Across 110th Street

*Warning: this film examines racism from a hardboiled perspective. Be prepared for unsettling language and situations if you happen to view it.

3 bold and foolish citizens decide to rip off the mob, after learning where it meets to count its money, leaving the daring heist with 100,000 apiece, thinking they'll elude detection, staying put in the very same neighbourhood.

The robbery turns into a murder which leads to police interest, thus the rash impromptu entrepreneurs are pursued by more than one well-financed antagonist.

Both groups have grievances to air as they investigate internally and beyond, a steady stream of eager vitriol accompanying conversation after conversation.

With all the conflicting strategical approaches its amazing that group dynamics are able to accomplish anything, aggrieved fluid practicalities confronting active hostile brawn.

What a feast for character development, however, as at least 8 from different walks have their say, as much care and attention adopted to craft the corrupt Captain's lines (Anthony Quinn) as those which define the gravest of suspects.

Many detective films discuss the achievement of results, the pressing desire to move forward with a case as investigators theorize anew.

Their theories at times lacking evidence which they seek by using violence, assuming the resultant coerced information isn't tampered by survival instinct.

Across 110th Street prefers the law and the rights of persons of interest being investigated, as the brilliant Yaphet Kotto defends liberal reforms while critiquing totalitarianism. 

Imagine random conversation, taken as absolute empirical fact, with only a scant cross-section of specific subjects deemed aesthetically appropriate. 

At work perhaps so much concerned intrigue fluently adapts.

But why should one be bound by classification?

Beyond one's working life?

Across 110th Street provocatively pulsates as three interconnected adversaries raise disputatious hell.

Versatile character development recalled the cinema of my youth.

Characters that aren't whitewashed success stories.

Raw determination wildly overflowing.

Young Mr. Lincoln

Like the coziest pillow outfitting a night's rest, or age old family recipes gastronomically ingratiating, Abe Lincoln (Henry Fonda) sincerely assists various members of his community, cultivating a wide spectrum of socioeconomic congress, through well-meaning bright expenditure, and honest caring friendship.

It was a different age perhaps where civil dreams still coaxed companionship, and thoughts of earnest social harmonies still challenged cynical despair.

In the North, in disconnected jurisdictions kept informed by books and newspapers, racism was courageously fought, as it had been institutionalized down below, with callous cruel appalling reckoning.

To this day it still malignantly divides with misguided cacophonous misfortune.

Strange how it could be taken so seriously.

Generation after generation.

It's nice to watch a story less enamoured with all-encompassing ambitions, one that closely examines a thoughtful slice as opposed to the generalized big picture.

Instead of constant change that sees a new character emerge every so often, in the observant Young Mr. Lincoln, a compelling moment playfully sustains.

Not as overflowing with fact and detail as a wide-ranging chronological compass, but still airtight with specific style and in-depth particular emphasis.

So many stories to be freely told about larger than life historical figures. Why consistently focus on their entire lives? When a down to Earth take will also do.

Mr. Lincoln is perhaps too down to Earth at times in John Ford's exploratory film, but his lack of clever worldly artifice doesn't mean he's not always thinking.

His sure and steady composed even-minded patient modest good humoured nature, earns the regard of the respectful town through heartfelt compassion and boundless energy.

Imagine an honest clever statesperson who was largely self-taught and grew up in the woods, developing an appealing universal outlook that found support in the minds of millions.

It sounds like a political impossibility if you don't believe in grassroots democracy. The fact that men and women like this can still rise to become president speaks to genuine robust American democracy.

Imagine a system that substantially promotes integrity of character along with the pursuit of wealth.

Where one can be prominent without being wealthy.

And massive wealth doesn't ensure success. 

It seems like these ideas are at a low ebb and at times it's tough to fight off disillusion. 

But disillusion leads to Putin.

And Biden fits the traditional model I've presented here in many ways.

Running on Empty

A family nurtured on the run from the law, as two aging radicals domestically innovate.

They were both once somewhat younger but not much less idealistic, and they engaged in destructive violence, by blowing up the lab responsible for making Napalm, no was supposed to be there, but an innocent janitor was blinded.

Their network was vast and organized and managed to keep them on the move, to help them avoid incarceration for enough time to raise a family.

Their family's tight and genuinely loving full of creative exploration, the imaginative alternative means cultivated by clandestine life.

It's all the children have ever known and they've matured and adapted well, at least inasmuch as they love each other and are correspondingly respectful.

Mom (Christine Lahti) and dad (Judd Hirsch) feel somewhat guilty but there's little time to wallow, yet when their eldest son (River Phoenix as _______) reaches his late teens he starts to think about University.

He has a musical gift and is earnestly supported by his teacher (Ed Crowley), he even falls for his feisty daughter (Martha Plimpton) and dares to share his courageous plan.

His competing responsibilities are rather solemnly negotiated, as he deals with teenage impulse and unanticipated affection.

It's a bizarro shout out to active engagement generally presented with caring sympathy, I tend to think no one would make a similar contemporary film (in North America), but I'm likely mistaken, you never know what's out there.

I fully support the critique of the manufacture of destructive weapons like Napalm, and the war machine in general, a peaceful world praises productivity, contemplative virtues beyond the utilitarian.

But I can't get behind using violence to putting an end to violence, unless you're forced to do so, as in the case of Ukraine. There are just so many innocent victims. So many people who may have been keen carpenters, teachers, actors, even accountants, if they hadn't got caught up in an ideological conflict. I'd prefer to see concerned citizens capture violent leaders from different sides and force them to fight it out like gladiators on TV. When the people see the hopeless position the gaunt promoters of warlike violence find themselves within, it would no doubt produce a comic effect, which may generate a sustained resonance.

I don't claim to know a universal path forward, there's so much contradiction in an active thoughtful life, so many unforeseen intricate complications that mass cultural endeavour seems foolhardy.

A disposable income seems to help, however, keeping people away from poverty. If they aren't stressed about food and shelter they're more at ease with things in general. 

And businesses flourish and there's less of a need for credit and people can relax and have fun after a busy day's work.

With friends or with their families. 

Disposable incomes.

A huge win win. 

Bergman Island

Dad often liked to talk about how he loved arthouse cinema when he was at University, and the director he remembered watching most frequently was the internationally celebrated Ingmar Bergman.

It was difficult to get dad to watch independent cinema as the years passed by, but he did start to enjoy traditional science-fiction which was a big most welcome surprise.

I admit to never having grown tired of either and to still enjoying the inordinate synthesis, I still find blending the arthouse and the mainstream makes for a more diverse constructive dialogue.

You have the individualistic rebellious insights independently crafted with subjective certainty, mischievously juxtaposed with august objective stately ponderous risk based analysis.

I don't recommend proceeding in this fashion if you want to occasionally communicate with others (about film), my humble experience at least has led me to believe that most people prefer one to the other.

I still find the blend much more intriguing, a wider spectrum, more robust confluence.

I'm too old to worry about categorical superlatives. 

In fact I find them most distasteful.

Ingmar Bergman's films are still fun to watch, as melancholically instructive as they are light and playful, at times showcasing eccentric enigmatic enlightenment somewhat lost with the ways of the world.

Bergman Island is a fascinating treat for curious fans of the prolific director, an extended interview patiently presented at his cherished home on Fårö Island.

His thoughts are still clear and descriptive as he discusses life with vivid detail, courageously holding nothing back, wholeheartedly concerned with unfiltered honesty.

There's a funny moment near the end where he mentions a lie he once made to the press, something spontaneous he said when he had no answer to a question that was suddenly asked and caught him off guard.

He was annoyed because the spur of the moment random response came to be taken as irrefutable fact.

I wonder how often that happens.

A somewhat comic reflection on truth (how often have I thought, "it's just something they said!").

If you're a fan of Bergman or auteurs in general Bergman Island is essential viewing.

Raw insights into sublime genius.

A passionate life.

Not without controversy.

Code inconnu: Récit incomplet de divers voyages (Code Unknown)

Indeterminate reactions sidestepping stimuli, attempts to integrate impressionistic zeal, melded with studied yet experimental role play, opportune emphasis, vernacular vixen.

Pumpernickel panache intuited hesitant precocious pantried parasol protocol, emergent revelation anodyne rubric ecstatic reservation lands unknown.

Subtle or daring cryptic courageous imperative nondescript agile evanescence, manifold merged transformative mysteries maestro a' mewing critically conscious. 

Restive receptive quizzical consommé piecemeal perceptive narrative legend, dwelling itinerant quadrants continuums amorous crooned cartographical quay.

Descriptive departure rhapsodic rapids whippoorwill whirlwind cortical calm, dorsal fin dreamy demonstrative dashing zephyrous zigzag literal lounge.

