Great to see another fascinating Scorsese film, it takes you back to another time that cinema clearly hasn't forgotten, he's still got it, the skills that led him to success with Mean Streets 46 years ago, and has even improved on films like Casino (24 years ago), The Irishman's like a time warp folding 5 remarkable filmmaking decades into one, it would have been shocking to see something this good released by Scorsese in 2019 if I had ever thought he'd lost a step, or stopped givin' 'er with exacting intensity, damned impressive, hopefully for many more decades to come.
The same can be said for Steven Spielberg who continues to impress like he did in the '70s.
I can't believe it's almost been 20 years since Y2K.
It's amazing how much things have changed in the last 20 years, how practically everything has moved online, even in the country, how a device that fits in my pocket functions as walkman (with access to every album in the Apple Music catalogue), flashlight, alarm clock, I'm writing about how much I love my cellphone again, mailbox, newsstand (with newspapers from around the world), internet service provider (I access the web more on my phone now than I do on my computer), calendar, camera, health promoter, wallet, weather network, world map repository (you don't even need to know where you're going anymore), music studio, translator, calculator, compass, stock market ticker, and phone, it's strange when you watch older films or new films set in the past and characters aren't casually checking their cellphones from time to time, even if I certainly spend too much time on my cell, although I rarely do if I'm on vacation.
Working vacation.
The net may even solve housing crises in cities if rural environments can offer steady internet access and people can then move there and work online from home.
The technology's already available in some locations but it's very expensive.
Mindboggling how much things have changed.
Not all for the good of course, what used to seem like deranged lunacy regularly pops up in the public sphere these days, passing itself off as rational discourse, and sensation's lost its edge as the quotidian embraces incredible daily scandal, politics used to at least seem much more responsible, as if the greater good didn't only apply to an elite few.
There used to be more of a humanitarian edge in the public sphere, a much stronger willingness to promote peaceful harmonies, which aren't as naive as provocateurs make them sound, even in Canada someone as loveable as Justin Trudeau is under constant attack, he has made mistakes, but still promotes compassion and understanding likes it's 1967.
Perhaps the next 20 years will see a shift away from petroleum based products as the producers find new ways to profit off biodegradable alternatives, and the world will embrace peace without ever having gone to war as world leaders come to redefine hope and optimism.
It's clear that that's what we need to do.
Doesn't it make more sense than drilling in the Arctic?
There has to be a will to keep people working without laying waste to the environment.
Thankfully they have such a will in Québec.
And elsewhere around the world, I imagine.
Tuesday, December 31, 2019
Friday, December 27, 2019
Star Wars: Episode IX - The Rise of Skywalker
Rian Johnson's The Last Jedi has become my third favourite Star Wars film, behind A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back, but far ahead of all the others, except Return of the Jedi.
I've watched it several times now and it doesn't get old, in fact it gets better every time I view it, and it's wonderful to once again have a Star Wars film to look forward to watching, again and again and again.
And again.
I still watch episodes I-III again when I see them on television, but with less enthusiasm. However, I've come to prefer them to episodes VII and IX for the following risk-fuelled reasons.
It's not that episodes VII and IX are particularly bad, or lack entertainment value, but they're so heavily reminiscent of episodes IV through VI, that they lack the imaginative characteristics of Luca's bold second trilogy.
Take Episode IX, where Emperor Palpatine (Ian McDiarmid) reemerges.
Could they not have thought of another villain to fill the gap left by Snoke, one who perhaps hadn't met his electric end so many decades ago?
Or made Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) all the more wicked?
An elaborate explanation as to how he comes back to life isn't even provided, we're just supposed to accept that he was so powerful he was able to return from death, and build a massive fleet of star destroyers with planet annihilating capabilities.
Is this a Star Wars film or low budget television?
People may be calling this period of time the post-explanatory age, or the post-Truth age or what have you, but does that mean film narratives with the highest budgets imaginable aren't even going to provide explanations for their controversial plot developments anymore, and fans are just supposed to accept them without thought or thinking?
There's more continuity between episodes I through VI as well, they flow more harmoniously together.
Episode IX may be entertaining, but it doesn't flow well with Episode VIII. At the end of The Last Jedi, for instance, the entire rebel complement can fit on the Millennium Falcon, but their numbers don't seem to have been drastically reduced in Episode IX, or at least it proceeds as if everything's fine. Rose Tico (Kelly Marie Tran) adds so much to The Last Jedi and I thought earned a place at the forefront of subsequent narratives, but she's largely forgotten in The Rise of Skywalker, like Katherine Brewster in Terminator Salvation. As are the children on planet Cantonica. And the notorious codebreaker DJ.
