Leningrad Cowboys Go America

An unknown band communally flourishes in frozen northern realms, its upbeat traditional variety inspiring personal localized legend.

Yet their manager (Matti Pellonpää as Vladimir) has grown tired of just subsisting in grand obscurity, so he invites a well-known producer to evaluate offhand.

The results are by no means favourable although he provides constructive criticism, recommending a tour of America to showcase their zesty sound.

They've never left their cozy village and are unfamiliar with Western ways, yet they still seek widespread recognition and offbeat accolades.

Fortunately they learn swiftly and can make instantaneous adjustments, for their music doesn't inspire Manhattan and they're soon off for nimble Mexico.

Along the way they must jive and improvise according to regional preferences, for their finances lack exorbitance as they exercise in/congruity.

Their manager embraces capitalism and will not distribute that which they earn, their hunger erupting with molten fury as time slowly and thoughtfully passes.

They have learned the basics of English and can play anything they set their minds to, without ever rehearsing or even practising, acritical discursive maestros.

Yet they've been followed in spite of commands to the sincere vituperative contrary, the acolyte seeking a constructive role, aligned with indeterminate function.

Leningrad Cowboys Go America breaks things down to material instinct, while resilient spirits exuberantly chant, with extemporaneous unsung virtuosity.

And a Jim Jarmusch (Car Dealer) cameo.

Absurdity perhaps depicts the feisty subconscious of the aloud unspoken, but do such invigorations not surely emit down to earth realistic theatre?

If a dream is materially manifested and proceeds through spiritual trial and error, is comedy therefore strictly irrequisite to unpronounced disconsolate duty?

How else does the rational adroitly maintain well-reasoned logical dispassionate argument, if it hasn't been hewn by animate sacrifice born of consequent Kafkaesque rupture?

The Cowboys make their way South and forthrightly and freely excel, but if they had been an instant success, would they ever have even bothered?

Who knows?, it's difficult to say, we don't learn much about what they're thinking, just that they have a gig and they make it after versatile commiseration.

Presumably, so much is unsaid as potent difference decrees manifested.

At one point they present a resonant anthem.

Voltaic demonstrative poise.

Dallas Buyers Club

When confronted with the gripping prospect of death, Dallas Buyers Club's Ron Woodroof (Matthew McConaughey) cursively refuses to back down.

Economically finding a way to prolong his counterintuitive friction, he proactively rides the bull, adjusting prejudicial preferences in the meantime, gesticulating, matriculating, stanced.

This ___ker knows how to rock a library.

He does his research, finds alternatives, makes hard decisions, goes into business, and proceeds to assist those who had been condescendingly written off.

The butterfly scene boils it down.

The film's straightforward yet punctual and provocative, brazenly tackling hard-hitting browbeaten issues of gender and sex, not to mention the pretensions of the American medical establishment, friendships and partnerships metamorphically blossoming, underground economies, financing the bloom.

Once again we find economic justifications for a more inclusive sociocultural dynamic, more customers, more profits, sustainable social programs, this time in the heart of Texas.

One of the most unlikeliest humanitarian activists I've seen.

His interests are initially individualistic, but he reaches higher ground throughout his transformation.

Possible oscar nomination for McConaughey?