Terminator: Dark Fate

Liked the new Terminator film.

I was surprised in the opening moments to see a beloved character shot down, and would have been angrier if that had happened much earlier, say in the 1990s, and then thought the initial terminator battle which followed was too textbook, too hasty, but after things settled down and the new parameters became clear, clearer, it took on a life of its own, and at times, seriously impressed.

I admit that I love Rise of the Machines, as I mentioned several times years ago, and Salvation isn't that bad either, although I'm not too fond of Genisys anymore.

I was partial to seeing John Connor chaotically embrace his messianic future, I suppose because it's cool to see the same characters reimagined in successive sequels, even if improbability ridiculously assails strict logic thereby, but that's the trick then, certainly, isn't it?, to make the impossible seem reasonably sound?

Rise of the Machines embraces the ridiculous aspect of reasonable improbabilities and perhaps therefore seems farcical to some, insufficiently serious in fact, lacking sombre and solemn composure.

Although I still think it does a great job of bringing Connor and Kate Brewster together, Arnold Schwarzenegger encouraging reluctant pair bonding, and as far as romantic-comedy-action-sci-fi goes, I can't think of another film that even remotely compares.

But Dark Fate works in the classic Terminator revelations well, the moments when its characters suddenly find themselves subsumed by ludicrous fact, reliant on a team they've never met before, and a plan laid out like a derelict jazz solo.

It did seem illogical that John Connor could be the only one to save the future, that no one else would rise up if he fell, especially considering how eager so many are to assert themselves, against all odds, in oppressive circumstances.

Thus, alternative computations perhaps make more sense than Highlander reckonings, uncharted territory reinvigorating discovery, a traditional plot realigned and recalibrated, repopulated with narrative variation.

It's nice to see Sarah Connor (Linda Hamilton) back at it. She adds a lot of depth and hasn't missed a beat.

Plus the new characters define themselves well.

Mr. Schwarzenegger lightens the mood.

And is reintroduced with paramount timing.

I suppose it's tough to diversify these films without setting them in the future like Salvation, as long as a terminator travels through time to hunt, and a future leader awaits unaware.

But if you want to keep things solemn while blending in a slight comedic touch, Dark Fate provides a noteworthy template, the dam doesn't burst, humanity fights back, and don't forget the convincing revelation scenes.

Tim Miller and his crew clearly care about the characters and sought to deliver a cool film for its fans.

Theatre troops have been performing Hamlet for centuries.

Working in contemporary themes.

Or reimagining historical authenticity.

As artificial intelligence becomes more prominent, don't Terminator films become more relevant?

So much time wasted in paranoid conflict.

Why isn't it clear there can be more than one?

High Life

Sequestered interstellar impudence botanically inseminating raw delinquent justice.

Claustrophobic encapsulations reanimating grouse grizzled seared begrudged camaraderie fertilizing angst consoled.

Mutaric verse.

Holistic cross-section.

Experimental cortical recalibrated resonance reverberating frontiers jejune meaningless runes.

On the sly, roll out, acculturate, condition, speculative tiers definitively impacted, like an age old feudal grave.

A star.

A quasar.

Something compelling evokes infinite something drastic disillusions hallows.

Past the point of inspiration far beyond exhausted fears, nihilistic contamination endemically engineered.

Chill in the garden. Keep chillin' in the garden. The plants grow, nurture, conserve, bustle. There's a celebration of life inasmuch as it flourishes. Why not dig something, play? Comment? Construct? Observe? Sparrows. Leafy green bouquets. Chomp chomp. Chatter. Stretch.

New birth.

Regenerative life.

Space child infinitesimally engrossed caught up waylaid.

Through no fault of their own were they locked up inside, in test tubes of ambient Jekyll & Hyde, lost in the galaxy stars set adrift, with freedoms inherent, candidly pitched.

Elaborate databases.

Books.

Perhaps.

Monte's (Robert Pattinson) devotion.

Travelling forever through astronomical climes, a unique descriptive vocabulary characterizing understated variation.

Like the Inuit describing snow.

Proust delineating obsession.

Interplanetary lullabies.

Velveteen moons.

Remarkably original unsettling independent sci-fi, creating its own unique codes, as if it was extraterrestrially conceived, born of the abstract candelabra.

Keep an open mind.

And proceed with caution.

Strange film.

Solemn incarcerated imagination.

André Benjamin (Tcherny) stands out.

Ego Trip

Riches and success have spoiled a maturing talk show host to the point where his livelihood is threatened.

He built his career by connecting with people, and relied heavily on personal experience to humorously grind his convictions.