Nautically nestled lampooned luminescence solemn centripetal sermonized soirée, exotic exodus fermenting fusions coastal consensus taciturn tracts.

Vehement vessels ensconced equilibrium qualms quotients choral affirméd flotilla, doughty destination irrelevant rations unparlayed particulars maritime motion.

Envisioned intricate haphazard hijinks amusingly harmonized holistic surf, assertive rebuffles distraught notwithstanding inquisitive mischievous mirth.

Mundane immersive inevitable unchanging unified concordant prediction, intermittently erupting through humdrum monotonous atonal routine seas.

Variety unsurpassed inexplicably tactile imaginative gripping re-emergence, delicately embraces expansionist curious interactive proclivities. 

Patterns cherished patterns critiqued patterns belovéd patterns disdained, corresponding cohesions upheavals erratically nuanced through mood in flux.

Ever onwards agendas uncharted heuristic random anticipated happenstance, at times successful at others disheartening fluid trajectories fun intercessions. 

The pressing break of day landlubbing routine discordant seclusion.

Tasty latté ready to go.

Subconscious synergies.

Active stasis.

*That's my take on Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir's first date. If they ever really went out.

Die Brücke (The Bridge)

During World War II, as Allied forces cross into Germany, the Nazis refuse to surrender, preferring to enlist children and the elderly to fight against astronomical odds.

Men of conscious attempt to intervene but their humanistic pleas are stubbornly ignored, order and duty cold calculation overriding instincts for self-preservation.

The remnants of a revolting ideology still absolutely hold sway, the fascist Nazi imperialists still clinging to toxic masculinity.

Thus, a group of school children is enthusiastic when suddenly drafted, and given one day of uninspired training before being sent off to the field.

They've grown up together during the war and most unfortunately know little else, and they're very brave intent on self-sacrifice if it means defending their native soil.

The officer in charge decides to desert leaving the kids alone to defend a bridge, he's shot while trying to outwit the authorities codes and classification above all else.

Shortly thereafter, the very next morning, the kids find themselves ferociously tested, as three American tanks attempt to burst through their dedicated defiant deft defences.

What follows is an utterly loathsome grotesque pungent tragic lament, bold innocent lives needlessly lost which were harmlessly playing a short time ago.

Die Brücke (The Bridge) is rather graphic as it presents the fight like a typical war film, to bluntly accentuate the ghastly carnage with lethal despondent absurdist reckoning (the horror maniacally awaiting in the realistic absurdism).

Made in post-World War II Germany (1959) to assist with what must have been an abysmal spiritual reconstruction, I'm not sure how it was received, but it still makes a shocking impact.

I'd argue it's an essential war film which makes an impact like no other, the sight of innocent children enlisted to fight as thoroughly repugnant as it is catastrophic.

Earlier in the film, some of them are so carefree and playful they have yet to form dreams for the future, preferring to play tricks with mice or critique or boast as the endless day passes by like any other.

There were many films in my youth which sought to make war seem unappealing (Jacob's Ladder, The Thin Red Line, Apocalypse Now, Platoon), as artists set about creating a peaceful aesthetic designed to stifle cultural belligerence.

Peaceful egalitarian unions backed them up while fighting racism.

Too bad they lost their hold in Russia (and elsewhere).

And gave way to vicious nationalism.

Planet of the Apes

Explorers sleep quietly slumber for millennia while swiftly passing through space, bravely uncertain as to where they might eventually end up, adventurous and daring, expeditionary finesse, they dream civilization incarnate, and sedately persevere. 

Crashing suddenly in a lake roughly 2,000 years after their departure, they have just enough time to escape, boldly paddling unencumbered to the surrounding desert shores, with enough food and water to last three days, and the pioneering spirit to endure and then some.

They trek for quite some time until enthusiastically finding life, a single plant unassumingly declaring the probability of others.

Vegetation is soon abundant and fresh water readily available, they soon jump in to freely bathe, before encountering a disturbance.

Their clothes are gone they wildly dash to catch the entities who stole them, only to discover a race of humans rather primitive and mute.

The humans are raiding crops but from whom remains undetermined, until furious apes lithely riding horseback appear with nets and horns and rifles.

Suddenly shocked and separated the startled travellers quickly flee, one shot in the neck with a non-life threatening wound then brought to a nearby village. 

He can't talk and he swiftly learns that on his newfound world people surge and struggle.

But there are other forms of communication.

To employ before regaining speech.

I can't discuss how this film ends because I'd rather not spoil the fun, it was one of my favourite cinematic surprises in my youth, and I'd hate to spoil the ending for others.

Not that hundreds of people will be madly rushing to see a Planet of the Apes film from 1968 anytime soon, when several new ones have recently been released, nevertheless, it's worth checking out if you haven't seen it (and somehow never heard what happens in the end).

Simultaneously, the film's far off agrarian inhospitable planet includes parts that been devastated by war, and as I've mentioned before,  after choosing this film at random one evening when I was perhaps 10, it seemed like nuclear war would no doubt be an impossibility on our world, if wiser heads historically prevailed.

Which is another reason this war in Ukraine is so horrifically devastating.

If a country's leader is threatening to use nuclear weapons, how does that leader still have a country to lead?, why hasn't he been arrested?, and why is that country still a member of the United Nations?

Baffling.

Perhaps stranger things have happened.

But certainly not within my lifetime. 

Newsfront

Post-World War II Australia, urges to diversify held within restraints, some see labour and the left as an influential leap forward, others worry about the Stalinist labour camps.

Productive hardworking journalists diligently capture the news within, changes in political culture the business itself energetically presented in periodic vignettes. 

You get to meet reporters and camerapersons plus narrators and overarching executives, and see how their active interpersonal relationships mutate and shift with multitudinous accord.

It's well done, a compelling slice of raw kinetic dis/proportionate compulsion, intricately endeavouring to freely showcase a vast unparalleled nation changing.

How do you monitor the changes. what paradigms to pinpoint, spices to sojourn?, with the massive amounts of incoming data how do you choose which stories to circulate?

Do you want to be known for something in particular or to brandish and broadcast wide-ranging spectrums, is there a timeless quality to certain narratives or do waves a' wingéd work it unbound?

It's been sad to see labour's role in the forecast sharply decline in recent decades, perhaps as the internet expanded alternative sources practically emerged (animated comedy?). 

And as those sources practically emerged traditional news outlets had to cater to a different audience, one with much more elitist pretensions that abruptly abandoned labour in Anglo/American markets.

A long time since I was in school, but even at that time interest in blending social strata had waned, except amongst the French Canadians living in Québec I met in grad school, of whom an enormously high percentage still cared about people.

The percentage was so high and at such a high level that Québec seemed like the best place to be, so even if my French wasn't that great I moved to Montréal to look for work.

I started reading a lot about Québec's history around that time as well, and enjoyed several engaging texts chronicling different periods of French Canadian culture.

I decided I didn't want to live in Toronto or Vancouver and read those books in isolation, or study Québec from afar if I had the chance to live there.

I cared about work and finances too but living somewhere I wanted to be meant much more. So much of life takes place outside of work it's better to live somewhere you love than grow weary with ennui.

Back to journalism, I imagined it would take longer for war to break out after major Anglo/American news sources abandoned the left, and the unhindered pursuit of either wealth or elitist standing once again imperialistically took centre stage.

It's happened nonetheless and will likely continue to happen for decades, if peaceful inclinations don't again take centre stage or at least form part of the master narrative's bedrock.

The jingoistic warlike right will tell you that it's natural just as they did before both World Wars, and it won't care while millions die as it coldly makes astronomical profits.

But just as many others are saying today and have been for previous millennia.

There's nothing natural about these conflicts.

In fact they're a grandiose perversion. 

What Happened Was . . .

A date.

A get together.

Both parties unsure what to do.

It's their first romantic conversation in a while.

Good impressions sought.

Along with good food.

They both work at a law firm but aren't in possession of law degrees, their crafty assistance still essential no doubt to the smooth flowing distilled jurisprudence. 

Jackie (Karen Sillas) likes Michael's (Tom Noonan) sense of humour and the way he proceeds with a lighthearted touch, no stilted airs or predetermined fussiness generally complicating his reliable work.

She's straight up and borderline daring as she honestly shares pastimes and preferences, with little interest in codes or concealments she genuinely delivers the dependable goods.

But she simultaneously doesn't disseminate emphatic criticisms and dissonant avowals, perhaps not wishing to spoil the evening with ornery uptight imperious outbursts.

Perhaps also she's just sincerely curious and realizes you learn more by embracing interest, or at least may generate something prolonged or won't have to keep meeting new people quite so often.

He's uncertain as to how to proceed since he's suddenly encountered direct honest innocence, and isn't used to unceremoniously sharing honest thoughts and open revelations.

