Different worlds collide in Paul Greengrass's objective Captain Phillips, one wherein multiple possibilities exist yet the competition to obtain them is intense, the other, qualified by extremely limited options, life threatening and treacherous, suffocatingly sane.
Captain Richard Phillips (Tom Hanks) rose through the ranks according to a different historical set of his world's cultural economic indicators, which he describes early on during a conversation with his wife (Catherine Keener as Andrea Phillips).
Muse (Barkhad Abdi) then appears in present-day Somalia, a person competing as Phillips had in his youth, but within a market in which standing-out requires fire power, and impacts are made through violent confrontation.
The film doesn't judge.
Both Phillips and Muse have jobs to do and they do them.
Phillips's probing hard-hitting questions boldly challenge the ways in which Muse earns his living, but Muse competently defends his volatile endeavours, redefining impoverishment in the process.
Neither of them concedes.
Neither of them backs down.
The film's a realistic open-minded level-headed examination of how individuals from different nations go about putting food on the table.
Muse does what he can to be Captain Phillips.
Captain Phillips offers constructive recourse.
Saturday, January 25, 2014
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Her
Permissive inquisitive supple algorithms congenially contravene age-old courting rituals to ambiguously nurture an amorous electronic aesthetic in Spike Jonze's Her, wherein the app deluge is convivially levied, romanticized as a crush, and poetically prorated.
Her offered me new insights into romantic films.
It's not just that they provide heartfelt diagnoses regarding the ways in which different people express their feelings, it's that they can also take contemporary cybernetic enclosures, themselves revealing significant structural shifts in practical cultural interpersonal relations, and affectively normalize them, an extended divergent 21st century version of Data (Brent Spiner) hooking up with Tasha Yar (Denise Crosby), without utilizing monsters or excessive stubbornness, while still examining issues of be/longing and fidelity, and conscientiously theorizing about what it means to be in love.
That's totally romantic.
Simultaneously virginal and promiscuous, Her socially demonstrates the resonant festive frequency of an open-minded ceremonial cooperative, broken up into jaunty quotidian workplace conversations, support networks, and intuitive streamlines.
It asks, is it odd that Theodore Twombly (Joaquin Phoenix) doesn't let himself go, or would his life have been more fun if he had more intently, or is he right to embrace a more traditional lifestyle, preferring the contact of person-to-person multiplicities?
Thereby challenging its viewer's conceptions of in/formality.
Subjective principalities, digitized, anew.
What are those Belle & Sebastian lines from The Model, "the vision was a masterpiece of comic timing, you wouldn't laugh at all"?
They fit quite well with Her.
Although the perfect mom video game made me laugh.
Surprised Joaquin Phoenix wasn't nominated for best actor.
Her offered me new insights into romantic films.
It's not just that they provide heartfelt diagnoses regarding the ways in which different people express their feelings, it's that they can also take contemporary cybernetic enclosures, themselves revealing significant structural shifts in practical cultural interpersonal relations, and affectively normalize them, an extended divergent 21st century version of Data (Brent Spiner) hooking up with Tasha Yar (Denise Crosby), without utilizing monsters or excessive stubbornness, while still examining issues of be/longing and fidelity, and conscientiously theorizing about what it means to be in love.
That's totally romantic.
Simultaneously virginal and promiscuous, Her socially demonstrates the resonant festive frequency of an open-minded ceremonial cooperative, broken up into jaunty quotidian workplace conversations, support networks, and intuitive streamlines.
It asks, is it odd that Theodore Twombly (Joaquin Phoenix) doesn't let himself go, or would his life have been more fun if he had more intently, or is he right to embrace a more traditional lifestyle, preferring the contact of person-to-person multiplicities?
Thereby challenging its viewer's conceptions of in/formality.
Subjective principalities, digitized, anew.
What are those Belle & Sebastian lines from The Model, "the vision was a masterpiece of comic timing, you wouldn't laugh at all"?
They fit quite well with Her.
Although the perfect mom video game made me laugh.
