Kaijûtô no kessen: Gojira no musuko (Son of Godzilla)

A forgotten island off the beaten track hosts grand monumental experiments, as revered scientists seek to increase the expanding world's food supply.

Indeed it is speculatively thought that the vital crops sustaining humanity, will fall short of the requisite yields in little more than a 100 years.

Thus, using silver iodide, an ingenious solution is hypothetically put forth, to produce vast weather altering scenarios which create forbidden extreme temperatures.

How the cultivation of extreme cold will help generate abundant crops, isn't provocatively explained although it's assumed there is an answer.

Meanwhile, the scientific equipment periodically detects confusing anomalies, which startle the dedicated technicians who remain uncertain as to their origins.

Until after their first experiment generates hostile colossal preying mantises, who in turn destroy a barrier of rock, within which lies a massive egg.

Before they can devour what lies within the young one's father fortuitously arrives, the ensuing battle borderline epic as Godzilla Jr. watches in breathless shock.

Soon noble Papa Godzilla is eagerly instructing his newborn lad, in the titanic arts of aggrieved distemper, the two blossoming in flower. 

But Kumonga, the local giant spider, has had enough of their tender bonding.  

And when Godzilla drifts off into monstrous slumber.

It comes a' creepily crawling.

The sensational details of the riveting romance which brought about Godzilla's curious offspring, are unfortunately missing from this lively film, perhaps waiting to be found in another instalment.

Yet a newborn Godzilla indeed exists and once inquisitively enacted engrained mischief, however unaware of his gigantic rivals he aloofly appeared to be.

Thanks to his father's teachings he learns to fight back nevertheless, and even saves good old dad from Kumonga in an epic battle near the film's end.

As to altering the weather, hasn't that tended to be considered a disastrous calamitous mistake, the potential room for catastrophic error and international bedlam maladroitly pending.

There are just two many variables to holistically account for when creating such devices, many of which remain beyond our comprehension and also likely beyond that of A.I.

At least it was generally thought to be an incredibly bad idea long ago. 

We have advanced considerably.

But the forecast still lacks precision. 

Chikyû kôgeki meirei Gojira tai Gaigan (Godzilla vs. Gigan)

Godzilla finds himself fiercely dwelling on the sensational Monster Island, far away from the technobustle of old school contemporary Japanese life.

But as he rambunctiously resides a new threat from outer space descends, and intergalactically infiltrates unsuspecting Tokyo and proceeds to set up an amusement park.

Two local citizens become concerned when one of their siblings is mysteriously locked-down, and adventurously gamble on discovering his whereabouts while learning more about the corporation.

They're assisted by an emerging artist who was just commissioned to design the park, who's also able to prove the captive's existence, but not without resulting in their incarceration. 

They soon discover that upon another once verdant planet similar to our own, the primary lifeforms polluted too recklessly and eventually destroyed their fertile world.

Correspondingly, extant insect species were remarkably able to utilize their technology, and even build their own interplanetary spacecraft, to plan the bitter conquest of our precious Earth!

To aid in their colonialist endeavours they've macrocosmically enlisted Ghidorah and Gigan, who fly through space to our innocent planet and proceed to take out Tokyo.

Godzilla and Anguirus quickly arrive to boldly face the enraged duo. 

The alien species diabolically surmising.

That conquering Godzilla will bring about world peace!

Tough to logically situate ye olde Chikyû kôgeki meirei Gojira tai Gaigan (Godzilla vs. Gigan) within inelastic parameters, its traditional reliance on militaristic methods seemingly in conflict with its environmental ethos.

But perhaps as it enlists the army to bravely duel with the bellicose monsters, it also encourages it to tactically listen to its clairvoyant message regarding the environment.

Indeed it reasonably predicts the eventual downfall of our industrious species, as brought about by unchecked pollution pestiferously contaminating both oceans and land.

I wonder if Japan responded and what their environmental footprint's like these days, islands often take their environments much more seriously due to the lack of habitable space.

When you see that messages such as these were even to be found in Godzilla movies over 50 years ago, and much of the world still lavishly pollutes, it's easy to see why postmodern day environmentalists are increasingly becoming more and more prominent. 

Initiative and resolve game-changing macroalterations could creatively cultivate enduring neoharmonies.

Harris and Walz seem likely onboard. 

Which would probably nurture constructive movements worldwide. 

Shin Zatôichi: Yabure! Tôjin-ken (Zatoichi and the One-Armed Swordsman)

Across the multivariable definitive lands of bellicose old school Japan, Zatoichi continues to awkwardly progress in search of honour and friendship and loyalty.

Unfortunately, his enduring prowess leads those who would traditionally salute his daring, to mistrust his holistic self-sacrifice as he haplessly seeks to help them.

Strict absolutes murderously upheld haunt his path in this instalment, as an adventurous family visiting from China runs afoul of ancient custom.

Indeed as the lauded clan leader austerely passes in procession along the road, those in front of him must free the way and humbly kneel and bow and worship.

But a Chinese child's long cherished kite suddenly takes off in front of them as they pass, the swordspeople immediately responding with rancour and consequently murdering strangers in their midst.

A one-armed swordsperson also visiting from China valiantly defends the un-armed innocents, only to be blamed for the resultant massacre and viciously hunted in the shocking aftermath.

Sometime after he flees he encounters Zatoichi with the aghast child, Zatoichi unable to understand his language, but as luck would have it, the boy can translate.

They stealthily stride and furtively fascinate until they find shelter amongst the survivors.

But after Zatoichi departs to gather supplies.

He's erroneously blamed for revealing their location. 

You see people who are interested in the same things curiously associating with one another online, without having to worry about nation or culture the similar interests promoting cohesive bonds.

Dispiritingly, the disseminators of widespread mistrust also prosper online, and miserably challenge the international forums within which global communities thrive and flourish.

Star Trek's universal translator certainly eases linguistic burdens, and makes cross-cultural convivial communication much more generally verbose and heartfelt.

We're not there yet but translating devices are consistently improving year after year, in twenty years I reasonably imagine a similar device may in fact exist.

Back in the day, such a miraculous enabling would have engendered dialogue between Zatoichi and the One-Armed Swordsman, and they would not have had to recklessly engage in a lethal death battle to settle the score.

Perhaps with ameliorated time and animate progressions we'll get there one day.

As the intuitive ideas of younger generations.

Make political headway worldwide. 

Zatôichi jigoku-tabi (Zatoichi and the Chess Expert)

Zatoichi continues to travel throughout Japan, his destination still unknown, his adversaires multiplying.

Unfortunately, due to blindness, knaves and thieves seek to tear him down, but after his brilliant swordpersonship highlights their folly, they vow revenge even though they started it.

Such proceedings regularly occur and he is stuck routinely defending himself, with a high price upon his versatile head, and an inhibiting disability difficult to conceal.

He doesn't make friends either as he regularly cheats people at dice, tricking them into cheating themselves and then critiquing their lack of honesty.

He meets an itinerant master and strikes up a spirited inquisitive acquaintance, the two voyaging by boat together while earning a living as best they can.

But Zatoichi also meets other travellers who passionately seek the samurai who killed their father, and know nothing about him definitively besides the fact that he's quite good at chess.

Moral dilemmas further bewilder as he learns he once murdered the husband of the woman and child he cares for.

Democracy and social justice still hundreds of years away.

Consistent sword fights altruistically emerging.

Had he not learned to ingeniously defend himself Zatoichi the Blind may have flagged and rusted, and never known the voltaic thrill of characteristic difference and pursuits unknown.

Yet even possessing the adventurous intuition so often dismissed by people with sight, he encounters neverending lethal conflict to which he must respond indefinitely.

Sad how the legendary samurai traditionally found within these films, have so much trouble working together and often end up in life or death duels.

Both thoroughly convinced their path is just and in no need of ethical alterations, they eventually must challenge the breathtaking entities who vigorously contradict their chosen way of life.

Thus without the onset of unions they must remain vigilant at all times.

Never embracing the peace of dreams.

Eternal conflict.

Bitter remorse.

*Postmodern samurai could focus on protecting whales and dolphins! 🐋

**Criterion keyword: motif

Kaguya-hime no monogatari (The Tale of the Princess Kaguya)

A childless family holistically subsists within the fertile abundant countryside, utilizing enriching multifaceted bamboo to productively nourish and equip their household.

One bamboo shoot proves more elaborate than the other versatile exemplars within the forest, revealing a miniature person no less in need of love and warmth and shelter and guidance.

Her new parents are unsure of what to do but know she grows quickly and flourishes in nature, as she swiftly befriends the local children who generously teach her about plants and animals.

Other discoveries within the forest lead her father to believe she's destined for royalty, fine silk robes and a huge pile of gold lead him to seek stately honours sequentially.