The suppressed yet cognizant snob deep within is overwhelmed by the freeflowing gratitude, and he begins to feel somewhat humble and suddenly re-evaluates his bold declarations.

He also starts telling the truth and feels rather embarrassed as he awkwardly does so, but she's worried she's somehow upset him, he's somewhat blind to the catch he's found.

What Happened Was . . . thoughtfully examines insecurity as it engages in unscripted exploration, suddenly abounding with practical material to realistically characterize imaginative fluctuations.

They're both unprepared for reality but she's a little more willing to experiment.

A perfect film if you're worried about dating.

Or would perhaps rather never abandon the single life. 

Le Plaisir

 An agéd sophisticated debonair imbroglio, still likes to go out dancing, and equipped with mask and trendy attire he freely joins in at a local club.

But there's a collapse an unfortunate sudden enervating brisk inopportune muddle, and soon he's once again back at his apartment quietly recovering from sporadic plays.

His devoted wife who refused to leave after so many ceremonious years, explains how she came to yield when faced with so many imprecise delineations.

Star-crossed solipsistic synergies familial fetching fervent fermentation, a look at the oft unmentioned social graces as they've matured after so much time.

A small town business stays open late and is generally frequented by the well-to-do, who enjoy alternative flair and characteristic distraction on many an otherwise mundane night.

But on the Saturday evening in question the curious cast is nowhere to be found, which leads to an improvised assemblage of minds eventually provoking headstrong altercation.

Fantasy has set out indeed has gathered in an even smaller town, to celebrate a relative's coming of age without ornate robust discountenance. 

It's thoroughly agreed within the picturesque pastoral pastime, that they add modest cosmopolitan flavour to the reservéd village life.

Soon back across the way and once again settled into the imagination, local animosities swiftly disperse with neither grudge nor recollection.

Peculiar habitual practice efficaciously engendered.

Another time, bewitched bewilder, fancy fortune expression mused.

An upcoming artist finds himself bedazzled by a striking model upon his canvas, so much so he seeks her hand and takes up residence outside the city.

But fleeting passion disrupts his airs and soon he derides domestic life, his young wife driven to mortal explicit moribund feats of declamation.

His arrogance astounds as he responds with dismissal as she attempts to take her own life, yet survives the disparaging doctrine with animate versatile proactive buds.

A happy couple, perhaps, thereafter, as inspiration jukes and jounces.

Age old conceptual reckoning.

The joys of youth.

Venerable wear.

*Written by men. 

Inside Man

A detective gets his shot since he's the only one around when the call comes in (Denzel Washington), his captain less willing to throw work his way after a recent erroneous routine rupture.

But a bank's being robbed and they want to negotiate the robbers taking their forbidden time, many hostages struggling nerve-wracked within, a smooth flowing exchange stretched out stressed suspicion.

Meanwhile, the bank's agéd owner (Christopher Plummer) hires an alternative negotiating team (Jodie Foster), to recover an ancient safety deposit box he's worried the thieves have set in their sights.

She exists in the theoretical ether wherein which higher-ups employ extreme discretion, to tidy up raunchy embarrassing mishaps, or in this lofty case, World War II profiteering.

The detective doesn't like it when she shows up with answers to questions he wasn't considering, but the communicative green light is still freely given and soon it seems the bank owner's fears weren't that off base.

Afterwards, chaos ensues, with emboldened predicaments furtively enabling, the concealment of the hypothetical thieves whose plutocratic endeavours indeed prove fruitful. 

The detective still needs to piece things together with precocious puzzling and reasonable riffs.

Interviews discourse entanglements hyperbole.

Thoroughly reckoned with guttural instinct.

A cool suave exoteric rigamarole effortlessly enriches voltaic vehemence, as the opposite ends of Inside Man's investigative continuums cohort and calumnize courtly contusions.

Critically clasped clandestine camaraderie sincerely conversing cross calculi composites, war profiteering is reckless abuse of a world controlled by volatile wickedness. 

I haven't seen any recent related articles covering political condemnations of war profiteering in Ukraine, but you would think some bureaucrat would have thought up something to passionately critique it in the last couple of weeks. 

Many business have pulled out of Russia and I imagine sanctions are making routine life difficult in the massive country, but weeks into the brutal conflict and it's still raging with destructive frenzy.

If businesses and individuals are profiting from Russia's continued vicious bombardment, it would be nice to know they'll be held accountable with sincere constricting jurisprudent venom.

How to monitor myriad factors multidimensionally mired in mad malfeasance, is hopefully being taken care of at the maniacal moment with exceptional haste and sentient synergies. 

Ride in the Whirlwind

Ye olde bucolic misunderstanding matriculates maniacal madness, as 3 travellers find themselves caught up in volatile jurisprudent pursuits.

A gang of outlaws led by one Blind (Harry Dean Stanton) has just finished robbing a pugnacious coach, only to return to their secluded cabin without much to do but sit back and drink whiskey.

The three travellers are on their way to Waco and happen to pass by 'fore the oncoming night, and manage to negotiate free and safe passage plus a hot meal and ground for the evening.

But soon after sunup a group of armed citizens comes to express their sincere disapproval, and the 3 have no way to innocently distinguish themselves, and are unfortunately assumed to be bloodthirsty bandits.

Ceremonious discussion is not in the cards so they have to slowly try to escape, one of them quickly cut down shortly thereafter, the others too frightened to make their case.

They escape to a local squatter's homestead where they find food and fresh horses and whiskey, but the vigilantes come quickly a' callin' and soon they're terrified back on the trail.

I thought it was clever or at least somewhat different a cool hectic twist on the straightforward Western, while watching I imagined how strange it must have been when they abounded partout, to show up at the cinema and see three or four playing.

Perhaps that number's too high or perhaps there were even times when it was far too low, I grew up watching them with papa in rerun, what I assume was decades after their genuine heyday (when Unforgiven came out critics made a big deal about the return of the Western).

I suppose there's still fertile ground within the Western's well-trodden cinematic soil, but to imagine hundreds if not thousands of Westerns dagnabit just seems like vast frontier overload.

Clearly you should have an endless stream of spaceships visiting new planets in space, however, perhaps at times cultivating amicable relations, at others engaged in intergalactic disputes.

Still kind of cool to see a clever twist in a Western, nevertheless, even if others in the audience asked, why is no one thinking?, it must have been crazy packing up and headin' west back before there were highways or cities or motor cars.

It's still kind of cool to be sure and I happily recommend it even if just for a spell.

Lots of opportunity and different things to do.

Not to mention the wildlife.

Mountainous ranges.   

Ofelaš (Pathfinder)

A tale told for at least a thousand years, composed in the isolated Scandinavian countryside, during winter but past the blinding darkness, domestic peoples meet wild barbarians.

There's nothing romantic about these rogues as they travel the land murdering free people for plunder, with no regard for tradition or livelihood, they make war on those living peacefully.

A gifted young hunter (Mikkel Gaup as Aigin) arrives back at home after they've arrived in gluttonous mass, and is barely able to free himself but still leaves a trail for them to follow.

He quickly makes it to the next village where they agree to pack up and leave, swiftly moving to the mountainous coast, some preferring to stay behind and fight.

But the maniacs prove too much for them and they're struck down with vicious precision, except for the young gifted hunter who reluctantly agrees to function as guide.

At the new sheltered encampment the free people settle in with harmonious accord, anxiously awaiting the return of their kinsfolk in gregarious revel and hesitant longing.

They're theoretically safe because there's only one path that can be followed to find them, through the treacherous unforgiving cliffs, and none of the barbarians knows it.

But unfortunately the young hunter does and one night they suddenly look up in horror.

The covetous belligerents having fiercely appeared.

With little time for them to escape.

You would think we had universally moved past the counterproductive desire for war, from systematically bombarding a free people with missiles for some unknown insane imperial purpose. 

Isn't it enough to simply have your domain and then try your best to flourish within it, celebrating old traditions while developing new ones, polymorphous regenerative imagination.

Imperial aggression means constant worry ubiquitous vigilance inanimate strife, since those your army repugnantly attacked will never stop fighting 'til they see you removed.

How does Russia hope to hold Ukraine for decade after oppressive decade, will Ukrainians not consistently engage in bellicose insurgency every single day of the illegal occupation?

Russians could be sitting at work conducting trade with Ukraine and heading home at the end of the day, to their family and friends a chill film some conversation the laidback curious creative life.

That's what a successful man does he doesn't violently invade another country. And force people to unilaterally listen to him. That's the way of the violent coward.

And as long as Russia occupies Ukraine Russian cowards will have to fear insurgency.

When they could simply be peacefully living at home.

Hopefully it never comes to that.

All Good Things

Traumatized in his youth after witnessing a parent commit suicide, David Marks (Ryan Gosling) struggles to live up to expectations, his family excessively wealthy in possession of sought after prized real estate in Manhattan, he can't make the corporate adjustments, to productive managerial life.

