Pokémon Detective Pikachu

Spoiler alert.

I admit, that prior to seeing this film, I knew next to nothing about Pokémon.

I had seen various Pokémons out and about from time to time, but mistakenly thought Pikachu was Pokémon, like Spongebob Squarepants is SpongeBob SquarePants, or Dora the Explorer is an explorer named Dora.

Incorrect was I, as I discovered shortly after tuning in to my first Pokémon film, Pokémon Detective Pikachu, a hard-hitting soy young adult feature.

I say young adult because the themes seemed too frightening for younger audiences, considering that animal fights, genetic manipulation, and steroid abuse metaphorically intermingle within, albeit with cutesy cuddly unabashed observations, and two struggling young professionals unaccustomed to workplace romance.

Come to think of it, if you took away the animation and the metaphor, perhaps substituting Bruce Willis and a hangover for Detective Pikachu with amnesia, you'd have a grizzled potentially hard-boiled gut wrenching agitation, with robots instead of Pokémon?, an affair, an obsession, an ulcer?

But on the surface the film's much less 12-step.

It's rather idyllic in fact, a bustling city where humans and Pokémon live in robust harmony, like if everyone in Seattle had a loveable family pet, and was eagerly encouraged to take them to work, to the park, to the cinéma, out to eat.

Everywhere in fact, it's a highly advanced idea, which unfortunately doesn't receive much screentime, as Tim Goodman (Justice Smith), Lucy Stevens (Kathryn Newton), and Detective Pikachu (Ryan Reynolds) uncover more traditional pillow pastimes.

Sigh.

The mastermind behind Ryme City is confined to a wheelchair and desires to briskly walk again.

But since his mortal leverage lacks fluid mobility, he hopes to transfer his mind to a lively Pokémon, the formidable Mewtwo no less.

But not only that, he develops a gas that will merge everyone in the city with their cherished Pokémon companions, whom he will then diabolically rule forever after, employing extant whimsy, brawn, and caprice, however he sees fit, as the wayward crow flies.

Failing to have consulted his constituents, we've no idea if they were hip to the idea, but fortunately critical inquiry comes a characteristically calling, the brazen altruistic intent, sweetly sleuthing with fact-based reconnaissance.

Most environmentalists aren't mad obsessed plutocrats coveting immortality.

They just want to curb pollution and live symbiotically with nature, according to humanistic customs, I'm assuming.

I don't think there's anyone out there who wants to flood nature with toxic pollutants that make people and animals sick; so why aren't we searching for solutions to make such a reality marketable?

Green shifts are becoming available.

They've certainly found one on Apricot Lane Farms.

Where I imagine Pokémon would co-exist.

Perhaps even lighten the load.

Adorably.

Synchronously.

Was there ever any doubt?

Love the Pokémon.

Cool film but not for really young kids.

The Biggest Little Farm

The light shines brightly in this humble holistic documentary.

There's a lot of well-researched well-documented logical doom and gloom out there, to which The Biggest Little Farm resiliently responds.

The situation's bleak and new terms are being created to discuss climate change, but individuals are still tilling new ground, and finding innovative ways to persevere.

Protests are paramount.

They're important to raise awareness and demonstrate active criticisms.

Purchasing decisions effectively sustain them too, inasmuch as what you buy directly effects climate change.

I'm not perfect, I don't make 100% environmentally conscious decisions all the time, but I have cut most of the meat out of my diet, recycle everything I can, usually purchase green, and currently snack on fruit rather than chips much more frequently.

It's handy that many grocery stores are selling sliced fruit in small containers (which will hopefully become biodegradable) in Montréal for 2 to 3 dollars a piece.

If the choice is between a helping of pineapple or a bag of chips for $2.50 when I don't have much time and need a quick snack, the decision's a no-brainer, I'm buying pineapple every time.

Businesses do respond when they start losing money, and if there's people powered momentum to make significant impacts, plastic can be replaced by green alternatives, and our reliance on oil can become much less overwhelming.

When I see how many young people attend climate change protests I'm encouraged.

They clearly care about their future and the future of our planet as well.

If even a figure as low as 60% of them grew up to start environmentally friendly businesses and/or farms, selling environmentally friendly products for competitive prices, products perhaps generated by a hemp revolution like the one mentioned in the film Grass and others, while making environmentally friendly purchasing decisions themselves, greenhouse gas emissions would certainly decrease, and biodegradable containers could seriously reduce plastic waste.

We live within a capitalist system and it's through capitalism that we can fight global warming.

Big money tracks how people spend and if it anticipates mass profits in green markets it will lucratively respond.

