide.

A witness to the murder exists but she fears for her health and safety, and swiftly disappears when approached with questions (Toni Collette as Diane Palmieri), detective John Shaft (Samuel L. Jackson) understanding yet unimpressed.

Wade is granted bail and departs for Switzerland shortly thereafter, where he remains for a scandalous two years before he returns and is taken back into custody.

He's granted bail again and makes it known that he's impenitent, yet the witness still exists, which makes him nervous if not frightened.

He enlists the aid of a local drug dealer (Jeffrey Wright as Peoples Hernandez) to discover her wayward whereabouts, but he isn't eager to help, without ample compensation. 

Shaft's on to them as well as members of his own department who are assisting their criminal endeavours, cleverly messin' up their plans, as they engage in grand malfeasance. 

But can he locate the witness in time, and even then, is she willing to testify?

High stakes practical ethical reckoning.

An honest cop, entrenched corruption.

Shaft (2000) delineates hardboiled boundaries with hyperreactive retributive dissonance, freeflowing justice materially manifested through lucid teamwork and reverent calm.

There's more to it than many a cop film as it boldly resuscitates dormant proclivities, by encouraging active prolonged dis/integration within a thoughtful volatile recalibration.

At first I though the subject matter was a bit too blunt, perhaps bordering on the sensational, but considering the shocking tragedies continuously emerging in the U.S, the narrative packs a realistic punch these days.

Is it not preferable to embrace less polarized divisive political optics, in order to cultivate a cultural aesthetic which isn't obsessed with race or creed?

As many others have humbly suggested, in response to different dilemmas over the centuries, isn't it more cost effective and less economically disorienting, to forge common ground upon which to pursue life?

I imagine the police would like to have less to do, or to apply themselves to less catastrophic scenarios.

Hope that's the case anyways.

Life's so valuable.

It's important to live it. 

*With Dan Hedaya (Jack Roselli), Busta Rhymes (Rasaan), Pat Hingle (Hon. Dennis Bradford), and Richard Roundtree (Uncle John Shaft). 

**Outstanding performance from Jeffrey Wright.

Rosewood

An affluent stranger arrives in town perhaps intent on settling (Ving Rhames as Mann), a veteran of World War I who's fed up with violent chaos.

He proceeds with reservation meeting many people without saying much, his experience far too disconcerting to suddenly chill unbound and trusting.

In a neighbouring laidback town two lovers meet for an assignation, the aftermath extremely cold as toxic masculinity furiously erupts. 

Her face is bruised and battered and can't be hidden from her timid husband, so she runs out into the quiet streets to proclaim she's been assaulted by an African American.

Her white assailant visits a local black homestead in case hounds are roused to follow him, as her story enflames racist tensions and a mob gathers seeking vengeance. 

The residents of the African American town misjudge the situation, since they've lived there in prosperous peace for amicable generations.

The stranger quickly departs but bigots head out in hot pursuit, while the mob descends with unleashed fury and women and children flee to surrounding swamps.

He returns to assist and guide but it's too late for the honest town.

But a local shopkeep keeps his head.

And brings an engine round.

Many of the women and children escape but the cultural damage is done, no reparations or retribution for the innocent victims of terror.

According to Posse and 19th century chronicles this was by no means an isolated incident, as hard fought freedoms were vigorously asserted within a climate of grand dismissal.

It's beyond depressing to sadly think about how racist pretensions never faded, or how over a hundred years after the American Civil War they still persist with blunt derision.

Aren't the regions where they still culturally persist still economically disadvantaged, with overflowing prisons and lacklustre public institutions and the majority of the wealth possessed by an elite few (see The Spirit Level: Why Equality is Better for Everyone as I've mentioned before)?

Rosewood highlights the insanity associated with passionate hatreds, the lack of rational thought applied when zealous fervour actively pontificates.

Seeing disproven conspiracy theories proliferate in the current bizarro reckless public sphere, people drinking bleach and attacking pizza parlours, is disheartening to say the least.

When I was younger there was a much stronger emphasis on fact based evidence and journalistic integrity.

Not to mention public education.

Which hopefully isn't being replaced by YouTube videos. 

Posse

Sentenced to life in the military, a soldier reacts intuitively driven (Mario Van Peebles as Jesse Lee), his services valued depended upon exploited, the situation coercive, treacherous, untenable.

He's tasked with covert ops requiring stealthy habitual concealment, to disrupt an antagonistic supply chain, and secure chip chop munitions.

But as the mission proceeds uninhibited a coveted chest of gold is detected, and it becomes clear they'll be betrayed by those seeking ill-gotten enrichment.

