Oblivion

A cataclysmic war has been fought and the once verdant Earth lies in thunderous ruin, scattered remnants of the alien aggressors still subsisting in the barren wastes.

Robotic spherical patrols scan the inhospitable terrain from above, their technological ingenuity a formidable frank deterrent. 

They break down at times however and require attentive maintenance, teams spread across the planet to quickly diagnose and discern.

The fortunate survivors have relocated to one of Saturn's moons in a desperate attempt to save the species, their bold intergalactic reckoning cultivating innovative community.

A couple left behind hopes to congenially join them shortly, their tour of duty approaching its end their dedicated service to be rewarded justly.

But as their departure date approaches a ship chaotically crash lands, and _____ (Tom Cruise) is sent out to investigate whether or not there are any survivors.

He finds one in the wreckage and swiftly saves her from critical dysfunction (Olga Kurylenko as ______), bringing her home to his exotic pad to meet his shy suspicious partner (Andrea Riseborough as _______).

Others seek her extant wisdom hiding in caves far down below.

Ensconced in the inexplicable.

Beyond master narratives pontificated.

Is it in fact true love that fuels their imaginative interactions, as the past hesitantly reemerges in vibrant shocking grand distortion?

Confounding astronomical odds prohibit their joyous rapprochement, as miraculous fated resonance galvanizes amorous schemes.

Is true love yet another master narrative then romantically taking hold, in the midst of armageddon, mission prerogatives deconstructed?

The competing master narratives juxtapose duty with rebellion, as profound psychological conflict seeks uninhibited lucidity.

Serendipitous science-fiction soulfully establishing solar sentience, Oblivion countermands cryptology to court sentimental echoes.

Times change and preferences mutate but on occasion familiarity uplifts, the nostalgic tenderness of reliability persevering unsolicited.

Trusty tradition pervading tumultuous unexpected modifications.

It works so well in books and film.

As to reality, who's to say?

*Clearin' out 2021. What I wrote in 2021. Still a sucker for sci-fi romance.

Return to Oz

After having returned from Oz, little Dorothy is having trouble sleeping, her parents believing the care for her insomnia lies in electric shock therapy.

She's transported to a local institution hell bent on legitimizing experimental theory, the radical idea no doubt having been spearheaded by bored opportunistic sadists.

Another patient warns her of the horrors and they make a dashing escape together, during a forbidding storm no less, the "doctors" trailing in hot pursuit.

Dorothy awakes the next haunting morning to find herself having returned to Oz, amidst a lugubrious transformation ill-disposed to posit welcome.

She's remembered with distraught reverence by the absolutists who have brought about ruin, and as she attempts to discover what's happened tribulation maniacally sets in.

Fortunately, she quickly makes friends who are none too fond of totalitarianism, and seek to assist her altruistic endeavours to facilitate reanimated prosperity (I am not saying the COVID-19 measures in Canada are totalitarian. I support them and the ways in which they will save the lives of frontline workers).

But an evil queen and gnome king flourish in the bland malaise.

The bourgeoisie having been crushed.

Along with craft and celebration.

A bit of a puzzle as to how Walt Disney gave this idea the green light, why did executives think the sequel to a cherished family classic should be cultivated through mass depression?

The Wizard of Oz was once perhaps the most popular film, and it festively aired every year on television, even 40 years later in my youth, it was still mesmerizingly reverberating.

Why then did Disney decide to produce a calamitous morose successor, Dorothy has only aged 6 months, and has yet to be tested by practical independence?

From the point of view of teasing or distressing mad comedy it indubitably succeeds, bizarro decisions blended with inane guidance through the art of dysfunctional aneurism. 

It's just so strange to see Disney emphatically promoting what's usually reserved for art house mischief.

No Cowardly Lion, no Tin Man, hardly any Scarecrow, sure let's make a sequel without them!

It's like Newt and Hicks perishing before the beginning of Alien 3.

Instead there's a decapitated moose who talks, a wise robot, a pumpkin man, and a chicken (no Toto in Oz).

Perfect for cynical head wounds.

Otherwise somewhat dismal. 

Nakitai watashi wa neko wo kaburu (A Whisker Away)

First love strikes an eccentric youth and harrowingly passes unnoticed, the would be love interest concerned with other things, and rather embarrassed by her written declaration.

Fortunately she's accidentally met a cat spirit who facilitates transformation, who provides her with an enchanted mask which gives her the power to frisk and frolic.

With the opportunity to become a cat, Miyo (Cherami Leigh) visits Kento (Johnny Yong Bosch) in disguise, and learns of his intimate secrets, while thoroughly enjoying the rapt attention.