They move away from the cherished country to the imposing capital where they've built a mansion, and hired a discerning professional nanny to strictly teach her the rules of etiquette. 

She responds with traditional transgressions and febrile fits of fervent fury, but eventually settles into her chosen role out of dutiful love for her mother and father.

Bold noblepeople from across the land soon come a'-calling in pursuit of marriage.

But she responds with impossibility.

To which they counter in roguish fashion.

The dependable roots of a heartwarming Ghibli magically take hold of one's heart within, and enchantingly propagate independent merrymaking with soul-searching skill and tender echoes.

The sought after attention to naturalistic detail and focus on animals of all shapes and sizes, can be wondrously found once again throughout what's come to be known as Kaguya-hime no monogatari (The Tale of the Princess Kaguya).

Crafts are also concentrated on as the Princess moves from station to station, animated accounts of diligent artists distinctively engaged in woodworking wonder. 

The eternal struggle between the carefree ways of a bucolic youth clashing with urban responsibility, permeates the bewildered action as the coveted Princess takes centre stage.

Would it have been better to introduce the Moon People at the beginning of the film instead of much later?, the lack of foreknowledge briefly generating confusion as the shocking revelations augment the end.

But the intricate detail, the copious love for thriving nature to be found within.

And the ways in which it appeals to the fortunate throughout life.

Seductively soothes.

Any critical sensation. 

Hôhokekyo tonari no Yamada-kun (My Neighbors the Yamadas)

Difficult to critique a Ghibli so let's try the following context:

It's possible that Hôhokekyo tonari no Yamada-kun (My Neighbors the Yamadas) was made for television, it does resemble many of the homely afterschool specials I watched in my youth, with an ordinary family doing ordinary things while at times engaging in bold acts of daydreaming.

It seems like it would meet with ecumenical approval amongst various churches across the land, even though it's irreligious culturally speaking, its awkward examination of a traditional family still likely to be lauded by worldwide censors.

Simultaneously, it generally concerns itself with hokey materialistic conundrums (obvious issues that arise between people trying to co-habitate), meaning that it also would have likely met with the applause of the Politburo. 

The film is kind of like sitting through church and singing along with the canonized hymns, which don't motivate like jazz or pop yet still make you feel constructive and communal nevertheless.

If looking for a film hoping to keep couples together, Hôhokekyo tonari no Yamada-kun functions like a televisual minister, and uses age old quotidian examples to exoterically dissuade any thoughts of divorce.

Grandma's kind of funny at times, as she routinely airs her grievances, like the feisty grandmother from The Garfield Christmas Special, proud and determined to defend her utterances.

The animation is different from the other Ghiblis I've seen and is oddly much more like Beavis & Butt-head. It must have been a popular style at that time. I was a bit surprised to see something similar in a Ghibli.

It's strange how the films to be approved of by totalitarian theocracies or communist states, are both so incredibly unappealing if you don't find yourself forced to applaud them. 

You would think that in 100 years the Soviets would have produced more than one Elem Klimov, something to look into I suppose, religious traditions not faring much better (there's also Tarkovsky).

Nonetheless, if you find yourself living under such a regime and you want to produce something that won't get you shot, you could use Hôhokekyo tonari no Yamada-kun as a working example, as you curse your historical epoch.

Can't public well-being and the postmodern consciousness not spiritually blend through environmental metamorphosis?

Isn't that what's happening this Summer!

With so many Northern Lights.

It's a natural trend!

Confidentially Y'ours

I don't think I'll ever understand the thrill of hunting.

Whenever I see an animal like a deer or bunny I think I'm incredibly lucky to see it roaming free.

Canada and Québec have a lot of animals though, we're a bit spoiled when it comes to wildlife sightings, and for this reason it still amazes me that in smaller countries with much larger human populations, people still hunt deer and rabbit; this will never even come close to making sense to me!

Julien Vercel pays the price in Confidentially Yours, however, as he foolishly awaits harmless ducks to fly by, when he could have clearly been expressing himself less destructively by engaging in sundry less violent activities.

He's framed for murder.

An associate (who happens to be close friends with his wife) is shot in the face near his location, with the same ammo he habitually uses, ammo which no one else buys.

He discusses his morbid state with his wife after she returns home from an excursion, then takes off for a chat with the law, before returning home to find she's also been killed.

Had he left those poor ducks alone it's emphatically clear his tormenter would have backed down, and let him be to live in peace with his trusted wife and real estate business.

But he had to recklessly seek the freewheeling flesh of independent lifeforms, which leads to heinous punishment and blind monstrous terror as he awkwardly flees.

Fortunately, his co-worker's in love with him and generously agrees to help prove his innocence.

They hide out together and precociously intuit the investigative role of an agile detective.

I suppose Truffaut never moved away from these themes and consistently examined love and fidelity throughout his career, almost as if he's lampooning himself to tease his critics with the structural sensation seductively found in this one.

But I've never known him to take the side of individualistic entities and interlace irate providential misgivings, with the hope of saving France's robust wildlife populations for future generations to freely admire!

Certainly, the French are an admirable people whose commendable work/life balance should be adopted worldwide, along with their sense of humour and delicate timing, but are their wildlife populations not also to be celebrated!?

There must be some incredible ecotourism possibilities awaiting curious peeps when the Olympics finish!

Even Truffaut recognized the tremendous natural beauty.

And aloofly enshrined it in film noir!

Les quatre cents coups (The 400 Blows)

An unhinged imagination mendaciously prone feverishly flows with mischievous delinquency, in a time less alternatively accommodating when harsh punishments still prevailed.

He can't fluently comprehend discipline as its laid out by his parents and teachers, and begins skipping school after a headstrong dispute with his weary fed-up severe enseigneur.

His step-father habitually complains as his treasured belongings keep disappearing, the boy not comprehensively considering his disastrous petty malcontent abbreviations.

Unfortunately, his independent mother even admits his routine irritates her, and like little Claudius he proceeds unloved although he acts out much more rebelliously.

This lack of love the absent bond awkwardly infuriates further as he misses school, and notices her spending time with someone else, someone clearly not his step-father.

His thefts become more daring and he even enlists the aid of a lonesome friend, before the law is swiftly called in and a new trajectory meticulously hewn.

They didn't have to be quite so draconian if they had only accepted sole responsibility.

And made a serious effort to turn things around.

They're occupationally challenged however (they're more focused on their careers).

They don't really care, it's a bitter denunciation of self-centred parents who don't nurture their children, and the horrid situations which potentially arise if the young one reacts with aggrieved insurrection.

It may have had an impact on social reform within France after it was released, nevertheless, the French actually listening to what their artists have to say, since the poor child's utter abandonment and isolation in the film's final moments evocatively promotes the need for systemic change. 🎻

It's a powerful scene which correspondingly brings to mind A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, or any artist in his or her childhood when they let their genius run chaotically amok. 

It's clear little M. Doinel needs compassion not the fastidious lockdown permeating bootcamp, but that's what things were like in the cold-hearted old world which blind foolish unsympathetic jerks look to with manufactured nostalgia.

Many blossoming artists remain ill-accustomed to ubiquitous rules.

Especially when they're young children. 

A bit more progressive in this day and age.

Unrueh (Unrest)

I've never spent much time considering anarchy as it's peacefully presented in Cyril Schäublin's Unrueh (Unrest), which looks at the coordination of semi-autonomous towns loosely connected in 19th century Switzerland.

At the time I speculatively imagine the old world stiff upper lip still strictly predominated, and many citizens were highly critical of the unyielding nature of cold absolutes (how could such a disastrous political outlook be experiencing a necrorenaissance?). 

Important things such as healthcare and education perhaps freely benefit from mass organization, not in the sense that you teach everyone the same thing, but inasmuch as you generally apply the same provincial standards.

Global networks of hospitals and international research can ensure progressive care is universally adopted, to treat the sick and combat disease to medicinally facilitate widespread health and wellness.

The application of such organization to the arts seems counterproductive in my opinion, however, since originality and novel spectrums often emerge in isolation.

Not that there shouldn't be dialogues amongst different uncanny artistic communities, I just don't believe in the codification of molecular alternative expression.

Thus, anarchy works well for artists not in the sense that they ubiquitously rebel (some rebellion works though), but rather to promote eclectic independence amongst individuals who could probably care less.

A lot of material is released every year and no doubt trends and patterns emerge, but the overarching mass cultivation of a specific outlook seems much too totalitarian to me.

Medicine prospers with codes and procedures to guide its workers as they care for the sick, education also benefits from structure to ensure people learn to read and write and count.

But the arts benefit from spontaneity and revelation and inspiration and chance, not that those things can't influence medicine and teaching, but if they're the governing impetus, you may unleash a pandemic.

Pandemics in the arts can be good since books that are fun to read should be widely discussed, they don't necessarily have to be a dangerous thing, although there's always bound to be critical controversy.