Surprised Joaquin Phoenix wasn't nominated for best actor.
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
August: Osage County
The loss of a family member begets inconsolable griefs and vitriolic censure as three generations representing different familial traditions gather in mourning.
Character development is dynamically and interactively adhered to as historical ideological super(e)latives contend.
Edges are sharpened.
Balance obliterates.
Pharmaceuticals fuel a tumultuous tirade whose sneering strikes and belittling gripes nurture a bellicose backlash whose ominous offensive jeopardizes a solemn ceremonial meal's digestion.
Rancour.
Heartache.
Cast iron confederacies.
August: Osage County isn't that concerned with subtlety, although the family depicted have spent their lives refraining from using direct forms of communication, and the symbolism in the background of the sequence where Charlie Aiken (Chris Cooper) greets his son (Benedict Cumberbatch) highlights this forthcoming transformation, this move from eggshells to shrapnel.
Early on there's a shot depicting Charlie and Little Charlie within their environment at large and you can see the profile of a Native American Chief in the background.
Subsequent shots zero-in-on the two but the profile of the Chief remains.
I thought the inclusion of the profile would have been stronger if it had been left out of the subsequent shots, until I noticed how it related to the film's greater purpose.
The film subtly and not so subtly examines contemporary and historical perspectives regarding relations between Native Americans and those descended from Europeans.
By first keeping the profile of the Native American Chief in the background, the tragic nature of the dismissive attitudes concerning these relations are reflected.
But keeping the profile in the following shots reflects the empathetic attitudes as well since the profile doesn't disappear, while also foreshadowing the film's overt move from reserved ornamentation to full-on acrimonious onslaught.
The film's embattled matriarch (Meryl Streep as Violet Weston) has fallen apart partially because the traditions she held dear in her troubled childhood have dramatically changed, and her children and grandchildren abide by different cultural codes.
Her last scene shows her seeking comfort from her Native American nurse Johnna Monevata (Misty Upham), whom she's bigotedly dismissed at points, who proceeds to comfort her, possibly understanding what she's going through, painstakingly living on higher ground, higher ground which has been generationally transformed and preserved by some, through an immaculate application of the golden rule.
It's a brilliant synthesis.
Written by Tracy Letts.
Character development is dynamically and interactively adhered to as historical ideological super(e)latives contend.
Edges are sharpened.
Balance obliterates.
Pharmaceuticals fuel a tumultuous tirade whose sneering strikes and belittling gripes nurture a bellicose backlash whose ominous offensive jeopardizes a solemn ceremonial meal's digestion.
Rancour.
Heartache.
Cast iron confederacies.
August: Osage County isn't that concerned with subtlety, although the family depicted have spent their lives refraining from using direct forms of communication, and the symbolism in the background of the sequence where Charlie Aiken (Chris Cooper) greets his son (Benedict Cumberbatch) highlights this forthcoming transformation, this move from eggshells to shrapnel.
Early on there's a shot depicting Charlie and Little Charlie within their environment at large and you can see the profile of a Native American Chief in the background.
Subsequent shots zero-in-on the two but the profile of the Chief remains.
I thought the inclusion of the profile would have been stronger if it had been left out of the subsequent shots, until I noticed how it related to the film's greater purpose.
The film subtly and not so subtly examines contemporary and historical perspectives regarding relations between Native Americans and those descended from Europeans.
By first keeping the profile of the Native American Chief in the background, the tragic nature of the dismissive attitudes concerning these relations are reflected.
But keeping the profile in the following shots reflects the empathetic attitudes as well since the profile doesn't disappear, while also foreshadowing the film's overt move from reserved ornamentation to full-on acrimonious onslaught.
The film's embattled matriarch (Meryl Streep as Violet Weston) has fallen apart partially because the traditions she held dear in her troubled childhood have dramatically changed, and her children and grandchildren abide by different cultural codes.
Her last scene shows her seeking comfort from her Native American nurse Johnna Monevata (Misty Upham), whom she's bigotedly dismissed at points, who proceeds to comfort her, possibly understanding what she's going through, painstakingly living on higher ground, higher ground which has been generationally transformed and preserved by some, through an immaculate application of the golden rule.