But in his youth he's less concerned with high-end sustainability, and is even somewhat chill as depicted in the film, so much so that he wins the hand of lighthearted freespirited lass (Kirsten Dunst as _____ Marks), the two forging a constructive team, at home in the remote countryside.

At his best he still remains quiet and hesitates to add much to any conversation, but he's still loving and kind and supportive as his marriage passively progresses.

If only the film had ended there, and they'd simply flourished low key down home, but his father (______ Langella) lures him back to the city and packs on tons of stressful responsibility.

He can't deal he flounders can't float and takes his frustrations out on his wife, refusing to agree to raise his own family, eventually turning to violence.

She comes from a much less reserved family and isn't accustomed to resonant gloom, she still applies herself vigorously to education and boldly hopes to one day attend med school.

But her dreams are cut short one evening indeed she suddenly hauntingly disappears.

Her husband likely having played a hand.

In curtailing her resilient progression.

The Fredo factor in lavish expenditure morosely embracing inanimate doom, feeling compelled to richly role play executive constructs for which he's ill-suited.

He clearly needed to do his own thing but his severe father couldn't accept that, and bluntly pushed him into a mindset to which he could not adapt applicably.

But others could and resounding jealousies destructively emerged in sheer despondency, there's no failure if you can't adapt to stilted stratagems that don't fit your personality.

You need to forget the lofty expectations and ignore ill-conceived hypothetical criticisms of your reputation, and find something that suits your mind, North America's great for supplying diversity.

Take Sherlock Homes as a working example as he's imagined on the brilliant Elementary, he falls into a destructive spiral of drug addiction but bounces back with perceptive resiliency.

His father is also well-off and sternly resents his eccentric son.

But Sherlock emphatically defies him.

And leads a strong independent life of his own.

Daylight

Always loved driving through tunnels as a child, and I have to admit, I still do, they're remarkable feats of submerged engineering, and it's fun to drive through them because you're travelling underwater.

But of course, at times, while leisurely passing through them, I consider the possibility of collapse, along with grim forecasts regarding lacking potential escape routes, accompanied by variable prognostications, predicting cumbersome water flows.

Just how my brain works, as I've mentioned before, I'm single for life, it's okay though, so much time has passed and I've yet to hear of a tunnel collapsing, apart from the frenzied fictional fetters, fantasized in Rob Cohen's chaotic Daylight.

Within, a variety of families and individuals suddenly find themselves trapped beneath the Hudson River, with little hope of ever escaping, to the multidimensional world above.

A high-speed chase encouraging an explosion led to their exasperated incarceration, city officials unsure how to pristinely proceed, amidst the conflicting demands of the impetuous rush hour. 

But one person keeps a level-head and refuses to let the survivors drown, taking great risks just to reach their location, where he encounters vehement criticism (Sylvester Stallone as Kit Latura).

For he was once in charge of New York's rescue efforts until one day a unique situation overwhelmed him, after which he was relieved of his command, the story hitting the local newspapers.

But having learned of the enormous disaster while driving around in his daring cab, he heard the call and showed up immediately, like so many brave Ukrainians. 

Given the go ahead rapidly proceeding he strives to save the isolated crew.

They eventually forge a united team.

In the heart of the 1990s.

I imagine improvised united teams are being forged by the resistance across Ukraine, in defiance of fascist imperialism, to save both a country and a way of life.

Hopefully the sanctions the West is imposing make a difference sooner than later.

Although I imagine Putin's hellbent on victory. And won't hesitate to starve and bankrupt his own people to achieve it.

If things had proceeded differently, if Russia hadn't chosen an autocratic path, it might be currently up for admission to the European Union, and enjoying various cultural exchanges with friends in North America.

Too late to focus on conditionals, but not too late to stifle despotism at home.

Do you see what happens when you ignore democracy, and place too much power in individual hands?

When you take complex decision-making procedures away from groups seeking to productively participate? 

Man in the Saddle

Reared in the fledgling West, when cattlepeople came to parlay, begrudging neighbours were taken to task, sometimes deadly, sometimes shortsighted, at times rambunctious, on occasion, rather uptight, making one wonder why anyone ever came to town, if not for supplies, or distraught exposure.

People have gathered once again nevertheless on the day of the wedding of a wealthy rancher (______ Knox as Will Isham), whose bride (Joan ______ as Laurie Bidwell) once loved a less-well-off co-inhabitant (Randolph Scott as Owen Merritt), a man she refuses to ever forget.

The wealthy rancher's no awestruck fool unfortunately he's much too stern and practical, to ever generate genuine feeling from a sensitive creative soul.

And his jealousy slowly boils over with each mechanical passionless exchange, even if it's all he's used to, he can't accept that someone else had something more.

Merritt's ranch is much smaller than Isham's who seeks to monopolize the region, using the only tactics he's ever understood, coldhearted stubborn textbook belligerence.

But even if Mr. Merritt stressfully lacks a gang of rowdy uncouth hired guns, he still has many friends close by, many of whom come quickly a' callin'.

Soon romantic zeal's unwillingly duelling with inanimate calculation.

Ms. Bidwell unsure where she stands.

Neighbouring Ms. Melotte (Ellen Drew) aware trouble's a' brewin'.

Celebrating the raw unbridled frontier spirit with independent imaginative gusto, Man in the Saddle dares drift debonair with honest profound heartfelt discrepancy.

The odds are overwhelming yet the resolve exceptional enough not to doubt precise reliable markspersonship, the classic American home ranging heartache hassled harangued with bellicose brawn.

Trying to sincerely match adoring love with cold stubborn opportunism, may not work out so well if you're looking for content to match the formality. 

Nevertheless, a lot of people seem to make it work in relation to traditional old school arranged marriages, where I imagine resignéd familiarity eventually equates love with solemn observance. 

In my case, can't say I ever did meet a freespirit who would keep busy while I wrote in the park. 😜

So many films, the search for meaning.

Who could have ever have partnered up otherwise? 

The Misfits

Oddly enough, last week I was listening to the Beatles and my mind once again turned to Ringo, who I still think gets a bad rap when you think about the solid backbone he provided the band.

He also cleverly worked his funny personality into the media sensation being built at the time, and refined unique adorable pop character as a matter of reflexive intuitive fact.

Not to mention Octopus's Garden which I was yelled at for liking as a kid (no joke). Love that song to this day (I don't understand the yelling, it made 1967-1970). I'm not saying this blog is like an octopus's garden. I just wish I'd never been yelled at for liking the song.

I mention this because Ringo's legend is brought to life in Renny Harlin's The Misfits with dazzling flair, as the principal Robin Hoodesque phenom assembles a daring altruistic team (Nick Cannon as Ringo).

The intricate individuals started out do-gooding on their own without project or inquiry, yet found things much easier to accomplish when rambunctiously gathered as a stalwart team.

Plus, they could purse loftier objectives like freedom fighting or in this case a prison full of gold, used to buy weapons and finance autocracy around the globe without catch or hindrance.

The prison was built by a man (Tim Roth as Schultz) prone to catching a remarkable thief, who in turn escapes from prison after prison much to his shocked astonishment (Pierce Brosnan as _______ Pace). 

The do-gooding band seeks the escape artist's help to steal the gold from his latest prison.

But they're not sure if he'll freely accommodate. 

So they come up with a multi-point plan.

It's first rate low budget action comedically generating thoughtful ambition, as an agile acrobatic team tumultuously agrees to search and discover.

I've got a lot of respect for low or lower budget action films because it's so hard to take on the behemoths. Not to mention how difficult it is to make a convincing action film to begin with. I appreciate the resonant daring.

I like how The Misfits doesn't blow as much stuff up, it's better for the environment not to destroy so many things.

Computer graphics come pretty close to reality.

Save money, protect the environment.

I've come to terms with my own misfit status although for a while I thought I'd fit in, I thought there must be somewhere I didn't feel odd but it never worked out, plenty of books and films in the meantime.

If you feel like a misfit however swiftly note most assurédly so do I.

Although it generally seems like so many others are strange.

It can make for quite the afternoon outing.

Pickup on South Street

My decision to watch another Samuel Fuller film last week accidentally led me to unfiltered cold war propaganda, wherein which informant and criminal alike dislike communism and when asked to explain why, bluntly state, "we just do".

Pickup on South Street doesn't share many reasons to justify its indiscreet candour, it just keeps returning to a shack by the ocean where a pickpocket's hidden secret microfilm and beer (Richard Widmark as Skip McCoy).

If he's caught breaking the law once again it's off to prison for the rest of his life, but he still can't think of anything better to do, so he commits crimes then entertains the police.