It's like J.J. Abrams took the criticisms of The Last Jedi, which sees new strong female characters with prominent roles and critiques the manufacture of weapons and the eating of meat, and wanted to make a clean break with it in The Rise of Skywalker (note how Rey soothes the pain of a giant snake within), and the result's more like separate films than a trilogy, George Lucas had much more resolve.
Episodes I-III may be cheesy and some scenes are difficult to watch again and again, but their narratives are still highly complex and the result of in-depth brave storytelling.
They provide reasons for what takes place for instance.
They smoothly flow from one to another.
And Lucas significantly expanded upon the world he created within A New Hope, adding multiple layers of legendary depth, councils and federations and clones and mysticism, the films may have been melodramatic, but they weren't derivative or one-dimensional.
Lucas took brave risks when he created Episodes I-III and didn't back down when faced with bitter criticism.
He ironically didn't rely on what had come before because he was spending too much time creating it.
Episodes VII and IX may be entertaining, but I don't want to watch them again so much, because they aren't complicated or controversial, they're much too free and easy.
Episode IX is jam-packed with action for instance, it rarely slows down unless Rey (Daisy Ridley) is searching for something, but several of the scenes unreel far too quickly, notably the demise of General Hux (Domhnall Gleeson), a ginger, and Kylo Ren's torture of a disagreeable bureaucrat. Lucas had a much better sense of timing and pacing and his films were edited with much more care.
The Last Jedi was too.
Take the moments when Rey and Kylo Ren are being inspected by Snoke, Finn (John Boyega) and Rose are about to be executed, and the Rebel transports are being picked off one by one.
The editing for these three parts of the narrative is exceptionally well done, and keeps you hanging on the edge of your seat as you eagerly await what's going to happen next, and the film doesn't lose sight of the three components of its narrative, and keeps interweaving them with compelling precision.
The Rise of Skywalker loses sight of Finn trying to destroy the super star destroyer for far too long during its exciting climax.
It leaves it hanging as if fans aren't concerned.
While Rey battles the Emperor, who is also her grandfather, come on!, and Lando (Billy Dee Williams) predictably shows up with reinforcements.
One of the coolest aspects of Episodes I-III is that they pointed out how there's no such thing as Jedi blood, how Jedi are born throughout the galaxy at random and if discovered have the opportunity to develop their skills to avoid the risks of becoming obscurii.
It's an aspect this trilogy overlooks, except for the fact that Luke had students besides Kylo Ren who disappear after their cataclysmic falling out.
The Jedi can't end.
There will always be individuals capable of skilfully using the Force.
The Jedi Order may come to an end after which future Jedi may call themselves something different, but they will still technically be Jedi if they don't become Sith, even if they have to train themselves.
You wait 32 years for The Force Awakens with the hopes of seeing more Luke Skywalker and then he doesn't show up till the end, and he's abandoned the rebellion and is living alone on a remote island, on a planet that can't be found.
And Han Solo dies.
Disappointing to say the least.
The relationship between Kylo Ren and Rey is well-developed in the new trilogy and I really like Finn's character, but Episodes VII and IX just seem like they're more concerned with not slipping up than trying to create something new.
It's like they're so worried about not making a bad film that they forgot to make good ones.
Too much "supposed to", not enough, "totally".
Which is what Episodes I-III, with all their issues, tried to do.
It's a shame the latest trilogy completely ignored them (they're ceremoniously discredited in The Force Awakens).
Plus, Episode IX sees gay actor Richard E. Grant take the stage as General Pryde, and he's in charge of the new planet destroying star destroyer fleet.
I didn't think a new Star Wars film would be homophobic.
But there you have it.
Two lesbians kissing for a split-second near the end doesn't make up for this.
Finn should have ended up with Rose too, but instead it looks like he'll hook up with a fellow African American (Naomie Ackie as Jannah).
A New Hope, The Empire Strikes Back, and Return of the Jedi all had different directors, but they were also consistent and flowed well together.
Totally loved The Last Jedi.
The Rise of Skywalker could have been so much more.
I've watched it several times now and it doesn't get old, in fact it gets better every time I view it, and it's wonderful to once again have a Star Wars film to look forward to watching, again and again and again.
And again.
I still watch episodes I-III again when I see them on television, but with less enthusiasm. However, I've come to prefer them to episodes VII and IX for the following risk-fuelled reasons.
It's not that episodes VII and IX are particularly bad, or lack entertainment value, but they're so heavily reminiscent of episodes IV through VI, that they lack the imaginative characteristics of Luca's bold second trilogy.
Take Episode IX, where Emperor Palpatine (Ian McDiarmid) reemerges.