Another battle is fought from which he escapes with the gold and his life, plus a dedicated resilient crew, and a plan to return home unscathed. 

He's followed by his former commander (Billy Zane) who's aware of his path however, but through tenacious nerve and reservéd foresight he's able to avoid ballistic conflict.

He's headed back to the scene of a crime which saw an honest man outrageously cut down, for wondrously sharing a peaceful dream freely envisioned by many others.

He seeks vengeance for the racist wrongdoing for the coldhearted dismal injustice, even though things have generally settled down and his former love interest misses him dearly (Salli Richardson-Witfield as Lana). 

But the guilty derelict perpetrators raise the alarm upon hearing he's returned.

Just as the former commander arrives.

High-stakes ferocious westerns.

Posse presents preponderant perdition incredible acts of racist abuse, how could things have deteriorated so much, in a country celebrated for widespread freedom?

The posse itself is an innovative eclective prone to cohesion and uniform rigour, embracing difficult choices through courageous wherewithal as they're left with no other options.

The films adds enviable depth of character as they fight their way countering insurmountable odds, playful breaks and solemn flourishes peppered throughout the cataclysmic forays.

Existence is a wonderful thing and laissez-faire socioeconomic spirits augment it, if power and control leave you paranoid is it not better to persist less emphatically?

Or to let communities peacefully develop according to the same sets of laws, the same initiatives and opportunities that enable so much constructive thought?

Why would any country want overflowing prisons and general pugnacious unrest?

The answer to that question's mind-boggling.

When compared to productive alternatives. 

*Loved this film in my youth. It made a big impact (made me hate systemic racism).

In the Heat of the Night

An honest cop, possessing advanced skills sought after expertise, awaits a train in the middle of the night, unaware a murder has been committed. 

He's been visiting family in the area, and is hoping to travel north, but the local police are searching for culprits, and the colour of his skin makes him a prime suspect.

Difficult to imagine how something as harmless as the colour of someone's skin, could result in so much injustice, so much fear, so much confusion.

Can you remember when you were really young and there were just assortments of different people, and the colour of their skin meant nothing, as it hopefully still does, they were just people, some dark, some light?

Long before disreputable influences tried to ignorantly promote racist ideologies, that have no basis in fact, and encourage violent rather than peaceful communities, wasn't it just cool that some people were black, some white, some brown, some Asian?

And so on.

There were babysitters, classmates, local shopkeepers, friends, nothing mattered but what they had to say, or didn't if they were quiet and thoughtful, a world free from distressing prejudice.

Doesn't the breaking down of barriers encourage more productive collegial thought, as a wide spectrum of compelling ideas resultantly considers and complements diversity?

Isn't it fascinating to learn new things and don't racist ideologies prevent the flourishing of ideas, the development of new technologies, the cultivation of art and sport?

Isn't it preferable to visit every neighbourhood in a community without the fear of confrontation, isn't it preferable to feel safe wherever you go wherever you happen to live?

That's been my general experience in Canada and Québec and I imagine it's the same in large swathes of continental Europe. It's tough to imagine cities with neighbourhoods you simply don't visit, because segregation has become cultural.

Biden and Harris are fighting it anyways and millions of other constructive Americans, as Virgil Tibbs (Sidney Poitier) does in In the Heat of the Night, with assuréd courageous confidence.

He's taken into the local police station where they're surprised to find out he's a cop, who specializes in homicide, and can help them find the killer.

He ignores the racial tension and rigorously applies himself, with such tenacious freedom that Chief Bill Gillespie (Rod Steiger) fears for his life.

Gillespie adds a lot as someone who would likely push for reform, if he wasn't alone and isolated, if he had a network, friends, community.

He recognizes how essential Tibbs is even if he fears the repercussions, and that it's not the colour of one's skin which determines competence, but the ways in which people proactively apply themselves.

Racism was fought so actively in my youth In the Heat of the Night became a TV show, it's been incredibly depressing for the last 5 years to see racism reemerge with political support.

In the U.S.

It's simply never made sense to me, why would people brazenly ignore fact and science?

Doesn't every religion support peaceful communal development?

Regardless of ethnicity or race?

It's one of the most old school ideas.

Generally free of charge.

Hospitable and chill, calm, constructive.

Open-minded.

Edifying.

Just Mercy

It's clear enough that justice is a matter of guilt or innocence, the guilty party convicted for their crimes, the innocent individual eventually set free.

It's also clear that determining someone's guilt or innocence is a lengthy complex procedure, which takes multiple factors into account in order to assert the highest degree of reasonability.

These factors are subject to various interpretive procedures, presented by prosecutors and defence attorneys according to alternative plausible perspectives, each perspective like a contradictory ingredient in an opaque conflicting recipe, which is hopefully judged without bias, within the spirit of daring independence.

