Les Fauves (Wildcats)

Difficult, where to situate this film, if anywhere in particular, or nowhere notwithstanding.

If it's supposed to inspire horror, it's far too tame and light, coming across as more of a creepy drama than anything truly frightening.

It is more of a kids film though, a teenage film, an adolescent film, a film basking in youthful articulation, so perhaps the short scenes that never really lead anywhere were still long enough to develop tension for younger audiences, searching for something more than a campy slasher, looking for melancholic distress.

Les Fauves (Wildcats) does take place in a campground and many of its characters are therefore camping, and it is somewhat campy I suppose, insofar as it's hesitant and awkwardly disposed, and perhaps the distraught psycho has lost its appeal in recent years, and horror directors are searching for more thoughtful borderline visceral illustrations, as they consider the globalized world, and step into the harrowing cascade.

Could be, although if horror is shifting paradigmatically, Les Mauves may not be seminally equipped, but it is chock full o' Summer, and there are without question much much worse things.

For presenting horror without a vicious monster and sincerely attempting to generate chills that are more cerebral, Les Fauves should be commended, even if it falls far short of the haunting Midsommar.

But I'm wondering if it's not supposed to be taken that seriously, as a horror film, or if it's more of a horror-comedy, to be accurate, or definitively precise.

The opening scene is certainly comedic and (forgive me if I'm wrong here) couldn't have possibly been intended to disorient, in fact after viewing it I thought I was in for a romp or at least something just a wee bit delirious.

The pool-filled-with-dead-animals scene functions in a similar way, and is also kind of campy, if not disreputable.

There's a long sad monologue in the end as well that's presented as if it's genuinely fond, but it's so histrionic and overwrought that I thought Vincent Mariette was trying to trick us into taking it seriously, and that if you were indeed irrefutably impacted, you had indeed unwittingly bought it.

Perhaps it's meant to be rationally analyzed, and I plain and simply didn't get it, but it seemed like something was out of place throughout, something that made me think I was immersed in shenanigans.

There are some really cool cave scenes that are kind of creepy and otherworldly, but they unreel so quickly that I never thought there was anything strange taking place, or that anything was in fact out of order.

Seemed more like we were just checking out some cool caves that happened to be located within a not so far fetched plot.

It's cool to see more brainy horror flicks but sometimes they're simply ridiculous.

At least Les Fauves promotes confusion.

With some cool characters.

Kind of sleazy.

Menteur (Compulsive Liar)

The material fabric of ethical reality is fraught with drastic peril, its mystical binding extravagantly unravelling, as falsehood and slander tax baseless appeal.

Possessing no qualms concerning much of anything at all, Simon (Louis-José Houde) lies ad infinitum, never admitting even the most harmless of truths, deriding body and mind beyond limitations, with exasperating recall, and peerless raging bull.

Those caught up in his labyrinthine web of lies have grown accustomed to his disreputable blather, but since they're less serpentinely disposed, still slurp it up with torrential capacity.

For he's still a family member, and a high ranking valued employee, and as distraught as everyone else may be, they still rely on his frank indiscretions.

Like Loki in a way, yet less destructive, less obsessed with universal domination.

Even if that very same universe, within its terrestrial confines, authoritatively takes vengeful note, and punishment suddenly wildly decrees, that all his lies become sincerest truth.

Indubitably.

In the aftermath, he must find a way to reverse manifold adverse effects, with the aid of a suffering sibling (Antoine Bertrand as Phil), and the potential of bold shrewd romance (Catherine Chabot as Chloé).

Much like a world where fake news turns out to be real, Menteur (Compulsive Liar) waxes chaotic with rationed logic abruptly aggrieved.

As if all the tricksters out there who simply make sensational things up had to make amends for their viral charlatanism, Menteur playfully critiques the flamboyant fausses nouvelles, through recourse to cosmic justice.

Shyly merged with joyful repentance.

Publish or perish can produce its own varying degrees of irrationality, especially if struggling non-tenured journalists or academics can't come up with an appealing idea (and hate being boring), but if they transform speculation into fact or theory into reality without evidence, a competitor will most likely call them out, and most of them don't wish to have damaged reputations.

Fake news seems to be more like the spawn of malicious junior high shenanigans (école secondaire niveaux 1 et 2) expressing themselves maturely, and what used to be the respectable madcaps of Saturday Night Live or genre fiction, has become mad rational high-jinxed tabloid discourse.