Could they not have thought of another villain to fill the gap left by Snoke, one who perhaps hadn't met his electric end so many decades ago?
Or made Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) all the more wicked?
An elaborate explanation as to how he comes back to life isn't even provided, we're just supposed to accept that he was so powerful he was able to return from death, and build a massive fleet of star destroyers with planet annihilating capabilities.
Is this a Star Wars film or low budget television?
People may be calling this period of time the post-explanatory age, or the post-Truth age or what have you, but does that mean film narratives with the highest budgets imaginable aren't even going to provide explanations for their controversial plot developments anymore, and fans are just supposed to accept them without thought or thinking?
There's more continuity between episodes I through VI as well, they flow more harmoniously together.
Episode IX may be entertaining, but it doesn't flow well with Episode VIII. At the end of The Last Jedi, for instance, the entire rebel complement can fit on the Millennium Falcon, but their numbers don't seem to have been drastically reduced in Episode IX, or at least it proceeds as if everything's fine. Rose Tico (Kelly Marie Tran) adds so much to The Last Jedi and I thought earned a place at the forefront of subsequent narratives, but she's largely forgotten in The Rise of Skywalker, like Katherine Brewster in Terminator Salvation. As are the children on planet Cantonica. And the notorious codebreaker DJ.
It's like J.J. Abrams took the criticisms of The Last Jedi, which sees new strong female characters with prominent roles and critiques the manufacture of weapons and the eating of meat, and wanted to make a clean break with it in The Rise of Skywalker (note how Rey soothes the pain of a giant snake within), and the result's more like separate films than a trilogy, George Lucas had much more resolve.
Episodes I-III may be cheesy and some scenes are difficult to watch again and again, but their narratives are still highly complex and the result of in-depth brave storytelling.
They provide reasons for what takes place for instance.
They smoothly flow from one to another.
And Lucas significantly expanded upon the world he created within A New Hope, adding multiple layers of legendary depth, councils and federations and clones and mysticism, the films may have been melodramatic, but they weren't derivative or one-dimensional.
Lucas took brave risks when he created Episodes I-III and didn't back down when faced with bitter criticism.
He ironically didn't rely on what had come before because he was spending too much time creating it.
Episodes VII and IX may be entertaining, but I don't want to watch them again so much, because they aren't complicated or controversial, they're much too free and easy.
Episode IX is jam-packed with action for instance, it rarely slows down unless Rey (Daisy Ridley) is searching for something, but several of the scenes unreel far too quickly, notably the demise of General Hux (Domhnall Gleeson), a ginger, and Kylo Ren's torture of a disagreeable bureaucrat. Lucas had a much better sense of timing and pacing and his films were edited with much more care.
The Last Jedi was too.
Take the moments when Rey and Kylo Ren are being inspected by Snoke, Finn (John Boyega) and Rose are about to be executed, and the Rebel transports are being picked off one by one.
The editing for these three parts of the narrative is exceptionally well done, and keeps you hanging on the edge of your seat as you eagerly await what's going to happen next, and the film doesn't lose sight of the three components of its narrative, and keeps interweaving them with compelling precision.
The Rise of Skywalker loses sight of Finn trying to destroy the super star destroyer for far too long during its exciting climax.
It leaves it hanging as if fans aren't concerned.
While Rey battles the Emperor, who is also her grandfather, come on!, and Lando (Billy Dee Williams) predictably shows up with reinforcements.
One of the coolest aspects of Episodes I-III is that they pointed out how there's no such thing as Jedi blood, how Jedi are born throughout the galaxy at random and if discovered have the opportunity to develop their skills to avoid the risks of becoming obscurii.
It's an aspect this trilogy overlooks, except for the fact that Luke had students besides Kylo Ren who disappear after their cataclysmic falling out.
The Jedi can't end.
There will always be individuals capable of skilfully using the Force.
The Jedi Order may come to an end after which future Jedi may call themselves something different, but they will still technically be Jedi if they don't become Sith, even if they have to train themselves.
You wait 32 years for The Force Awakens with the hopes of seeing more Luke Skywalker and then he doesn't show up till the end, and he's abandoned the rebellion and is living alone on a remote island, on a planet that can't be found.
And Han Solo dies.
Disappointing to say the least.
The relationship between Kylo Ren and Rey is well-developed in the new trilogy and I really like Finn's character, but Episodes VII and IX just seem like they're more concerned with not slipping up than trying to create something new.
It's like they're so worried about not making a bad film that they forgot to make good ones.
Too much "supposed to", not enough, "totally".
Which is what Episodes I-III, with all their issues, tried to do.