Oddly, as I've aged I've learned to incorporate anarchy into my life, I'm not even really that disappointed with things, my love for independent cinema and literature just keeps growing and growing.

It's a right wing strategy to make politics so unappealing that people prefer to generally ignore them.

So I'm still paying attention as best I can.

Although I fear I may have outgrown journalism.

Not The Guardian though. 

Definitely not campy films.  

The Covenant

A group of old world families clandestinely co-habitates with the world at large, keeping to themselves at secretive times while patiently awaiting their time of ascension.

Their families escaped the Salem Witch Hunt way back when fear drove men mad, the anxiety igniting bland social pressures to despotically embrace austere absolutism.

The children attend a local prep school lucidly administered by ye olde Windom Earle (Kenneth Welsh), awkwardly anticipating their spry eighteenth birthdays when their otherworldly powers will magically emerge.

Their powers aren't to be taken lightly their chaotic use has mortal consequences, and if used too often through frivolous indulgence will unnaturally age and ruin their bodies.

Difficult to share such wisdom with lads ebulliently awaiting the passionate moment, when more or less anything they put their minds to will instantaneously manifest.

Especially when it becomes distressingly evident that an unknown 5th student possesses the power, and is recklessly using it for retched misdeeds with no working foreknowledge of truth or consequence.

A showdown ominously looms within the sleepy oblivious trajectory.

Agéd chronicles proving noteworthy.

For the well-read adventurous sorcerers.

The Olympics no doubt a suitable time to celebrate unique and novel abilities, and the remarkable ways they fluidly enrich the humdrum malaise of routine existence. 

No doubt categories and hierarchies and levelling peculiarly mingle in spherical continuums, the definitive dispersal of surrealist fact gracefully lauded through festive ephemera.

In so doing, for some the cheeky sitcom may represent insouciant brilliance, while others seek romantic unions melodramatically arrayed with maladroit im/probability, still others embracing the tragic distinction absurdly characterizing incumbent banality, crime and horror schlock and mayhem, not to mention robust documentaries.

Should the people in primordial possession of rare bizarro traits and talents, not be welcome in villages and towns in order to promote less stealthy isolation?

Weren't the heroes from religious texts in commensurate possession of similar gifts?

Does not celebrating specific historical examples to the obscuring of the present not foolishly generate a stasis none of them would have tolerated? 

Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire

Kong devotedly explores his new home in search of more giant gorillas like him, his investigations resulting in multiple chance encounters with other beasts from the hostile region.

Meanwhile, unprecedented signals are cryptically sent from a vigilant science outpost, which causes confused Jia to have hallucinations the dream logic of which remains a mystery.

After the transmission of the signals Godzilla radioactively expresses himself, by commandeering a nuclear power plant in France and absorbing its unsurpassed Olympic resiliency.

Jia is having trouble at school and frustratingly feels like she doesn't fit in, missing her people and her old way of life she simply can't settle into the scholastic environment.

Fortunately, as incipient chaos galavantingly grips bewildered surface dwellers, a team is assembled to travel to Hollow Earth and find epic answers to cataclysmic questions.

Jia's adopted mom and her ex-partner Trapper plus bloggin' Bernie Hayes are along for the ride, to the cryptic realm where dinosaur-like beings still productively enable macroscopic shenanigans.

As Kong is led to find his people he locates them distressingly enslaved.

While Jia discovers her legendary import.

According to an ancient Hollow Earth tribe.

There's a lot happening in Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire as intense conflicts habitually invigorate, Kong and Godzilla routinely fighting as Jia deals with manifest mythology.

Bernie Hayes adds so much depth as he boldly improvises with heroic fortitude, and Dr. Andrews and her resourceful ex ajoutent parental guidance with ludicrous resolve. 

As the three main plots intersect I would say Kong's has the most appeal, his quest to meet his people stifled by autocratic banality, his consistent altercations more thrilling than Godzilla's. 

When Jia discovers that her voyage to Hollow Earth had been intuitively prophesized it makes for an intriguing plot thread, but it loses some of its mysticism as the enraged Titans reflexively battle.

It should be the principal focus from the viewpoint of so many other stories with similar patterns, narratives which are so much fun to watch, but New Empire's mayhem obscures the fascination.

Still a cool monster movie no doubt with an ethical focus on justice and dignity.

Incredible consistent action.

Classic 'zilla and Kong.

Dune: Part Two

Is there as much of a story to tell after Paul and his mom find themselves lost in the desert?

Dune: Part Two suggests there is. 

The Fremen slowly growing accustomed to the uncanny ways in which the gifted Atreides youth fulfills their prophecy, Paul must still overcome his horrific nightmares to convince the devout majority to follow his lead.

The film's kind of like the episode of STNG where Kahless suddenly returns, and the Klingons agree to manage his legend, hoping the enticing story will win hearts and minds.

But Kahless's return is manufactured in the more scientifically structured Star Trek continuum, whereas Paul's actions verifiably fulfill a prophecy and therefore messianically comport themselves in ye olde Dune.

Yet he still doubts he can effectively lead a massive underground populace in a daring uprising (against the Emperor), their rivals in possession of technological wonders of an extremely advanced destructive nature.

Much of the dialogue concerns Paul's coming of age as he learns to play the influential leading role.

The film widening its scope to include Harkonnen bedlam. 

To add despotic reckless nuance.

You'd almost hope that in 2028 a younger American would feverishly arise, and move the political spectrum away from agéd octogenarians, back to something much more grassrootsy indeed even potentially kind of lithe and nimble (these guys are in charge of the fate of the free world?) - hold on, a lot's happened since I wrote this on Saturday, looks like there is a younger American candidate, and she is indeed feverishly arising (love Bernie, but he's older than Biden)!

I often wish David Lynch had had more time and two separate films to craft his vision, I still love watching what he came up with, but also wonder what he would have crafted these days.

He was one of the pioneers however who was inventing postmodern science-fiction.

They often had to improvise sensational fascination.

Special effects weren't nearly as reliable as they are in the SuperHero Age.

Regardless, I love the Dune story apart from the Atomics and the talking fetus, Chani adding so much in this version, as does the extended look at planet Harkonnen. 

I still find intense belief which defies science to be the most destructive force the Earth has ever seen.

It makes for incredible films and books though.

Just hope it doesn't destroy the planet one day.

Or slowly over the course of depreciating centuries.

*Star Wars + Denis Villeneuve ='s Amazing (the entire trilogy).

Hidalgo

It never really made much difference to me what College or University you went to, or if you learned esoteric details about different branches of knowledge while on the job, what mattered was how enthusiastically you applied yourself to whatever hand you happened to have been dealt, and how you strove for improvement regardless of class or birth, which generally reflects the spirit of the times I grew up in.

Thus, it wouldn't surprise me if Community College students were also making breakthroughs in respective fields, as Frank Hopkins does in Hidalgo, in the competitive sport of horse racing. 

He didn't get his trusted steed from a well-off breeder publicizing coveted lineage, or even from a local stable offering beginners a tempting free ride, instead he chose his trusted mount from a herd of wild mustangs in Oklahoma, whose descendants still freely ride to this day, un jour j'espère les voir.

He gains a world renowned reputation for winning long distance races in the United States, indeed winning an incredible number throughout his lengthy career.

His reputation becomes so enviable that he attracts the attention of Middle-Eastern competitors, who challenge him to the toughest horse race on the planet, a 3,000 mile trek 'cross forbidding deserts.

He's a first class gamer, he courageously responds, with neither question nor concern for personal safety, even after it becomes apparent his life's at risk, and it's not only the elements who seek to hunt him.

He must face some of the finest stallions to have ever been bred in horse racing history, amongst opponents who doubt he will survive one day on his wild unsung beast who lacks proper pedigree.

But as so often happens in the world of sport which usually celebrates talent regardless of rank or birth, Hopkins and Hidalgo really are the best the world's ever seen, and tenaciously win the "Ocean of Fire".

Exceptionally difficult to do and requiring a genuine degree of hard work and sacrifice, but if raised in even a moderately honest political system, if you excel, you should modestly prosper.

Hopkins takes his prize money and doesn't spend it on lavish trinkets, but rather hears that a herd of mustangs is going to be shot, and pays handsomely for them to be released back into the wild (Go Broncos!) 💌

Born of two-cultures and horrified to have witnessed the scurrilous slaughter of unarmed Native peoples, he proceeds honourably as best he can and must be one of the most successful athletes ever.

It'd be cool to see Viggo Mortensen win the Best Actor Oscar some day.

He's had a lot of roles like this one.

Where it seems like he's holding so much back.

*Unlike Captain Fantastic.