Different narratives emerge.

But which one is in fact correct?

Some cases are more complex than others, however, and Walter McMillian's (Jamie Foxx) conviction for murder in Just Mercy is presented as a serious perversion of justice, the evidence supporting his innocence both reasonable and overwhelming, as brave civil rights attorney Bryan Stevenson (Michael B. Jordan) has to go to great lengths to prove.

The world needs more lawyers like him.

He's harassed and humiliated for doing his job to the best of his abilities, because local law enforcement was more interested in locking someone up for the crime than actually finding the guilty individual.

Since they were unable to find the guilty individual, they arrested a prosperous African American, who had been bold enough to do his job well and earn a respectable living, by working hard and honestly persevering.

Serious roadblocks prevent his retrial from moving forward, but his lawyers are determined to see he has another day in court.

Their interactions add interpersonal integrity to the story which abounds with emotionally charged dialogue, dispassionately conveyed, to reflect bitter rational despondency.

Hope and hopelessness creatively converse within to highlight gross jurisprudent indecency, but the resilient lawyers care about truth, and won't back down in the face of disillusion.

Tim Blake Nelson (Ralph Myers) puts in a noteworthy performance as a felon who gave false testimony which led to McMillian's conviction, emanating a compelling presence on screen which complements that of Foxx, Jordan, and Brie Larson (Eva Ansley).

I haven't seen everything Foxx has done since Ray but his performance in Just Mercy reminded me why he once won an Oscar.

I hope films like Just Mercy and Dark Waters inspire practising and potential lawyers to keep fighting the honourable fight.

I know it's hard to remain hopeful sometimes.

But without hope there's just the abyss.

Tweeting relentlessly.

Calling the bravest most intelligent American service people dopes and babies.

It really is reminiscent of various depictions of Caligula.

Reckless callous abuses of power.

Blind unilateral engagement.

Unarmed Man

Harold Jackson III's independent Unarmed Man presents an impassioned interview taking place after a man was killed.

Shot dead even though he was unarmed by a trigger happy policeperson, all too willing to shoot first, none too prone to asking questions.

At least not to African Americans.

He has to give a statement, provide routine answers, in the fatal aftermath, and he's sincerely eager to participate, as long as the script is strictly followed.

But his interrogator's in search of truth, and doesn't play things by the book, asking tough questions that need to be asked, even after he's sharply reprimanded.

The film's fictional content is saturated with verisimilitude, its situations and legal ease striking chords all too familiar.

When does it end?

It happens so often.

Why are unarmed African Americans shot multiple times so often, even though they've done nothing wrong?

And why are the offending policepersons soon back to work without consequence or repercussion, how can they possibly be protecting and serving the black citizens upon their beat?

The racist system's as revolting as the answers to those questions, so many innocent lives cut short, so much potential recklessly shot down.

But Jackson's film doesn't simply preach, it provides a well-rounded argument. Its strength lies in its investigation of alternatives, the policeperson's point of view, which is refuted with upstanding logic.

Unarmed Man lays it out, explains why some policepeople are trigger happy, the stresses associated with their jobs, the fears such stresses naturally produce.

I've often thought about what it must be like to work full-time as a policeperson in a neighbourhood overwhelmed with crime, whether it's white, black, asian, or first nation, and it must be extremely difficult to do so day-in and day-out, especially when your colleagues lose their lives, having made the greatest sacrifice in the line of duty.

But policepersons still need to be trained to distinguish between different scenarios, one obviously threatening (a robbery, a drug bust, domestic violence, gang conflicts), another relatively textbook (pulling cars over for no reason).

If they can't distinguish between these scenarios they should be transferred to less demanding jurisdictions, or perhaps find work elsewhere.

Black people shouldn't have to put their hands on the steering wheel and make painfully slow movements if asked to show something every time they're pulled over.

But it seems like that's what they have to do to objectively avoid being shot.

Since it's clear that policepersons target black Americans.

Time and time again.

Unarmed Man's argument is well worth seeing and passionately brought to life by Shaun Woodland (Aaron Williamson) and Danny Gavigan (Greg Yelich).

Definitely tough subject matter.

Which will hopefully seem antiquated one day.

BlacKkKlansman

Do you remember when you were really young and differences between peoples weren't emphasized, criticized, aggrandized, socialized, when everyone you met was just someone you were meeting and there weren't any ridiculous stereotypes ruining cultural communications?

Before small-minded misperceptions with hateful agendas attempted to dismally attach specific labels to races and ethnicities, when things were rather peaceful and calm, when there weren't any differences between peoples?