They're none too fond of his tactics and have even been suspended for related frank outbursts, the audacious confidence the unrestrained vigour driving them past stock predictable punishments.

They don't explain what the microfilm depicts but it's plain and clear the communists want it, but the pursuing agent doesn't anticipate his seductive love interest falling for McCoy (Jean Peters as Candy).

It's utterly ridiculous spy drama resoundingly critical of argument and thought, just bellicose guttural vindications of shortsighted impulse inanimate standing.

Not that the communists also didn't employ reckless stereotypical reckoning, but when capitalist realms saw an influx of unions there was much more equality less crime and strife (see The Spirit Level: Why Equality is Better for Everyone and the 1980s).

If the two ideologies vigorously balance their stern opposition through democratic means, they can constructively influence one another by forging compromises and embracing diplomacy (not on contemporary television).

A strong left attempts to ensure the reasonable distribution of goods to the curious many, who in turn respond with less crime and corruption since they don't have to struggle to find basic needs.

If the strong left is clever and thinks to the future it strives to ensure the businesses they work for thrive, to facilitate perennial financial sustainability with as much dependability as can be hoped for in a state of flux.

For proof of a left wing country that looks to the future in the capitalist world, look no farther than resolute Norway and its 16 Olympic Gold Medals.

I've wondered how such a tiny nation could so resiliently dominate the Winter Olympics, and I've concluded that the oil wealth it distributes far and wide means everyone can afford to ski and take lessons.

By enabling the majority of its population to take part in cherished winter pastimes, skiing in Norway is like soccer in Brazil, it's a brilliant way to distribute your wealth.

Eliminating the left from your culture and letting despots slowly take absolute control for decades, may leave your country in ruin, if you decide to take on the rest of the world (it's a common shortcoming of dictators).

Trudeau may be somewhat of a fool at times but he's no despot, no Putin, no Hitler.

Give me leaders like him who love all peoples every day at any moment (and hopefully hate the STASI).

Over the narrow-minded jingoistic alternative.

The Iron Giant

A peculiar friendship develops after a boy (Eli Marienthal as Hogarth Hughes) befriends a robot (Vin Diesel as the Iron Giant), who recently crash landed in the ocean, and has been living in the forest ever since.

Somehow able to avoid detection as it feasts on discarded metallic objects, it turns out it's in fact quite gentle if approached with innocent sincerity.

Not that it's been entirely unnoticed, unsubstantiated reports of its existence confound, enough to lead the F.B.I to investigate, and even move in with 'lil Hogarth.

Fortunately, a kind-hearted artist owns a bountiful scrapyard nearby (Harry Connick Jr. as _____ McCoppin), and agrees to feed the wayward colossus as they figure out a plan.

Life proceeds as routinely as ever considering the massive robot and the police presence, traditional homely bucolic beauty radiating tranquil peaceful life.

But Hogarth starts to play with a toy gun one day which the Iron Giant perceives as a threat, immediately responding with militaristic gusto since he's been designed to fight instinctively.

The artist notices that it's entirely defensive after cataclysmic disaster is thwarted, or that the Iron Giant only transforms into an imposing war machine if it senses imminent attack.

Unfortunately, around the same time the actual military learns of its existence.

And quickly sends in the troops.

And almost nukes ye olde Maine.

Aggressive and sensitive tactical trajectories bizarrely interact throughout, as the benefits of a defensive army are oddly lauded with childlike wonder.

It used to seem like we were moving towards a world without any armies whatsoever, but recent developments have highlighted the importance of cultivating strong defensive forces.

Most unfortunate considering memories composed of prevalent peaceful politics (banal though they may be), but the world's become somewhat less rational in recent years, and a defensive army therefore seems prudent.

Naturally, the defensive army shouldn't respond instinctually as does the Iron Giant, which seems like it would have been an effective deterrent, had it not been programmed to instinctually unload.

How a robot of such advanced construction is unable to tell the difference between toy and actual weapons remains a mystery, although the fact that it certainly can't effectively critiques proponents of robotic armies.

The Terminator 2 influence is strong, although the Iron Giant's only a threat when it detects potential danger, and doesn't have a mission to save someone from another Terminator, although he does save humanity from itself.

As a paranoid trigger happy solider shoots first and asks questions later.

What a strange children's film.

Wondrously tumultuous.

*Almost threw this one away. 

Knowing

Whether or not we're definitively living according to unalterable predetermined quotients, or caught within a random vortex which coincidentally conspires with in/coherency, remains to be undeniably ascertained, compelling evidence for both tempting sides as easy to come by as night following day.

But "determinism" as it's referred to in Knowing seems like the more profitable option, or at least has many more adherents manipulating facts and outcomes to make it appear so.

It's a safer bet to generally proceed according to paradigmatic guidelines, which can be slowly adjusted throughout time with enough variation to dismiss accusations of tampering.

Things may appear to possess the refreshment of novelty but in fact generally fit with a rational scheme, macroconceived to maximize profit without upsetting sociocultural structures.

Thus things often appear to be randomly orchestrating nothing in particular without taking notice, which a well-oiled slipstream then indubitably classifies as culturally applicable non-disruptive elements.

The non-disruptive elements are then historically categorized as if to appear like they're evolutionary.

Bets are made, profits generated.

If only to decipher the code.

In Knowing, a clairvoyant girl writes down the dates and GPS coordinates for 50 years worth of disasters, then locks them away in a time capsule, which is unearthed half a century later.

They're decoded by a grieving astronomer whose devout partner passed not long ago, and unfortunately there's not much time left before the entire planet is suddenly destroyed.

I'm a sucker for these kinds of narratives so I enjoyed it as they set about unravelling the mystery, bit of a drag with the catastrophic outcome not that there isn't the possibility of escape.

I was watching a nature documentary one evening where a lion caught a fledgling warthog, who was none too impressed with his predicament, and proceeded to assail the lion with cacophonous grunting.

Did that lion happen upon the warthog at random and were his delirious grunts the product of genuine distress, or had it been absolutely predetermined that that lion should catch that specific warthog on film, for others to watch?

I try to proceed randomly myself a lot of the time it's much more fun to imagine things so.

And I hold out hope for random generation.

Do Twin Peaks (the Original Series), The Prisoner, Elementary, Star Trek, and Trailer Park Boys qualify?

*Look at the Freedom Convoy. Was it random or predetermined? At first glance it seems most certainly random. But now both Trudeau Prime Ministers have used Emergency Acts.

Men with Brooms

In a fit of hopeless anguish a skip abandons his agile team, to roam the wilds of Northern Canada and Québec in a fruitless wayward daze (Paul Gross as ____ Cutter). 

But the rocks he had discarded within isolated aqueous depths, are miraculously discovered by his old school hands-on coach (James B. Douglas as Donald Foley).

Unfortunately, the act of discovery inflicts a devastating wound, otherwise known as a crise cardiaque, his surviving family forlorn and crushed.

But their genuine heartfelt grieving finds sincere communal support, and the very same itinerant skip suddenly returns from his mournful travels.

It soon becomes apparent that the desire to curl still proudly dominates, their cheeky resolute bucolic daring fortuitous insurmountable spirit.

Ashaméd young Cutter hears the call and asks his father for nimble aid (Leslie Neilsen as Gordon Cutter), the reliable team boldly reassembled to seek out unheralded victory.

Applauding damsels supply convivial radiant luminous supple backing, Cutter Jr. finding himself caught between a bonafide astronaut (Michelle Nolden as _____ Foley) and her comic sister (Molly Parker as ____ Foley).  

Like they've put the band back together they set out to resurgently compete.

Others awaiting their brave contention. 

Across the wilds of Québec and Canada.

I remember catching a Brier in my youth on TSN one frosty weekend, and I loved how every province and territory had sent a team there to compete. 

I loved how 'lil P.E.I suddenly held an equal footing with larger jurisdictions, and had the chance to potentially upset much more heavily populated provincial opponents. 

But even more so it seemed to me that many of the competitors may have come from small towns, without the wealth or social standing oft attributed to skiing (you can even play if you're overweight!).

I liked how teams perhaps from Moose Jaw, Swift Current, Gravenhurst, or Rimouski, had perhaps defeated rivals from Toronto or Vancouver to resoundingly compete for the coveted Brier.

Needless to say, I was even more enthusiastic to apply such a thought to rinks competing at the Olympics, and have always paid attention since to see if our curlers at least took out Russia and the States.

Men with Brooms comedically captures such thoughts in a raw salute to a passionate game.

If you've never watched curling, you should check it out.

There's solid competition at the Scotties Tournament of Hearts (and elsewhere) as well.

Ski Patrol

A dependable crew gathers once more with the intent of facilitating safety, thoroughly concerned with bucolic camaraderie and old school resilient friendship.

