Bell, Book & Candle

*Cool to see this film has a remake in the mix! Not that the original isn't up to snuff, I'd just love to see what contemporary writers would make of such a snug fit as this (fitting in terms of the abundance of fantasy films being released these days). 

I suppose I've never quite understood why biblical religions are consistently at odds with paganism and magic, and while getting into even more trouble, I've always thought peeps should blend the two.

Should the services of witches and warlocks along with those of the animal kingdom, not be spiritually enlisted to complement mainstream religion?

Does mainstream religion not seek to ecumenically envelope everything, within a multifaceted conglomerate discursively transmutating throughout the world?

And if seeking to envelope everything mustn't exceptions be made at times, to facilitate enriching understanding and mutually respectful supernatural accords?

Did the biblical God not create the animals and also ensure they could prosper throughout his lands, would it not also make sense that he created gifted loving people who could ingeniously communicate with them?

If people were able to interact and fluently communicate with animals, would harmony not flourish throughout the land if they weren't persecuted for their difference?

Much like the dominion of The Biggest Little Farm beings could constructively co-exist, and generally work together to pursue cultivated productivity.

I imagine the cosmopolitan afterlife, effortlessly blended with naturalistic reckoning, accepts people and animals from every religion, assuming they haven't lived the lives of vicious a-holes.

It doesn't make sense that spiritually prosperous influential people unaffiliated with any religion, should suffer the eternal torments of hell after having lived virtuous lives.

Thus, major figures like Christ and Nanabush likely share in heaven's abundance, infinitely spreading their vivid alternatives with gregarious communal friendly import.

As they've gotten to know one another over the course of recent millennia, would they not also have become more familiar with different ways to live a life?

Would they not also have become more tolerant of abounding un/orthodox difference, or the application of ethical goodwill to manifold chillin' grassroots initiatives? 

Should paganism and the biblical religions not therefore come to terms this Holiday Season, to ensure more bountiful multilateral refinements throughout the fertile verdant Earth?

So much knowledge to share and integrate.

With zoological enlightenment.

Released shortly thereafter the old school enigmatic Vertigo.

What a year for Stewart and Novak!

The House with a Clock in its Walls

Tragedy strikes, and an orphaned youth (Owen Vaccaro as Lewis Barnavelt) must move to his estranged uncle's, an eccentric man (Jack Black as Jonathon Barnavelt) whose specialized gifts were vilified by his once adoring family, although his devoted sister truly never stopped loving him.

His house is somewhat peculiar, and as young Lewis settles in, manifold bewitching anthropomorphized elements poetically particularize at random, his uncle and encyclopaedic neighbour (Cate Blanchett as Florence Zimmerman) living distinctly spellbound lives, Lewis's own attuned well-defined semantic inquiries suggesting he will make an apt pupil indeed, they forge an enchanting inclusive didactic openminded consensus, freely uplifting curious minds, unstructured tutelage impacting at play, fantastically composed, like any local library.

Perhaps Lewis may have benefitted from more guidance, however, for soon, in an effort to make friends, he's broken his uncle's only rule, and an evil warlock (Kyle MacLachlan as Isaac Izard) has returned from the grave.

Hellbent on destroying the world which nonetheless seems intent on self-destructing, his spirit crushed after fighting in World War II, he moves back to his once joyous abode, unleashing mayhem despotically thereafter.

Crimson glade.

The House with a Clock in its Walls could have been so much more.

Does every fantasy film have to prevent the destruction of the world these days, or has it simply always been a fundamental aspect?

Is anyone making independent hip artsy fantasy films that aren't animated?

Here we have a wonderful film rich with artful eccentricity overflowing with creative synergies still blindly focused on the end of the world.

Can't fantasy concentrate on creating narratives that are a bit less prone to armageddon, because it really just seems tacked on to this one?

Does the end of the world in fact symbolize the end of one's youth, and is that why fantastic heroes must nimbly face it?

Still though, every time?

Instead of Lewis developing a friendship that's diversified throughout with sympathetic Rose Rita Pottinger (Vanessa Anne Williams), it doesn't happen until the film's final moments.

Instead of Lewis spending at least 7 minutes inspecting his new home by himself, replete with tension and bewilderment and frights and disbelief, a sequence which emphasizes that he's just moved to a new house in a new town following a tragic event, he simply looks around a bit, and freaks when he discovers magic's real.

Denying the auspices of the forbidden.

Clock in its Walls is too blunt, everything happens too quickly, there aren't any build-ups/questions that-go-unanswered/jigsaws/mysteries, it's much too obvious for a film that celebrates originality and never even really decoratively surpasses Pee-wee's Playhouse, even with all its technological expertise.

Why doesn't Florence have a memorable moment where she resplendently shines and figuratively pays back her tyrannical oppressors?

It would have been so #metoo!

Why is the only serious obstacle the trio faces a patch of vicious pumpkins near the end?

Details!

A film as appealing as this one would have benefitted from at least 78 more details/references to cleverly expand upon its traditional yet compelling premise.

The seeds are sewn but don't take root.

Isn't it blasé to make everything so global in the age of globalization?

Another 40 minutes would have been great.

A fun film to watch that misses out on incredible opportunities.

The Last Witch Hunter

Well versed in obligatory pyrotechnics, unerringly battling the forces of evil, Kaulder (Vin Diesel) middle-agedly sharpens his blades, to once again confront an ancient monstrosity.

Who condemned him to immortality.

Unacknowledged eternal pain.

Aided in his endurance by a vigilant religious order, he balances the supernatural while they chronicle his dispassionate deeds.

Beknownst to their principal antagonists.

Whose disrespectful taunting unleashes a visceral tirade.

Imposition.

The Last Witch Hunter seemed more like a television pilot than the first in a series of films, its quotidian spirituality (sparse character development fraught with mundane interpersonal relations) and lacklustre transcendencies (we're supposed to feel threatened by the return of the witch queen [Julie Engelbrecht] but the methods used to combat her are much too conveniently countered [it's easy to take her down]) making a better fit for the televisual realm (these issues would be addressed in subsequent episodes), in my bland and indolent opinion.

Its structure makes a coy comment on threats however, Kaulder having trouble defeating fierce Warlock Belial (Ólafur Darri Ólafsson) at first, then easily disposing of him as the witch queen regenerates, the increased level of competition functioning as a catalyst for Kaulder whose skills instinctually augment to face the more potent foe.

It could be a great television show, who knows, I usually just watch films these days, and Star Trek in winter.

I go to the cinema so often that watching films on a television or computer screen regardless of size makes them seem less fascinating.

Much better to see films in theatres.

Disappointed by The Last Witch Hunter.