It's a brilliant synthesis.
Written by Tracy Letts.
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
The Wolf of Wall Street
What to make of this one.
Comparing Scorsese's Wolf of Wall Street to Oliver Stone's Wall Street could generate some compelling comparative data, in regards to their historical censures.
Has this particular epoch enabled Scorsese to direct without limits, to go beyond Seth MacFarlane and Adam Reed, to freely proceed with neither caution nor complaint in an excessive wanton capitalistic cynosure, to gratuitously salute the golden age of sleaze?
He tests you within.
He bombards you with luscious images of in/accessible voluptuous beauties, interspersing tips on illegally playing the stock market, and then asks you whether or not you're capable of following the lecture, playing with the process of narrativization throughout.
Tantalizing tutelage?
He takes a group of guys who grew up together, installs one as leader after he learns how to make enormous sums of money, they all then make enormous sums of money, and they basically never leave high school for the rest of their lives, and not one of them even so much as ends up in the hospital.
There are funny moments.
But why they needed 180 minutes to retool this tale is beyond me.
There's just no Gravity in this film.
That's arguably the point, and it's presented as a best case example of raunchy sophomoric absurdity.
But there's too much exploitation for me.
It is fun getting to know smart women.
There's one female stockbroker who succeeds but her role's tacked-on, she's belittled in the end, and is initially dependent on the generosity of men.
However, like American Hustle, it's filled with tips on how to avoid being scammed.
Comparing Scorsese's Wolf of Wall Street to Oliver Stone's Wall Street could generate some compelling comparative data, in regards to their historical censures.
Has this particular epoch enabled Scorsese to direct without limits, to go beyond Seth MacFarlane and Adam Reed, to freely proceed with neither caution nor complaint in an excessive wanton capitalistic cynosure, to gratuitously salute the golden age of sleaze?
He tests you within.
He bombards you with luscious images of in/accessible voluptuous beauties, interspersing tips on illegally playing the stock market, and then asks you whether or not you're capable of following the lecture, playing with the process of narrativization throughout.
Tantalizing tutelage?
He takes a group of guys who grew up together, installs one as leader after he learns how to make enormous sums of money, they all then make enormous sums of money, and they basically never leave high school for the rest of their lives, and not one of them even so much as ends up in the hospital.
There are funny moments.
But why they needed 180 minutes to retool this tale is beyond me.
There's just no Gravity in this film.
That's arguably the point, and it's presented as a best case example of raunchy sophomoric absurdity.
But there's too much exploitation for me.
It is fun getting to know smart women.
There's one female stockbroker who succeeds but her role's tacked-on, she's belittled in the end, and is initially dependent on the generosity of men.
However, like American Hustle, it's filled with tips on how to avoid being scammed.
Tian zhu ding (A Touch of Sin)
Both the wealthy and the impoverished receive their fair share of unexpected comeuppances in these loosely intertwined grotesquely plighted a/morality tales, presented en masse as Zhangke Jia's Tian zhu ding (A Touch of Sin), guilty, of having sacrificed.
After the first two vignettes, requisite apprehensions immobilize one in regards to phases 3 and 4, which have the potential to be just as satirically maniacal, just as starkly im/balanced.
Questions of right and wrong atmospherically attire the violence with cold dreaded ethical extinctions, some of the characters not necessarily lacking options, yet inimically immersed in their own substantive slather.
Despair.
Foraged feelings fostered.
Values obliging concomitant abst(r)ains.
Nebulous nuts and bolts.
Complicit chaotic cankers.
Dissonant diabolic docility.
Interactive entropy.
So many reactions.
Consequences aplenty.
My eyes.
Tian zhu ding's so very unhappy.
Nothing's easy in this one.
After the first two vignettes, requisite apprehensions immobilize one in regards to phases 3 and 4, which have the potential to be just as satirically maniacal, just as starkly im/balanced.