It's a shame the latest trilogy completely ignored them (they're ceremoniously discredited in The Force Awakens).
Plus, Episode IX sees gay actor Richard E. Grant take the stage as General Pryde, and he's in charge of the new planet destroying star destroyer fleet.
I didn't think a new Star Wars film would be homophobic.
But there you have it.
Two lesbians kissing for a split-second near the end doesn't make up for this.
Finn should have ended up with Rose too, but instead it looks like he'll hook up with a fellow African American (Naomie Ackie as Jannah).
A New Hope, The Empire Strikes Back, and Return of the Jedi all had different directors, but they were also consistent and flowed well together.
Totally loved The Last Jedi.
The Rise of Skywalker could have been so much more.
Tuesday, December 24, 2019
Last Christmas
Carefree actions solipsistically proceed provoking criticism from friends and family, as an angelic ingenue can't adapt to grown up surroundings, yet still seeks age old immersions, repercussions notwithstanding.
Plus a place to crash for a while.
She could be doing well if she focused a bit more intently, but she's mastered everything at work (not me, Emilia Clarke as Kate), and doesn't realize she's full-on bored.
The dating scene provides nightly distractions replete with unpredictable highs and lows, but everyone she knows is pairing off, and don't have time for young adult shenanigans.
Yet as she flounders and misperceives a kindhearted beau comes a sweetly calling, appearing at opportune times, looking for more than just random repartee (Henry Golding as Tom).
He's nice so he's initially ignored but that doesn't mean he's not making a good impression, something reliable like grandma's home cookin', the Parc 80 bus, Cinéma du Parc, or Parc Jeanne-Mance.
Yet even as things start to seem perfect, and realignments lead to deep rapprochements, something bewilders anon beyond expression, with otherworldly immaterial spirit.
Could it be that the stars have aligned and Kate's begun to accept motivational absurdities, work fuelling her bright recrudescence, with biodegradable salubrious levity?
That she's rediscovered longlasting momentum?
Just in time for Christmas?
I can't say for certain, although Last Christmas is a very cool Christmas film, reimagining traditional themes with endearing revelation, stratified with delectable felicity.
Evaluating a Christmas film according to less festive criteria, misses the supernatural sentiment, inasmuch as it's something different from standard verbose ephemera, that's enthused with yuletide counterpoint.
The supernatural elements in Christmas films arise from less contemporary ingenious distillations, elements that can still dazzle and innocently sway, if they aren't considered realistically verifiable.
If you take a vibrant culture aligned with realistic endeavours and wipe out all its predilections for fantasy, you risk the same errors a theocracy generates as it uniformly glorifies legendary impossibility.
The Holiday Season adds a bit of harmless realistic fantasy to a world that's often obsessed with logic, and it's not that logic's a bad thing, but without fantastic distractions it can breed depression.
There's a book there.
Last Christmas blends reality and fantasy with charming even hardboiled engagement, introducing multiple relatable realities, enlivened through tangible spirit.
It's not hard to let loose and enjoy traditions that may indeed seem somewhat absurd.
Is it better to always laud materialism?
There's too much coincidence to suggest that's all there is.
Even if it's foolhardy to try to classify it.
Happy Holidays everyone, whatever you celebrate this time of year!
I hope you're enjoying time with friends and family.
Chillin' a bit with elastic cheer.
Plus a place to crash for a while.
She could be doing well if she focused a bit more intently, but she's mastered everything at work (not me, Emilia Clarke as Kate), and doesn't realize she's full-on bored.
The dating scene provides nightly distractions replete with unpredictable highs and lows, but everyone she knows is pairing off, and don't have time for young adult shenanigans.
Yet as she flounders and misperceives a kindhearted beau comes a sweetly calling, appearing at opportune times, looking for more than just random repartee (Henry Golding as Tom).
He's nice so he's initially ignored but that doesn't mean he's not making a good impression, something reliable like grandma's home cookin', the Parc 80 bus, Cinéma du Parc, or Parc Jeanne-Mance.
Yet even as things start to seem perfect, and realignments lead to deep rapprochements, something bewilders anon beyond expression, with otherworldly immaterial spirit.
Could it be that the stars have aligned and Kate's begun to accept motivational absurdities, work fuelling her bright recrudescence, with biodegradable salubrious levity?
That she's rediscovered longlasting momentum?
Just in time for Christmas?
I can't say for certain, although Last Christmas is a very cool Christmas film, reimagining traditional themes with endearing revelation, stratified with delectable felicity.
Evaluating a Christmas film according to less festive criteria, misses the supernatural sentiment, inasmuch as it's something different from standard verbose ephemera, that's enthused with yuletide counterpoint.
