The Good Nurse

A dedicated nurse (Jessica Chastain as Amy Loughren), loyal and trustworthy, courageously works through a grievous illness, still unable to qualify for health insurance, she risks her life while raising her young.

She's often friendly and agreeable and willing to share her knowledge to help, as she does when a new colleague arrives (Eddie Redmayne as Charlie Cullen) who's uncertain of specific procedures.

After his sudden arrival mysterious deaths begin to take place however, the hospital trying to cover them up while law enforcement launches an investigation. 

The detectives can't get anywhere until interviewing Ms. Loughren when serendipity strikes, and they're surprisingly able to freely ask questions without being countermanded by obtuse anxiety. 

Their leads eventually suggest the new nurse may be deliberately murdering patients, but the hospital is so worried about avoiding scandal that they emphatically refuse to cooperate. 

Yet his newfound friendship has oddly bloomed and she's sympathetically gained his trust.

Will she be able to produce a confession?

Before he finds steady work in another hospital?

Life's strange and keeps getting stranger as developments which seem irrefutably truthful are lampooned with disgust.

A man's attacked and almost beaten to death with a hammer and days later it's a subject of amusement.

That's sick, utterly contemptible, and worse than that, for many it's acceptable, like the world I hoped for in my youth is a long way from seeing a 10-year conglomeration. 

Why are the lives of serial killers just as virally popular as those of human rights activists?, the void left behind by Hollywood's progressive ambitions eagerly filled by online streaming.

Are elitist attitudes so dismissive and haughty that literally millions would abandon democracy, in favour of an American monarch with absolute power over stunning diversity?

Look at the countries where dictators flourish, they aren't typically characterized by hearty abundance.

Autocrats do not share power.

It's not comic.

It's genuinely distressing. 

Kapringen (A Hijacking)

Pirates, sailing the seven seas, or the Indian Ocean in this case, in search of bountiful booty, navigate, locate, negotiate.

Their hostages crew a vessel of little value in the projections of their shipping business, so Tobias Lindholm's Kapringen (A Hijacking) shrewdly economizes a bureaucratic humanism.

Leading the company's negotiating team, contrary to the advice of the expert they hire, is company representative Peter C. Ludvigsen (Søren Malling), whose unassailable acumen accrues early on, but his superlative skills have never prioritized pirates.

The advice is to sternly yet non-confrontationally play hardball, and stern yet non-confrontational hardball is played, leaving the captives and their families submerged in agonizing limbo.

The film poses the question, "does Ludvigsen proceed within humanistic parameters, delicately balancing an incisive international reputation with the needs of terrorized workers, seeking to bring them home as quickly as possible, without bristlingly breaking the bank?"

Obviously you can't give into the initial demands of pirates, but Ludvigsen can't seem to comprehend that his genius cannot match this style of adversary, and he delays until everything the expert suggested would happen, happens.

The workers don't even complain about the length of their incarceration, which I initially thought was a problem with the script, but it actually accentuates Ludvigsen's insatiable misplaced resolve, since they're so lugubriously loyal, because of their situation.

Imperceptibly hijacking the bottom line.