When the comedy fades you are left with horror, like witch hunts and inquisitions, rumour used to be widely looked down upon.

Don't ask yourself if the rumour is true, ask yourself what whomever you're speaking with has to gain by spreading the rumour.

There's usually something in it for them. Especially if they use a malevolent or all too friendly tone.

And aren't simply hooked on gossip.

Menteur has a remarkable ending.

Could things in fact be that simple?

With mutual respect, I'd wager they can.

Flourishing with laidback synergies.

As demonstrative as they are symbolic.

As industrious as they are simply chill.

Dogman

A kind man.

An awkward man.

A shy man.

A loving man.

He loves animals and his daughter and works hard to impress them, grooming dogs throughout the day to earn money for rest and leisure.

He's done well for himself considering his coastal town's depressed jade, and has friends, clients, healthy relations, and respectability.

He gets by and isn't concerned with that much, but at least still keeps track of the score.

But there's a problem.

A huge problem.

A drug abusing violent bull who cheats and robs the whole neighbourhood takes advantage of his kindness (Edoardo Pesce as Simoncino), and due to his habitual timidity, he has trouble refusing his requests.

You can't negotiate with stark abomination.

And have to one day just strictly say "no".

And take the beating, as it inevitably approaches, Matteo Garrone's Dogman presenting one prick of a criminal abyss, jacked up on malevolent testosterone.

And amphetamines.

It's diabolical dispassionate juxtaposition, each favour just a little more ruthless, and even though each demand's grim and shocking, the door's never shut tight with resolve.

Take care of all things. No matter how brutal. Embrace as they bite, provide guidance they'll ignore.

Marcello (Marcello Fonte) likes being with people. It doesn't really matter who. He wants to fit in, play ball, take part, revel. Enjoy a long lunch. Play soccer in the morning.

But he's too friendly to know when to draw lines.

Seems more like the kind of guy who would read stories to sick kids at the hospital, or plant trees and gardens for his community on weekends.

But if such or similar opportunities exist, he has yet to seek them out or find them.

The film sharply blends innocence and contempt with dismal tragic scorn.

It's painful to watch as Marcello agrees, and is left direly scathed and scrounging.

In a community less saturated with toxic masculinity, he likely would have modestly bloomed, or would have had different options available, that may have encouraged less destructive reckonings.

Dogman makes quite the solemn impact, as lost as it is soul searching.

A world devoid of the feminine.

With good intentions pushed far far away.

Die Kleine Hexe (The Little Witch)

A novice witch (Karoline Herfurth as Kleine Hexe), full of pluck and curious mischief, abounding with energy and playful vigour, seeks to attend the communal Walpurgis Night, even though she lacks the requisite age.

She's only 127.

But she still feels it's in her best interests to clandestinely attend, ignoring the counsel of her loving raven (Axel Prahl as Abraxas), who advises caution with reliable amiability.

She's bored and can't resist the lure of good times however, and soon finds herself engaged in outright revel, doing her best to cavort at ease, underneath the enchanting night sky.

But she's discovered, and reprimanded severely, forced to engage in voluminous study, under threat of the loss of her powers.

She's too light of heart for the others, yet wants to fit in regardless, but has trouble spreading fear and contempt, as she's coldly encouraged to do.

Abraxas warns her.

And her actions are under surveillance.

But warmth and good cheer still spellbindingly animate, as if kindness were resolute, and understanding crystal clear.

A spirited apprenticeship.

Enriching good deeds.

Die Kleine Hexe (The Little Witch) briskly excels at conjuring mirth and wonder, unconcerned with traditional role play, enamoured with innocent charm.

Tasks can indeed be clad in bemusement, and rigour as fabled as distress or scorn, but slowly and surely hard work endeavours, to bewitch the belittlingly thorned.

If you're not fond of Kleine Hexe and her raven, the film may seem a little (or way) too much, but if you appreciate their wondrous candour, it overflows with bizarro amour.

He's a cutey.

Grown weary with the passage of time.

Focusing too intently on Hexe's relationship with the older witches may have resulted in too much conflict, even if the ending's far too easy.

As it stands, Hexe's goodwill and daring affably adjudicate, even if she struggles beneath a grouchy unamused cloud.

Not Abraxas, the other witches.