The supernatural elements in Christmas films arise from less contemporary ingenious distillations, elements that can still dazzle and innocently sway, if they aren't considered realistically verifiable.
If you take a vibrant culture aligned with realistic endeavours and wipe out all its predilections for fantasy, you risk the same errors a theocracy generates as it uniformly glorifies legendary impossibility.
The Holiday Season adds a bit of harmless realistic fantasy to a world that's often obsessed with logic, and it's not that logic's a bad thing, but without fantastic distractions it can breed depression.
There's a book there.
Last Christmas blends reality and fantasy with charming even hardboiled engagement, introducing multiple relatable realities, enlivened through tangible spirit.
It's not hard to let loose and enjoy traditions that may indeed seem somewhat absurd.
Is it better to always laud materialism?
There's too much coincidence to suggest that's all there is.
Even if it's foolhardy to try to classify it.
Happy Holidays everyone, whatever you celebrate this time of year!
I hope you're enjoying time with friends and family.
Chillin' a bit with elastic cheer.
Friday, December 20, 2019
Great Bear Rainforest
British Columbia's ancient coastal biodiversity, realm of the Great Bear Rainforest, home to wondrous species and the humans who study them, overflowing with composite symbiotic life, a treasure trove of enchanting dense resiliency, where the freshwater of B.C.'s interior blends with oceanic rhythms.
Incredibly.
A very rare type of temperate rainforest found in few locations around the globe, it nourishes unique lifeforms, its currents spiritual fuel.
Not this blog peeps, the forest, I'm writing about the Great Bear Rainforest here, I don't see why I have to explain this, again, but some people just don't get it.
Although this blog does have its charms.
Ian McAllister's Great Bear Rainforest highlights significant features of its bounteous titular domain.
The graceful sea otter, who has flourished since being extirpated from the region, insatiable fashionable greed voraciously hunting it to extinction, its reintroduction coinciding with less rapacious commercial stratagems, as if people suddenly realized they're ever so cute, and left them alone to flourish in wonder.
The majestic humpback whale, who returns every year to dine on herring, its numbers also bouncing back from voracious hunting, although ever so slowly due to low reproductive rates.
Slippery seals, accustomed to gliding through enriching submerged jurisdictions, as focused as they are elastic, in search of scaling symphonic synergies.
Grizzly, black, and spirit bears, the latter in fact a subspecies of the black bear, disharmoniously cohabitating at times, yet still sharing good fortune as they see fit.
I was hoping to see what animals benefit from the ways in which bears alter their landscapes as they dig for food, detecting this and that with their great sense of smell, depending on what nature's currently providing, as they cover vast distances à la carte.
Another time perhaps.
It's cool to see the healthy relationships local First Nations people still cultivate with their environment within, going on 14,000 years, why is sustainable harvesting such a difficult concept to grasp?, fish sustainably and keep fishing forever, overfish, and the resource disappears.
Great Bear Rainforest emphasizes that salmon leaping up waterfalls is the equivalent of humans jumping over four-story buildings (narration by Ryan Reynolds), and then proceeds to share some of the best shots of salmon jumping I've seen.
Bears perched to catch them.
Cinematography by Andy Maser, Ian McAllister, Jeff Turner, and Darren West.
It's a cool introduction to B.C.'s Great Bear Rainforest that depicts nature overflowing with life.
Along with the occasional hardships.
And the robust dynamics of adorable bear families.
Incredibly.
A very rare type of temperate rainforest found in few locations around the globe, it nourishes unique lifeforms, its currents spiritual fuel.
Not this blog peeps, the forest, I'm writing about the Great Bear Rainforest here, I don't see why I have to explain this, again, but some people just don't get it.
Although this blog does have its charms.
Ian McAllister's Great Bear Rainforest highlights significant features of its bounteous titular domain.
The graceful sea otter, who has flourished since being extirpated from the region, insatiable fashionable greed voraciously hunting it to extinction, its reintroduction coinciding with less rapacious commercial stratagems, as if people suddenly realized they're ever so cute, and left them alone to flourish in wonder.
The majestic humpback whale, who returns every year to dine on herring, its numbers also bouncing back from voracious hunting, although ever so slowly due to low reproductive rates.
Slippery seals, accustomed to gliding through enriching submerged jurisdictions, as focused as they are elastic, in search of scaling symphonic synergies.
Grizzly, black, and spirit bears, the latter in fact a subspecies of the black bear, disharmoniously cohabitating at times, yet still sharing good fortune as they see fit.
I was hoping to see what animals benefit from the ways in which bears alter their landscapes as they dig for food, detecting this and that with their great sense of smell, depending on what nature's currently providing, as they cover vast distances à la carte.