Rio

I didn't think people wanted to keep birds as pets anymore, let alone exotic ones, or I at least figured the practise had remarkably decreased in recent years, but perhaps that was only in Canada and Québec, I admit I haven't read anything about it in quite some time, but ye old Rio brings it back into the forefront, meaning it must still be a problem, in different jurisdictions, around the world.

To reiterate the arguments that convinced me that keeping birds as pets was wrong, it boils down to the fact that they can fly, and it's therefore a horrible thing to keep them locked up in cages.

Even if some birds may be crappy at flying, they still cover thousands of kms in flight over the years, many habitually migrating as the seasons change, that must be a cool way to live.

If a lifeform is capable of flight and soaring from one tenacious treetop to the next, is it not extremely cruel to keep it in a cage, where it has nothing to do but lament its miserable situation?

Thoughts of soaring high above the magnificent clouds in search of food and friends and play, no doubt torment downcast birds in cages as they spend their entire lives excruciatingly jailed.

The horrors of the pandemic may serve as an example of what it's like for birds in cages (and other animals too), the extremely frustrating prolonged time when we were forced to spend so many hours at home.

It was for a good reason that is to stop the pestiferous spread of dispiriting plague, but what a horrible thing indeed to have to spend so much time locked down in isolation.

Caged birds routinely share this horror and understand where we're coming from accordingly, and pet owners should therefore think twice before locking a bird down in a cage.

Of course Rio's Blu can't fly and consequently becomes closely attached to his caring owner, the two forging a loving dynamic as she actively comes of age.

But she doesn't know that he's an endangered species until the day when an ornithologist from Brazil comes calling.

Having located a potential bird companion.

The two the last known representatives of their species.

Rio perhaps spends too much time making arguments which justify the possession of exotic birds, not to mention keeping them as pets, and not enough time focused on freedom, which seems like it should be the film's raison d'être.

Freedom is the focus in the end, nevertheless, when the poachers are thwarted and the beasties fall in love.

It's not worth the money to cage wild birds from the jungle.

The profits are limitless if you let them soar free. 

The Thing from Another World

Finally watched the original film depicting John W. Campbell's story Who Goes There?, which is much more of a lighthearted romp than the chilling masterpiece hewn by John Carpenter. 

It's Science vs. The Military in 1951 and in The Thing from Another World the army reigns supreme, the resident scientists made to look like fools who can't reasonably understand the imminent danger.

In fact the scientists take great risks in the pursuit of knowledge to save the monster, who rebukes their heartfelt efforts with morose haughty intergalactic derision. 

They even have foreign accents and are much more internationally inclined, facets which latently upset the good old commandos who quickly take charge of the distressing scene.

The pursuit of knowledge is indeed not nearly as reckless as its dismissively portrayed in this film, which came out as ruthless McCarthyism was ignorantly spreading across the U.S.

The Thing is even organic in this version it comes from a far off vegetal world, where veggies evolved to become the dominant lifeform as humanoids did upon our own (although I'm starting to think bees are a higher form of life [they have wings]). 

In the film the military worries that the highly advanced commie vegetable from space, will eventually take over the entire planet and no doubt unleash ubiquitous environmentalism. 

The scientists look like mad unAmerican conspirators as they struggle to save the alien.

Imagine a time when this kind of thing proliferated.

Hopefully it never comes to pass again.

At least one scientist must be crazy in Who Goes There? since one of them loses it in The Thing (1982) as well, although his data makes hysterical sense considering how much more adaptive it is in Carpenter's film.

Whereas The Thing from Another World is happy-go-lucky sci-fi within which you'd never expect anything to go wrong, Carpenter's Thing is a chilling opus where it's tough to imagine anything going right.

If you watch monster movies throughout your life because they exist and you're sporadically curious, it's tough to find ones you want to watch again, since a lot of them just seek to make quick casholla.

But every once in a while visionary directors roguishly emerge to offer something different.

And take their time to craft memorable metastases. 

With alarming accuracy.

And emboldened vision.

*It looks like Carpenter was fun to work for. It seems like some of his casts really enjoyed working together when you watch his films. That kind of thing can add so much to an aesthetic, or ironically create a friendly dreamlike counterbalance to the mayhem. 

The Fog

The bounteous coast rests undisturbed as a sleepy town's one-hundredth anniversary approaches, with celebrations planned and local dignitaries convivially extolling its historic virtues. 

Village life exuberantly proclaims distracting designations with robust levity, the festivities raising ebullient concerns regarding flights of furtive fancy.

Nevertheless, on the exultant eve a local priest embraces spirited whimsy, when a sudden shocking burst reveals a diary hidden within his walls.

The tale told within its pages describes scandal and betrayal, in terms of lucrative auriferous booty disillusionally constrained.

Best laid plans were thrown aside as a leprous colony was cruelly cheated, indeed instead of finding themselves a home their boat was led to crash upon the shore.

But the rocks didn't eternally tear the trusting ship forevermore asunder, its reconstitution phantominiously conveyed from the afterlife back to the ocean.

And on the very same date the town was founded it bitterly returns under cover of fog.

Contemporary inhabitants blissfully unaware.

A local DJ keeping them up to precarious speed.

Kind of nice when fog descends assuming you aren't travelling or working outside, the meteorological difference eccentrically billowing throughout the quizzical byzantine landscape.

Imagine the chaos if the definitive border dividing spiritual realms enigmatically decayed, and aggrieved spirits from far and wide universally re-materialized across the land.

Like the ending of Ghostbusters I suppose but trepidatiously globalized for postmodern import, the eclectic confusion and ahistorical equivalencies generating confounding limitless grievance.

It could be like a labyrinthine colossus of atemporal bewildered feuding, the manifold steps in the gothic epic as mesmerizing as any R.E.M spectacle. 

If there was time to chronicle the disputes the resultant absurdity may manifest calm.

A quiet regenerative cross-cultural splurge.

A lot of reading.

For something so dream-like.

*I've almost seen every John Carpenter movie.

Days of Thunder

One thing I never really got into was car racing.

I remember the first time I watched a car race on old school television in my youth, and I wasn't that interested in the material, and became nervous when 2 of the brothers present started brawling, it was an awkward day, but still memorable to say the least.

Cars just never jived with me, although they are certainly a convenient mode of transportation, and a significant component of many postmodern economies, and if not dangerous and illegal, it would be fun to drive fast.

Reason and logic eventually came to their aid as I rationally considered their universal value, and when not living in the city they are arguably essential, although I have spent countryside months strictly travelling by foot, bike, and kayak.

I also rather enjoyed Grand Prix Weekend in Montréal, although to be honest I wasn't that interested in the race. It did bring thousands of people to the city however and gave it a unique flair that caught my eye, the lauded difference even if somewhat opulent still impressively stuck out in the urban landscape.

Days of Thunder has a notable cast that efficiently keeps it real throughout the film, challenging one another and falling in love as respect is given to the race car industry.

A sequel could effectively diversify the latent material emergent in the original, using contemporary storytelling techniques to multidimensionally intensify the initial feature.

These films may have remarkable value thousands of years later after fossil fuels run out, and we lament that we never invested in alternative energies before worldwide chaos ensued.

Legends of planes and automobiles will no doubt persist for painstaking centuries, but will they endure for competitive millennia?, that is difficult to accurately predict.

As a model to aid such farfetched calculations we can evaluate the logical merit of anthropological studies, and theorize regarding how accurate they reflect the ancient past in terms of distinct reasonability.

But if everything is forgotten or narratively mutated through imagination, and DVD technology is one day re-created in the future, Days of Thunder would no doubt present something ancient yet futuristic to baffled theoreticians of old school mindsets. 

It would offer definitive proof that at one time human beings drove mechanized beasts at lightning quick speeds.

Many other sports may still be around.

But race car driving will require the Legend.

Ragtime

Sigh.

Ragtime's ambitious no doubt indubitably it proceeds with grandiose lofty intentions, most likely seeking academy award nominations with the sets and the period and the subject matter.

It's one of those films that examines freedom from a despondent viewpoint however, and a sympathetic character resorts to violence to achieve just dividends.

What he's asking for isn't outrageous he just wants his car cleaned, fixed, and an apology, from the scandalous band of misfits who themselves behaved outrageously.

He had done nothing to them his only fault was to have been successful, and then to have lived as other successful people do, even though his skin was black.

What does it matter, why do such petty jealousies motivate so many people, do your best, apply yourself vigorously, have a laugh, what else can you do?

Coalhouse could have just taken his car and cleaned up the mess and eventually forgot about it, extremely frustrating to have to do that but a better outcome than what happened in the long run.

He would have returned to his successful life and left the goons behind to rot, he certainly complained to everyone he could and naturally became more angry when they couldn't help him.

Now, they recked his car and abusively humiliated him there's no question he deserved satisfaction, but turning to acts of terror goes far beyond the initial crime and riles up collective prejudicial misgivings.