Questions of right and wrong atmospherically attire the violence with cold dreaded ethical extinctions, some of the characters not necessarily lacking options, yet inimically immersed in their own substantive slather.
Despair.
Foraged feelings fostered.
Values obliging concomitant abst(r)ains.
Nebulous nuts and bolts.
Complicit chaotic cankers.
Dissonant diabolic docility.
Interactive entropy.
So many reactions.
Consequences aplenty.
My eyes.
Tian zhu ding's so very unhappy.
Nothing's easy in this one.
Monday, January 13, 2014
American Hustle
Serious sustained elusively sentimental cirrhosis, soberly conceived and symptomatically executed, the established bland underground beacon coerced into serving an opportunistic senseless gold digger, retentively reliant yet arrogantly exploitative, the combination's blinds leaving him susceptible to implosive cracks, their fissures directly proportional to their aggrandizements, seismically de/centralizing, corpus allumé.
Feminine elements complicate and complement the messy procedure as pressures coruscate emotional embers, and logical jealousies prevaricate relational rationalities.
Should this film be taken seriously?
On the one hand, as Irving Rosenfeld's (Christian Bale) character, the intelligent flexible streetwise devoted husband scam artist, suggests, we definitely should be, as his livelihood and familial security depends on it, even though he's a criminal.
On the other, as Richie DeMaso's (Bradley Cooper) character, the brash insubordinate wild-eyed FBI agent, suggests, we definitely should not be, as his reckless and life threatening decisions are simply too preposterous to take, even though he's enforcing the law.
The hilarious repeated transitional scene which sees the camera shoot the ground floor of American Hustle's FBI headquarters and then rapidly shift its focus to the top, suggests that David O. Russell is seriously playfully shining (editing by Alan Baumgarten, Jay Cassidy, and Crispin Struthers).
His beams brightly illuminate upright politician Carmine Polito (Jeremy Renner), a true person of the people and loving family man, tricked into accepting bribes.
Ethically, I find it highly problematic when politicians take bribes to stimulate economies through casino construction since casinos can and have ruin/ed the lives of many a low-income worker.
Real worldly, a lot of people don't seem to care about these realities anymore and think being exploited is great.
Rosenfeld doesn't like being exploited although he earns a living exploiting people.
He feels guilty for his actions in relation to Polito's eventual arrest, because even though casino creation is exploitative, Polito is acting on the people's behalf, according to the film's cavalier combustion.
Great film on many levels.
But in terms of bribing politicians to achieve specific ends, it fails to reflectively hustle.
A suave sensational scam?
Not persuasive enough of a play.
But it does offer effective indirect advice on how to avoid being scammed and the script's excellent (written by David O. Russell and Eric Warren Singer).
Which works.
Feminine elements complicate and complement the messy procedure as pressures coruscate emotional embers, and logical jealousies prevaricate relational rationalities.
Should this film be taken seriously?
On the one hand, as Irving Rosenfeld's (Christian Bale) character, the intelligent flexible streetwise devoted husband scam artist, suggests, we definitely should be, as his livelihood and familial security depends on it, even though he's a criminal.
On the other, as Richie DeMaso's (Bradley Cooper) character, the brash insubordinate wild-eyed FBI agent, suggests, we definitely should not be, as his reckless and life threatening decisions are simply too preposterous to take, even though he's enforcing the law.
The hilarious repeated transitional scene which sees the camera shoot the ground floor of American Hustle's FBI headquarters and then rapidly shift its focus to the top, suggests that David O. Russell is seriously playfully shining (editing by Alan Baumgarten, Jay Cassidy, and Crispin Struthers).
His beams brightly illuminate upright politician Carmine Polito (Jeremy Renner), a true person of the people and loving family man, tricked into accepting bribes.
Ethically, I find it highly problematic when politicians take bribes to stimulate economies through casino construction since casinos can and have ruin/ed the lives of many a low-income worker.
Real worldly, a lot of people don't seem to care about these realities anymore and think being exploited is great.
Rosenfeld doesn't like being exploited although he earns a living exploiting people.