But since his experiences have become posh and lavish, his jokes have lost their charm, sowing contempt where once there was laughter, derision calibrated to applaud.

Yet hypothetical redemption presents itself in the form of a trip to Haiti, an engagement with humanitarian aid, a battle for surefire sanctity.

Age then counters youth, as his psychological economics, his current and past selves, egotistically contend, a confrontation worthy of Scrooge, a curriculum ripe with iridescence.

And errors.

Ego Trip's last half hour or so excels at delivering a finely tuned transformation, but its build-up is lacking in finesse.

I don't think the film's form was deliberately sabotaged to reflect Marc Morin's (Patrick Huard) temperament, I think there were too many people calling the shots behind the scenes, the result, messy and conspicuous.

You sort of know exactly what's going to happen, and this isn't necessarily a bad thing, but as critical moments capable of developing character are cut short again and again, and subplots are introduced to struggle aimlessly or far too briefly, you kind of wish an additional 18 minutes weren't cut out, that they had taken more time to adhesively bind.

A lot of the scenes don't seem to fit as part of a whole, they're lacking in rhythmic sustainability, like a series of misplaced staccatos, rushing by far too quickly, at too choppy a pace.

Morin's life is choppy but Ego Trip's form could have found other ways to express this, potentially through a subtle infusion of self-awareness to metamalign his misplacements.

Much more could have been done with Sammy's (Gardy Fury) character.

Note: I didn't take to the urine jokes, but they did make me almost throw up, that type of humour often intended to generate such a response, good work.

The Artist

Pride leads to a tragic fall in Michel Hazanavicius's The Artist, as silent film superstar George Valentin (Jean Dujardin) refuses to adapt to a technological paradigm shift. Losing everything after the advent of the Talkies, he descends into a self-obsessed alcoholic tailspin while remaining loyal to his preferred form of artistic expression.

To which he was an unparalleled sensation.

Paying hommage to an abandoned form of film making which was responsible for cinema's resounding success, The Artist works, presenting a remarkable synthesis of motion and sound whose historical resonances are fashionably festooned.

Ludovic Bource's original music playfully harmonizes with the action and temporally positions us within a revitalized inspirational epoch. Jean Dujardin and Bérénice Bejo (Peppy Miller) use the full range of their creative non-verbal subtly to emit an understated existential dialogue which encourages evocative sensual reflections as one tries to imagine what might have been said.

Even as Valentin seems destined for dereliction, a sense of innocent naivety permeates The Artist's being, as its expertly timed stylistic complexities leisurely conjure an effervescent cascade of childlike simplicity by delicately condensing multilayered supporting complements into an affective cry.

Nothing that surprising takes place in the narrative itself. It's the cohesive viscid micro-details which transform each moment into an exception of its own that make The Artist such a compelling film.

Nice to see Ed Lauter with a supporting role.

Iron Man

Pretty surprised by Jon Favreau's new flick Iron Man. I was expecting another boring hyped-up piece of sensationalized gobblygook and was pleased to view an entertaining, multidimensional narrative, packed with an explosive punch.

The buzz surrounding Robert Downey Jr.'s performance is bang on: he really is exceptional. The supporting cast is solid as well but it's hard to imagine what this film would have been without Downey's charisma holding it together. In many ways, the plot is quite formulaic with the usual touch of frustrating militaristic bravado. But Favreau skillfully and subtly plays with the ideological conventions built into this formula, delivering a profound critique of its conventions, while reasserting them as well. The four conventions I'd like to examine here are misogyny, the military, individuality, and fantasy, critically cast in a mold of socialist iron.

Note that I've never read the comic book and don't plan on drawing a comparison between the two.