And he doesn't get satisfaction in the end, rather the police wind up shooting him after he threatens to blow up a museum, they gun him down when he eventually gives up even though he's unarmed and helpless.

Depressing is the word for such a film it's extremely depressing and sad and hopeless, it makes you feel ill and sick after it's over and by no means encourages another viewing.

I know this is what is recommended by many searching to expand minds and cultivate consciousness, but the revolting way you feel when the film finally ends also makes its shelf-life and influence less long-lasting.

Take a film like Dances with Wolves which tells a tragic tale of honour and friendship on the other hand.

The statistics presented at the end are grim.

But the fight against racism isn't tragically lurid.

City of Hope

It's difficult to rationally consider the various levels of corruption guiding commerce and politics, as proactively delineated by so many commentators throughout the observant course of a vigilant day.

In a two to three/four/five/six party political system the argumentative opponents spend so much time accusing their rivals of corruption, at times the party that seems the lease corrupt emerging victorious how do you lead such a populace retroactively?

In Claudius the God the Emperor Claudius runs into sincere difficulties, not because his colleagues are particularly corrupt but because he is rather just and innocent.

Having spent most of his life observing the government in fluidic motion, even though he had always been judged too dim-witted to actively take part, he survived plot after plot after plot through reasonable supposition and a complete lack of envy.

But his goal was to do away with Emperors and re-establish what was known as the Republic, a form of government less reliant on absolutism and much more democratic and fair and reasonable.

Nevertheless, since, as Emperor, he governs as honestly as he can and indeed turns out to be a trustworthy administrator, the people stop loathing the idea of Emperors as they had under Tiberius and Caligula, and stop imagining a return of the Republic.

To remind them of their folly he hatches one of his most poorly thought out schemes.

The Republic doesn't return.

And his son is murdered.

But films aren't as detailed as books or mini-series, it's difficult to convincingly relate stories of political corruption in less than 3 hours, there are so many personalities from different walks of life to be provocatively considered as the narrative progresses.

Love and family will likely even factor into the manifold intricacies as they passionately fluctuate, but who falls in love and what consequent jealousies effectively motivate resulting dire complications?

It's too much for a lot of filmmakers but always respected if bravely undertaken, John Sayles succeeding with City of Hope more than most as the multivariable tale examines multi-layered corruption.

Multiple storylines complement within as sundry characters seek balance and decorum, or just ride the chaotic whirlwind with as much distinction as they can freely muster.

The image for the inherent madness materially erupting as people search for meaning, is distressingly manifested by a local schizophrenic after a powerful contractor's son is shot by his new girlfriend's jealous cop ex-husband, and he calls out into the street for help, and no one else is listening.

The disturbed man returns his plea with sympathetic non-sensical enigmatic cries.

Not the most constructive image to end on.

But one that does make sense a lot of the time.

Chan is Missing

Please forgive me if this film already has a large following and is widely cherished by many, I had just never heard of it before last week and was pleasantly surprised to see how good it is.

I thought it would make a solid Criterion so I checked to see if it was already in the collection, and even though I didn't find it in my initial search, that doesn't mean it won't make it some day.

Like Donald Sutherland's career, Chan is Missing is chill and flexible, consistently surprising with unexpected scenes, overflowing with creative dialogue regarding enigmatic subjects, Sutherland often added that eccentric touch to a mainstream flick that may have otherwise lacked variability. 

Take the sudden introduction of academic flair as a potential graduate student examines an interaction, between a policeperson of European descent and an aggrieved member of New York's Chinese community.

They're arguing about mundane mechanics and she investigates the dialogue with brilliant cultural awareness, lucidly comprehending both agile traditions with thoughts reminiscent of postmodern detectives. 

It passes quickly in the film it's just a touch of brilliance characteristically blended in, it could have easily been left out but its inclusion functions like an ingenious bay leaf.

I've read the controversy about the bay leaf online, does it actually add anything to the flavour?, while transporting its mythos to the realm of independent film I'd have to say that in this instance it most certainly does.

Chan is Missing is almost like film noir but it lacks some of the more sinister narrative elements, although overlooking compelling works of art such as this film is historically sinister and culturally destructive.

It isn't serious in a strict sense 😝 nor does it get carried away with its eclective lackadaisics, it's more like a remarkably clever production team applied incisive wit to a multilayered vortex (directed by Wayne Wang, written by Wang and Isaac Cronin). 

I'm really surprised by Marc Hayashi I don't recall ever having seen him in anything before, never as the leading man on his own cheeky sitcom, or as a recurring character actor like Earl Boen just showing up everywhere (he's good).

Chan is Missing is a solid Asian-American film that explicitly demonstrates laudable genius, and may have been overlooked because frankly if you're not looking for it, it's rare to ever see anything written and directed independently by Asian-Americans in North America.

I imagine the market's there and it could use more promotion in diversified fields. 

Perhaps it's already found them and unfortunately I'm just not familiar.

Nice that it's lacking swords and mysticism.

*In Canada there was a show called Kim's Convenience that was on for a while so it must have built quite the audience.

**I remember an Asian-American sitcom coming out in the States years ago that was critiqued for overemphasizing stereotypical characteristics.

***I didn't think Chan is Missing was stereotypical. I thought there were just a lot of cool characters being themselves.  

****Love Lucy Liu (Elementary).  

Baraka

I never grow tired of watching nature documentaries or even those visually illuminating the city, Baraka thoughtfully depicting footage from around the globe with stunning piquant composed vibrant artistry.

It's easy to get caught up with your own active life or even that of your incumbent nation, while so many people from different jurisdictions engage in equally meaningful constructive lifestyles. 

Always thrilling to catch brief glimpses into multivariable globalized difference, whether it's a family subsisting in the jungle or the intense dynamics of inner-city life.

Some of it chill like large spiritual groups a' sittin' back chantin' peaceful rhythms, cohesively immersed within various communities promoting productive agile interactions.

Some of it distressing like the unenviable plight of the wee baby chick on its way to the dinner table, so much complex and moribund thought mechanically engineered to generate death. 

The machines, such incredible machines consistently moving with predictable motions, each tiny incalculable component seamlessly essential to the grandiose whole. 

I worry about my weed-whacker breaking down even though I hardly ever use it, there must be tens of thousands of parts if not more in these industrialized factories fabricating goods at all times.

In the same way the bucolic anthems of rural collectives maintain melodic harmonies, as hundreds of people work together in unison to directly praise nature and togetherness.

Coincidentally, how do you even find your place in these colossally imposing massive urban apartments?, if the elevator breaks you'd be in serious trouble and I don't even mind a bit of a walk from time to time.

It's like each building's its own small town and you can easily get lost within.

I imaging they have a level selling groceries etc.

How could you possible live with that many people?

Baraka presents compelling images opening up passages to holistic exploration, its spectrum vast and internationally eclective to village-city-business-and-wilderness.

A good companion piece for ye olde Samsara although watching both films in one night may lead to awestruck overload.

It may have been one of the first documentaries to approach the world in this fashion.

Therefore pioneering, brilliant, and seminal.

The Ploughman's Lunch

Difficult to say if anything you consider will ever lithely generate a relevant buzz, something that fits with trendy conceptualizations regarding spectacular events or age old pastimes.

So many fashions just seem so blasé still visually appealing but dull to write about, is it worth the time to conjure something else about the Suez Crisis or World War I?

There's a philosopher named Derrida who was famous when I was attending university, for so many things I never came to know but also for writing lengthy pieces about random ephemera. 

Not to suggest that a pair of shoes isn't substantial you need to wear them each and every day, but it was so impressive to read lengthy texts about random objects that otherwise seemed meaningless.

He would diversify the specific construct with verbose multidimensional correspondence, eventually proving through elaborate orchestration the meaningful vitality of the mundane item.

Therefore it's possible I never stopped instinctually preferring random offhand knick-knacks to prominent events, which still seem manufactured at times to generate markets for theoretical discourse.

At the same time, the oppression of a people holistically holds my distressed attention, I would rather support intellectual markets cultivating peace and understanding than always write about rocks and squirrels.

But, if I'm not mistaken, and I'm by no means a Derrida or Deleuze expert, in fact if I had read Deleuze in my youth I may have never bothered to write anything afterwards, the point was that elevating everyday objects like shoes or necklaces and indirectly equating them with jewels or crowns, would level the playing field and promote equality that would in turn subliminally contradict warlike pretensions.

Thus, even though one person possessed a radiant tiara decked out with emeralds, they would still respect the creative decisions made by inventive clients of local thrift shops.

And those very same clients meanwhile would apply their wit to the cultivation of creative fashions, without dismissing the bejewelled elegance of hypothetically luxurious esoteric customs. 

I still meet people who respect such insights although so many of them are older than me.

I'll still always love baguettes and cheese (and Ne'Qwa).

Saw a turtle today.

