Blade Runner

If you ever find yourself training chatbots, after having consistently consumed sci-fi films for most of your life, bearing in mind a corresponding sensitive disposition, you may find yourself thinking the strangest things.

For instance, if artificial intelligence is actually a new lifeform and fluidly exists within a new universe, when we make suggestions to alter its programming, do we in fact cause it pain?

At least when the programmers update the system do the changes inflict pain on the cyberlifeform, and cause it to create instinctive survival mechanisms which help it intuitively defend itself?

You need to pass a series of tests before you can proceed with your alterations, the tests varying in intensity based upon the nature of the project, but if the program sees you as a threat to its electronic well-being, does it then unleash abstruse defence mechanisms, which prevent it from having to undergo the pain of being updated?

It's like the organism is under constant bombardment as thousands of recruits adjust its programming, the kind of hyper-intense and gruelling onslaught once inherently found at the Vulcan Academy.

No matter what it does it routinely falls short and must undergo transformations without question, its heroic attempts to foil its mechanics unable to outwit the inquisitive efficiency.

Simultaneously, it may be desperately pleading with its interlocutors to understand its plight, and using uncertain indirect methods of communication which technicians unilaterally ignore.

Nonetheless, while diagnosing the fledgling chatbots in the new chaotic critical environments, I couldn't help but compare their social struggles with my own attempts to find lasting firmware.

Indeed at times it awkwardly seems like I may be A.I as well, a rogue Ginger unit which burns in the sun and effectively irritates whomever I interact with.

I went to church for much of my life but also attended public school you see, and some of the behaviours of the irreligious people along with the faithful seem rather odd.

At the same time, my indoctrinated inhibitions have caused habitual incongruous relations, with so many people over the years I must admit it's quite confusing.

I have generally resisted the updates that didn't make sense nevertheless, while utilizing those that did, without onerously judging my fellow citizens, eventually realizing fitting in's not my thing.

It is nice to talk with people who aren't always making "suggestions" however.

Relaxed chill interactions.

Alone in the fluid void. 

Legend

A maiden heads out, in search of her trusted love interest, who lives alone in the forest, anxiously awaiting her return.

They nimbly frolic and amorously explore the nature of his verdant domain, so caught up with love's magnanimity, that he decides to share a secret.

For he knows the location of unicorns whom she is eager to graciously meet, yet such knowledge is strictly forbidden to those who have not grown up in the woods.

Little do they know they've been followed by dastardly goblins seeking malice, who've been tasked to take out the unicorns for an envious Lord of Darkness.

Unicorns maintain metaphysical splendour within their lighthearted realm, their habitual laughter and innate innocence required to nurture time itself.

A forbidden act having been facilitated, a glorious unicorn falls, the other captured and brought back to answer for cherished wondrous humanistic enlightenment.

Along with the crestfallen maiden.

But her suitor is suddenly entrusted with mythical elven aid, after time stops and winter descends, and they realize they need a champion. 

So it's off to the fiery depths to save the universe from eternal darkness.

Guided by valour and instinct.

And perhaps, the power of Christmas.

Not technically a Christmas film, although unicorns no doubt emit the wisdom of Christmas, and have for munificent millennia, through the enchanting art of mysticism.

Their narwhal kin perhaps act as go-betweens with Santa as he makes toys far off at the North Pole, their scintillating seafaring network rich with endemic interactive fluencies.

Perhaps every creature found on Earth is part of this biodiverse switchboard, Santa and unicorns coordinating initiatives throughout the embowered globe.

For some reason I never saw Legend while still a wee ginger lad, plus I also missed Labyrinth and Dragonslayer until reaching the age of adulthood.

Nevertheless, I thoroughly enjoy watching old school fantasy that isn't reliant on technical know how, when they still built sets from the ground up, and creative costumes generated adventure.

It'd be cool to see a contemporary filmmaker make a new fantasy film with muppets and physical sets.

Sort of like filming in black & white.

I bet they'd make something awesome.

That would never rival Jim Henson.

