Ordet

Dishevelled madness emphatically accompanies a scholarly son who embraced study, and took grand imposing theological works to distressed soul and body and mind.

Even amongst an upright people from a severe age religiously endowed, this devout son seems neigh unreachable according to quotidian scripture. 

Upon the farm, one of his brothers is raising a family without faith, his wife dutifully reproaching him yet still conjugally resigned.

His other sibling wholeheartedly seeks the adoring hand of a tailor's daughter, who believes in different spiritual traditions his father scorns with vehement sacrilege. 

Yet united through familial bonds they nurture strength and disciplined fortitude, resolutely caring for one another with kind pastoral bucolic eagerness.

The little children believe their uncle who predicts the future and heralds spirits, with the sincere trusting uncorrupted eye of wondrous observant faithful innocents.

Complications shatter the harmonious simplicity when routine child birth welcomes constraint, and bewildering death despotically envisages humbling loneliness and stoic resolve.

The insane blunt stark reincarnation proclaiming sheer and utter disillusion.

Before objective patience and despondent synergies boldly reawaken slumbering ecstasy. 

Strange to see grim volatile criticisms awkwardly dividing a farming village, acquiesced demographic consistency effectively determining biblical denomination. 

So many divergent alternative faiths vicissitudinously claiming divinity, with fisticuffs and arguments and drills literately fusing spiritual discord.

Ordet's style of film is something I'm not used to a direct illustration of imaginative belief, wherein which archaic lecture and austere fervency generously coalesce with narrative affection.

Was there once a time when religious tales showcasing family life and exotic miracles, widely dominated domestic markets inquisitively inhabited by the faithful?

Was faith so strong that supernatural and otherworldly films created revenue, and were in a studio's best interest to modestly disseminate with robust vigour?

Like the western it likely faded with the secular passage of peaceful times, in the constructive wake of blinding wars which reduced humanity to so much rubble.

Discursive realities monumental trends enthusiastically enriching coffers.

Novelty to trend to anachronism.

Back to school.

Chapter and verse. 

Terror of Mechagodzilla

Robotic remnants sensationally scattered seabed sentiment covertly collected, awestruck absence belittled jaunting seductive salvage automaton rancour.

Dilettante dinosaur secluded submersion indelicate mind coercive concept, malignant control symbiotic surrogate submaritime sawdust cantankerous clippings.

Stealthy environs determinate strategy hamstrung hijacking tantalizing salience, interplanetary postures ambient armageddon abhorrent apocalypse enigmatic experiment. 

Familial felicity parental pondering dogmatic child filial fidelity, cloistered core values innocent isolation dutiful dagnabbit sequestered solace. 

Indisposed resurrection mechanized reanimation Domtar domination Mechagodzilla, disputatious temperaments argumentative outbursts insouciant ardour eclectic acrimony.

Finagled friendship tantamount teamwork tumultuous talents solemn smithereens, colossal candidature misaligned militants monstrous agglomeration global annexation.

Clandestine infiltration insatiable station erratic complacence dissident contemplation, eminent embarkation exotic distillation yabba-dabba nascence Doonesbury cadence.

Conscientious reluctance harbinger hesitance awkward immersion frenetic fervour, disciplined dalliance rebellious remonstrance Ringwaldo whereabouts lumberfreejacoby's.

Damselznick infatuation co-opted cohesion nefarious negligence neolithic hide, discursive disruptor alien agonzo meticulous Malachi Mt. Rushmoroeuvre. 

Canteborn conducive Caladan candlelight amorustik-tok acoustic ambrosia, agonized decomposed sullen altercation romantic maladroit dissonent engagement. 

Truculent emergence legionnaire lizardoz counterintuitive calicode succour, impassioned battle gargantuan Grenoble despondent destruction gainsay Godzilla.

Epoch endurance silicon studios eccentric enchantments mayhem metamorphoses, consistent concomitant delirious dramaturge ferocious febrile bewildering frequencies.

Endemic change multivariable matadors exuberant bastions abbreviated dispatch, agile acclimations bizarro adaptations extemporaneous interludes geologic sashay.

I wish I could get the sound Godzilla makes on my keyboard.

Audible discernment.

Wavelength latitude. 

Godzilla vs. Hedorah

Embryonic entity necrobotically nurtured infrequently on toxic sludge, post-war excesses woebegone waste detrimentally devastating fertile environments.

Non-existent strategic sustenance absent agendas a lack of will, built-up battlements pestiferous platforms swathed in sewage pernicious poison. 

Centripetal citizenship delicate direction scientific treatises elastic experiments, improvised research piecemeal prognoses acrimonious accidents exacting detail.

Innocent emphatic hopeful reveries freeform playtime spirited dreams, once widely feared and collectively criticized the colossal Godzilla resolutely revered. 

Alien life awkward extraterrestrials fumigaseously feasting on industrial run-off, handlebar hostilities universal clash intergalactic gauze interstellar antipathies. 

Rhythmic reverberations mythical music mirthful melodic hucklebear harmonies, serendipitous scales chromatic metre choral choir clef aerodynamic accolades. 