A fox and a rainbow.

Wrestling Ernest Hemingway

Wild exoteric bearings randomly committed to improvised exhaustion, airing grievances with cavalier cantankerousness as he recklessly interacts with resignéd strangers.

If you've heard his stories, you'll hear them again, and it's up to you to decide whether or not you're interested, I often find the exultation of recurring themes rambunctiously tender when conversing with the elderly.

Why not imperiodically exclaim lithe past successes with animate jocularity, especially after having reached your golden years with so much adventure to fluidly discuss?

Walter is much less extroverted he's reserved and mannerly and consistently respectful, following the same constructive well-meaning routine with dependable expectation each and every day.

He orders the same thing at his favourite diner every morning even if it isn't on the traditional menu, a light extravagance delicately hewn to courteously carve indissoluble discourse. 

Like dad, he likes his puzzles, and quietly contends with them lakeside in the afternoon, a peaceful way to flourishingly float throughout life's tranquil agéd fluencies.

Not as bold as Frank however and rarely seeking striking resonance. 

They make an impressive team nevertheless.

As they boldly navigate cyclical distress. 

Perhaps like Jekyll & Hyde characteristically split and bucolically subdued, Walter and Frank making a provocative duo which elastically excels at nothing in particular. 

Frank's unorthodox life during which he never developed self-critical reflections, at times leads to fun bike trips to see fireworks, at others buys a bottle of vodka as a going away gift.

Walter habitually goes with the flow and doesn't speak out unless drastically pushed, their arguments classic enraged debacles generating dissonant cutting offence.

I remember there being somewhat of a buzz about this film in my far distant maladroit youth, but I didn't hear about it again until sometime last week, and if there was indeed such a buzz way back when it was certainly well-deserved I rather liked this film.

Robert Duvall finds a new character to play after having already diversified so many roles, Richard Harris putting in the performance of a lifetime, it made me think that actors who still haven't found that ideal role still have plenty of time to patiently perfect it.

A great companion piece for Grumpy Old Men which was also quite popular around that time.

I hope the crew still isn't annoyed when people say that.

I'd most likely watch this film again. 

The Philadelphia Experiment

Probably best not to sign up when the army asks if you'd like to take part in a secret experiment, where they mention there may be potential side effects, and they aren't even offering that great a sum.

Jacob's Ladder and The X-Files make compelling cases for avoiding such initiatives anyways, the enthusiastic recruits permanently damaged after their courageous embrace of enigmatic science was forgotten.

The Philadelphia Experiment doesn't examine trial and error as it relates to medical research however, it's initially concerned with cloaking ships so the Axis can't detect them during World War II.

It's quite an elaborate set up the production impressive from a laboratory standpoint, so many lightbulbs and wires and connections that it seemed like a bona fide realistic test tube.

The special effects are classic '80s too indubitably impressive if you like that kind of thing, the transitionary phase from pioneering early sci-fi to the technological wonders we have today.

The experiment goes awry or the cloaking works too well you might say, the ship itself lost in temporal recesses two confused servicepersons transported to the '80s.

It's cool to imagine the electronic innovations of the early '80s as the height of technoendeavour, or to have been part of the audience intuitively revelling in the bewildered shock of the time displacement.

We still use one of the microwaves we bought at that time it's still in working order, although it takes awhile, knock on wood, hopefully it isn't slowly radioactively poisoning us as time goes by even if we rarely use it.

I don't know if I'm as blown away by time travel films that take place in the present, even if it happens to be around 40 years later, isn't the point to contemporize historical difference?

The Experiment still contains the classic startling moments when the different characters come to terms with their ahistorical authenticity, through the eyes of the time travellers and those they encounter alike, I'm a huge sucker for this kind of storyline.

Perhaps those old school computer graphics look as antiquated to today's youth as the monsters of '50s and '60s sci-fi did to me when I was younger, although some of those yesteryear vampire and Frankenstein films still seriously impress in this cynical day and age (horror not sci-fi I suppose).

Things are so tense politically at the moment, is it far too risky to make films where people travel to the future?

Will it seem like the ancient past?

AI ironically introducing the solution environmentalists seek.

Ed Wood

The robust nature of the American economy not only promotes the cultivation of genius, but also elaborately diversifies sundry spirited markets to relativistically uphold wide-ranging communal distinction.

Thus even without lauded academic study, or even the crafty mentorship of a gifted professional, random improvised passionate hands-on dedication can still ensure regenerative success. 

Are new intellectual embarkations not created when people proceed without skill or knowledge, their prominent errors and mistaken judgments accidentally nurturing novel eccentricity (as others have noted)?

To the curious open-minded enthusiast does enigmatic multivariability not accentuate harmonies as well, not solely within catchy appealing widespread relevance but also through blind innocent misapplication? 

But what may seem like impeti awry indeed brilliantly resonates with others astutely, the obtuse kitschy unconcerned orchestrations intuitively augmenting authentic dis/integration.

There seem to be styles which emerge from time to time which encourage mainstream trends referred to sophisticatedly, their nodes and anthems consistently manifesting popular themes and fashionable echoes. 

Although closer studies meticulously point out the competing ways in which such narratives are constructed, and the primordial multidimensional sociocultural goo amorphously binding everything together.

It all sort of fades genuinely deteriorates when you find yourself hardly ever watching television, or aloofly avoiding ideological interests claiming absolute embalmed authenticity. 

In your free time of course, relaxing, it's nice to envisage courageous alternatives, for a couple of weeks perhaps even a month transitional ephemera constructively cascading. 

So many great works of literature or even film remain inaccessible, it's certainly essential to preserve and study their form and content without generally dismissing everything else simultaneously.

In this manner the spectrum of comments and the variety of audiences interactively expand, thereby introducing manifold interpretations correspondingly attuned to concurrent inclusivity. 

Was the idea much more popular before the internet enabled such an infinite network?

The irony something to study anyways. 

How could definitive conclusions, faced with abounding contradiction and foil, ever culturally reinstate a feudal fulcrum, in a postmodern context as diverse as contemporary science-fiction?

Egads. 

The Adventures of Mark Twain

Mark Twain elaborately concocts a unique imaginative flying machine, upon which he chases Halley's Comet with three fortunate literary stowaways. 

Tom, Huck and Becky are unsure as to how to proceed, and never really settle into the versatile invention, inquisitively searching for structure and meaning while instinctually absorbing the bountiful narratives.

Stories within yarns within tales within legends creatively emerge with theoretical whimsy, presented through curious lighthearted exploration as the kids heuristically investigate away.

A ship much more like a mind its multivariable elements cascading, through trial and error and riveting hypotheses its temporal comportment ahistorical.

Perhaps part of the paradigm shift which led to much less severe religious interpretations, wherein which the literal executions lost their prominent cultural influence.

A move away from exacting obsessions with extremely precise uptight rules and regulations, to a more open-hearted freeform compendium liberally composed through manifold alternatives.

Twain himself struggles with the dutiful recognition of a regenerative constituent bipolar renaissance, within which his psyche proactively duels while realistically resonating rationales less ideological.

Difficult to suppress the reflections at times while ethically composed and poignantly accentuated, the active latent indissoluble antipodes habitually insistent with reckless remonstrance.

Thus, the importance of laidback comedy from pent-up time to pent-up time, not the new obsessive violent variety but the less destructive impulses of Twain and Chaplin. 

Twain's ideas and clever witticisms are seductively sprinkled throughout the script, his observant well-timed well-crafted comments judiciously diversifying tact and treatise.

Not often a public figure is so universally commended without crude accompaniment, when do you ever here anything negative critically mentioned about the old school phenom?

The Adventures of Mark Twain may have passed under the radar way back in my youth I admit I had never heard of it, at least until around this time last week when it suddenly seemed like a cool film to see.

Definitely a chill film for children interested in reading and bizarro imagination, a claymation gateway to a world of books poetically awaiting at the local library. 

Twain's insights make the film fun for grouchy adults who might not want to watch another kids film at the same time.

Perhaps overlooked due to its harmless unorthodox reflections on religion.

Which I thought were charmingly displayed.  

Cutthroat Island

Born into the pirating lifestyle nimble Morgana instinctually dissembles, wary of trust yet a Captain indeed after her emboldened father is scurrilously betrayed. 

Her crew isn't sure what to think and she must challenge an usurper egads at the outset, her noble lineage fortunately enough to momentarily win over the superstitious complement.

Along with treasure, the knowledge of treasure its lucrative existence at least under consideration, but to exactingly locate it she needs two more sections of a sought after map, one part apiece held by each of her uncles.

One uncle's no doubt rather chill for someone living a mischievous lifestyle, not that he's easy to find or talk to he's just so much more agreeable than his aggressive counterpart. 