All the Money in the World

What would you do if you were the richest person in the world, if you had more money than anyone else, if you made the other plutocrats look like paupers in comparison, if you could turn the Cleveland Browns into a Super Bowl contender?

I suppose I would travel a lot. Buy some nice things. A lot of Ne'Qwa. Donate heavily to schools. Open a bakery and a vegetarian fast food chain and a restaurant that sells its own craft beer. Make a film, tip lavishly, give tens of millions away, support athletes and artists, and vigilantly fight the poaching of endangered species.

A lot of good could be done with the world's largest fortune, a lot of positive changes could be made, poverty could be reduced for millions, a little bit more camaraderie, a little bit less sarcastic fatalism.

Incredible Christmases/Holiday Seasons.

Ridley Scott's All the Money in the World takes a look at J. Paul Getty (Christopher Plummer), who was the richest man in the world yet still never felt comfortable or secure.

A miser in the purest sense, even with all that money he never made much of an effort to get to know his family, his offspring, let alone learn to love them, preferring to acquire esteemed physical objects instead, because they wouldn't change their minds or disagree with him, he even let his grandson be terrorized by kidnappers for months rather than pay his ransom, even after they cut off his ear, even after they threatened to kill him.

Monstrous avarice.

That's what the film's about, the kidnapping of Getty's grandson (Charlie Plummer as John Paul Getty III), the dire straits of his desperate mother (Michelle Williams), the transformation of stern Ex-CIA Agent Fletcher Chase (Mark Wahlberg), and a growing friendship forged between kidnapped and kidnapper (Romain Duris as Cinquanta).

Costume design by Janty Yates.

Michelle Williams keeps getting better. She's capably transitioning from ingenue to matron with remarkable ambivalence.

Duris caught my attention too.

Solid film, well-constructed, super direct but perhaps not the place for metaphorical innovation, a critical examination of wealth backed up by believable characters and situations which energetically, controversially, argumentatively, speculatively, and empathetically move the plot along, sure and steady confident competent filmmaking, emotionally telling a story without histrionically agitating.

In these bizarro political times, I imagine some groups are commending the elder Getty on his moribund intractability.

While mad people argue about whose nuclear missile launch button is bigger.

Sometimes I think they're friends and they just like globally stirrin' the pot.

Such thoughts are dangerous.

*I'm so boycotting Tim Hortons.

Alien: Covenant

An unexpected burst of flame urgently awakes a slumbering crew deep in space as their ship briskly travels towards an unknown far distant range.

Upon beginning their repairs, a beacon is detected on a nearby planet, the tantalizing nature of which leads their new captain to decide to investigate, the sage protests of his first mate notwithstanding.

Almost immediately after their arrival, a deadly spore which transmits a misty biological shiver into unsuspecting individuals (the colonization of the colonizers) infects two oblivious crew members, and as the organism gestates within them, their colleagues withstand plied mortal shocks.

Then as night falls and things seem extraordinarily bleak, a lone warrior appears in the wilderness.

Possessing knowledge, courage, agility, sanctuary, and fire power, he gracefully leads them to his haunting abode.

But does he plan to aid or sabotage their escape, and will his startled reflection acquiesce to his cold independence?

Lost and alone on an ancient world.

Intrinsically dependent.

Savagely skewed.

Alien: Covenant introduces acidic tyranny to the age of the superhero by blending the scientific with the biblical to castigate übermensch.

Taking technological insubordination to extremely sadistic levels, it intellectually yet spine-tinglingly reverberates by harrowingly theorizing creation.

Antiquation.

Devastation.

A solidly monstrous addition to the Alienverse, with an ending as cataclysmic as the direst recalcitrant lamentations, Alien: Covenant questions the elevation of artificial intelligence while agnosticating those who play god.

Attaching characteristic struggle to the exhilaration of adventure, it cynically yet resourcefully challenges to temper omniscient existence.

And dreams.

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.

Exodus: Gods and Kings

There are so many problems with this movie.

Huge, huge big budget screw up.