Worrisome windswept whac-a-mole waffling gargoyle gargantuan maladroit membrane, corporeal carnage objective lesion autocratic cauldron despotic debacle.

Thunderous thermal radioactivity electronic seven-eleven endocrine, scuba-divining oracular auspices clairvoyant cavalcade omniscientific. 

Bellicose brawndywine consistent contagion cumulous cudgel Florentine femurmur, nebulous 'nagerie opaque quibulletin austere obscurity pestilent penchant.

Sustainable mercantile healthy matriculation robust reclamation febrile reforestation, salubrious soil unembellished breath ameli'ore aquifer nutrient Nanabush. 

Refined respiration jungle gymnastics débutante desert mountainous malternate, undersea sequential subsumed serenity verdant conglomerate camplified glade. 

Cool to see the Godzilla movies sticking up for healthy environments.

Science constructively woven in as usual.

With the traditional focus on artistic expression.

Embowering conscience.

Cerebral simplicity. 

The Fabulous Baron Munchausen

A fantastic fanciful tale eloquently embroidered with enigmatic elasticity, effervescently afloat in ethereal sentiments neigh nautically nebulous efficacious shrugs. 

The dawn of reason of scientific experiment was not without its spirited disclaimers, or at least those who still held fast to incorporeal invention lackadaisically improvised through rhythmic song.

No doubt fearful of lavish reliable widespread streams of revenue drying up, old school traditions wistfully wielded newfound technologies with regal candour.

The new realistic phenomenon most likely responded with fashionable devices (freezers, fridges), which in turn functioned like objective magic and called into question immaterial states.

The ingratiating practical convenience likely won over many orthodox critics, once wholesomely familiar with domestic trends so ubiquitously enveloping they seemed naturalistic.

But the innovative technologies hadn't innocently counted on devastating spiritual longing, or the intense desire to awkwardly believe in ornate grandiose fluid impossibility. 

Thus, wild literary tales continued to advance intangible tractability, for the recreational chez sensational cultivation of ludic flight.

Unfortunately, the collective will to absolutely choose one or the other, led to palpable global distress for many an onerous discordant decade.

Although one option did seem to incorporate facets of theology and agnosticism, and seemed less restrictive in the imposing long-run assuming you kept a level head.

It was ironic that gallant inconclusions rambunctiously led to strict adherence, the fledgling materialism theoretically disposed to communal liberality freeform disjunction. 

Yet obsessed with outmaneuvering their ancient agitators on the world stage, many freedoms were correspondingly denied while many educators bravely deemed otherwise.

Fortunately, there were cultivated realms who did indeed blend and mix and synthesize, to imaginatively create emancipatory domains wherein which bold freedom mischievously manifested.

Still caught between invasive impulses to chaotically rule with dull authority. 

Fearful of invention, loath to spin yarns. 

Over and over.

Ad infinitum. 

The Adventures of Baron Munchausen

The recreational impulse to tell lively tales improvisationally immersed in exotic wonder, effectively drives so much interactivity as days slowly pass and nights stall and linger.

There are so many rules to strictly follow that sensational stories encourage emancipation, being able to fly or breathe under water miraculously motivating agile daydreams.

For children ensconced in unknown consistently reimagined otherworldly lessons, many of which wildly champion imagination the fledgling instincts to revel cathartic. 

Yet balanced with practical reasoning the traditional realities corresponding to our species, birds fly and fish breathe under water while chipmunks and squirrels don't want to be pets.

Distressing unsettling to be sure as one soulfully seeks corporeal independence, to leave the confines of the body behind and transform into pure energy like they do on Star Trek.

Evolution acclimatizing piecemeal as centuries pass and eons articulate, the gradual biological attunements so subtle and microscopic they matriculate unnoticed.

Atemporally speaking still like fresh miracles the remarkable adaptations made to environments over time, many of which seem to have been accompanied by desires to collectively transform and easily acquire nutrients.

The slow passage of time ingenious in its bearings logically enables evolutionary traction, diverse environments habitually gathering sly multivariable communal constructs.

It's not to say to let dreams slowly fade and stoically embrace painstaking millennia, at night and on weekends the transmission of narratives creatively subsists to generate pause.

To fruitfully exercise unorthodox peculiarities through artistic invention and ludic lullaby, makes for less dull invigorating pastimes as things progress, revert or stagnate.

To recklessly play with constructed reality with poorly thought out alternative designs, if in a position of power and gaudy influence has destructive abrasive effects.

The disastrous ways in which the Second World War cacophonously devastated so much of the world, effortlessly critiques ambitious yearnings which ruthlessly seek what isn't for sale.

To remember the difference between fantasy and reality upon embarking on mature expeditions, doesn't mean the former can't be referenced but also encourages logic and reason.

Logic and reason are much more preferable day in and day out as the seasons pass by.

And cooler heads manage things through fact and instruction.

Without worrying about comment and headlines. 

Frankenstein

Once again, literate compassion for the soulful and tender reanimated beast, stitched together reconstituted to forever cheat vainglorious mortality.