But as time passes she learns that the deal has spiritual reciprocations ethereally attached, and that just as she can take on cat form, cats can become human if they're granted a mask.

Cat form begins to seem preferable and soon Miyo's lost the ability to change back, and will soon transform irrevocably if he she can't retrieve her hominid craft.

But her old cat has stolen her identity and seeks to remain supported upright, human lifespan's lasting much longer than animate feline respites. 

The cat spirit will obtain Miyo's lifespan if she's unable to switch back in time.

Her prospects become more and more unappealing.

Even after discovering a secret cat sanctuary.

Nakitai watashi wa neko wo kaburu (A Whisker Away) criticizes rash passion as it proceeds without forethought or consideration, anxieties generated by discourse immutable, by sincere feeling somewhat overdrawn.

I suppose in terms of genuine emotion lacking precedent it honestly depicts incipient l'amour, and therefore doesn't have to be thought of as reckless, as it's freely and honestly presented.

The idea's a good one I agree, transformative comprehensive adventure, with chillaxed elements quizzically diversifying, like the magical realm only cats can see.

I thought it could have provided more detail, more elaborate interdimensional parlay, we're introduced to an intriguing world of cats but don't learn that much about it.

A comical exploration of the trials of first love or bewildering newfound infatuation, how to go about expressing the irrational as it pertains to another, amicably, perhaps is one way to describe it.

Familial bonds and sympathetic friendship offer counsel throughout the transition, although there's not much they can do as she becomes more and more anthropomorphic.

It's fun to watch as the cat becomes human and embraces her expanded capabilities, I'd wager animals transforming into humans hasn't been explored enough in the history of cinema.

Perhaps I'm too old for this one but having read the synopsis I couldn't resist. 

Life can be so serious at times. 

It's cool that Netflix is making cat movies. 

Hauru no ugoku shiro (Howl's Moving Castle)

I suppose watching Ghibli films is like moving to a new city, assuming you're intent on exploring.

The imaginative transitions and unexpected revelations disseminate inherent constructive flux, producing gemini ensemble; it's not chaotic or turbulent or nutso, it just takes some time to make sense of it, and because the dynamics are always changing, new hypotheses consistently accrue.

Patterns precociously present themselves which embrace diversification exclaimed, staunch traditions dependably mutated as the unforeseen glibly freely fascinates.

Since cities are vast like Ghibli's repertoire there's plenty of room for cultural investigation, different neighbourhoods/themes influencing one another through variable grassroots multiplicities. 

Changing jobs from time to time can encourage synergistic sleuthing, especially if the jobs demand travel to previously unheard of quarters.

Local cuisine and enticing craftspersonship generate curious reflective lore, folksy fashions and animate complements melodically streaming eclectic impulse.

From scene to scene Ghibli regenerates and humbly presents something unanticipated, like a store that only sells mushrooms or vegan sushi or doorknobs or vinyl. 

Throw in a new language and it's wildly unpredictable as practically everything reverberates fresh meaning. By no means a walk in the park. But illuminating as time slowly passes.

Howl's Moving Castle habitually transfigures from one mobile scene to the next, thematic variation in nimble motion denoting canvas and rhythm and text.

Unfortunately their nation's at war and wizards and witches have been conscripted, before a young adult is suddenly transformed into an aged contemplative constellation.

Howl disrupts the fighting as best he can as it rashly insists, seeing no point in taking a side since they're both hellbent on destruction.

But the most powerful sorceress demands he yield and fight in the rank and file.

Even if his heart's just not in it (not me, this makes more sense if you see the film).

If he's too much of a chill elemental (see The Chronicles of Riddick).

The beautiful intricate scenes overflowing with compelling detail aptly highlight war's thoughtless menace as the bombs abruptly fall.

But many are still intent on living regardless of imperial hubris.

A romantic tale abounding with wonder that won't relent in tumultuous times, it illustrates poetic convection, while harvesting paramount mischief (not looting and destroying things but peaceful protests and critical analysis).

A Scandal in Paris

Career criminals stretch out laidback in prison, as a fortuitous cake emerges, celebrations encoding style.

Having escaped they seek anonymity upon the open road, yet lend their images to a portrait depicting extant legend.

Soon they're reunited with Emile Vernet's (Akim Tamiroff) large outlaw family, who fears for their hard fought freedom, and recommends they join the army.

False identities are procured and they set off to aid Napoleon, still noticing jewels along the way whose brilliance generates temptation.

Years later they've left the service yet still scorn an honest living, and find themselves sheltered in a lavish chateau, presided over by the Minister of Police (Alan Napier as Houdon de Pierremont). 

