Excalibur

The reliable maintenance of fantastic legend convivially maintained century after century, as the present consistently bores its contemporaries and they adamantly search for entertaining alternatives. 

Odd that a nation as old as Britain doesn't cash in on more of its legends, aren't King Arthur and Robin Hood and Churchill just peas in the tumultuous historical pod?

Their markets are no doubt durable and habitually enable modest artists to prosper, even if some examples lack daring or innovation or narrative depth or multivariability. 

When to release the next instalment look to the Jurassic Park franchise I would, I was crazy excited to see the first one, and lacked interest after no. 3, but so much time had passed before Jurassic World came out, that I found myself enthusiastic again.

I remember seeing the Disney Camelot cartoon when but a wee lad in the 1980s, and how excited I impressionably was to see King Arthur wield sword from stone.

The idea of divine agency still genuinely compelling and keenly motivating, so odd to see it televisually disseminated in mad political advertisements. 

The idea never loses its intriguing longevity decade after decade millennia after millennia, but it ebbs and flows through the passage of time, logic and reason having lost popular ground in recent times due to the internet.

It's disheartening to see so many nations of well-read citizens lugubriously reduced, to listening to broadcasts spread by dictators that they were able to see through when they were 7.

You see the problems with dictatorships or monarchies or oligarchies played out in Excalibur, wherein which you have Arthur's prosperous reign followed by that of woebegone tyrants.

The sad reality that many strict rulers don't seek stable food supplies and infrastructure maintained, but rather personal aggrandizement that leaves the people starving and destitute. 

Thus, democratic stewardship tends to avoid despotic excesses, but the internet is making it ironically unpopular and volatile hardships are quickly returning.

You see the pattern laid threadbare in Jonathan Fenby's France: A Modern History, as manifold wild political compositions emphatically emerge in France post-1789 (42 different governments between World Wars).

But he points out how they eventually stabilized a working efficient civil service, with democratic goals at its tender heart, which has kept things running smoothly throughout the upheavals.

Something to shoot for something to preserve as the Internet Tyrants frustrate like Khan.

So many components they can't comprehend.

Which drives them to seek absolutism all the more. 

The Last Unicorn

A lone unicorn forages in her forest (Mia Farrow), rather peaceful and unaware, as two hunters ride by attentively, distraught yet boastful as they search in vain.

But they converse as they critique their fortunes and unicorn listens closely, only to discover she's the last of her kind, should their bold declarations prove to be true.

Then accidentally, shortly thereafter, a boisterous butterfly stops by to say, "hello"(Robert Klein), full of song, rhyme, lyric, and flutter, composed through verbose disorientation.

Unicorn expresses her discontent with butterfly but still asks if she's the last of her kind, and he eventually presents a statement that's less befuddling if not still indirect.

Consequently, equipped with legendary knowledge and the passion to expedite change, she ventures forth in search of the Red Bull who has cruelly cloistered her fellow immortals.

Unaccustomed to questing or the world beyond her forested domain, she soon finds herself trapped by a witch and suddenly showcased in a travelling sideshow (Angela Lansbury). 

But also within the witch's employ is Schmendrick the Magician who's grown rather frustrated (Alan Arkin), not only with his position but with his fickle powers as well.

He's able to see the unicorn, her innate magic isn't hidden from view, he feels sad, he helps her escape, they move forward together, with undaunted high hopes.

A world of riddles and cryptic bemusement playfully yet hauntingly awaits, as a decrepit castle and its melancholic ruler guard a wicked age old secret (Christopher Lee). 

In terms of magic, The Last Unicorn bedazzles through charming character enchantingly invested, the narrative's music, romance, and import conjuring eloquent rhythms eclectic.

If legendary genesis never seems quite so lofty at the time of its humble début, its cheeky contemporaries full of suspicion, its requisite quest somewhat less mesmerizing, then any legend can take on the visions of a disgruntled merrymaking present, and a timeless quality effortlessly emerges, as ahistorical, as it is wise.

Thus, The Last Unicorn, while cultivating agéd times and lands, still resonates with postmodern fortitude, with ancient concurrent melodies.

Is "postmodern" still a synonym for "contemporary", insofar as this has been claimed to be the postmodern age, for some time, an incredibly diverse inclusive metaimpetus 😌, with loopholes outrageously exploited through aggrieved populism?