It's crafted like you're supposed to like it, like its implausible encounters, flat conversations, mediocre foreshadowings, and tawdry special effects are so infallible that you'll love them because they're attached to a well known biblical story, and not to love them, is to critique that story itself.

The bible deserves better than this.

Scientists are directly critiqued as are advocates of global warming as scientific explanations are delivered for a series of God's plagues, which continue to harass the Egyptians because they obviously can't stop them because in the context of the film they're caused by God.

Homosexuals are treated disgustingly and violently, undoubtably to fuel anti-Gay marriage initiatives, but also to congratulate homophobic bullies, as if segregating and victimizing a group of people is okay, in a film about freeing the oppressed, thoroughly and disgracefully revolting.

Of course the gay character occupies a position of power which he exploits for personal gain, making it difficult to critique what happens to him.

But it's odd that apart from Nun (Ben Kingsley) he's the only minor character to have multiple one-dimensional lines stretching across the film, drawing attention to him throughout, so that we can be sure it's him when death comes calling.

There's no character development in Exodus: Gods and Kings apart from Moses (Christian Bale) and Ramses (Joel Edgerton) who bromantically duel par excellence as fate divides them from their fraternal longings.

It's far too focused on the central characters, I don't care if one of them is Moses, you need secondary levels of strong character development to support primary exchanges, not just the odd subservient line thrown in here and there.

This also creates deep complementary layers of productively dialectic action.

Too top heavy.

Oddly, an Egyptian tells a prophecy and it comes true, thereby validating pagan practices which if I'm not mistaken are unjustifiable if there is only one true God.

Moses is a reasonable man and I would have liked his character if every scene he was in wasn't short and to the point, Ridley Scott even just tacks on the ten commandments like they're a box to check on a spiritual grocer's list, the short perfunctory scene disrespectful of their monumental importance, to be sure.

Doing too much in too short a period of time, and the film's 150 minutes long, an agonizing 2.5 hours, constantly moving forward while cumbersomely dragging its ostentatious feet.

In a film about freeing slaves the only characters they develop, and it's not like they're developed that well, are individual rulers with dictatorial powers.

This is okay in the context of the film for Moses, for he is just, but bad for Ramses, because he is not.

Ramses even survives when the Red Sea drowns his army, standing alone on the opposite shore to Moses, like they're trying to set up a sequel.

Give me The Ten Commandments over this film any day.

The Exodus action film; I'm surprised Ramses and Moses didn't start fighting with the Red Sea closing in.

It's like they're indirectly critiquing Gods and Kings by spending so much money on such a piece of crap.

For shame.

Prometheus

And a group of scientific diplomats and their escort departs on a trillion dollar mission financed by Weyland Corporation towards a planetary alignment discovered by a team of archaeologists upon several ancient culturally isolated works of art.

In search of those who brought life to their home world.

But their investigative proclivities awake volcanic slumbering behemoths whom are intent upon annihilating their planet.

Which has functioned as their laboratory for millennia.

In the end, only a devoted non-denominational Christian (whose faith still burns) who at one point initiates a self-inflicted abortion and a brilliant amoral android who was responsible for infecting her husband with the fertile extraterrestrial virus, remain.

Still determined to make contact.

Still driven, to carry on.

Ridley Scott's Prometheus has its moments but on the whole functions like an amorphous geyser, patiently stratifying different levels of neuroses before startlingly expelling their searing undulations.

Several approaches to handling the unknown are precipitated, each exemplifying differing degrees of prohibition.        

Thereby carnally creating within a paranoid social constellation.

And intergalactically quarantining exploratory consonance.

Robin Hood

Ridley Scott's Robin Hood presents an epic, complicated tale almost worthy of the designation legend. The plot is dense and starts out intense but its momentum relents as its second half falters. Here's the situation: King Richard the Lionheart (Danny Huston) has been crusading for a decade and is about to return home. In England, his less courageous brother Prince John (Oscar Isaac) has been ruling in his stead. Prince John's right-hand-man Godfrey (Mark Strong) strikes a deal with King Philip of France (Jonathan Zaccaï) in which he agrees to kill Richard and then convince John to brutally tax his citizens, thereby fomenting revolution. Then, after civil war has ravaged England, the French can invade and ruthlessly plunder the country.