I attended an anti-racism seminar years ago and its facilitator emphasized this point along with many others that logically broke down hate fuelled ideologies.

It's still absolutely clear to me, no matter what the racists try to claim, that there are no specific differences amongst peoples themselves, just alternative cultural traditions, which both enrich one's life when curiously explored, and celebrate the constructivity of intellect across the globe.

You can educate yourselves about them online or at your local library or by attending various cultural events, there's an infinite number of positive community-building materials freely available for curious minds, in a variety of different formats, the constructive peaceful materials themselves functioning like a chill multicultural spirit, which enlivens and emancipates minds with carefree convivial charm.

The world can be quite cruel of course and many conflicts are so complex finding solutions for them is a herculean task as long as both sides won't lay down their weapons.

Spike Lee's BlacKkKlansman examines both sides of the African/European American racial or ethnocentric divide to shed sombre light on how divided many black and white peoples living within the same community are in the United States.

An intelligent caring African American individual (John David Washington as Ron Stallworth) joins the local police force within, and soon finds himself working covert operations.

He sees what the world could be like if racial and ethnocentric stereotypes didn't divide so many peoples, and agilely walks the razor's edge to promote less confrontational ways of living.

He's aided on the force by a brave cop named Flip Zimmerman (Adam Driver), who infiltrates the Ku Klux Klan in order to find out what they're up to.

They're assisted by a multicultural team dedicated to both preventing violence and promoting sustainable living, even if some members of the force don't see it that way.

I know the police often act foolishly because people often catch them acting foolishly in videos posted online.

But don't forget that there are many cops out there who are dedicated to both preventing violence and promoting sustainable living as well, and they're there to serve and protect regardless of race or ethnicity or sexuality.

Why would police promote a violent world when it's their lives that are on the line when violence erupts?

It doesn't make sense.

Doesn't make any sense at all.

Spike Lee emphasizes this in BlacKkKlansman, an edgy film that lampoons the KKK and celebrates strong individuals dedicated to fighting racism.

Perhaps too light for subject matter this volatile, it still takes the reckless, thoughtless, unethical comedy that's erupted in the U.S in recent years and turns it on its head to formally deconstruct it.

I don't know how many people will understand that that's what he's doing, or even if that was his intention, I'm not Spike Lee, but in the final moments it's clear that BlacKkKlansman is meant to be taken seriously.

Extremists take peaceful inclinations and use fear to transform them into paranoid disillusion.

The key is to simply stop listening.

And focus on continuing to cultivate communities where their nonsense need never apply.

Period.

If Beale Street Could Talk

A young expectant mother celebrating the dawn of life encounters setbacks as she embraces riled uncertainty.

Her decision isn't an easy one to make and she's initially faced with righteous criticism.

Unfortunately, the father's (Stephan James as Alonzo Hunt) in prison after having been falsely accused of a monstrous crime, the victim having returned to her home country after suffering extreme indecency.

It's a disastrous situation that's rather difficult to discuss with the victim (Emily Rios as Victoria Rogers), although Tish's (KiKi Layne) mom (Regina King as Sharon Rivers) does her best to make contact and work things out.

Alonzo takes a plea.

Tish strives onwards, patiently waiting for his release.

A confident man, a resilient woman, a versatile couple, an engaging family.

Prejudice accosts them within and without.

But through self-sacrificing commitment, they holistically persevere.

Barry Jenkins's If Beale Street Could Talk laments cold realities by presenting resigned innocence forced to hustle, brand, and stray.

It deals in unsettling sociological facts the harsh conditions of which require sincere systemic change.

A different way of thinking.

A young couple's racial or ethnic background shouldn't effect their entire existence, I've met and worked with plenty of male, female, black, white, Jewish, Arab, European, South American, First Nations, East Indian, gay, straight and Asian people, and none of them were thieves or cons or zealots, and everyone worked hard and didn't put up much of a fuss.

If racial or ethnic stereotypes had pervaded these environments it would have been impossible to work efficiently, and otherwise composed diligent routines would have collapsed beneath the weight of ripe malice.

People didn't judge each other based on shortsighted stereotypical notions, but preferred to evaluate the quality and quantity of one's work, equal opportunity abounding for all, but they had to make sure to get the job done.

If you think the situation's hopeless it becomes hopeless pretty quickly.

You can't expect things to happen overnight, you need patience, endurance, tenacity.

Tish and Alonzo have all these things in If Beale Street Could Talk and because of stereotypical perceptions they come close to losing everything, yet they still dig deep and buckle down.

The film bluntly examines what's left unsaid and although it's somewhat overly emotional at times, it is presenting volatile subject matter, and its heart's definitely in the right place.

Cool sculptures too.