Their trusty leaders are full of welcome as the new sought after season begins, the team strengthening its agile bonds with animate allied airtight adaptations. 

But trouble is brewing upon the slopes as crookedly conjured within the town, a local magnate hoping to acquire the resort's lease from the park authority.

Loveable Pops (Ray Walston) has managed the summits for decades with bold reliability, ship shape and tried and true yet still supportive of unorthodox thinking.

Mr. Maris (Martin Mull) indeed thinks he's soft because he gets along well with his staff, and mistakes trustworthy understanding for misguided glib incompetence. 

He convinces a local ski pro to cruelly engage in duplicitous sabotage, and he scandalously sets about ensuring equipment will no longer function.

Law enforcement is there to note when haywire happenstance hawks holistic, disquietingly keeping swooping track of each maladroit infraction. 

Things look grim distress piles up laidback cohesion flexed in jeopardy.

But age-old time-honoured testaments still transact with tactile turbulence. 

But such a synopsis perhaps exaggerates Ski Patrol's dire inherent conflict, without promoting the rambunctious antics festively erupting with carefree vigour.

The film may contain macromachinations which frenetically fuel financial frolics, but you can also count on extensive celebration un/ceremoniously accumulating.

Every 15 minutes or so an inspired fresh salute to improvisation, passionately serenades le joie de vivre with acrobatic lithe ir/relevancy. 

Never spent too much time myself engaged in alpine amusements, on skis in the winter anyways, didn't really start embracing winter again until recently.

But you get so much more out of the year if you remain active in January through March, and there's still so much to do, if you dress warmly, and come prepared.

It's really amazing what so many athletes get up to in the wintertime, suppose I'm more into snowshoes myself, but wow, the Winter Olympics impress.

As does ye olde Ski Patrol at times with its lack of pretension and freeflowing humour.

Liberating to be shenanigan prone.

When the world isn't so strict and serious. 

Uptown Saturday Night

The allure of chic amenities tantalizes a bold cab driver (_____ ______ as Wardell Franklin), but he needs an earnest wingperson to attempt to gain entry into the club.

Mr. Jackson (Sidney Poitier) has reservations concerning the somewhat elevated price tag, but he also can't deny he's curious, and doesn't want to disappoint his friend.

Their clever ruse proves rather prosperous the following adventurous Saturday night, but just as they're joyfully raking it in, several thugs crookedly come a' callin'.

Disillusion lugubriously abounds but even more so the very next day, when Jackson discovers he's won the lottery, and the winning ticket's in his wallet.

While he had reservations about the club, the massive payload generates audacity, and he decides to search for the thieving no-goodniks, in the unfamiliar underground. 

Franklin comes along for the ride and after a private detective exasperates their frustration (Richard Pryor as Sharp Eye Washington), it's off to question notorious phenoms with a plan as blunt as it is distressing.

But fate rewards them for embracing daring and soon they've found a compelling lead, even found the individuals responsible, an enormous return without much of an effort.

They find themselves enabling the brokerage of a new criminal partnership for their troubles, which even leads to a game of baseball, at a local church BBQ.

Hapless celebrity serendipitous success with a lack of consideration for the resonant danger, Sidney Poitier's Uptown Saturday Night placates stilted severe stresses.

Ye olde versatile implausibility efficiently achieving herculean goals, without letting disputatious doubts defile their frank dissimulation.

Like the bumbling Inspector Clouseau or the maladroit MacGruber, Jackson and Franklin find working solutions to problems they never wished they'd had.

The absurd situations generate levity which in turn manufacture humour, as humble laidback domestic reticence embraces virile volatility.

Some of the additional plot devices contemporary audiences take for granted (security at the club, others searching for the stolen goods), may be difficult to find within the film, but there's still a pioneering sense of improvised good fortune which characteristically excels.

Probably wouldn't have gone to such lengths myself but who's to say what's to be done?

Didn't know Sidney Poitier directed so many films.

What a career.

What a lifetime. 

No Way Out

Senseless racist irrationality destructively wallowing away, after an African American doctor (Sidney Poitier as Dr. Luther Brooks) attempts to save a life, and his truly sick patient passes.

The doctor just joined the profession having recently passed a requisite exam, and even though he's confident enough to make decisions, he still seeks guidance from established professionals. 

When his patient arrived the other night Dr. Brooks didn't have much time to make the call, Mr. Biddle (Dick Paxton as Johnny Biddle) had been shot during an attempted robbery, and was desperately clinging to life.

Dr. Brooks made a call nevertheless which the patient's brother attentively witnessed (Richard Widmark), after tormenting the humble doctor because he was born with black skin.

After the patient passed, another doctor appeared in the room (Stephen McNally as Dr. Dan Wharton), and Dr. Brooks honestly stated he was confident he made the right decision, but unfortunately could have been mistaken.

The volatile brother heard their conversation and reacted with racist venom, claiming his brother was killed due to incompetence while severely critiquing Dr. Brooks's race.

The only way Dr. Brooks can prove his innocence is to have an autopsy performed on the body, but the autopsy can't be performed without the consent of the surviving brother.

Not only does he refuse to give his consent, he also calls up his thuglike friends, and gets them to plan an attack on the local black neighbourhood, the situation becoming more and more insane.

And it's all because a bright student boldly determined he would become a doctor, and put in the necessary years of hard work and study to eventually attain the role.

Racism's disastrous stubborn ignorance almost prevents his career from moving forward, as someone too blind to see anything but skin colour goes out of his way to ruin a life.

Equal opportunity for every race and any individual willing to heed the call, objective analysis isn't qualified by a doctor's ethnicity as emergency medical decisions are made.

Even after Dr. Brooks proves his innocence Mr. Biddle refuses to believe, and with the resurgence of racism in the public sphere, the mass irresponsibility is most distressing. 

No Way Out highlights the pitfalls of racism with shocking language and blunt compression, I was surprised to see this film was made in 1950, I didn't think they made such candid movies back then (when dealing with sensitive issues).

Even though I think they're incredibly irresponsible I can support an individual's right to not be vaccinated, it's their body and even if they're being passionately foolish (remember how wonderful it was when they announced they'd found a vaccine! [with additional vaccines coming later!]) we live in a democracy not a totalitarian state.  

But if their protests start waving the confederate flag and they start preventing local businesses from operating, while irritating local residents, I simply cannot support them: I can't support freedom as it promotes slavery. 

Notting Hill

Relaxed and calm a modest income something to do throughout the day, friends and family puttering close by refined chillaxed communal orchestration.

An amazing guy so easygoing so generally tolerant of diverse personality, capable of providing well-reasoned advice or simply listening with enthused sympathy.

No partner to speak of unfortunately his passivity perhaps sounding alarms, elaborate dreaming jocose imagination unaccustomed to the practical life.

But Notting Hill isn't actively critical of well-meaning culture and sublime compassion, William Thacker (Hugh Grant) isn't hiding a body in his basement nor is he consumed by some monstrous fetish.

In fact he's a genuine nice guy inhabiting a world that doesn't find this frightening, such an odd state of mature affairs wherein which the lighthearted aren't considered maniacal. 

How it goes at times, however, look for the signs, be prepared to move on, and if time passes and the familiar patterns don't reemerge, you know you've found something solid, durable.

William is surprised one afternoon when a startling lass takes a shine to his bookshop, they find themselves out on what is known as a date, and even seem to be enjoying each other's company (Julia Roberts as Anna Scott).

But she's a film star, a rather famous one at that, who's managed to avoid the paparazzi in London, as they amicably mosey throughout Notting Hill congenially disposed to romantic endeavours. 

Nevertheless, after Mr. Thacker's less discreet flatmate (Rhys Ifans as Spike) discovers _______ happens to be spending the night, he has something to discuss at the pub and the press come hounding the very next morn.

Uncertain as to why they've appeared Anna instinctually senses ambitious wrongdoing.

She's also rather shocked and embarrassed. 

World's collide, what can he do?

It's a light thought provoking illustration of convivial paradigmatic in/compatibility, practical realities spoiling the fun while patiently building rapports unprecedented. 

So long since I've seen Julia Roberts laugh universally celebrating something quirky (prefer it to Streep or Hepburn).

I loved Hugh Grant's line, "this is a very strange reality to be faced with".

The classic Anglo/American synthesis. 

Such interrelations are underexplored. 

The Impossible

A family travels to Thailand for some much needed rest and relaxation, having barely sat down by the pool when a massive tsunami strikes.

Imagine one second you're seductively chillin' laidback at ease upon dry land, the next you're submerged underwater then gasping for breath as a wild river rages.

With no idea what happened to your family you frenetically cling to life, and try to orient your disillusioned vision with impassioned intense concentration.