Another time perhaps.
It's cool to see the healthy relationships local First Nations people still cultivate with their environment within, going on 14,000 years, why is sustainable harvesting such a difficult concept to grasp?, fish sustainably and keep fishing forever, overfish, and the resource disappears.
Great Bear Rainforest emphasizes that salmon leaping up waterfalls is the equivalent of humans jumping over four-story buildings (narration by Ryan Reynolds), and then proceeds to share some of the best shots of salmon jumping I've seen.
Bears perched to catch them.
Cinematography by Andy Maser, Ian McAllister, Jeff Turner, and Darren West.
It's a cool introduction to B.C.'s Great Bear Rainforest that depicts nature overflowing with life.
Along with the occasional hardships.
And the robust dynamics of adorable bear families.
Wednesday, December 18, 2019
Reversal of Fortune
Snap judgments based upon agitated reckonings lead to pejorative sensationalized repute in Barbet Schroeder's Reversal of Fortune.
How to make someone appear guilty without making it look like you're attempting to make someone appear guilty, if they are in fact not guilty?
If they are in fact not guilty, how do you convincingly make it look like someone has attempted to make them look guilty without looking as if they were attempting to make them look guilty, before cold judicial verdicts descend?
It's basic Columbo, the televisual and cinematic world worse off without a regular dose of Columbo, and its freewheeling composed articulate dishevelled discourse, perhaps channeled by Professor Alan Dershowitz (Ron Silver) and his team in this inclusion, which asks if maligned bourgeois sentiment has predetermined an aesthete's obituary?
It's certainly quite the team.
It's incredible how many people can come together to defend or prosecute, many of them working pro bono, out of devoted respect for the law.
Engrained malfeasance.
People in positions of power exploit that power since no one holds them to account, but then someone does, it seems obvious that they're guilty, and justice adjudicates, condemning the reckless individual.
But it's still quite the task, the required reading voluminously dissonant, to transform every link into a succinct gripping narrative no small feat albeit thrilling for a motivated legal team, in possession of the facts, and interpretive plausibility, expert testimony, meticulous mechanics, it must be like playing a stable integral role in a constantly shifting production, not improvised, still rehearsed, but unaware of specific counterarguments, the speculation part of the fun, bold jurisprudent research and development.
Reversal of Fortune takes place in such a frame as Claus von Bulow (Jeremy Irons) seeks legal counsel, he's been convicted once already, and his lawyer's none too sympathetic.
He takes the case though, assembles his team, and finds evidence which contradicts his assumptions.
Upon appeal, another round of judicial observation considers the alternative facts, and the second reading makes Claus seem as innocent as he was once thought definitively guilty, differing detailed composite accounts, instructive rhetorical consommé.
People observe thousands of minute details distilled into an accessible format that leads them to make claims which back up narrative threads.
Hoping there isn't some technical distortion.
While theatrically duelling in shades.
How to make someone appear guilty without making it look like you're attempting to make someone appear guilty, if they are in fact not guilty?
If they are in fact not guilty, how do you convincingly make it look like someone has attempted to make them look guilty without looking as if they were attempting to make them look guilty, before cold judicial verdicts descend?
It's basic Columbo, the televisual and cinematic world worse off without a regular dose of Columbo, and its freewheeling composed articulate dishevelled discourse, perhaps channeled by Professor Alan Dershowitz (Ron Silver) and his team in this inclusion, which asks if maligned bourgeois sentiment has predetermined an aesthete's obituary?
It's certainly quite the team.
It's incredible how many people can come together to defend or prosecute, many of them working pro bono, out of devoted respect for the law.
Engrained malfeasance.
People in positions of power exploit that power since no one holds them to account, but then someone does, it seems obvious that they're guilty, and justice adjudicates, condemning the reckless individual.
But it's still quite the task, the required reading voluminously dissonant, to transform every link into a succinct gripping narrative no small feat albeit thrilling for a motivated legal team, in possession of the facts, and interpretive plausibility, expert testimony, meticulous mechanics, it must be like playing a stable integral role in a constantly shifting production, not improvised, still rehearsed, but unaware of specific counterarguments, the speculation part of the fun, bold jurisprudent research and development.
Reversal of Fortune takes place in such a frame as Claus von Bulow (Jeremy Irons) seeks legal counsel, he's been convicted once already, and his lawyer's none too sympathetic.
He takes the case though, assembles his team, and finds evidence which contradicts his assumptions.
Upon appeal, another round of judicial observation considers the alternative facts, and the second reading makes Claus seem as innocent as he was once thought definitively guilty, differing detailed composite accounts, instructive rhetorical consommé.