If North Americans boycotted McDonald's for a month mouth watering vegetarian and vegan options would definitely appear on its menu, as they have on A & W's without a boycott.

Scrumptiously so.

The Biggest Little Farm's about biodiversity, about farming symbiotically with nature.

The Chester's don't just plant one crop, they plant dozens, and cultivate an awe-inspiring abundance of different foods.

They encounter serious setbacks as they embrace sustainable farming, hiring farm whisperer Alan York to guide them along the way.

They wait it out.

They find solutions.

Symbiotic solutions.

Evergreen solutions.

When snails threaten their fruit trees, their ducks devour the snails. When birds threaten their crops, birds of prey move in to challenge them. When gophers threaten their produce, every animal from miles around shows up to chase them. When torrential rains threaten their farm, its bountiful greens prevent catastrophic run off.

They work with nature in an inspiring way that must make David Suzuki and David Attenborough proud.

It's like they've planted a farm in the forest without harming the animals and are still making a steady profit.

The forest animals are even encouraged to live there, with resident owls numbering close to 100.

It's game changing inclusive brilliant revolutionary farming that radiates distinct harmonies through its patient biodiverse strengths.

And it works, at least it's working for them, although they don't shy away from presenting hardships endured.

Our Planet passionately argues that maintaining biodiversity is integral to fighting climate change and preventing species from going extinct.

If more people farmed like the Chester's in The Biggest Little Farm, if more disposable containers and other products were made with hemp, if more green businesses started popping up, and more people made regular greener purchases while out and about, we would significantly reduce greenhouse gasses, and live more enriching lives.

A definite must see.

You can visit Apricot Lane Farms in California too.

They've expanded into ecotourism.

Mind-blowing game changing impacts.

One of my favourite films.

Zagros

Zagros pulls you in with the simple genuine honesty often disseminated by documentary films.

Patiently listening and modestly sifting through vivid delicate realizations, it sincerely brings to life different aspects of a traditional art, whose practitioners have fallen on hard times, inasmuch as their markets are stifling.

And it's a shame considering how beautiful their finished products are, how stunning, how unique.

How integral.

The herculean labour that goes into creating just one exemplar is mind-boggling from a mechanized point of view, but each individual carpet radiates such intense authenticity that it's surprising they don't sell for a bundle.

To an eager sympathetic clientele.

Zagros begins by introducing craftspersons then investigates their age old supply chain.

We meet feisty nomads who herd sheep across inhospitable terrain, forced to both cross busy roads with their flock, and carefully plan each conspicuous graceful movement.

The domestic remonstrations of ill-tempered critical children taunt a man who dyes thirsty wool, as he has for over 40 years, their protests related to a sparse income earned, his defence uplifted through blithe perseverance.

His children are still unaware of how fortunate they are to have unmitigated access to a mastercraftsperson, who can teach them everything he knows for the asking, and help them earn their own living one day.*

Assuming markets bounce back.

Starting from the top.

His job isn't rich with diversity and uproar, but is still steeped in patrimonial passion, as he skilfully demonstrates with ease, much like Kierkegaard's Validity of Marriage.

Aesthetic Validity of Marriage.

Location makes no difference to the craft although it may to the income generated.

I imagine traditional craftspersons across the globe pursue their art with equal degrees of dedication.

You pay a bit more (hopefully) but it's worth it; I'll never look at carpets the same way again.

I was vilified once in my youth (not for long) for lauding wallpaper. I couldn't understand why at the time. Still don't really. It looked quite nice.

Zagros takes the time to profoundly examine its subject, long relaxed scenes catalyzed in thoughtful homage.

It's like that feeling you get on a sunny afternoon when you're engaged in various tasks but don't have much to do.

I would never have the patience to craft a handmade carpet, although I have nothing but praise for the art.

The harpist creates music, carpets are woven melodically.

Meticulous essentials.

Innate hearty blooms.

Respiring.

*I was lucky to have caring teachers in my youth, and unmitigated access to an old school Irish lexicon.

Diane

Guilt haunts a reliable community volunteer as her grown son's drug addiction becomes increasingly distressing.

She's sure and steady, well-oiled, remarkable, overflowing with humble self-sacrifice, always willing to lend helping hands.

She serves food to the down and out, finds time to visit sick friends, takes care of the elderly, and loves sitting back to discuss bygone days.

Except for one moment in particular, one extravagance that led to grief.

It's unknown if it brought on Brian's (Jake Lacy) troubles, but she unfortunately acts as if it was the root cause.

But she won't give up on him.