They decide to rob him anyway and enact an audacious plan, switching the location of the jewels through agnostic sleight of hand.

The Prefect of Police (Gene Lockhart) cannot discover them and is relieved of duty, but Eugéne Vidocq (George Sanders) knows their whereabouts and leads the Minister straight indubitably. 

For his exceptional deductive skill he's generously rewarded, and given the post of Prefect of Police, securing Vernet's relatives jobs thereafter, at the bustling Bank of Paris. 

But his identity remains known to at least 2 adoring love interests, who fortunately enjoy his company, and seek not his instant ruin.

A Scandal in Paris invests striking charm with bewitching clever schematics, which assuage freeform displacements as a matter of upright cause.

Taking things too seriously is not so subtly critiqued throughout, even if Vidocq must watch his back as he nimbly cascades clout.

It seems too farfetched to believe yet is at least partially verifiable, taken from Vidocq's very own memoirs, the validity of which I cannot speak to.

He understood people well no doubt, a master of effortless seduction, freely winning hearts and minds through open-minded grand induction.

Those lacking social graces or appealing fanned conceit, fell swiftly to his daring bold and animate spry feats.

There's a series here within these reels commanding grand detection, each episode a marigold shy intimate selection.

Why not engage a stunning sleuth who once lacked honest virtue, to come to terms with pachyderms investigate the Dooku?

A stunning tale lightly regaled the shocking fluent candour, a charméd life akin to strife concocting goose and gander. 

Flavour.

What a life. 

Rain Man

Risk-fuelled high-stakes automotive accumulation is temporarily interrupted after the passing of a not-so-loved-one.

Charlie Babbitt (Tom Cruise) flies to Cincinnati to settle accounts without delay only to discover he had a brother whose existence shakes things up.

Babbitt's somewhat of an insensitive callous jerk, and is much less interested in his newfound bro (Dustin Hoffman as Raymond Babbitt) than the cash left in trust for his well-being.

He's been living at a psychiatric facility for almost his entire offbeat life, and has serious issues with communication although he's quite gifted at math.

Charlie decides it's time they get to know one another and kidnaps him from the institution, hoping to take him to L.A in order to strike a lavish deal.

But Raymond refuses to fly so they're forced to hit the road, the backroads 'cross vibrant country, since they're much less bland and noisy.

Partner Susanna (Valeria Golino) can't stand Charlie's motives so she leaves shortly after they depart, and gentle Raymond's left in the hands of someone lacking firm compassion.

But Charlie isn't strictly obtuse and can make sincere adjustments, which their trip demands at times as they travel throughout America.

There's a realistic edge to Rain Man which isn't dulled by hypotheticals, it may seem impractical or otherworldly but it still makes sense as they travel on.

It starts out swift and headstrong full of blind instinctual tenacity, but slowly transforms through the art of play as alternative arrangements challenge preconceptions.

At times you wonder how Charlie could be so thick as proof after proof readily presents itself, but without ever having been trained to care for the differently abled, it's not shocking that his confusion persists.

Raymond doesn't have a say in the matter but makes the most of the sudden change, loudly expressing discontent at times, at others curiously contracting.

They wondrously come together as an off-beat non-traditional team, embracing unexpected roadblocks with surprisingly adept efficiency.

The realism prevents the use of words like "smooth" or "understanding", as Rain Man frenetically flows while life mysteriously presents itself.

I thought the final moments made sense bearing in mind uncertain self-sufficiencies, heartbreaking though they were, the alternative may have been much worse.

Not that Charlie wouldn't have given it a shot, he's not so bad after putting in some effort.

It's nice to see a film that promotes change.

Instead of grim hard-hearted despondency.

Chimes at Midnight

Courtly remonstrance august unflattering distaste, pejorative, authoritative, stately consequent nettle.

He doth resound with magnanimous impertinence irresistibly foiled salubrity, impenitent carefree rummaged spirits, rowdy improvised uncertain objectives.

Friendship inclusively abounds regardless of make or measure, oft depicted through random horseplay, yet not limited to sedate shenanigans.

Capable of suddenly stirring up a crowd with comic insubordinate intent, incapable of honest toil with constructive fruitful sustainability.

Unwary of boldly asserting he hath undertaken heroic deeds, in the presence of rank incredulity, with neither shame nor force of conscience.

Odd interminglings of duty bound recourse and ludic unconcerned pub fare, a future King navigating the discrepancies, a scorned romantic, a noble hare.

His friendship with Falstaff (Orson Welles) idealizes wayward youth, the heir to the throne wilfully led astray, even if he responds when indeed necessary, to the commands of lofty allegiance.