People observe thousands of minute details distilled into an accessible format that leads them to make claims which back up narrative threads.
Hoping there isn't some technical distortion.
While theatrically duelling in shades.
Tuesday, December 17, 2019
Waves
As much as you may want to debate it, it's her choice, her decision.
Not an easy decision to make if you haven't prepared for it, and support is key to easing the pressure if uncertainty's fogging things up.
There's no easy way to discuss these things, if you don't like discussing them, but if you are sexually active you should be prepared for the possibility of childbirth, and there are steps you can take to make sure pregnancy's highly unlikely, if you're not ready to have a child and are hoping to finish school or get a promotion, beforehand.
I'd use condoms even if my partner was on the pill to ensure a double line of defence, until such a time as we were both ready to child rear; it's probably the most serious responsibility there is.
But if I didn't want to have a child and she did, I would respect her decision. If she asked for my counsel, I would present my arguments, but it's her decision in the end, either way, and certainly not mine. Upon hearing her decision, I would do my best to prepare for fatherhood (nothing can prepare you for it) should she have chosen to have the child, and accept my nascent responsibilities. You may find as you grow older that you like having the little ones around. I certainly didn't way back when, as I was studying and working while travelling.
It's important to respect her decision.
That's the price for all the carefree fun.
Sincerest woe descends in Trey Edward Shults's Waves after confrontation leads to animosity, as two high school seniors discuss unplanned parenthood and can't come close to seeing eye to eye.
Opioid addiction clouds Tyler Williams's (Kelvin Harrison Jr.) judgment as he struggles to comprehend, an unfortunate injury jeopardizing his wrestling career too, he can't deal, even as people try to help him.
The film's quite well done, with the best cinematography I've seen in a while (Drew Daniels), the camerawork delicately louring you in to its breezy narrative flow, the current heaving as it helplessly adjusts to wayward distraught cataclysm, so felicitous early on, heartfelt ebb and flow.
Waves.
It spends one act presenting a golden road that's fraught with peril and distraction, the other romanticizing first love as a family comes to terms with its grief.
The father's (Sterling K. Brown as Ronald Williams) a good provider but also super, "this is my house!", which frustrates his teenage son who's constantly under his watchful eye.
It's a shame it takes extreme hardship for him to learn to apply the messages he absorbs without thinking, habitually.
But as he lets go of himself and stops trying to control things, as he waits for solutions to be organically presented instead of trying to generate them through authority, his family begins to heal through logical/emotional balance, and he starts to listen to what others have to say instead of just telling them what to do.
Family isn't the army or work.
I've always thought family was a safe haven beyond strict codes of conduct.
Where you learn responsibility at play.
Without having to worry about being fired.
Brought to light at special times of the year.
Sweet lattes.
Eggnog shakes.
Not an easy decision to make if you haven't prepared for it, and support is key to easing the pressure if uncertainty's fogging things up.
There's no easy way to discuss these things, if you don't like discussing them, but if you are sexually active you should be prepared for the possibility of childbirth, and there are steps you can take to make sure pregnancy's highly unlikely, if you're not ready to have a child and are hoping to finish school or get a promotion, beforehand.
I'd use condoms even if my partner was on the pill to ensure a double line of defence, until such a time as we were both ready to child rear; it's probably the most serious responsibility there is.
But if I didn't want to have a child and she did, I would respect her decision. If she asked for my counsel, I would present my arguments, but it's her decision in the end, either way, and certainly not mine. Upon hearing her decision, I would do my best to prepare for fatherhood (nothing can prepare you for it) should she have chosen to have the child, and accept my nascent responsibilities. You may find as you grow older that you like having the little ones around. I certainly didn't way back when, as I was studying and working while travelling.
It's important to respect her decision.
That's the price for all the carefree fun.
Sincerest woe descends in Trey Edward Shults's Waves after confrontation leads to animosity, as two high school seniors discuss unplanned parenthood and can't come close to seeing eye to eye.
Opioid addiction clouds Tyler Williams's (Kelvin Harrison Jr.) judgment as he struggles to comprehend, an unfortunate injury jeopardizing his wrestling career too, he can't deal, even as people try to help him.
The film's quite well done, with the best cinematography I've seen in a while (Drew Daniels), the camerawork delicately louring you in to its breezy narrative flow, the current heaving as it helplessly adjusts to wayward distraught cataclysm, so felicitous early on, heartfelt ebb and flow.
Waves.
It spends one act presenting a golden road that's fraught with peril and distraction, the other romanticizing first love as a family comes to terms with its grief.