Stops by almost every day, brings him food, is critical but not overbearing, sympathizes unless he's reckless.

He responds. Seeks help. Sort of recovers. Becomes overbearing.

Their relationship's somewhat dysfunctional, Brian either wallowing in despair, or seeking to hoist the upper hand when he's sober.

Diane (Mary Kay Place) patiently deals, showcasing the unsung grace of spry active virtue.

Unassured yet sheltered.

Remorseful yet feisty.

She isn't a saint, I don't mean to suggest she's saintly, but her indiscretions are by no means scandalous, in the present moment, long after an impassioned youth.

Or young adulthood.

The time frame isn't specified but you can guess from the relative age of the characters.

A strange film nevertheless, one which possibly makes more sense if you've ever done good deeds, or been weighed down by guilt for things you haven't done, or simply like chillin' with family.

Why the film explicitly presents Diane engaged in hard drug use is a point of confusion, but notwithstanding a bizarre dream sequence, it does resonate with communal optimism, and establish a strong group of friends.

Who argue, reminisce, listen, tease, protest, are there for each other like a sponge or a duster, understand one another, facilitate, appease.

With that familiar kind of camaraderie that presumes but doesn't judge, that predicts but doesn't wager.

Diane and Brian forge a troubled symbiotic nomenclature nestled within discursive drives.

Actively administering.

Flexible choice composure.

Most of the time.

The Hustle

I suppose I don't know much about con artistry, but I've never considered it to be anything less than shady, a disreputable means to earn a living, for as long as you can avoid suspicion.

Whenever it shows up in the news, I don't exactly recall the Vampire Lestat, certainly not ye olde Robin Hood, nor anything remotely spry and charitable.

But perhaps a code does exist between some of its practitioners, complete with its own particular form of tithing, and it's possible that it's only upheld by the most ingenious amongst them, which explains why it's never been deciphered.

Inveterate concealment.

Undetected dividends.

Don't mistake this for a conspiracy theory, it's just lighthearted speculation, it's incredible what people are willing to believe these days, and how they could possibly believe it having graduated high school.

The creative mind speculates, postures, theorizes, contemplates.

But the logical mind applies rationality.

Considers the truth value of a proposition.

And doesn't drink bleach or think minorities are taking over.

A code of sorts exists in this film inasmuch as Penny (Rebel Wilson) and Josephine (Anne Hathaway) are depicted cheating scoundrels.

Not all of the time by any means, but when confronted with what they think is genuine honesty, they still demonstrate concerned sympathy.

Penny is hands-on, rough and tumble, down and dirty, scandalous.

Her scams are light yet lucrative and she enjoys her free time indisputably.

Josephine's more sophisticated, but no stranger to feigned affection, aware of the benefits of the single life, with little patience for soundproof tomfoolery.

She tries to get rid of Penny after she shows up on her Beaumont-sur-Mer turf, which naturally encourages her to stay, which calls for a chaotic plan B.

They wind up in a duel of sorts, the first to con their agreed upon mark out of $500,000 the winner.

But the mark can't help it if he's downright adorable.

Generating the sweetest of codes.

It's daring and brash and raunchy and elegant, a verifiably bold juxtaposition radiating sincere gnarly charm.

I never did see Bedtime Story, but I did see Dirty Rotten Scoundrels several times.

But that's beside the point, The Hustle making inroads of its own, even if the next incarnation may diversify itself even further, if it takes the O Brother, Where Art Thou? approach.

Not bad.

Long Shot

A passionate writer (Seth Rogen as Fred Flarsky), dedicated to pursuing social justice, finds himself unemployed in protest, after a multinational swallows his resolve.

A close friend (O'Shea Jackson Jr. as Lance) sincerely sympathizes and soon they're out about town jocosely revelling.

Finding themselves at a decked out chandelier soirée, Fred notices his old babysitter, who's morphed into the U.S Secretary of State (Charlize Theron as Charlotte Field).

And as fate would have it, she remembers him, is looking for a new speech writer, isn't put off as he lambastes another guest (the owner of the multinational), nor after he engages in further awkward spectacle.

He joins her team, much to the annoyance of other team members, and must quickly adjust his independent style to something more suited to delicate black tie repartee.

He sort of does, although he eventually doesn't have to, as Charlotte falls for his charming rough edges, and the too craft an uncharacteristic bitterly critiqued political brew, less concerned with image and pork barrels, more attuned to environmental embyronics.

The result's like a Disney film written by a John Waters fan who watched too much Family Guy, love driving a highly unlikely scenario, the raunch gaseously scandalizing atmosphere.