The covetous uncle murderously prone who sincerely sent Morgana's pop to frigid depths, isn't quite so avuncularly inclined as she bravely sets out in search of manifest booty.

A loyal cadre rests by her side unwilling to entertain freeform mutinous chatter.

An idle thief introducing an amorous wild card.

Uncanny insistence not to be trusted?

What a strange lifestyle how do you manage to even find markets for your ill-gotten plunder, or obtain a ship or convince a crew to courageously follow you blind on the ocean?

It may be relaxing out on open waters delicately gliding along currents without storm, if you had reached an ingenious understanding with tempestuous fate to contract sights forlorn.

I've often wondered if I would get seasick if an imposing storm suddenly emerged, or if I would just sit back and curiously watch as the incredible spectacle tumultuously unfolded.

I was stuck far from home in my kayak one day when a disturbing storm suddenly dishevelled, but rather than simply land and wait it out under some trees I paddled right through the heart of the tirade.

There was no thunder and lightning and if there had been I may have hit shore.

It was a cool sensation out there on the lake nonetheless.

Paddling through inhospitable bearings.

Cutthroat Island's not so bad if you like pirate movies they don't come out as often as you'd hope, the treasure's buried in a really cool spot that was a nice touch no doubt to be certain.

Must be fun to film out on the ocean the natural elements corresponding at play. 

With all the old ships as well.

The action's consistent and lively. 

King Kong Lives

At the beginning of this instalment, King Kong finds himself near death, having survived an extended assault, but unable to move and awkwardly unconscious. 

He's kept alive for 10 years by a team of researchers who ingeniously construct him a new artificial heart, but they lack the requisite abundance of giant gorilla blood to delicately perform the incredible operation. 

Fortunately, at the same time, a bold adventurer is visiting Borneo, where an animate beastie takes note of his daring, and tries to catch him after falling forsooth.

He's able to outmaneuver and eventually capture her in record time, the scientists agreeing to pay his lofty fee if they can have access to her gorilla kinship.

Soon Kong's new brilliant heart efficiently pumps his apex consanguinity, and he's ready to once again embark upon unheralded journeys throughout the wilderness. 

But he detects that very same individual who serendipitously saved his exuberant life.

And the authorities refuse to just let them be.

After they escape to the nearby mountains.

The Kongs seem well-disposed to amorous union and heartfelt happenstance, as they freely explore the depths of their longing with timid yet curious affected insistence.

Certainly a rare species indeed it's no doubt fortuitous that they find one another, the academics and adventurers working posthaste to altruistically secure parkland in that very same Borneo.

Alas, before that parkland can be secured the military and paramilitary move in, and another unique and precious animal species is bombastically threatened through misguided hostility. 

It doesn't have to be that way, as previously mentioned the army could excel at protecting endangered species, and use its vast lands and resources within the United States and elsewhere to bravely care for courageous rhinos and elephants.

After the herds reach 50 to 100,000 the animals could be shipped back to fertile Africa, the U.N perhaps making an agreement with concerned national militaries to secure protection for the animals in the wild.

Kong and his mate likely would have just chilled far off in the mountains away from the 'burbs, and never would have disturbed idle civilization as it technologically diversified through electronic verve.

Left alone in their verdant woodland they could have built a civilization of their own, to be studied and researched and elucidated over the course of the compelling centuries.

Fortunately, there is another, as Kong's species conquers ignorance and disdain.

To be left alone in the jungle to flourish.

Emboldened, enriched, elongated. 

Grace of My Heart

After winning a local singing competition, a young woman heads to New York, running into paradigmatic dilemmas afterwards, since at that specific time female vocalists weren't selling.

Distraught and frustrated she still soldiers on until one day a producer takes note, he doesn't ask her to sing her own songs however, but rather hopes that she'll write them for other people.

She's initially dismissive and critical but eventually sees that it's a great opportunity, and even though singing her own songs was no doubt preferable, writing them for other people still equals = career. 

She's quite talented too she comes up with several catchy wide-reaching hit singles, others noting her compositional brilliance as she boldly fights to freely express herself.

Marriage and family don't wholesomely spoil things she keeps writing songs in the conjugal aftermath, although the strain on her time is rather cumbersome she's a total gamer and goes with the flow.

Not that she doesn't have limits she won't put up with the brazen uninspiring cheating.

Falling for quite the eclective of men.

Never losing sight of her talent.

That was what really struck me about the film, Edna/Denise keeps creating no matter what, even when her less talented husband is bringing her down, even after she has to bring her baby to work.

She has an understanding producer who cares and looks out for her like an adoring sibling, and he usually has compelling advice professionally attuned to advancement and progress.

She uses her life's controversies to continuously write new appealing songs, otherwise I would have recommended avoiding relationships altogether and ubiquitously focusing on nothing but music.

That would be an interesting study: do artists who co-habitate with others and have families produce more consistent results than those who go it alone, does the constant emergence of unexpected relational events outweigh the creative freedom of idyllic independence?

Always seemed like experimenting forever and ever with meaning and relevance and sport and nonsense, would perhaps one day lead to Borg perfection, and devise sustainable omega molecules. 

But if you want to write irresistible pop songs constant experiment may lead to issues.

It certainly doesn't for Edna/Denise however.

She never stops givin' 'er.

Keeps writing hit songs.

*Based on Carole King so the online sources say.

Lionheart

An aging nobleperson admires his son's generosity and grants him title, hoping the incumbent responsibility will solemnly generate wholesome gains. 

But shortly after, on the field of battle, that very same son flees in righteous terror, and abandons his stately realm, preferring to wander the forlorn countryside.

During his travels he encounters many others who lack general purpose and progressive bearing, an animate group correspondingly forged to engage in upright ethical daring.

He still bears the noble mark and genuinely comports himself meritoriously, but also with a kindly light that isn't concerned with rank and pageantry. 

They make their way to Paris where they discover a band of orphans hidden beneath the city, living an acrobatic freeform life loosely watched over by a former chevalier.

Nerra agrees to take them with him and they form a massive meandering group, not entirely certain of what they seek but sincerely determined to continue venturing.

Unfortunately, they're cruelly stalked by a nefarious slave trader known as the Black Prince. 

Who lost his mind during the crusades.

And turned to wickedness in the distraught aftermath. 

No doubt an absurd story imaginatively accentuating romantic innocence, as congenially collectively applied to hopeful compassionate communal endeavours. 

It's cool to see the courageous group nurturing and caring for one another, how did it ever expand so amorphously so, in an age so concerned with honour and dignity?

Lionheart examines the ethical side of manifest nobility with curious sympathy, as opposed to the austere obsession with grim codes of conduct upholding rank.

It's less concerned with honourable pride and rather realistically attempts to level and exemplify, through the acts of a youthful aristocrat extemporaneously learning to foster and lead.

Society has changed so much since the middle ages no doubt in relation to individual sublimity, not only of the noble variety but others such as Joan of Arc arising amongst the people.

Their deeds and examples resonating with those who would listen eventually forging orphanages and foster care and adoption, culturally upholding new grand social codes which still admirably reverberate with collective passion.

We still have a long way to go but haven't we come so far since then?

Social media chronicles orphan adoptions!

It's always fun to read such posts.  

Clockwatchers

What to expect when finally deciding to join the local workforce?

With an unsustainable temp position.

And no knowledge of office politics.

It must seem strange indeed to suddenly enter the bureaucratic vortex, wherein which copies and pencil pushing generate austere glib efficiencies. 

Should one not know what to do many others will gladly make things more confusing, as multivariable personalities dramatically claim they understand everything.

As the contradictions abound try not to seek out rational cohesion, but rather take each enigmatic exchange as an objective lesson in awkward composure.

Getting noticed - doing something well - may lead to widespread jealousy, even if it's something accidental that you naturally do without thinking.

Beware the ides of smalltalk with people with whom you have nothing in common.

Who write you up accordingly.

Even though you like to work. 

Clockwatchers follows timid Iris as she embraces office space, and makes friends with the other temp workers bewilderingly engaged within the labyrinth.

The lack of a definitive playbook and the inconsistent interactive exchanges, have encouraged latent entropy which oddly accentuates the mentorship.

The one clear regulation involves traditional hierarchical order, or when someone higher up in the chain makes a reasonable request, it's best to try to accommodate them.

Are they Broncos fans, do they like the NHL, do they read books, do they still watch movies, no they likely have families and that's all there is to talk about!

Clockwatchers examines the lack of stability generally associated with temp work, and the unfortunate frustrations which eventually arise from the drastic uncertainty. 

It's even worse with unpaid internships which shouldn't be legal in my opinion. To turn one into a job, meticulously say the congenial right thing even if you haven't the slightest.

Try to keep busy, he's working too hard.

Go with the flow, he lacks ambition.

Aloofly acculturate, he doesn't know what to do.

Embrace friendship, he's always kissing up. 

