Joy

Discipline.

Punishment.

The hurricane, crushing, displacing, infuriating, exasperating, draining her reserves with unsettling elasticity, voracious steady plutocratic hunger, petty indignant somnambulistic plunder, she coasts astride, reacting, strategizing, acclimatizing, placating, diplomatically attuned to brokering consensus, to enabling equanimity, fomented franticon, whirlwinds harnessed agon, risking everything she has while enriching her familial bower, through the art of sympathetically nurturing comprehensible inclusive trusts.

She leaves no one behind, her spirit breeding virtue in resplendent fertile abundance, someone you can count on, entrenched hardwired reliability, David O. Russell's Joy (Jennifer Lawrence), an odd synthesis of the exceptional and the mundane.

It's almost there.

The film wavers between the plucky and the humdrum with casual indiscreet dexterity, never seeming too shocking or distant, while enlivening situations you would think might not be so.

In conversation.

By cautiously yet cleverly elevating the tedious, Joy coaxes the extraordinary with undeniable hokey charm, notably when Trudy (Isabella Rossellini) asks her 4 questions.

Still missing something however, its aesthetic resonance asymptotically flirting with the quaintly ethereal, girls on farms, caressing and tantalizing with each exhaled breath, otherwise fun and endearing, well-acted convincing versatility.