When left alone far off and sheltered his innate world-weary warm-heart shines through, his resplendent inner-beauty impeccably beaming with forthright enriching illuminated humanism.

Such a shame that fleeting appearances mean so so so much in the eyes of so many, when countless wise and spiritual educators proactively rationalize the sheer illusion.

At times, it applies both ways to sights pleasant or disagreeable to the eye, both generally distasteful to tenacious treatises and their orthodox criticisms of aesthetics and disconcertment. 

But acting without concern for the inherent nature of unalterable characteristics, leads to much more pleasant thoughtful dialogue in terms of multivariable individual expression.

Through the mass cultivation of the many the reliance on appearance wholeheartedly fades, and sprightly exclamatory universals collectively diversify through latent whimsy.

Thus the blind inclinations which recklessly lead towards herd classifications, relatively loosen their stubborn prejudices and once again nurture the youthful life.

But Frankenstein's creation is herded and ruthlessly attacked through no fault of his own, and then elaborately made to suffer for having striven to defend himself.

That was what struck me from the novel anyways as I imagine I've mentioned before, the poor isolated creature alone and scared secretly monitoring the woodland family.

Completely unaware of his strength and innocently oblivious to old world hatreds, still faintly hoping to engage in conversation to not have to dwell forsaken in shadow.

That's always been the story for me not the depressing antagonistic aftermath. 

Which The Dodo challenges every day. 

Through the heartwarming preservation of life. 

The Thing from Another World

Finally watched the original film depicting John W. Campbell's story Who Goes There?, which is much more of a lighthearted romp than the chilling masterpiece hewn by John Carpenter. 

It's Science vs. The Military in 1951 and in The Thing from Another World the army reigns supreme, the resident scientists made to look like fools who can't reasonably understand the imminent danger.

In fact the scientists take great risks in the pursuit of knowledge to save the monster, who rebukes their heartfelt efforts with morose haughty intergalactic derision. 

They even have foreign accents and are much more internationally inclined, facets which latently upset the good old commandos who quickly take charge of the distressing scene.

The pursuit of knowledge is indeed not nearly as reckless as its dismissively portrayed in this film, which came out as ruthless McCarthyism was ignorantly spreading across the U.S.

The Thing is even organic in this version it comes from a far off vegetal world, where veggies evolved to become the dominant lifeform as humanoids did upon our own (although I'm starting to think bees are a higher form of life [they have wings]). 

In the film the military worries that the highly advanced commie vegetable from space, will eventually take over the entire planet and no doubt unleash ubiquitous environmentalism. 

The scientists look like mad unAmerican conspirators as they struggle to save the alien.

Imagine a time when this kind of thing proliferated.

Hopefully it never comes to pass again.

At least one scientist must be crazy in Who Goes There? since one of them loses it in The Thing (1982) as well, although his data makes hysterical sense considering how much more adaptive it is in Carpenter's film.

Whereas The Thing from Another World is happy-go-lucky sci-fi within which you'd never expect anything to go wrong, Carpenter's Thing is a chilling opus where it's tough to imagine anything going right.

If you watch monster movies throughout your life because they exist and you're sporadically curious, it's tough to find ones you want to watch again, since a lot of them just seek to make quick casholla.

But every once in a while visionary directors roguishly emerge to offer something different.

And take their time to craft memorable metastases. 

With alarming accuracy.

And emboldened vision.

*It looks like Carpenter was fun to work for. It seems like some of his casts really enjoyed working together when you watch his films. That kind of thing can add so much to an aesthetic, or ironically create a friendly dreamlike counterbalance to the mayhem. 

The Adventures of Mark Twain

Mark Twain elaborately concocts a unique imaginative flying machine, upon which he chases Halley's Comet with three fortunate literary stowaways. 

Tom, Huck and Becky are unsure as to how to proceed, and never really settle into the versatile invention, inquisitively searching for structure and meaning while instinctually absorbing the bountiful narratives.

Stories within yarns within tales within legends creatively emerge with theoretical whimsy, presented through curious lighthearted exploration as the kids heuristically investigate away.

A ship much more like a mind its multivariable elements cascading, through trial and error and riveting hypotheses its temporal comportment ahistorical.

Perhaps part of the paradigm shift which led to much less severe religious interpretations, wherein which the literal executions lost their prominent cultural influence.

A move away from exacting obsessions with extremely precise uptight rules and regulations, to a more open-hearted freeform compendium liberally composed through manifold alternatives.

Twain himself struggles with the dutiful recognition of a regenerative constituent bipolar renaissance, within which his psyche proactively duels while realistically resonating rationales less ideological.

Difficult to suppress the reflections at times while ethically composed and poignantly accentuated, the active latent indissoluble antipodes habitually insistent with reckless remonstrance.

Thus, the importance of laidback comedy from pent-up time to pent-up time, not the new obsessive violent variety but the less destructive impulses of Twain and Chaplin. 

Twain's ideas and clever witticisms are seductively sprinkled throughout the script, his observant well-timed well-crafted comments judiciously diversifying tact and treatise.

Not often a public figure is so universally commended without crude accompaniment, when do you ever here anything negative critically mentioned about the old school phenom?