He feels guilty for his actions in relation to Polito's eventual arrest, because even though casino creation is exploitative, Polito is acting on the people's behalf, according to the film's cavalier combustion.
Great film on many levels.
But in terms of bribing politicians to achieve specific ends, it fails to reflectively hustle.
A suave sensational scam?
Not persuasive enough of a play.
But it does offer effective indirect advice on how to avoid being scammed and the script's excellent (written by David O. Russell and Eric Warren Singer).
Which works.
47 Ronin
Unjustly cast out and stripped of their rank, forced to quibble for crumbs, scrap for sustenance, and transcend for trifles, Carl Rinsch's 47 Ronin patiently wait to seek vengeance, the pressures of time motivationally closing in.
Their Lord was betrayed through bewitching and forced to take his own life to maintain his family's honour.
A humble troubled outcast who renounced his demonic tutelage possesses the forbidden knowledge necessary to arm their ascent.
Composed as a group, they unite forthwith, entrusting enlivened artists with their plans, prognosticating as a matter of necessity.
In absolute domains.
Liked what happens in 47 Ronin which takes place in 18th-century Japan more than the film itself, but I respect what it delivers.
It provides a traditional story steeped in loyalty, overflowing with injustices, told in a traditional way, for audiences respectful of said traditions.
It's a true exercise in modesty considering that it doesn't play-up Kai's (Keanu Reeves) demonic abilities even though such a feature may have increased its salutations.
Form working hand-in-hand with content.
Even the mythical beast isn't shown-off.
Restraint.
Their Lord was betrayed through bewitching and forced to take his own life to maintain his family's honour.
A humble troubled outcast who renounced his demonic tutelage possesses the forbidden knowledge necessary to arm their ascent.
Composed as a group, they unite forthwith, entrusting enlivened artists with their plans, prognosticating as a matter of necessity.
In absolute domains.
Liked what happens in 47 Ronin which takes place in 18th-century Japan more than the film itself, but I respect what it delivers.
It provides a traditional story steeped in loyalty, overflowing with injustices, told in a traditional way, for audiences respectful of said traditions.
It's a true exercise in modesty considering that it doesn't play-up Kai's (Keanu Reeves) demonic abilities even though such a feature may have increased its salutations.
Form working hand-in-hand with content.
Even the mythical beast isn't shown-off.
Restraint.
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
Inside Llewyn Davis
Inside Llewyn Davis you'll find a staggering conflicted troubadour torn apart by the loss of his musical partner, problematically fazed.
This guy's a bit of a jerk, depicted as an oddball within folk music culture, gifted and heartwarming while performing, troubling and disruptive while doing anything else.
It's like he's a jaded cynical holier-than-thou 90s caricature surrounded by congenial 1960s good spirits, frustrated by his lack of success, overconfident to the point of paralysis.
He always has to be in control.
It's as if the Coen Brothers are playing a joke with Llewyn Davis (Oscar Isaac), presenting a character reminiscent of Five Easy Pieces's Robert Eroica Dupea (Jack Nicholson), assuming their audience will be unconsciously sympathetic, while making him as unsympathetic as possible, hoping people will still refer to him as tragic.
He's given opportunities.
And unlike Dupea, his community has merits to which he can relate.
His loss perhaps prevents him from noticing these merits.
But his attitude suggests that he may have been directly responsible for his loss (which is likely augmenting his malaise).
Jerry Seinfeld's (Jerry Seinfeld) interactions with Kenny Bania (Steve Hytner) offer a constructive parallel, Kenny functioning as the 1960s good spirit living in the 90s, as if Inside Llewyn Davis primarily concerns itself with this comedic dialogue, with elements of The Master's Freddie Quell (Joaquin Phoenix) intermixed.
I was hoping he would take off to the Northern wilderness near the end like Dupea in Five Easy Pieces.
Perhaps he did.
John Goodman (Roland Turner) delivers another exceptional performance.
This guy's a bit of a jerk, depicted as an oddball within folk music culture, gifted and heartwarming while performing, troubling and disruptive while doing anything else.