I thought it was going to be a cartoon when I bought my ticket, but was still pleasantly surprised by the sets and costumes.

Not as well balanced as the Harry Potter films in terms of magical diversity, old witches bad, young witches good, but perhaps such a comment is well beyond the film's target audience, which may have been no older than nine, at least younger than 11, although really, what's a postmodernist to say?

I thought it might be a new European Secret of NIMH or Last Unicorn.

And wish ravens could talk.

Alright film.

Overflowing with fun.

Character driven.

Midsommar

Spoiler alert.

Extreme tragedy strikes, and a young student is torn asunder (Florence Pugh as Dani).

In her hour of need, her partner steps up (Jack Reynor as Christian), providing dependable loving care, even though things would have ended otherwise.

A trip.

A vacation.

A friend invites them and others to visit the Swedish community that reared him (Vilhelm Blomgren as Pelle), an anthropological opportunity adored and beckoning, a remote adventure which seems harmless enough.

They gather and set off, unsuspicious and unaware.

They're greeted with somnambulistic sustenance, and proceed in the interests of friendship.

Yet something's not quite right as they settle in to total isolation, and strange rituals harrowingly bewilder, with no explanations genuinely forthcoming.

Nausea.

Disappearances.

Pure utter terror.

Ari Aster's Midsommar cultivates occultist acculturation, as realistic as one two three.

It's the best horror film I've seen in years, in the same league as The Exorcist or The Omen.

Better even.

I don't even really watch horror films anymore, unless it's Halloween, and never thought it would impress so monstrously.

It maintains an innocent carefree aesthetic throughout, as it slowly matriculates ubiquitous discretion.

Alternative ideas guide the insulated community.

The magnitude of the shock is too severe for outsiders, and even though things don't make sense, nothing is done to countermand or break free.

Thus, rather than spending time and effort presenting a failed escape followed by woeful incarceration, Midsommar's characters incredulously stay put, awaiting what can't possibly be, in confused awestruck senseless immersion.

There's no heroes, no heroics.

No passion. No universal code.

An ancient offbeat strictly orthodox idiosyncrasy has wickedly endured, as manifold perspectives would likely view it, and it recruits new members with neither pretence nor precaution, convinced that once they arrive, they'll never be able to set themselves free.

Even if they aren't kept waiting long.

The realism haunts you afterward since it's difficult to quickly dismiss, it isn't improbable or ridiculous or insane, it's more like vibrant documentary fiction, highlighting novelty's dark side.

Proceed with caution.

Perhaps view with a friend.

Freedoms require limitations.

Through limitations, set yourself free.

😌

Spider-Man: Far From Home

I briefly considered taking a break from Marvel Studios after viewing the last Avengers film.

It was incredibly intense and seeing another related film shortly thereafter seemed borderline overload; I wasn't sure if I could hack it!

The thoughts weren't too demanding though, just one of the hundreds that float around deep down and then suddenly pop into one's head at random individualized intervals while they trek around town throughout the day, and I eventually found myself ready for Spider-Man: Far From Home for one of its first screenings, with an IMAX ticket no less, purchased for a matinee showing.

And I wasn't disappointed.

Not to heap too much praise on Marvel Studios, and it's important to never rest on your laurels or think you've found that magic touch that works each and every freakin' time, but they do consistently release creative stunning convincing witty films that cleverly blend action, drama, comedy, and science-fiction, to present thrilling tales that'll likely hold up for multiple viewings, for now, and far into the foreseeable future.

Adventure films which made similar impacts were few and far between when I was growing up, which likely explains why I find Marvel Studios's consistency so mind-blowing.

It's like what you used to wait 4 or 5 years for comes out every 3 or 4 months.

And the quality's usually high.

With incredibly deep interdependent storylines.

The new Spider-Man film functions as a spellbinding overconfident-emergent-villain vs. doubt-plagued-protagonist revelation, but it's also a chill coming of age Summer teen comedy, the two thematic thrusts imaginatively seasoned with narrative expertise.

If you want multiple characters developed in varying degrees, there are at least 14 given room to manoeuvre within, and the brisk pace sees them observing and commenting along different youthful and aged lines, as responsibility irritates Peter Parker (Tom Holland), who foolishly thought he was going on vacation.

Happy Hogan (Jon Favreau), Mr. Harrington (Martin Starr), and Mr. Dell (J.B. Smoove [who could have used more lines!]) skilfully present differing variations of the appropriate, proceeding in awestruck error, in situations far beyond their control.