The Adventures of Mark Twain may have passed under the radar way back in my youth I admit I had never heard of it, at least until around this time last week when it suddenly seemed like a cool film to see.

Definitely a chill film for children interested in reading and bizarro imagination, a claymation gateway to a world of books poetically awaiting at the local library. 

Twain's insights make the film fun for grouchy adults who might not want to watch another kids film at the same time.

Perhaps overlooked due to its harmless unorthodox reflections on religion.

Which I thought were charmingly displayed.  

The Man from Earth

A well-liked professor announces he's leaving to his disappointed and confused thoughtful colleagues, the sudden nature of the shocking departure ruffling an inquisitive feather or two.

He tries to swiftly hit the road but they manage to convince him to stay for a party, which he begrudgingly agrees to attend without much enthusiastic pomp and ceremony.

Some people just don't like farewell gatherings and aren't habitually attuned to free-flowing emotion, but in this case it has more to do with the solemn fact that he's immortal.

His friends are naturally curious about why he's leaving and where he intends to go, and he awkwardly avoids their questions before simply telling it like it is.

Being of intellectual dispositions they're instinctually prone to doubt such claims, and proceed to effortlessly introduce highly spirited qualms and refutations. 

He's quite an agreeable chap though and is able to congenially hold his own, slowly but surely breaking down barriers intuitively contradicting his eccentric bearing. 

Dating back over 140,000 years he has clever things to say about so many different things.

Even if he needs to leave when people notice he doesn't age.

Having immersed himself in so many epochs. 

With people so formerly aggressive and much more covetous of their feudal neighbours, living for 140,000 years seems like it would have blended impossible odds with infinite distress.

To avoid so many roll calls to consistently keep head attached to neck, while learning so many languages and variable customs throughout the millennia. 

I imagine you could move to different cities and creatively remain for a century or two, and fluidly observe the dynamic ebb and flow with crafty relatable multivariability. 

It would have been cool before colonialism to have travelled to North South America and Australia, and live there for thousands of years you'd possess so much indigenous wisdom. 

The Man from Earth's a lot of fun with a cool cast of characters from old school pop culture (Tony Todd, David Lee Smith, John Billingsley, Ellen Crawford, Annika Peterson, William Katt, Alexis Thorpe, Richard Riehle), demonstrating their chops with reliable industry in a cool chillin' script straight out of Star Trek's finest.

I don't deny the possibility that such immortals may live among us.

You'd have to wonder if they ever get bored.

So much to do.

So little time! 

Jurassic World Dominion

Back to the old power and megalomania hellbent on global domination, this time having genetically engineered giant locusts which habitually feast on various crops worldwide.

Various crops which happen to have been resolutely cultivated with Biosyn seeds, Biosyn having created a market (like Monsanto?) for its grain, then proceeded to wipe out every form of competition.

Dr. Wu (BD Wong) realizes catastrophe's afoot but can't seek redemption without looking bad, let millions of people starve to death or risk losing face, he wants to make amends but can't think of how to do so.

He's denied by his wicked boss (Campbell Scott as Lewis Dodgson) whose evil intent is rebelliously disputed, as both Jurassic World and Jurassic Park alumni converge on his remote laboratory. 

Doctors Ellie Sattler (Laura Dern) and Alan Grant (Sam Neill) representing scientists generally seeking to promote knowledgeable wonder, like the bourgeoisie they rely on funding to make spiritually prosperous cultural contributions.

Claire (Bryce Dallas Howard) and Mr. Grady (Chris Pratt) are more hands on and take a practical approach to living with dinosaurs, like versatile independent conscientious workers they promote sustainable communal life.

Thus, the mad elitist seeking to monopolize global food production, is courageously challenged by worker and middle-management who daringly obscure his psychotic vision.

But Jurassic World Dominion is also about a world where dinosaurs abound, multiple species fortuitously finding a way to generally adapt to divergent ecosystems.

I suppose it would be a grandiose ecological disaster of intensified colossal invasive magnitude, but thoughts like that kind of spoil the fun, and contemporary and ancient species alike seem to be getting along so well in the film (it's just a movie).

I was almost teary-eyed to see Laura Dern and Sam Neill back at it, after so many intervening years, was but a wee lad when the original came out, I was reading the book at the time, which I thoroughly loved, it's my favourite Michael Crichton.

Apart from the requisite mayhem and the inevitable hoopla of the traditional blockbuster, there are some really cool animal scenes, especially one where Dr. Sattler sees a baby, and says, "you never get used to it".

People who love animals know how true those words are, and that even if you see wild turtles or zebras or water buffalos every day of your life, the experience never gets old or tiresome, it's irrefutably exciting each and every time.

That scene made the film for me and it was also really cool to see the two casts converge.

The likelihood of their plan succeeding: it's up for debate.

Certainly not without the aid of Ms. Watts (DeWanda Wise) and Mr. Cole (Mamoudou Athie).  

Bride of Frankenstein

People continue to misunderstand Frankenstein's (Boris Karloff) harmless peaceful ambitions, and set out to thoroughly destroy him with distraught malevolent intent.