Nevertheless, I'm resoundingly hopeful that Rankin & Bass's Last Unicorn will endure, I never saw it in my youth, and have watched it twice in recent memory.

The butterfly scene more than that, what a beautiful idea, butterfly and unicorn.

I have seen their Hobbit cartoon several times. But alas. I can no longer find it. 😔  

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).

The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey

Back to cinematic adaptations of J.R.R. Tolkien's world of fantasy.

Back to the shire.

Back to where, it all, began.

Whence an heroic team of dwarves accompanied by one wizard and one hobbit depart in search of adventure, eventually discovering arboreal displacements, upon which they regroup to fend off those who have tamed wanton fury, when the leader amongst them accepts the challenge of a daunting fiend, and his subsequent missteps are gallantly regrounded.

As unity intends.

If you liked The Lord of the Rings trilogy, I can't see why you wouldn't enjoy The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey. The Goblin King (Barry Humphries) was a bit of a let down and the same frustrating sense of resigned naive invincible epic substantial critical unwavering exactitude permeates much of the dialogue/action (it's cheesy), but I liked following the troupe throughout their travels, was happy to see many familiar faces, loved Radagast's (Sylvester McCoy) bold rabbitsledding, and found Bilbo (Martin Freeman/Ian Holm) to be a metamorphic symbol of situational alertness.

As he takes up the cause.

Differing conceptions of etiquette acrobatically contend, if you're a fan of the old cartoon there's a playful intertextual dialogue (big fan), the domain of wizardry is environmentally piquanted, philology is advantageously crescented, and the legendary takes on a robust realistic candour.

Through questing.

And check this out. Wish I spoke Russian or that it contained French or English subtitles.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2

The final battle between Harry Potter (Daniel Radcliffe) and Lord Voldemort (Ralph Fiennes) has been materialized in David Yates's Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2.

Lacking the need to establish purpose and point, this is a film that gets right down to it.

And right down to it it does get.

On the hunt for Voldemort's remaining horcruxes, Harry, Ron (Rupert Grint), and Hermione (Emma Watson), with the help of the conniving Griphook (Warwick Davis), sneak into Gringotts in search of Helga Hufflepuff's besieged golden cup. Having discovered it, they then break out, riding the back of a dragon, only to eventually find themselves back at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Ready for the final showdown.

The film focuses on Harry's pursuits as he searches for Rowena Ravenclaw's lost diadem and investigates Snape's (Alan Rickman) memories, and neither he nor Voldemort take an active role in the initial confrontation. Although, since Harry misses the majority of the action in order to hunt horcruxes, he arguably takes the most active and direct role possible.

Even more active and direct than Neville Longbottom's (Matthew Lewis), who steals every scene he's in and delivers an appropriately timed inspirational speech when victory for Voldemort's forces seems inevitable.

And shortly thereafter Harry springs back to life to face Voldemort head-on, autocratic versus democratic duelling to the end, the insatiable aggressor challenging the counterstrike of the momentum his voraciousness engendered. Harry's democratic counterstrike lacks the influence, resources, and bloodlust of their opponents but charges onwards nonetheless, the product of coerced ingenuity. As he faces Voldemort, it's as if two competing conceptions of Nietzsche's übermensch contend, one using cruelty and pain to solidify its response to its culture's perceived moral vacuum (the fascist response wherein creativity must fit within a one-dimensional frame approved by whomever occupies a corresponding position of power), the other enabling individuals to create their own place within that vacuum based upon the wisdom of the free choices they make in response to its sundry enlivening manifestations. It's as if Harry is the ideal superperson since he doesn't seek to rule or govern on his own, or have an invincible advantage, even though he could easily take advantage of his fame to occupy a prestigious position, preferring instead to work within a malleable system with a minimized degree of hierarchical structure which encourages creativity and innovation.

Many of the characters from the previous films make an appearance, even Professor Sprout (Miriam Margoyles), with Remus Lupin (David Thewlis) delivering some memorable lines. Love has been represented/depicted/rationalized/conceptualized/. . . billions of times, and one of its illustrations that I find the most endearing is that found within Deathly Hallows 2, in regards to Severus Snape, whose love for Lilly Potter (Ellie Darcey-Alden, Geraldine Somerville) is exceptionally motivating.