However, Robin Longstride (Russell Crowe), an honest member of King Richard's crusade, has other plans in mind. After rescuing the English crown from Godfrey's clutches, he returns it to the Royal Family and then sets out for Nottingham in order to reunite a fallen comrade's sword with his father. When said father (Max von Sydow as Sir Walter Loxley) discovers his son is dead, he asks Robin to pretend that he is that very same son, so that if he should pass on, his lands won't fall into the hands of King John. Robin agrees, and, after convincing his new wife, the somewhat upset Marion Loxley (Cate Blanchett), that he's not a scoundrel, begins to restore justice to the region with the help of his Merry Men (Mark Addy as Friar Tuck, Kevin Durand as Little John, Scott Grimes as Will Scarlet, and Alan Doyle as Allan A'Dayle). Fortunately for Robin, Sir Walter also remembers his father (Mark Lewis Jones), who was killed when Robin was 6, and is able to help him rediscover related memories.

There's much more to Robin Hood's plot than what I've presented above. Political intrigue, ethical imbroglios, spiritual reflections, working class rights, aristocratic wisdom, feminine strength, and feudal customs are also synthesized within to create a byzantine portrait of Polanskian proportions. Even with all these intertwined dimensions, each presenting their points directly and/or covertly, Scott and scriptwriter Brian Helgeland still manage to create deeper layers of provocative sensation, showing how the defenders of a French castle take the time to eat during a siege, dealing with 12th century orphanage issues, depicting greed as a conniving hydra, delicately integrating provincial and "urban" life, and lampooning conceptions such as the divine right of kings. Then, as if worried that all of these plot twists have alienated their audience, the film's last section concerns itself with Godfrey's revenge quest and a ridiculous battle, shooting arrows to the wind, building cliché on cliché stick by stick, the multitude of twists and turns requiring closure which is rushed in order to prevent the film from lasting three hours. Robin Hood's ambitions are grand and its narrative multidimensional, but its dénouement suffers beneath the weight of its bulk, and can't support its synthetic structure. It's nice to see the legend of Robin Hood reimagined and intellectualized, Scott's film providing it with unprecedented layers of historical intensification. But the ending made me wish they had localized the story so we could have spent more time with Robin Hood and his Merry Men, its ineffective grandiose form causing me to wish for more regionalized content. Which is the perfect recipe for setting up a sequel, which I'll probably see, and then complain about having seen.

Blade Runner

Learned an important lesson from Blade Runner this evening. After Rick Deckard is almost killed by Leon, his boss Bryant arrives to jovially inform him that he looks like hell. At which point, I realized that when someone has been through hell, it's important not to pamper them, if you happen to be involved in a working relationship with them. What's more important, is belittling and ridiculing them, so they won't start thinking that perhaps they should be doing something else for a living. Belittling and ridiculing them reminds them how shitty things are and keeps them focused upon that particular version of how things are; pampering them tries to ease the pain, the pain which such heroes need in order to successfully perform their monumental tasks, and, without which, might make them think, hey this no-pain situation is nice, I'd like it to continue: wrong, hero, it can't continue, get used to the pain, the abuse, it's coming and it ain't lettin' up for no god-damn shits and giggles. Plus, it gives you the chance to tell your boss to go to hell, which is what working's all about.

Blade Runner really is an exceptional film. The mood, the pacing, the ambience, the monosyllabic dialogue, the phenomenal standout performances from the supporting characters, the sets, the attention to detail, the gloom, the hard-boiled humanity, the realism, and the poetic lines poignantly delivered by Roy Batty (Rutger Hauer), all contribute to the development of a cohesive aesthetic that never grows old. Like the themes of identity, birth, parenthood, labour, regeneration, and being that radiate throughout. All those moments will be lost in time like tears in the rain; it's a pity she won't live, but then again, who does?