He's somewhat confused by the grandiose distress and realizes he must avoid the village, hiding out in the surrounding forest where he longs for inclusivity. 

Life's life and who's to challenge what lives if it co-exists with equanimity, securing an active balanced role within Earth's multidimensional nexus.

Frankenstein understands this and strives to harmoniously make friends, but fear and aesthetic prejudice lead to inhospitable conflict.

Meanwhile, another scientist takes wholesome pity on the troubled lad (Ernest Thesiger as Dr. Pretorius), and theorizes that traditional heteronormative constructs may lead to acculturation.

He enlists the reluctant aid of Frankenstein's industrious forefather (Colin Clive as Henry Frankenstein), and sets about creating a mate to appease tumultuous chaotic bearings.

Frankenstein seems somewhat relieved by the altruistic acclamation, having only known disarray since having been shockingly brought to life.

But there's no telling what will happen if the experiment's a success.

Conjugal communal courtly cohesion.

But what if she rejects him?

Few sequels disproportionately proceed with such ineffable progressive momentum, enticingly accelerating with riveting resonance immaculately distilled otherworldly genesis.

Few horror films possess such paramount cultural inoculations, as instinctual bellicose folly is disemboweled with airtight empathy.

The classic scenes where Frankenstein meets the visually impaired violinist living alone in the woods, modest heartfelt honest exemplars of innocent curious tame compassion.

The inspired unchecked ebullience emphatically exclaimed through experimentation, as both doctors philosophically articulate bold corporeal determinations.

Will a future filled with androids be relatively harmless as Picard hopes, or will The Terminator's prophetic bedlam come to calamitously pass?

Does the answer lie within this daring tragic Bride of Frankenstein?

Can animate life for mercy's sake . . .

Also apply to friendly robots?

Ansiktet (The Magician)

A different time, a feudal age, wherein which independent theatre was severely scrutinized, authoritative sadists ridiculing mystery applying cold-hearted principles to magical daring, inspired performance requiring sanction to entertain through fascination, the hard work sarcastically ignored the illusions castigated.

A tortured artist once proud of his talents travels from town to town, awaiting dismissive observations and outright refusals from obtuse officials. 

Happiness has been transformed into resigned melancholia, for even though he possesses great talent he's governed by austerity. 

Audiences wish to be amused by his tricks as he conjures and casts and calibrates, the integrity of seamless illusion widely sought after from age to age.

Star Trek may have never prospered.

There's no telling what would have become of vampires and werewolves.

The horrors of absolute control.

Far too concerned with practical reason.

It's not that practical reason is in itself a bad thing in fact it's obviously essential to daily life, the smooth flowing of robust commerce dependent upon its logical reckoning.

Practical film and reasonable books also generate compelling ideas, which fruitfully encourage thought and invention leading to progress and even more comfort.

But there's only so much rationality a person can take after working all week and taking care of a family, and if everything has a utilitarian purpose it may seem like work never ends.

Efficacious totalitarianism has no doubt spoiled many a relaxing weekend.

Comedy and the genres presenting absurd breaks.

Which congenially deconstruct obsession. 

Best if they don't get the upper hand either of course, surrealism best reserved for relaxed play, after work when there's nothing left to do but chill out sit back and dream.

Albert Emanuel Vogler cheats his haughty oppressors through an exceptional act of improvised dissimulation, their resultant angst increased ten-fold by the sudden news that they've been outdriven.

And a brilliant smile adorns Vogler's face as he prepares to perform once again.

The melancholia temporarily subsiding. 

As the middle-class emerges. 

Birthmarked

Two brilliant scientific lovebirds decide it's time to prove, once and for all, that the strategically planned nurturing of children can void natural dispositions, three unsuspecting young ones deliberately chosen for their experiment, unaware of their historical familial traits, ready to grow up embowered in predetermined invariability, secluded in the country far away from constant distraction, homeschooled with amorous calculation, in Emanuel Hoss-Desmarais's Birthmarked, wherein science observes with religious fervour.

A family blooms within the carefully constructed unabashed bucolic laboratory, as two brothers and a sister innocently contend with that which remains unknown, mom and dad stubbornly sticking to the prepped script, hilarity ensuing, as youth spontaneously intervenes.

Malheureusement, if the desired results are not obtained, Catherine (Toni Collette) and Ben (Matthew Goode) must reimburse their patron for every dollar he's spent financing them, and everything that's taken place has been meticulously recorded by live-in Nanny Samsonov's (Andreas Apergis) weekly summaries, and another family from Portugal seems close to publishing their comparable results first, thus, as the pressure exponentially aggrandizes, psychological stabilities contiguously implode.

Bizarro intellectual contraceptive schematics.

Yet also an endearing comedy.

Nourished in a state of nature.

Disciplined in/sincere curiosity.

The parents aren't horrible or anything, but they do use questionable methods as time runs out.

Raising someone in isolation doesn't prove anything anyways.

In regards to living, you have to let complex organisms develop immersed in the unexpected to obtain results that have even the remotest chance of being spread far and wide.

Or so I've thought.

A tiger is generally a ferocious animal.