Perhaps the situations are a bit too out of control for a student trip to Europe.

It's sort of like an elite counter-terrorist is still in high school and on vacation with his unsuspecting classmates, who become indirectly involved as he confronts dire globalized ambition.

But their somewhat far-fetched integration does make for some thrilling comedy, as long as you're confident nothing will go wrong, and Spider-Man will enact game changing regional parity.

But will he?

I highly recommend Far From Home for both fans of the superheroic and people looking to chaotically chill.

In the Summer.

The Summertime elements are so thoughtfully interwoven I'll likely watch it every Winter and Summer for years to come, in Winter as preparation for Summer, in Summer since Summer is Summer.

I should say that Marvel Studios brought their A plus plus game to move their Spider-Man films into the Iron Man position.

Thor and the Guardians have their work cut out for them.

Along with Black Panther.

And so many many others.

Laidback cool synergistic overload.

I do love these new Spider-Man films.

Overflowing with raw contemplation.

Yesterday

It's mind-blowing how many memorable songs the Beatles wrote.

In such a short span of time.

In 5 years they released Help!, Rubber Soul, Revolver, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, Magical Mystery Tour, The Beatles (The White Album), and Abbey Road, in just 5 years they released 7 of the best albums ever recorded, albums that didn't fade with time or grow stale, 7 albums, 5 years, not to mention Let it Be or everything from their earlier years, how did they release that much high quality original material in such a short span of time?, it doesn't make sense when you consider the history of pop music, there's no other band that produced that much quality in such a short period, others have come close, but haven't achieved the same level of astonishing brilliance.

You sometimes have to wait three years for contemporary artists to release a new album, and then it isn't even that good, how long does it take talented artists to write 10 songs I ask you, how long!, how long!

It didn't take the Beatles that long, and assuming they weren't extraterrestrials posing as gifted songwriters while they let loose for a remarkably productive sojourn on Earth, the question of how they superlatively merged quality and quantity so effortlessly in such a short period, a feat that has never been duplicated although many bands have had impressive runs, makes me think they were either just the most gifted songwriters to ever fortunately meet and form a band, a group that used its fame productively, that didn't self-destruct when their popularity become overwhelming (even after they stopped touring), or that the music industry changed so much in their wake that its current makeup won't permit the release of so much monumental material due to the corresponding mass hysteria it generates, as if the goal of denying the release of brilliant material is plain and simply to manage crowds, or prevent people from wildly enjoying themselves, as if they've classified unconscious bliss, and reckoned it an unfavourable commodity.

It could be that the Beatles set the bar so high they discouraged a lot of potential songwriters from seeking genius, so many talented young people worried about being like them instead of zeroing in on their own creative selves.

But if they discouraged some, they inspired many others, who perhaps never would have insisted had they not grown up listening to them intently.

So many songs I still love listening to for what must be the millionth time.

They diversified their material with every album after the early years.

Why has there been no one else like them?

They were much stronger together than they ever were as solo acts.

Yesterday imagines a world where the Beatles never existed, but one struggling singer-songwriter (Himesh Patel as Jack Malik) still remembers all their songs.

He's an instant success when he starts playing them live and suddenly finds himself on the threshold of superstardom.

It's a feel good film blending hope and miracles to find romance through a lack there of and integrity in its most spellbinding.

I think the world'd be worse off if the Beatles never existed; they not only wrote some of the best pop music I've heard, but they also inspired so many other artists to give 'er.

The "if they had never" question doesn't make sense of course since "if they had never no one would have ever known".

I do know though, and I'm glad I've spent so much time listening to their music regardless.

Because of Ferris Bueller's Day Off no less.

My favourite album, Rubber Soul.

Damned innovative.

The Grizzlies

A small community in Nunavut struggles with alcoholism, drug addiction, and suicide, as traditional ways backed up by authentic millennia merge with the legacy of the residential school system.

Strong hunters still persevere, establishing direct links with their ancient descendants.

And some students see the benefits of rigorous study, even if practical applications don't readily present themselves.

It truly is another world, a diverse alternative spirituality.

Inaccessible by road.

Blanketed by the midnight sun.

A somewhat naive teacher lands in this far off realm, unaware of local realities yet determined to make a difference.

He's clueless as the film begins but isn't hardhearted or dismissive.