Within action movies, female characters tend to be both beautiful and promiscuous (Bad Bond Girls), or beautiful and somewhat chaste (Miss Moneypenny and Good Bond Girls). Rarely does a female lead who isn't uber-attractive score one of these parts (accept perhaps for Grace Jones), and if they find their way into the film they usually have backup roles (note the woman who looks like a man in Iron Man's opening moments). The male lead sleeps with the bad girl who is aggressive and daring (and consequently evil within the eyes of the patriarchy) in the opening moments and saves his hot feisty encounter with the good-domestic girl until the end of the film (she takes care of the hero and keeps him safe and only receives his affections after he has returned from work [wherein we discover the brilliance underlying the plot of Martin Campbell's Casino Royale]). Within Iron Man, Pepper Pots (Gwyneth Paltrow) keeps Tony Stark's life together while he is busy applying his genius to the production of weapons, and has scruples when it comes to dating her boss. Christine Everhart (Leslie Bibb) critiques Stark's way of life but instantly swoons when propositioned (she was only propositioned because of her looks). Hence, within Iron Man we have traditional eye-dropping superbabes playing stereotypical roles patriarchically carved out for them centuries ago, and the hero manipulates them (sexually with the bad girl, domestically with the good one) while manufacturing weapons to ensure America's global predominance. Simultaneously, however, without the assistance and persistence of these women, Tony Stark's turnaround would not have been possible. Moreover, when he begins to consider that being a Master of War is somewhat scurrilous (I love how the military always takes credit for medical advances, as if there wouldn't be advances in medical technology without war, and as if it doesn't create situations that demand medical advances based upon the catastrophic effects of its designs), it's the 'bad girl' (the independent lefty) who causes him to change his ways and the 'good girl' who has trouble accepting the change (Favreau pointing out the paradox within which the stereotypical good ‘bond-girl’ functions: she feels good serving her Master as long as he's a promiscuous monster and can't deal with the reality brought about by his reversal of fortune [note that his point would have been stronger if both these girls weren't drop-dead gorgeous]).

Manifest Destiny (the world has become the west coast) finds its stripes in the sale of weapons. Tony Stark is appalled to discover that his weapons are being sold to other countries and supporting the terrorist networks he designed them to thwart (how could a genius be that naïve?). He is captured by Afghani rebels, one who saves his life with an ingenious device that hooks his heart up to a car battery. In order to help Tony escape his saviour must die, allegorically pointing out that many foreigners will die in the pursuit of the American dream, even one's who support their interests. Jim Rhodes (Terrence Howard) stands for the military and his character is used to point out how socialist politics have been transferred to it, the united military standing as one, i.e., don't stand as one to receive universal health care, higher wages, and cheaper education, stand as one within the army. Favreau demonstrates how the sale of American weapons throughout the globe supports the terroristic infrastructure they have set out to destroy, while using Tony Stark as a symbol of change, i.e., we need to stop supporting an aggressive military, treating it as if its motives embody a divine altruistic panacea. In order to destroy the weapons he has manufactured, Tony Stark builds another weapon, and his nemesis/quasi-Oedipal foe (Jeff Bridges) points out the irony of his situation during their final battle (by pointing out this irony, Favreau skillfully critiques ideologues who find progressive outcomes through the manufacture of bigger and better weapons [eventually no one will go to war because everyone will have the atomic bomb!]). Within this battle, we have a young, new vision for the military symbolically represented by Tony Stark (the son) fighting against the patriarchal father figure (Obadiah Stane). In the film's concluding moments, the military asks Tony to simply read from a script and not reveal his identity as Iron Man. Instead, he ignores the script and tells the press that he is Iron Man, a bold move, for within comic book fantasies it's usually essential that the hero maintain his or her secret identity. By doing this, Stark deconstructs the fantastic elements of his lifestyle by actually telling the truth to the people, thereby symbolically representing a new, young American political ethos that isn't afraid to acknowledge the brutal contradictions of its imperialist legacy, Favreau championing a future where American political ideals match American political practices. Stark plays by his own rules and doesn't follow the script that has been traditionally cast for him. The main problem with his role is that he is only one man, and in order for universal social programs to be created within the United States the many must align as one in order to demand access to health care, higher wages, and a decrease in their military spending. Stark's character demonstrates the power of American individuality and the progress that can be achieved by individuals willing to stand up to the administration (Martin Luther King, Jr. for instance). Unfortunately, the film ends before we can see whether or not anyone is willing to join him.

Iron Man's central symbol is Tony Stark's heart, a technological circular wonder with a luminescent glow. This heart can be thought of as representing the circular nature of political dynamics, or, the fact that governments throughout the ages have continued to reassert and revitalize peace through military conflict. By including this symbol (and focusing upon it so intently), does Favreau mean that the American political landscape can be revitalized by innovative individuals who no longer support the military, and that if these individuals find their way into the political spectrum, perhaps the circular nature of its imperialist center can in fact begin to embody a glowing peaceful spirit? Or is he just playing with the old stereotypes and trying to make his traditional vision seem innovative by not killing the promiscuous woman and showcasing a hero who isn't afraid of coming out of the closet, in Walter Benjamin's terms, rendering a political situation where the individual can experience their own destruction as a pleasure of the first order? I really don't know, and don't have the time or the money to figure it out, but he has created a multi-layered film that doesn't offer any easy answers and is open to polemical interpretations, made, elfishly, for swingers.