But it's still too polished for its lascivious underpinnings, and even if what takes place is ideal, its biodiversity remains somewhat undernourished.

It seeks a less corrupt political sphere wherein which politicians can enact laws beyond the influence of the plutocratic lobby, but it doesn't present a complex narrative that cultivates alternative pastures and therefore fizzles when it should be flourishing, as if it's more concerned with making clever references and sleazy comments than developing a convincing plot, while relying on truest romantic love, alone, to justify its wild ambitions.

It doesn't need much, just a few more scenes explaining how a novel political approach could successfully lead to a less top heavy political spectrum, plus a couple more depicting Fred becoming more accustomed to political life, and more that profoundly explain how playing the maverick card could produce sustainable initiatives, by contradicting long established evidence-based mainstream convention.

But Long Shot is somewhat of a mainstream conventional film that prefers instinct to logic inasmuch as it celebrates action without thought, unconsciously arguing true love's enough indeed.

True love may indeed be enough, but Charlotte is still a remarkable woman, and if she had been given more remarkable lines and had made more remarkable arguments, Long Shot would have seemed more like the validation of a remarkable woman, than the ascension of an ethical man.

Politicians around the world do seem to be making careers for themselves based on instinct, however.

Perhaps traditional parties need to embrace populist bravado to reestablish less reckless international relations?

Bernie Sanders comes to mind.

With his genuine charismatic appeal.

Avengers: Endgame

Considering the scale of the Marvel films, the mind-boggling number of superheroic narratives Marvel's crafted since Iron Man was released in 2008, the billions of dollars it's made, the bold ways it's used them to pursue social justice, Marvel's still never seemed arrogant, or reckless, or condescending, or unhinged, as if it plays its role in the cinematic continuum with as much wild-eyed innocent wonder as its characters radiate in its films, generally aware of its remarkable capabilities, but constantly challenging itself so they never grow stale, likely afflicted with the same doubts that confront many successful professionals, without letting them take control, without allowing them to dissuade and plunder.

I suppose I often write about how often Marvel releases films, or how many of them there are, but loads of comedy and drama and horror films are released every year; if one fantasy/sci-fi/adventure/action studio is bold enough to expand its boundaries far beyond those ever conceived by its rivals, while delivering generally well-crafted products, perhaps overload transforms into melody, from novelty to pest to pastime, changing the fantasy genre in shocking unprecedented ways, without hubris or controversy, with old school hard work, humility, and commitment.

I've come to love many Marvel characters and it's incredible how many of them there are.

Trying to write a script that includes most of them and still respects their characters is a monumental undertaking overflowing with risk and chaos.

And I thought screenwriters Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely (is that a real name?) did a great job integrating diverse Marvel personalities in Endgame, Ant-Man (Paul Rudd) conversing with Iron Man (Robert Downey Jr.), Rocket (Bradley Cooper) boldly telling it like it is, Thor (Chris Hemsworth) and Quill (Chris Pratt) batting heads without much fallout, Nebula (Karen Gillan) sternly arguing with herself, Thanos (Josh Brolin) not saying much but delivering powerful lines, Captain America (Chris Evans) and his motivational speeches, Black Widow (Scarlett Johansson) keeping the team together, different characters analyzing time travel, a fierce determined Valkyrie (Tessa Thompson) proclaiming, and the Hulk (Mark Ruffalo) emitting concerned humble brilliance.

Others as well.

The dynamics of time travel, or the logical repercussions of the mission the Avengers find themselves on in Endgame, are beyond the scope of this review, but I'll write that Endgame's clever and entertaining from the dismal beginning to the ________ end, with so many cool little moments and only a side of deflating cheese.

In Star Trek, it's always cool when Sarek shows up. How many films and series include Sarek? Yes, Mark Lenard originally played a Romulan.

In Avengers: Endgame it's cool to see around 30 cool characters show up, to highlight what I was getting at earlier.

"You're only a genius on this planet," says Rocket to Iron Man.

"There's beer on the ship," says Rocket to Thor.

Rocket's cheek is pacified after a Captain America speech.

Nebula would have made a great terminator.

The scene during the final battle, when all of Marvel's heroines line up to charge, was really cool, so many different personalities, so much compelling character.

Trying to take all of these characters and situate them in a narrative where the franchise moments are endearing rather than sentimental is a herculean task that seems as if it was handled with ease.

Possibly not handled with ease.

3 hours of endeavour that ties 22 films together.

That's never been done.

Who knows if it will ever be done again.

I even saw it twice.

And loved the poetic final moments.

I guess the series keeps going and this film wasn't released three years later and there's plenty more action to come but no more _________.