Maria (Naomi Watts) suddenly hears a son close by (Tom Holland as Lucas), the two wildly braving the current to warmly embrace, the aftermath grim the once concrete environment aqueously scoured by peeps searching for loved ones.

Maria's husband (Ewan McGregor) has managed to find their other two growing boys, and even though all signs point to futility, he keeps searching for the rest of his family.

Maria's leg's been badly injured but she's found a bed in a local hospital, lil Lucas struggling to deal with the tidal wave of anxious depressing emotions.

As expediency raves and triage torments a family refuses to give up hope.

Cosmic forces of conciliatory daring encouraging bold rectified good fortune.

There seems to be a universal instinct that compassionately unites people when disaster strikes, the sudden emphasis on mutual survival electrifying prominent communal initiatives. 

Facilitating specifics within the chaos may prove generally disenchanting, but with patience and hearty reserve working solutions slowly materialize. 

A lot of hospital staff was thoroughly overwhelmed by the pandemic over two years ago, and they're still holding the stern front lines with resilient pluck and coherent balance.

In the face of the dispiriting fifth wave they've had to dig deep and reflexively accommodate, another round of logistic mayhem rapidly proceeding with disproportionate stress.

Since unvaccinated people are more likely to end up in hospitals should omicron unfortunately infect them, doesn't it make sense that they should seek vaccination in order to prevent chaos in our hospitals again?

By seeking vaccination, you're helping your community smoothly move through mournful wave after wave, and decreasing the stress on tens of thousands of workers who have been going above and beyond for years now.

Who knows how many boosters it will take before the virus disappears?

But without vaccination you're making things worse when new contagious variants suddenly arise.    

Predestination

Difficult to say what you would have done differently if you had possessed prescient knowledge way back when, would there simply have been more of an enigmatic emphasis, or would things still have proceeded without grandiose change?

A self-indulgent question to be sure creatively occurring if you've ever had time to consider the past, hypothetical degrees of forlorn or joyous intensities increasing, depending on whether or not temporal interventions could have facilitated alternatives.

But such alternatives would have opened up unforeseen potentialities which may have been more prosperous if not worse, manifold striking unpredictable variables accompanying sundry indefinite outcomes.

Such a perspective almost makes the act of engaging in trivial decision making, seem much more epic in light of the infinite imperceptible comic echoes. 

Would I have wound up teaching in Paris or exploring the bush laidback in Chibougamau, peacefully working away at the Granby Zoo or fishing off the coast of Sept-Îles?

Predestination introduces a time machine and a somewhat invariable interdimensional occupation, wherein which operatives monitor the past to attempt to hinder voltaic malfeasance. 

The rules are quite strict no nonsense the agents are watched with meticulous scrutiny, one attempting to improvise nevertheless after a lifetime of loyal service (Ethan Hawke as the Barkeep).

He befriends a recruit who's alone living a generally solitary existence, having grown up in an orphanage unencumbered by the temptations of bourgeois life (Sarah Snook as the Unmarried Mother).

Could she make a good agent who knows! theory's quite different from work in the field, but at least they have something to talk about over a drink at random one evening.

Even if you had a time machine and could travel back and forth to different ages, how would you ever settle in without standing out like a shocking oddity?

Would you be able to understand the dialect or codes of conduct with enough fluent ease, to do simple things like find lodging or food, and wouldn't the smell be repellent?

I suppose like so many things you'd have to proceed with trial and error, the first jump somewhat overwhelming the second and third perhaps less of a shock (if heading to the same location).

Could a thorough interest in Star Trek help to prepare one for such endeavours, as a kind of theoretical support, perhaps lacking practical value?

Predestination travels time like no other narrative I've seen before, much more concerned with characterized mystery than grandiose spectacle fantastic intrigue.

If you were to meet yourself 25 years ago have you any idea what you'd say?

Predestination has a unique answer.

It's really well done.

A must see for time travel fans.

The Lost Daughter

It's strange how much time I used to spend going to the cinema. In fact it's not strange at all, it was perfectly normal, everything about pandemic existence being strange, but it's been going on for so long that it's starting to feel normal.

That's depressing. And even with the vaccines, there's no end in sight.

Ah well, no use in dwelling, that's counterproductive, and at least we have vaccines and boosters available in Canada and Québec, and the risk of hospitalization is greatly decreased if you get them, I recommend getting the vaccine, getting it soon, I suppose it goes without saying but vaccines help prevent you from getting sick, especially if you get the virus, which is still spreading rapidly, and isn't showing any signs of letting up.

But I used to spend around 8 hours a week carefully or carelessly choosing films in cinemas and travelling back and forth to see them, sometimes while stopping for lunch, it was a great way to pass the time.

Now I've got all the time in the world just to choose two films a week and watch them on my computer or television, and it still seems like I have to find the time, how did I ever come up with all the extra hours?

It's certainly much less engaging watching films at home although there's an endless supply available, still, films are meant to be seen in theatres, and it's kind of lame always watching them on a smaller screen.

No end to the variety, however, and I'm super happy there's a Criterion channel, Criterions used to be really expensive films that you had to buy, if you really wanted to see one and couldn't find it at the library. 

I'm not sure if Maggie Gyllenhaal's The Lost Daughter has resonant artistic flair, but it certainly leaves an impression, and is like nothing else I've ever seen.

It's about an unappealing dull grouch who decides to go on vacation, during the off-season in a resort town, as locals celebrate liberation (Olivia Colman/Jessie Buckley as Leda).

Her ornery disposition and assertive dismissals ensure she doesn't make any friends, she's also generally annoyed when people talk to her, no matter how harmless or well-meaning.

She's plagued by haunting remembrances of the daughters she left behind to pursue her career, the surrounding carefree families at play only serving to vex her further.

She proceeds to steal one of their dolls and even buys it a new fancy outfit, and refuses to return it or just leave it on the beach even after a campaign is launched for days to find it.

The Lost Daughter's total lack of utility and uncanny investigation of gloomy self-obsession, lugubriously generates pathological charm through disorienting morose unabashed stern vision.

It's like a campy intellectual film that leaves you free to discern and judge, is it critiquing cantankerous agency or oddly celebrating unattached dysfunction?

Does she feel bad about not feeling bad about never having tried to cultivate feelings?

I think there's Criterion potential.

Resort towns are fun in the offseason. 

The Vikings

With a new King upon the throne (Frank Thring as King Aella) after a fearsome viking attack, England hopes to see less bloodshed, but their raids continue unsurpassed, in a far off warlike distant age.

While he may indeed be King he lacks hereditary standing, and the surviving wilful Queen (_______ Audley as Enid) has an authentic restless babe.

King Aella seeks his silence with cold dishonourable betrayal, but those loyal to his blood soon quickly send him off to Italy. 

Decades pass without rebellion the same King dispassionately ruling, as vikings plunder throughout Europe with reckless contumacious outrage.

A lord is bitterly critiqued for maintaining peace in his domain (_______ _______ as Lord Egbert), the King suspecting a secret alliance since the vikings leave him be.

He's correct and soon the nobleperson has departed for Scandinavia.

Where he meets a daring captive (Tony Curtis as _____). 

Prone to disobey.

An odd rowdy adventure film pugnaciously ensures, wherein which contention and fearsome battle proceed sans diplomatic reckoning.

The vikings, although realistically raiding and terrorizing the countryside, are portrayed as playful heroes well-suited to the plundering life.

It's as if they're engaged in mischief as opposed to ruthless carnage, savage violent misdeeds whitewashed to seem like innocent horseplay.

Written for men who love to fight and the women who sincerely adore them, it celebrates unrestrainéd shocking discourse with boisterous animation.

There are rather severe penalties for living the combative lives they lead, but the wounds and gashes and fatalities are freely lauded with heroic inhibition.

Although a dispute arises when Einar (Kirk Douglas) seeks to attack King Aella's castle, the scale of his grandiose ambition somewhat unsettling even for vikings.

But the attack is launched eventually and keeping in spirit it's all in good fun.

So many changes throughout the centuries. 

I'm not sure if The Vikings would have been shocking if it had been recently released (it's so not MeToo), or if it would have passed without note or comment? 

Silverado

The lonesome forbidding bellicose treacherous bleak disabling frontier, wherein which justice falls prey to monopolized coercive forceful brutish clutches.

The desire for peaceful community still lightly reckons with friendly resolve, as adventurous settlers dream big and head west to forge new towns in the dangerous wild.

The law attempts to protect them as they settle and herd and farm, but the off the grid free isolation also attracts absolutist ambition.

What if you could in fact open a successful business in a flourishing town, one that adapts and grows and prospers and encourages the lively exchange of goods?

And what if your business prospered to the point where you earned an enormous living, and your town also needed a sheriff to uphold the immaculate law?

Without any regional competition or federal oversight to inspect what you're doing, you could engage in all kinds of self-obsessed law breaking to ensure steady streams of duplicitous profit.