If you remove it from the jungle and beat it mercilessly it will either die or start to perform tricks for you.

But if you monitor it in the jungle throughout its life you can obtain untainted results.

The tiger left alone to its own devices.

Natural and free.

Unencumbered by prediction or shock therapy.

Birthmarked isn't about tigers, it's about science gone wrong in its quest for objective truth.

Fortunately, it's generally okay if a scientific experiment doesn't achieve miraculous results.

It goes without saying that science is about the slow and steady application of generally agreed upon principles which are constantly scrutinized themselves in order to maximize the universal applicability of its discoveries.

Funding scientific experiments which must produce results is bullshit.

Birthmarked recognizes this and therefore doesn't seem insane while focusing too intently on the adults at the expense of the children.

Novel to see such a narrative reflected through a comedic lens which elevates independent scientific research with no strings attached, since its subject matter so easily applies itself to drama, fantasy, and horror.

Yet by proceeding comedically, the other three genres still generate critical combustions, as formal narrative diversification examines experimental contents.

Strange film.

Pacific Rim: Uprising

The mighty Jaegers have slain their Kaiju foes.

And the world is at peace once again.

Jaeger legends still equip Earth's global master narrative with sublime exemplars of self-sacrifice and heroism, nevertheless, a technological behemoth has found a way to automate their gallantry.

Yet co-creator Liwen Shao (Tian Jing) doesn't know that a former global saviour, one Dr. Newton Geiszler (Charlie Day), has fallen for the Kaiju brain he infiltrated 10 years ago, and keeps in his apartment, and as a result of their secretive romantic mind-melding, has betrayed humankind, and placed homegrown Kaiju brains within each and every hard-driven robot.

Jake Pentecost (John Boyega), son of warrior Stacker Pentecost, and Nate Lambert (Scott Eastwood), son of Clint Eastwood, are unaware of this development as they drift once more, their friendship still persisting, even if conflict once dealt it a crippling blow, world security having brought them together again, to save the planet from Kaiju attacks, round 2.

The Kaiju-brain-led-Jaeger-automatons (sort of like Krang in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) maliciously situate themselves at strategic points round the Pacific Ocean, and thunderously begin generating new breaches.

Before loyal Dr. Hermann Gottlieb (Burn Gorman) can shut them down, 3 Kaiju ascend from interplanetary oceanic depths, eventually merging to form, a monstrous ÜberKaiju.

The fate of the world may rest in the hands of one orphaned girl (Cailee Spaeny as Amara Namani), who builds her own Jaegers, and may find herself kicked out of the Jaeger training program.

For actions prohibited.

One cataclysmic day.

Pacific Rim: Uprising may lack the jaw dropping ridiculous blend of kitsch and sophistication that frankly yet elegantly adorned the original unheralded masterpiece, yet if you loved number 1 it's certainly a must see, for its characters battle Kaiju once more, and the stakes are just as high, if not even more catastrophic.

Disappointments, second chances, ingenuity, treachery, motivational speeches, teamwork, rivalry, love.

Positive attributes abound within, yet it's still quite rushed, rather impatient, like its crafters wanted a finished product as soon as humanly possible, and didn't take the time to add the refinements that made the first instalment so appealing.

Still fun though.

Much better than Independence Day 2.

Immediacy can generate a lot of compelling narratives, but it shouldn't be used to rashly justify wildly improbable scenarios, unless they're delicately timed and patiently brewed.

Another thirty minutes may have helped.

Looking forward to round 3.

Rich with inherent intergalactic instabilities.

An Inconvenient Sequel: Truth to Power

Positive growth.

Sustained undaunted environmental activism.

Mr. Al Gore and his inspiring message of hope, brilliantly documented in An Inconvenient Sequel: Truth to Power, invigoratingly offers contemporary scientific fact to fight the baseless rhetoric of the Trump administration, with both compelling truths and constructive consensus.

According to Dune, "fear is the mind killer."

Gore casts it as despair, and rationally comments upon how crushing blows to a movement, in this case Trump's ignorant decision to withdraw the United States from the Paris Climate Accord, for starters, can lead members/supporters/leaders/partners to be overwhelmed by grief and hopelessness, even though the movement still exists, even though hope is still flourishing.

His unwavering commitment provides those who believe that climate change can be reversed, that citizens of dynamic metropolises can stop breathing in a pack of cigarettes a day, that economies which no longer rely on mass fossil fuel consumption can be created, that rivers, lakes, and oceans can stop being experimental dumping grounds for toxic pollutants, destroyed by unethical businesses who won't bear the costs of conducting their affairs responsibly, with a shining flame which will not be extinguished, no matter how obstinate, well-financed, destructive, and dismissive the opposition, launching attack after attack on one's personal credibility, their well-oiled obsessions with everlastingly increasing profits driving thousands of species to extinction, while continuing to recklessly contaminate inhabitable symbiotic environments.

Politics can achieve these ends if people continue to lobby politicians to produce effective change.

The Democrats may be in a bit of a tailspin, but they'll soon be back and ready to govern.

Gore points out how markets for wind and solar are rapidly expanding throughout the world and that some cities within the United States (Texas included) now meet all of their energy demands with renewable resources.