It still almost brings tears to my eyes whenever I revisit the related scenes and encounter their undeniably intense and patient beauty.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part I

Know then that Harry Potter is back once more in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part I, wherein he battles death eaters and fascists and feelings all the while coming of age. Most of the regular cast is also back for a scene or two and since the book has been cut in two even more depth than that found in The Order of the Phoenix is presented. Which doesn't mean many of the scenes aren't still curt and melodramatic full of noises and exclamations the kitschy insertion of which is supposed to tap into our preprogrammed dispositions and produce one of a variety of emotional responses. Short and to the point most of the time, yet supposedly exceptional due to the hype and reputations of the cast, the scene where Harry dances with Hermione still adds a nice touch. It's not that I didn't like the film, I certainly did. It's just as entertaining as any of the others, in fact, even more so, because it strays from the typical Hogwarts-and-they're-a-year-older-now format. It's just very rushed. A couple more extended scenes like that where Harry dances with Hermione would have been worth their weight in transitionary gold, or galleons, or something (why did they even include the Dursley's?). I'd really like to see an auteur like Werner Herzog or David Lynch take an aspect of one of these novels and transfer it to another setting within which its character is reconstituted yet traditionalized in order to provide it with more artistic depth. Or perhaps one of them could simply direct the Battle of Hogwarts. Could you imagine how amazing it would be if David Lynch directed the Battle of Hogwarts?

It would be amazing.

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

David Yates's adaptation of J. K. Rowling's Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince brings the novel to life in a maturely adolescent fashion. Harry's (Daniel Radcliffe) back for his sixth year at Hogwarts and Lord Voldemort's Death Eaters are unleashing carnage and destruction in their wake. Professor Dumbledore (Michael Gambon) teaches Harry about Voldemort's past by means of a number of catalogued memories while Hermione (Emma Watson) and Ron (Rupert Grint) struggle with the complicated realities of their mutual attraction. The film sparingly presents a number of the novel's notable novelties such as the underground trade in love potions which keeps the narrative firmly rooted in Potter lore while also highlighting its youthful candour. When juxtaposed with its darkened domain, wherein the heroes must deal with confrontational pressures of position, age, and responsibility, the result is an entertaining synthesis of mirth and menace, well worth the 150 odd minutes.

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

I've fallen for the Harry Potter series in recent weeks, burning through 1300 pages in the last 10 days, finishing both The Order of the Phoenix and The Half-Blood Prince. I've been on the jones to check out David Yates's adaptation of The Order of the Phoenix since and finally found the time this evening. While Yates crams most of the novel's highlights into his feature, his film suffers from too much detail and not enough divination, reminding one of the meandering Chamber of Secrets rather than the tumultuous Goblet of Fire.

At the same time, the details were definitely appreciated. I was hoping to see Seamus (Devon Murray) and Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) confront one another, watch Fred and George (James and Oliver Phelps) test their Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, view the Black family tree, listen to Luna Loovegood's (Evanna Lynch) oddly poignant points of view, and cheer while Neville Longbottom (Matthew Lewis) threatens Bellatrix Lestrange (Helena Bonham Carter). But the details kept bombarding, leaving me with galleons of information to bank in a knut's worth of time. It’s refreshing to encounter all of these nuances and see the characters given their two to three minutes of screen time, but removing some of their dialogue and focusing more intently on a fewer number of plot threads would have given The Order the chance to build to a strong finish, rather than meandering onwards towards a lacklustre climax. I suppose this problem was to be expected due to the 700 plus pages in the book, but sometimes including terse tidbits of tenaciously constructed literary action causes the scenes displayed to lose much of their emotional depth, notably the infantilized centaurs, the confrontation between Professor McGonagall (Maggie Smith) and Dolores Umbridge (Imelda Staunton), and every scene involving Sybil Trelawney (Emma Thompson).

I suppose The Order of the Phoenix delivers another entertaining escape into the Potter realm, even if it's somewhat hasty. And it certainly enhanced my crush on Luna Loovegood, leaving me comfortably daydreaming about a stroll past a lakeside beech tree, just in time to watch a Giant Squid frustrate some Merpeople. But it could use a spontaneous difference, an extended unexpected break in the magical material, to round out its structure and diversify its focus.