There's no synthesis therein forthcoming, Chimes at Midnight resonates disparately, a tragic forthright emergent declaration, divisive paramount telltale labours.

I feel for the hapless Falstaff, who thought he had won Prince Hal's (Keith Baxter) favour, if only he could have once tried to follow procedure, if only he could have toed the line.

After the coronation anyways, he should have assumed discretion, but such a lack of action would have never crossed his mind, a wild insouciant charismatic knight, far beyond austere pomp and propriety.

How he could have persisted for so very long without concern or trouble or worry, how could he have never assumed solemnity at any time throughout his life?

It's not that he isn't sincere.

Like Archie Rice in The Entertainer, he sincerely lives in the nimble moment, perhaps thinking loosely about the future, but never without much thought or care.

They both have goals to attain, projects in mind, hopes and dreams, but present ambitions generally obscure them, or lead to overwhelming bright temptations, spontaneous light merrymaking.

Their friends love them when they're performing and when they're not performing too, but can't reconcile their differences when the monthly rent is due.

Perhaps Henry the V can be accused of having led Falstaff on, of having encouraged a sense of entitlement the foolish knave should have never considered.

Did he not share so many mirthful years with Falstaff to at least not feel somewhat guilty when casting him aside?

I suppose they didn't make Ministers of Arts & Entertainment back then but Falstaff likely could have played the role.

Without much prep or training.

An irrefutable natural.

Tôkyô nagaremono (Tokyo Drifter)

The road to iron clad legitimacy is fraught with treacherous peril, for Tetsuya Hondo (Tetsuya Watari) in Tôkyô nagaremono (Tokyo Drifter), whose loyalty is beyond question.

His formerly criminal organization has invested in property to freely reform, but bitter rivals get word of the deal, and comport themselves bold retroactively.

Tetsuya is meek beforehand, out of respect for the honourable transaction, he takes his punishment glib disenchanted, as goons revel in unrestrained cheetah.

But as data fiercely transmits, and he must accept the rotten audacity, previous instincts hark and reckon, although he must refrain from combat.

His prowess is legendary however (not me - I'm a dork), and the wicked fear his volatile sanctions, and rest uneasy as he ably persists, notably after he sees them commit murder.

Soon he must sorrowfully withdraw, to wander distraught and alone, but his whereabouts are swiftly detected, wherever he woefully roams.

Loyalties offer safe passage, but allegiances ruefully construct both sides, the network remarkably well-integrated, cohesive, tight, interconnected.

He contemptuously dismisses another for living without a code, beyond hard-fought lovelocked fidelity, without teamwork, history, reliability.

Dependability. 

He soon encounters a reimagined schematic which challenges his strict resolve.

He's tragic but not inflexible.

With agile incredulous misgivings.

Tôkyô nagaremono emits angelic light as it chaotically discerns discrepancy, pop culture celestially bemusing as random outbursts shock and dismay.

The cultivation of foundations taunts and testifies, through the deconstruction of alliance, in touch with haunting self-sufficiencies, and acrimonious disbelief. 

Creativity pervades its reckonings as it constructs versatile truth and meaning, inspired low budget authenticity, the film itself somewhat like honest Tetsuya.

A lot of stuff just kind of happens.

It's fun to go with the flow.

Get caught up in the free-form productivity, the improvised so don't cha know? 

Perhaps seminal in terms of its influence, I imagine Tôkyô nagaremono motivated sundry filmmakers, to create not for prestige or money, but simply because there's a story to tell.

Find the crew, make it up on the fly, working with what's been established beforehand (scripts in process).

There's nothing quite like the spur of the moment.

Such raw magnetic intensity. 

Il racconto dei racconti (Tale of Tales)

August propitious enveloping cocoon, swath the embellished confiding ruckus in lavender pretence corresponding can do.

Zodiac.

A mockery.

A complete lack of concern wickedly blended with seditious witness guides Il racconto dei racconti (Tale of Tales) as it dismally lampoons heroic adventure with self-deprecating panache and oblivious tender.

Viscidly challenging you to care for its bland, boring, banal, and bumptious characters, it insolently reminds you that you still haven't left the theatre.

The cinematography's compelling enough (Peter Suschitzky), stating the natural beauty contained herewithin is abundantly more profound than anything these stories have to offer, yet we wrote narratives anyways to illuminate our genuine contempt, for you, asinine aperture, belittle the ebb and flow.

Care for nothing.

Salacious stasis.

The foundations for something more tantalizing laid waste by exasperating lassitude.

Do absolutely nothing, harvest excessive applause.

Galavanting circuitry, crusading camp.