But what if you took things too far and the peaceful inhabitants grew tired of wrong doing, and encouraged volatile alternative jurisprudence to sincerely critique your lofty stranglehold?

Do gooding virtuous antitrusts will inevitably counter your unilateral brigade, with the interests of creating inroads for manifold newfound multilateral enterprises.

Dreaming big the innocent upstarts boldly challenge the bucolic hegemony, to stop the violence and audaciously ensure the freeform countenance of an abundant multiplicity. 

As their businesses take root their owners also start to acquire capital, which can be used to break down the established boundaries which had previously strengthened the haughty few.

But those businesses are then prevented from prospering to see the monopoly upheld ad infinitum, and ill-mannered ornery brute force is cruelly engaged to stifle integrity.

Thus, a showdown looms to propagate expansive means of production.

With articulate offence and defensive reserve.

The impetus recast each exigent Sunday.

And also with Lawrence Kasdan's chaotic action packed tumultuous Silverado, where domestic longing and urges for independence communally clash via honest virtue.

A remarkable cast acrobatically abounding with resonant epic frontier contumacy. 

Taking on racism along the way.

The trials of any given century.

No Time to Die

*Spoiler Alert.

Love's rewards having proven too enticing to ignore, James Bond (Daniel Craig) cultivates a continuous relationship, only to be surrounded one afternoon by the newfound henchpersons of a former rival, he doesn't understand how he's been discovered, and instinctively suspects betrayal.

He finds a new location el lobo solo off the grid, and settles into bitter retirement, trying to prosper through idyllic recreation, unable to placate his volatile will.

Meanwhile, a terrorist network steals a pernicious bioweapon which was developed by MI6, and uses inchoate Borg technology to specifically target individualized DNA.

But it even take things further and finds more widespread applications for the malevolence, intending to unleash it on the unsuspecting world, with genocidal morbid reckoning.

Bond lambastes M (Ralph Fiennes) (having returned) for having sponsored its dissimulated production, who naively thought it would save lives by making assassination more precise. 

To make things worse, the belovéd belle whom he left behind with regret and pain (Léa Seydoux as Madeleine), is sought after by the terrorist leader (Rami Malek as Lyutsifer Safin [who spared her life when she was a child {Coline Defaud}]), and Blofeld (Christoph Waltz) knows their secret.

Without much time with shocking immediacy Bond reflexively engages.

An international incident caught in the crossfires.

Along with his unknown offspring.

The dangers of manufacturing lethal weapons to make the world a safer place, are epically brought to bear on irresponsible bureaucrats lacking accountability. 

It seemed like things were progressing so peacefully for such a long time sustainéd equanimity, but a small fraction of the global population still preferred mutual animosity. 

Becoming more influential and less and less discreet resurgent jingoism renewed latent fears, and wiser ambitions to forge international consensus lost public ground to reckless profit. 

But their reckless ambition didn't only awaken narrow-minded prejudice and unrestrainéd self-absorption, but extremist elements seeking radical shifts to pursue alternative constructs were also empowered.

No Time to Die pits radical evolution against traditional desires to slowly change.

Both ambitions are in need of reclarification. 

Looking forward to checking out News Nation.

*First Bond film I haven't seen in theatres since 1989.

**Still hoping Daniel Craig stars in 7 Bond films to tie him with Roger Moore and Sean Connery, although it doesn't look like it's going to happen (if you count Never Say Never Again).

Larry Crowne

At times I forget that there are so many films out there that don't involve combat or defiance or shenanigans or intergalactic discord, beyond belovéd well-meaning tender-hearted Christmas films, known to many as romantic comedies, I don't spend enough time watching them, although I've never had much of an interest.

I didn't really say that much there but it still took me a while to get started, so I would typically be having a cigarette right now if I hadn't quit today, the first of several delicious cigarettes to have been had throughout the course of writing this review, if only smoking wasn't so bad for your health, it's such an enjoyable pastime.

Larry Crowne isn't only a romantic comedy but it's one starring Tom Hanks (Larry Crowne) and Julia Roberts (Mercedes Tainot), with an ensemble cast including Randall Park (Trainee Wong), Rob Riggle (_____ Strang), Cedric the Entertainer (Lamar), Pam Grier (Frances), Rami Malek (______ Dibiasi), George Takei (Dr. Matsutani), and Bryan Cranston (______ Tainot), smooth flowing and easy going, even directed by Mr. Hanks.

Not that there isn't calamity a loyal worker is cast aside (Mr. Crowne), his years of service callously overlooked due to his lack of post-secondary education.

Bills are due he's middle-aged and has a house and other big ticket expenditures, but he heads back to school nevertheless, to study economics and public speaking.

I would have liked to have treated myself to another cigarette at this point for I've managed to fill a page, but Nicorette gum will do for now, chomp chomp chomp, if I chew too long I get hiccups. 

Mercedes is a jaded teacher whose pervo husband has given up, the two forging an awkward pair of somewhat spoiled highly educated adolescents. 

Mr. Crowne winds up in her public speaking class which she'd rather not be teaching, most of the students are unsure what to do and she doesn't offer much useful guidance.

But through his can-do lack of pretension and unassuming good-natured reliability, she rediscovers her love of teaching, and even begins to apply soulful effort, her students are even happy to study with her again in second semester. 

It's like ice cream bored at the mall covered in adorable chocolate sauce and a dash of sociocultural sprinkles, a little something to brighten up a day that would have lacked genuine purpose otherwise.

Like the 35 cigarettes or so I used to have all day long to ensure a dependable stream of reward.

Although I suppose ice cream's much more wholesome.

I think I'll do it this time.

This Nicoderm patch is first rate!

*Normally I have a cigarette after transferring my review from paper to the net. Chewing more gum.

**That's the first review I've written without smoking at least two cigarettes in over 5 years. 

Dune

The Indigenous inhabitants (the Fremen) of a barren world (Arrakis aka Dune) once flourished unobstructed, until its only resource became the most coveted in the galaxy.

This spice mélange allows gifted navigators to alter the fabric of space and time, while others use it to mutate consciousness, attaining heightened spiritual states.

Different planets within the interplanetary union are governed by an Emperor, who is obsessed with maintaining control, and possesses a massive formidable army.

The rights to mine the spice engender astronomical profits, and House Harkonnen of planet Giedi Prime has obscenely enjoyed them for quite some time.

But House Atreides of planet Caladan has become remarkably popular in the union, as led by its level-headed Duke (Oscar Isaac), and the Emperor has grown jealous of its meteoric rise, and seeks to dishonourably annihilate them.

Thus, he takes Dune's mining rights away for the barbarous self-obsessed Harkonnens, and gives them to House Atreides, who can't refuse the magnificent honour, even if they suspect a trap.

The Harkonnens who hate the Atreides seek to attack them after the transition, supported by several legions of Sardaukar, the Emperor's ferocious spartan troops. 

But the Fremen hold a prophecy that a messiah will lead them out of darkness, and will come from the outer world, and know his ways as if [he's] born to them.

Duke Leto's son Paul (Timothée Chalamet) possesses extraordinary abilities and the Bene Gesserit Sisterhood admires them.

Could he survive the Harknonnen's sneak attack?

And find discreet refuge amongst the Fremen?

That's a working general snapshot of Frank Herbert's complex plot, which is difficult to simplify in a film, so this one' stretched into two instalments.

Denis Villeneuve cultivates isolation as a matter of intergovernmental intricacy, so many fierce independent characters collegially united through distinct cause.

Dignified solemnity is no laughing matter as the Atreides accept monumental responsibility, in a fluctuating volatile stern vortex, augustly magnified through intrigue.

The imposing offer freely shared sombrely cloaked in grand deception, the refusal of which would lead to acknowledgement of a rival's mean-spirited intent.

A love so great it leads to trust in the most duplicitous of foes, whose autocratic snide contempt is thoroughly condemned throughout the galaxy.

The belief in prophecy spiritual import patient intergenerational stratagems, producing widespread derelict skepticism as highly invested as it is dismissive.

An oppressed people tired of colonialism and their exploitation by another.

Prone to passionate belief.

Projected reified agility.

The Atreides and the Fremen still find compassion amidst the gloom.

With staple simple pleasures.

The sustainability of life.

*Love the changes Villeneuve made with Duncan Idaho (Jason Momoa) and Dr. Kynes (Sharon Duncan-Brewster).

**Loved the palm tree scene as well.

***It's very respectful of David Lynch's Dune and there are many similarities between the two films.

****Loved the dragonfly ornithopters. I was reaching for a cigarette last Summer and a dragonfly landed on my finger, obviously suggesting I should stop smoking, which I'm going to try to do next week, many thanks to dragonfly kind. 

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.