It's like he's a jaded cynical holier-than-thou 90s caricature surrounded by congenial 1960s good spirits, frustrated by his lack of success, overconfident to the point of paralysis.
He always has to be in control.
It's as if the Coen Brothers are playing a joke with Llewyn Davis (Oscar Isaac), presenting a character reminiscent of Five Easy Pieces's Robert Eroica Dupea (Jack Nicholson), assuming their audience will be unconsciously sympathetic, while making him as unsympathetic as possible, hoping people will still refer to him as tragic.
He's given opportunities.
And unlike Dupea, his community has merits to which he can relate.
His loss perhaps prevents him from noticing these merits.
But his attitude suggests that he may have been directly responsible for his loss (which is likely augmenting his malaise).
Jerry Seinfeld's (Jerry Seinfeld) interactions with Kenny Bania (Steve Hytner) offer a constructive parallel, Kenny functioning as the 1960s good spirit living in the 90s, as if Inside Llewyn Davis primarily concerns itself with this comedic dialogue, with elements of The Master's Freddie Quell (Joaquin Phoenix) intermixed.
I was hoping he would take off to the Northern wilderness near the end like Dupea in Five Easy Pieces.
Perhaps he did.
John Goodman (Roland Turner) delivers another exceptional performance.
Saturday, January 4, 2014
Mandela: Long Walk to Freedom
Justin Chadwick offers a selective charismatic altruistic account of Nelson Mandela's (Idris Elba) life in Mandela: Long Walk to Freedom.
Significant events from Mandela's heroic trials are qualitatively condensed then narratively harvested.
It unreels at a fast pace but Elba's calm committed confrontational resolve surreally subdues the passage of time, tantalizingly transforming 30 seconds into two-minutes-forty, proactively producing captivating capsules.
A good companion piece for 12 Years a Slave in terms of the differing approaches adopted to biographically elucidate, McQueen cultivating a shifting pyrodactic panorama, Chadwick proceeding more traditionally.
Chadwick doesn't shy away from presenting the difficulties associated with actively pursuing disenfranchised political agendas, and the toll Mandela's sublime idealism takes on his wives and children are dis/comfortingly displayed.
His first wife leaves him but his second never yields in her championing of his cause while he's imprisoned, suffering jail-time and countless indignities consequently.
Their breakup after he's released is perhaps the most unfortunate disengaging of amorous affections I've ever come across.
Winnie Madikizela-Mandela (Naomie Harris) kept the fire burning brightly throughout his 27 years in prison and seeing them part is tragic if not earth shattering.
But Mandela believed in a non-violent working solution and when provided with the opportunity to politically enact one, engaged.
Taking the resultant monumental fallout in stride.
Not a saint, perhaps, but definitely, a person of steel.
Significant events from Mandela's heroic trials are qualitatively condensed then narratively harvested.
It unreels at a fast pace but Elba's calm committed confrontational resolve surreally subdues the passage of time, tantalizingly transforming 30 seconds into two-minutes-forty, proactively producing captivating capsules.
A good companion piece for 12 Years a Slave in terms of the differing approaches adopted to biographically elucidate, McQueen cultivating a shifting pyrodactic panorama, Chadwick proceeding more traditionally.
Chadwick doesn't shy away from presenting the difficulties associated with actively pursuing disenfranchised political agendas, and the toll Mandela's sublime idealism takes on his wives and children are dis/comfortingly displayed.
His first wife leaves him but his second never yields in her championing of his cause while he's imprisoned, suffering jail-time and countless indignities consequently.
Their breakup after he's released is perhaps the most unfortunate disengaging of amorous affections I've ever come across.
Winnie Madikizela-Mandela (Naomie Harris) kept the fire burning brightly throughout his 27 years in prison and seeing them part is tragic if not earth shattering.
But Mandela believed in a non-violent working solution and when provided with the opportunity to politically enact one, engaged.
Taking the resultant monumental fallout in stride.
Not a saint, perhaps, but definitely, a person of steel.
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