He listens to local concerns and adjusts his teaching style accordingly.

Well-versed in lacrosse lore, he decides to start up a local team, his dedication and tenacity inspiring local youth, who are hesitant to join yet still curious.

Sports can help combat substance abuse in any community inasmuch as they encourage constructive goals.

If the choice is between loosing oneself in booze and drugs or joining a team that builds character through discipline, I'll take the latter every time.

It's not that simple in The Grizzlies because the community isn't affluent and economic hardships present conflicting responsibilities.

Some kids can't play on a team because they're needed at home, and since the lacrosse team is something new, some families and teachers have troubling believing in its positive effects.

During a town meeting where the team tries to obtain funds to attend a tournament down South, many citizens voice reasonable concerns in opposition, and it's a situation where no one's really right or wrong, but some options take precedence over others.

It's tough to see the benefits of alternative ideas at times and easy to dismiss them. They may seem like they conflict with time honoured traditions at first because they still haven't found a way to culturally co-exist amongst them, and putting food on the table's top priority without a doubt, and sometimes playing games can seem just a little bit silly.

Sports can be a bit ra-ra at times but they promote teamwork, healthy living, interdependence, and communal strength.

They make a huge difference for the lives of the kids in The Grizzlies, and open up doors many residents thought had been shut, permanently.

The North needs dedicated teachers like Russ Shephard (Ben Schnetzer) who are humble enough to adapt to local customs which can teach them to become community leaders.

The North has so much to offer and living there's an experience like none other.

If students have trouble seeing the benefits of education in remote Northern communities, perhaps focusing on astronomy could make a difference.

The night sky is as practical in the North as a transit system is in a city.

I don't see why astronomy can't be used to synthesize the study of math, art, sport and science.

There are endless applications.

Relevant in any age.

Late Night

A fresh unsung outspoken new talent (Mindy Kaling as Molly Patel) suddenly finds herself writing for a popular late night talk show.

Its ratings have been slipping as of late however, and its charismatic host (Emma Thompson as Katherine Newbury) is bluntly searching for new ideas.

But she's become somewhat detached from the scene over the years and could be criticized for having lost the human touch, and although she excels at lauding the high brow, she still has yet to warm up to bold YouTube and Twitter theatrics.

Etcetera.

When she discovers her network is hoping to replace her, she has to dig deep and reimagine her worn image.

Thus she actually sits down with her writing team to quickly craft an alternative plan.

They're as uncertain of how to proceed as she is, since it's been years since she's taken an active role in her show's production, and doesn't even recall the majority of her staff's names.

It can be like that, so she gives them all numbers, acclimatizes herself to workplace codes she's forgotten, and slowly begins the painstaking process of improvised identity transformation.

Thankfully Ms. Patel is as unfamiliar with showbiz ego as Ms. Newbury is with contemporary audiences, and though she's reprimanded openly for plainly expressing her raw ideas, Katherine and her staff soon realize she has something to say.

She's in touch with postmodern pressures, and couldn't have come along at a more opportune time, sharing her ideas just audaciously enough, to make enlivening game changing droll ratings impacts.

Late Night excels at convincingly cultivating change.

Its clever script and dynamic characters compellingly fluctuate as the film progresses, offering insights into diverse social phenomena (dating, moving to a city, marriage, working, friendship, rivalries, social media, popularity, competition, . . .) while confidently managing constant change.

Like thermodynamic life in motion, Late Night flexibly introduces conflict and camaraderie, their schematics realigned as trial and error deconstructs, characters readily adapting to the unpredictable shifting frame.

The characters aren't ideal or all-knowing, flaws abound as they search for solutions, but they're strong enough to move forward after having proceeded in error, or to celebrate success without losing sight of the cold and fleeting.

Real world.

Late Night's super real world and professionally polished, but since Ms. Newbury's persona has to be creatively redefined, unorthodox grit leads to splotches and blemishes, which gradually emerge as best practices themselves.

For a time.

Must be hard to harness all the conflicting creativity and transform it into a convincing narrative night after night.

Films and books can be worked on for years, but late night talk shows unreel in real time every night.

Weeknight.

It's remarkable how they remain relevant year after year while existing in permanent flux.

Balancing the random with tropes and traditions.

Always moving forward regardless.

Best American comedy I've seen since The Big Sick.

Impressive realistic fiction.