Not bad.

How does the old argument work?

Yes, if 99% of a group believes in something and 1% challenges this belief, it's the 1% who may see things more clearly.

This argument can be effective, and if Copernicus hadn't challenged religious viewpoints that the world was flat we may still be living in a much less imaginative globe.

But professional scientists are a highly independent well-educated group, and around 99% of them maintain climate change is real.

That's a high percentage for independent thinkers.

Getting highly independent well-educated people to agree about anything is next to impossible, yet here we have 99% of a highly independent well-educated group agreeing that climate change is real, and 1% of them possibly earning mad profits to spurn them.

Such challenges are highly suspect.

Getting sick from swimming in a river or walking to a store in extreme heat or having your town destroyed by a hurricane isn't.

As Gore points out, mass destructive weather events are increasing worldwide.

Climate change is real and alternative energy sources can produce mass wealth.

Adopting renewable energy sources to supply your municipality with power isn't a socialist plot, it's capitalism, plain and simple.

The title of the film is misleading.

Alternative energy sources couldn't be more relevant.

Transformers: The Last Knight

Can science, myth, religion, history, the aristocracy, the people, the British, Americans, the privileged, the self-made, the men, the women, humankind, and Autobots, be chaotically yet adventurously, ideologically yet practically, intergalactically yet locally, or quite simply extracurricularly brought together in a wild brainiacally styled jewelled Nile Summertime extravaganza, complete with a spellbinding mix of the brash and the delicate which epically unites risk, love, service and dedication, to thoroughly entertain while multilaterally seeking knowledge, like a trip to New York, or a voyage down under?

Yes.

I would say, "yes, yes they can."

"Affirmative" even.

A constructive ebb and flow.

It's always fun when the new Transformers films are released but I'll admit I've never enjoyed one as much as The Last Knight.

I mean, I'll actually watch this one again.

It's number 5 too.

So many metamorphic developments.

Plucky little Izabella (Isabela Moner), resiliently in search of friends and family.

The hyperreactive robotic butler (Jim Carter as Cogman), who flamboyantly yet earnestly adds neurotic inspirational spice.

Agent Simmons (Jon Turturro) is back, theorizing and analyzing his way to the heart of the narrative's conceit.

Sir Edmund Burton (Anthony Hopkins), youthfully and mischievously contemporizing more than a millennia of British legend.

England and the United States romantically come to terms?, the couple in question perhaps creating an invincible universal super being?

Plus secret entrances, spontaneous sushi, cheeky self-reflexive criticisms of blockbuster music, Cuba once again warmly featured in a 2017 American mainstream release, prophetic books preserved, getting-away-with-it explanations, scenarios, Bumblebee (Erik Aadahl), First Nations fluidity, Tony Hale (JPL Engineer), whales.

The wild script energetically shifts from sentiment to shock to certitude to sensation, manifold short scenes eclectically yet straightforwardly stitched together with (en)lightninglike speed and ornate dishevelled awareness.

Fascinated, 'twas I.

I've often thought these films don't focus enough on Transformers, but Last Knight presents a solid shapeshifting/organic blend, its biological proclivities overwhelming desires to see Transformers discursively deliberating, relevant contributing human factors, caught up in the thick of it, creating solutions intuitively their own.

In fact, the subplot involving Optimus Prime (Peter Cullen) was my least favourite part of the film.

The extraordinary examination of British History and its relationship to transforming-lifeforms-from-space easily made up for it though.

I'd love to see Stonehenge on the Summer Solstice during the witching hour.

How did they move those rocks?

They be pretty freakin' huge.

Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales

Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales has some compelling ideas woven into its text.

There's a strong woman of science boldly using her brain to discover truths unbeknownst as of yet to humankind.

Astronomical insights are cartographically applied to exonerate the supernatural as a matter of practical paternal romance.

A comical misunderstanding of a highly technical term leads to jocular confusion blended with righteous incapacitation.

The mythological and the religious are conjugally contrasted, perhaps to subconsciously juxtapose alternative attitudes acculturatively adopted as one travels through youth to age.

The monkey's back.

So's Mr. Gibbs (Kevin McNally).

But Gibbs doesn't have the striking supportive role he endearingly cultivated in Dead Men's predecessors, as he's shortsightedly reduced to more of a decorative ornament.

It's much more comedic than the other films, the swashbuckling seriousness that held them together sacrificed for generally flat tomfoolery.

Henry Turner (Brenton Thwaites) and Carina Smyth (Kaya Scodelario) replace William Turner and Elizabeth Swann but they're no Keira Knightley and Orlando Bloom.

The action's steady and the confusing political threads that abstrusely adorned some of the sequels are absent, but don't let the barrage of buffoonery distract you from the fact that robust characters have transmutated into stock representations.

For instance, Jack's drinking has commandeered his wit and the mesmerizing incomparable lovingly brilliant captain is more like a bewildered wildebeest.

Johnny Depp should have won an oscar for his performance in The Curse of the Black Pearl. The apotheosis of his genius, which has recently fallen upon troubled times.