That's a huge let down.

Realistic, but still a huge let down.

Be cool to see _______ show up in some Indie films though.

There's no doubt ______ still got it.

And ______ may be sick of playing ye olde action ________.

A spoof would be great too.

How come no one spoofs these films?

There's plenty of material.

Spaceballs was very good.

Overload. Can't compute. Overload. Can't compute.

What a spectacle.

A truly incredible milestone.

It was even better the second time.

Too much, just enough, too little?

I still prefer Star Trek and X-Men.

But Marvel's made some great films.

Which are so much fun to watch.

Is it better to have grown up where Marvel is the norm or to have become accustomed to it after having known a different time?

I can't answer that question.

Crazy time for fantasy films though.

Crazy how much things have changed.

High Life

Sequestered interstellar impudence botanically inseminating raw delinquent justice.

Claustrophobic encapsulations reanimating grouse grizzled seared begrudged camaraderie fertilizing angst consoled.

Mutaric verse.

Holistic cross-section.

Experimental cortical recalibrated resonance reverberating frontiers jejune meaningless runes.

On the sly, roll out, acculturate, condition, speculative tiers definitively impacted, like an age old feudal grave.

A star.

A quasar.

Something compelling evokes infinite something drastic disillusions hallows.

Past the point of inspiration far beyond exhausted fears, nihilistic contamination endemically engineered.

Chill in the garden. Keep chillin' in the garden. The plants grow, nurture, conserve, bustle. There's a celebration of life inasmuch as it flourishes. Why not dig something, play? Comment? Construct? Observe? Sparrows. Leafy green bouquets. Chomp chomp. Chatter. Stretch.

New birth.

Regenerative life.

Space child infinitesimally engrossed caught up waylaid.

Through no fault of their own were they locked up inside, in test tubes of ambient Jekyll & Hyde, lost in the galaxy stars set adrift, with freedoms inherent, candidly pitched.

Elaborate databases.

Books.

Perhaps.

Monte's (Robert Pattinson) devotion.

Travelling forever through astronomical climes, a unique descriptive vocabulary characterizing understated variation.

Like the Inuit describing snow.

Proust delineating obsession.

Interplanetary lullabies.

Velveteen moons.

Remarkably original unsettling independent sci-fi, creating its own unique codes, as if it was extraterrestrially conceived, born of the abstract candelabra.

Keep an open mind.

And proceed with caution.

Strange film.

Solemn incarcerated imagination.

André Benjamin (Tcherny) stands out.

Stockholm

A rather odd bank robbery, responded to with an equal degree of the nutso, the robber himself like a devotee of Bonanza, the cops like classical musicians playing jazz, huggably unreels in Robert Budreau's Stockholm, a bizarro affair romanticizing the awkward, as if in order to respectfully reflect the improvised nature of the heist, extemporaneous production scenarios were evocatively conceived, or as if everyone involved feigned jurisprudent expertise, while delicately crafting loose knotted clips at random.

The police and the robber both consider alternative outcomes, and each volatile exchange further augments their misunderstandings.

It's as if they're trying to play sports but the game they're playing doesn't exist, the boundaries separating theory and practise simultaneously establishing while deconstructing themselves, like they're anxiously attempting to generate code, stipulation, or principle, yet can't quite construct any durable foundation, like suddenly trying to take up astrophysics, or the attempts of zoo animals to imagine independence.

It's like both sides are revelling in tomfoolery at times, but since neither participant knows what they're doing, foolishness is perhaps not the best word, expedient lucidity potentially providing semantic clarity, the comedic applications of either evaluation playfully emergent in the rebellious bottom line.

The comedy is difficult to boisterously generate within, because the policepersons are uptight, and Lars Nystrom (Ethan Hawke) is very kind.

The police assume they have the upper hand and negotiate without taking him too seriously.

He tries to create genuine fear but he's so nice even his hostages adore him.

The laughs are much more subtle, much less bellicose than those you often find in American comedy, as if Stockholm reasonably transmits thoughtful European sensibilities.

When Nystrom resorts to unorthodox methods the results aren't funny at all though, a huge downer in the old botched-robbery-hostage-taking-wild-west-romantic-comedy.

But he is forgiven, and, in fact, rewarded, for his inspired blunder.

Excelling at orchestrating romance for a highly dysfunctional spell, while mismatched adventurous characters dubiously prance and spar, Stockholm's still somewhat too serious a lot of the contemplative time, which would have been less ironic if it had made a little bit more sense.

An absurd scenario no doubt.

In which the realism's too ridiculous.

Tough to pull off.