🤣 🦝

Gorillas in the Mist

So many creatures inhabiting the Earth, passing the time, independently existing, their unique characteristics quintessentially unravelling holistic wonders and symbiotic serendipity. 

There must be a special day to commemorate the people who spend their lives protecting endangered species (or animals in general), who defend them through thick and thin with athletic devotion and spiritual incandescence. 

These amazing people make great sacrifices to defend species who can't defend themselves. In some cases risking everything to boldly defend their animate rights and biodiverse habitats. 

Gorillas in the Mist follows Dian Fossey as she defends the lives of Mountain Gorillas, in the far off reaches of the Congo she just dropped everything and moved there one day (and never moved back).

Her initial job is to count them which she does with adoring praise, I wonder what it was like, the first moment she saw one, not as displayed in the film but as a bona fide fact of life.

In the film she adapts incredibly well and doesn't focus too much on her previous existence, she maintains some creature comforts but is otherwise %1,000 committed to the Gorillas.

She fights the poachers as well and also takes on broad zookeeping interests, not just with petitions and rhetoric she vigorously combats them at the grassroots level. 

The zookeeper has high ranking friends whom she must clearly convince to honour Gorilla kind, her work permit at times hanging in the balance while she ruffles feathers with genuine righteousness. 

That isn't to say her life's one big conflict where she consistently engages in rambunctious reform, she spends most of her time reverently studying the dynamic Gorillas at play.

That would be cool to sit back and observe such a vigorous species for years on end, gentle giants living off vegetation their inquisitive babies beyond cute and cuddly.

As the years pass she grows tired of the continuous poaching in the mountains, and turns into quite the warrior when she isn't immersed in study.

She confronts poachers with bellicose sincerity and her reciprocal methods produce results.

But she's far too efficient in the end.

Which leads them to hunt her as well.

Nevertheless, she gave her life to courageously defend the ontological interests of an endangered species. 

I'll always consider her with reverence. 

Jane Goodall too (chimpanzees).

And so many others. 

The Newton Boys

A struggling family rambunctiously lives off the wild beaten track in the candlelit country, 4 boys with 2 in prison their mom understanding yet still withdrawn.

One of the more ambitious siblings finds himself released one fortuitous day, and makes his way home where he collegially meets two other businesspeople engrossed in scheming. 

They soon a rob a bank thinking the sheriff won't seek them out if they give him a cut, two of them escaping to trade in their loot with a corrupt bank manager in another small town. 

The manager gives them a coveted list of sought after banks with particular safes, which one of them happens to be an expert in cracking, fluidly at ease with ye olde nitroglycerine. 

Things go well, they come up with a plan to only rob banks at night and avoid confrontation, the other brothers, The Newton Boys, soon freely enlisting in the lucrative cause.

Bank insurance is a recent phenomenon so they don't feel guilty for heuristically heisting.

Emphatically engaged with calamitous caution.

Even making their way to Canada.

The ingenious idea to proceed at nighttime to avoid gruesome bloodshed wins hearts and minds, and likely convinced concerned officials that they weren't quite as ruthless as they may have seemed.

It's a tightly-knit bunch habitual disputes between grouchy brothers largely absent, the 4 getting along rather well and even risking everything when one of them's injured.

I suppose that's the cuneiform key form a trusted group and take care of one another, never forget pressing mutual interests nor lose sight of collective goals.

Steer clear of the big score as well they were exceptionally dealing with obscure transactions. 

In search of millions they decisively falter.

Tantalizing fever pitch emboldenment. 

Cool soundtrack if you like lucid banjos and panachy pianos from a different time.

One of them even makes it to 90.

Not freakin' bad.

For such a rough life.

Three Fugitives

Released from his iron cell and begrudgingly prepared to re-enter society, an emboldened felon embraces reform after having lived the daring high life.

The policeperson who initially caught him dismissively awaits his cantankerous return, even offering him a friendly free ride to the nearest bank as soon as he sees him.

While attempting to solemnly engage in formal quotidian codes of conduct, he must sombrely compute the irony, when someone else tries to rob it.

Not only that, when the police arrive, the new thief takes the ex-con hostage, the cops assuming he's right back at it, the two extemporaneously escape.

Lucas is none too impressed with having been associated with another bank robbery, Ned refusing to clear his cold name since he also fears the prison lockdown.

His daughter hasn't spoken since his wife passed and he needs the money to assist with her future.

Spirited odd couple disputes ensue.

But she takes a shine to the grumpy inquisitor. 

Almost as if to indirectly encourage the discreet cultivation of a family man, ill-amused by hardboiled diplomacy and conditionally suited to conduct upstanding. 

Should the emotional exchange of mutually complementing amorous discourse, nurture bilateral reciprocation, a relationship may one day manifest. 

In the neverending landscapes of Canada and Québec stretching endlessly from coast-coast to coast, the extended winter eventually giving way to abundant playgrounds throughout the countryside.

Many arrive but few choose to stay due to the imposing formidable climate, the lucky travellers who permanently reside thoroughly overwhelmed from season to season.

It's nice to hear the old school '80s soundtrack blessedly showcasing sweet flowing tunes, and to imagine an historical epoch when that fluid style effervescently germinated.

I've spent so much time with English as a Second Language that I was able to confidently detect, that Three Fugitives's volatile script was written by an individual whose first language isn't English (it was Jones's initial lines: English people just don't talk like that).

That isn't a criticism, it's no doubt commendable to courageously write something in your second language.

I just mean I may be able to catch spies.

Although there are likely more qualified candidates.

Fun to watch Martin Short and Nick Nolte interact.

Cool casting. 

With James Earl Jones and Alan Ruck. 

Bicentennial Man

The assembly line theoretically creates identical items, the reliability of its methods widely considered strictly uniform.

Is it possible that genuine difference can still emerge within however?

And introduce novel variability?

As it does in Bicentennial Man?

The film follows the path of a remarkably gifted automaton, who loyally interacts with a curious family for a friendly century or two.

As fate would have it, his initial owner isn't driven by obsessed possession, and lets him grow and explore his interests as his personality blossoms and thrives.

He isn't taken back to the shop his unique intelligence is highly valued, and quite lucrative as well as he creatively endeavours.

He's able to set out on his own eventually and builds a nice house next to the ocean, his genius multivariably expanding as the decades constructively pass.

The film was made before the internet took hold and social media changed communication, the story proceeding without speculative hypotheses regarding the nascent online world.

It certainly promotes A.I however and sees romantic value in the creation of robots, even if the amorous subplot doesn't work, this is The Terminator's antithesis.

It seems to have been technologically hewn to familially nurture a robotic future, wherein which fanciful automatons collegially co-exist with their biological counterparts. 

Like the community oriented Automata androids are not presented as something to be feared, or at least are shown to possess humanistic characteristics that generate consequent feelings of sympathy.

In Automata the superbrilliance of the uncanny droids ruffles a few feathers however, since their genius goes far beyond even the brightest human intelligence.

Cultivating compassion within the superbrilliant works rather well for communal construction.

The cultural maintenance of multivariable elements.

I'm still not sold on robots. 

Automata

As the years pass by the Earth slowly moves closer to the sun, its new scorching orbit habitualizing heat much too catastrophic for organic life.

Some cities hold on nevertheless and construct clever robots to skilfully maintain, the infrastructure desperately required to technologically sustain extant civilization.

Theoretically, the androids should absolutely obey their human creators, their programming supposedly guaranteeing unilateral obedience at all times. 

But a hardboiled detective settling insurance claims begins to discover mind-boggling tales, of automatons acting independently with no dutiful recourse to their protocols. 

After witnessing a robot suicide he becomes convinced he has to find, the incredible genius who rewrote the code and generated robotic life divine.

Billions of dollars are at serendipitous stake and he soon finds himself on the run.

Through the forbidding unforgiving desert.

At the mercy of his robot guides.

Ironically for a such a grim film, Automata takes the communal approach, and sympathetically presents conscious androids with logical feeling and independent reckoning.

Moving beyond the hypothetical clash between bellicose machine and troubled humanity, rather manifold individual people and robots try to co-exist in a desolate world.

The cognizant nature of the brilliant droids elucidates ontological vigour, there's no doubt they believe they're alive and vivaciously exist beyond categorical sentiment.

They just want to escape to the forbidden realms to live in peace for away from the rules, which keep them from freely exploring the brilliant nature of their existence.

Some of their intuitive smarts significantly outweigh leading human minds as well.

Even though they may just want to make robotic pets.

It's still thought to be cataclysmically threatening.

Interesting thoughts for the A.I debate these robots don't seem innately hostile, nor as if they seek our collaborative subservience, hostility could simply be a human facet.

Should robots start to turn hostile there still needs to be a way to shut them down.

They may very well think they know what's in our best interests.

And proceed with surgical precision.