It may be my favourite performance ever, to appropriately apply an adolescent designation.

Did he ever make a film with Robert Downey Jr.? In a small town? Co-starring Emma Stone, Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson, and Ryan Reynolds?

Plus Mayor Orlando Bloom and Schoolmistress Keira Knightley?

It's actually a great idea, having a washed-up Jack Sparrow circumventing at the helm.

He has aged considerably while drinking recklessly, so toning him down a notch adds an instructive realistic touch.

However, to tone down Jack Sparrow, or to transform his cheeky inspiration into reflexive knee-jerk contractions is to forget why Pirates of the Caribbean films are so appealing, and made me think, this is definitely take 5.

With the classic "everything imaginable is perfect" ending, apart from a significant loss (although I imagine they may resurface for part 6).

Said and done, I almost shed tears to see them back together.

But the significance was still diluted by the humour.

A critique of postmodern sincerity?

Kong: Skull Island

Could it be that islands still exist, prehistorically penetrating legend and myth with unbridled evidenced imposing extant luminosity, persisting undisturbed in majestic unrecorded intransigent galed shadow, a roar, a whisper, more lively and crisper ecosystems biologically invested in atemporal ontological sincerity, harmony, in other words, crépuscule, a delicate balance, a ferocious bottom line, lost in leisure in starlit environs, vigilance required to consummate freedom, at home in the pacific, empirically thine?

I would write that the adventurers weren't ready for their quest if it wasn't for the fact that nothing could have prepared them.

But I suppose the nature of questing demands a forged psychological allegiance between ill-preparation and adaptability, immediacy continuously generating an agile improvised awareness, which is narratively applicable to the epic in hand.

Characters descend on the ancient generally undiscovered home of King Kong in Jordan Vogt-Roberts's Kong: Skull Island, a chaotic campy realistic yet improbable, and therefore emancipating, energetic exploration of the quaintly forbidden.

Their goal is scientific yet commercial and thus the military's aid is bromantically secured.

Friendship, collegiality, professionalism, and love, populate the script with wild rhythmic versatile denizens, its cosmopolitan lodge fertile if not frenzied, the unfriendly monsters ready to eagerly devour those with too much or not enough innate courage.

Plus random soldiers.

But Kong protects them which trigger-happy Preston Packard (Samuel L. Jackson) cannot comprehend as he attempts to kill him to right misperceived wrongs.

His attempts are obviously pigheaded but they do aptly reflect mad extremist methodologies.

The explorers, military personnel, and scientists, curiously encounter an old pilot from World War II who was forced to make his home on the island as well.

He survived by living with an Indigenous tribe who Kong altruistically protects from voracious giant lizards.

Hank Marlow (John C. Reilly [it's classic John C. Reilly :)]) represents the Indigenous people in the film, stands in for them as they (literally) fade into the background, and Packard refuses to listen to his tooth and nail.

Would the ending not have been more striking, more memorable (alright, Kong's fight with the Lizard King is memorable but the surrounding material isn't so much [okay, they escape on a boat, I'll remember that, but . . .]) if the Indigenous peoples stopped Packard before he tried to kill Kong, and everyone then escaped having understood the logic of their decision?

Such a development would have functioned as a salient metaphorical critique of the Vietnam war which otherwise isn't critically examined.

What I'm trying to say is, it would have rocked if Skull Island went Avatar.

With Kong still fighting the giant Lizard of course.

It's still a lot of fun, the new King Kong movie, and, as a matter of fact, I couldn't help comparing it to Planet Terror and Machete Kills since it unreels with a similar more family friendly aesthetic.

There are moments where it captures the magic that makes those films stand out, but the sequels will have to dig deeper for me to mention their names in the same breath.

Again.

I still recommend the film.

A great March release.

I was worried about March this year.

But so far it ain't so bad.

Faust

And within a mendicant, mountainous, microcosm, classically constructed, Gothically germinated, and residually realized, wherein one's affluent 21st century appetites atrophy while those of its citizens starve, he who possesses bountiful knowledge is tempted by a resplendent representative of an aspect which he fails to comprehend, his fabricated yet all-encompassing desire having been serpentinely syncopated, as a bear growls in the wilderness, in Alexander Sokurov's Faust's obstinate prolonged periodical remonstrance, whose resultant subjective reconstitution, climactically dislocates an historically sustained psychodeterminancy.

Through the art of manipulation.

Its traditional themes and monumental modalities are elaborately elucidated and sensuously entwined.

Competing rational classifications are cantankerously, sinisterly, and conditionally, collated.

Notwithstanding a little joy.

The world Sokurov creates arguably situates the contemporary depersonalized alienated televisual lack of collective agency within an impoverished feudal stasis to materialize an ahistorical fabric, but that may be a bit of a stretch.

For me, it also functions as a dramatic counterpart to Peter Jackson's The Lord of the Rings triology, the opening sequence having begged the comparison (not that Faust isn't fantastic and The Lord of the Rings undramatic).

And Faust (Johannes Zeiler), you fool, you had it in you all along.

Didn't you see "Austin Powers: The Spy who Shagged Me?"