The father's (Sterling K. Brown as Ronald Williams) a good provider but also super, "this is my house!", which frustrates his teenage son who's constantly under his watchful eye.
It's a shame it takes extreme hardship for him to learn to apply the messages he absorbs without thinking, habitually.
But as he lets go of himself and stops trying to control things, as he waits for solutions to be organically presented instead of trying to generate them through authority, his family begins to heal through logical/emotional balance, and he starts to listen to what others have to say instead of just telling them what to do.
Family isn't the army or work.
I've always thought family was a safe haven beyond strict codes of conduct.
Where you learn responsibility at play.
Without having to worry about being fired.
Brought to light at special times of the year.
Sweet lattes.
Eggnog shakes.
Friday, December 13, 2019
Dark Waters
It seems to me like if you're generating a billion dollars in profit every year just from one product in your vast catalogue, and you don't pay your workforce that much comparatively, as they loyally manifest that revenue, and you know that product is making them sick because you've done the research and it's raised multiple red flags, you should tell them they'll likely become seriously ill if they work for you, so they know what they're signing up for, and pay for their medical bills if they eventually do breakdown as well.
A scant fraction of the profits.
It seems to me like if you know the product you're creating is an environmental disaster that doesn't decompose and will make anything that encounters it seriously ill, possibly forever, that you should take steps to dispose of it properly (a scant fraction of the profits), if that's even possible, or perhaps abandon your plans to market it to the public entirely.
Lifeforms who became extinct prior to our experimentations with fossil fuels could at least blame environmental factors for their disappearance, post-existence.
They didn't or don't have to say, well, we knew we were creating lethal substances that were making people who used them sick, and that they wouldn't breakdown in the environment, ever, but we kept making them anyways because we were raking it in, and were highly unlikely to ever suffer from the ground level consequences ourselves.
Could you imagine we went out not because a meteor struck or a virulent plague emerged, but because we wanted to use frying pans that nothing stuck to and eat cheap food at fast food restaurants?
If there is an afterlife for extinct species we'd be a laughing stock for all eternity.
If we're to become extinct some day, let it happen another way.
The current path that we're on's so shortsighted.
Even though the available research is 20/20.
If you think the companies responsible for creating this mess are unstoppable, your thoughts are by no means misguided, but take note that they can indeed be held to account, and be made to address their actions.
As Todd Haynes's Dark Waters demonstrates.
The film presents dedicated lawyer Robert Bilott (Mark Ruffalo) and his fight against DuPont, who knowingly poisoned their Parkersburg West Virginia workforce and environment, for decades, and were none too pleased when they were taken to court.
Bilott took them to court though and didn't let up even as things became more and more challenging.
He sacrificed a lot to stand up for people's rights and kept on 'till he won a settlement that cultivated fertile grassroots.
His family stood by him throughout and dealt with the despondent gloom, unyielding support and commitment, intense cohesive telemetry.
Dark Waters isn't about ideologically or politically motivated avengers, it's about a god-fearing straight edge family who took plutocrats to court to help a struggling farmer (Bill Camp as Wilbur Tennant).
It calls into question categorial delineations.
While harvesting democratic crops.
Beyond popularity.
More films like this please.
A scant fraction of the profits.
It seems to me like if you know the product you're creating is an environmental disaster that doesn't decompose and will make anything that encounters it seriously ill, possibly forever, that you should take steps to dispose of it properly (a scant fraction of the profits), if that's even possible, or perhaps abandon your plans to market it to the public entirely.
Lifeforms who became extinct prior to our experimentations with fossil fuels could at least blame environmental factors for their disappearance, post-existence.
They didn't or don't have to say, well, we knew we were creating lethal substances that were making people who used them sick, and that they wouldn't breakdown in the environment, ever, but we kept making them anyways because we were raking it in, and were highly unlikely to ever suffer from the ground level consequences ourselves.
Could you imagine we went out not because a meteor struck or a virulent plague emerged, but because we wanted to use frying pans that nothing stuck to and eat cheap food at fast food restaurants?
If there is an afterlife for extinct species we'd be a laughing stock for all eternity.
If we're to become extinct some day, let it happen another way.
The current path that we're on's so shortsighted.
Even though the available research is 20/20.
If you think the companies responsible for creating this mess are unstoppable, your thoughts are by no means misguided, but take note that they can indeed be held to account, and be made to address their actions.
As Todd Haynes's Dark Waters demonstrates.
The film presents dedicated lawyer Robert Bilott (Mark Ruffalo) and his fight against DuPont, who knowingly poisoned their Parkersburg West Virginia workforce and environment, for decades, and were none too pleased when they were taken to court.
Bilott took them to court though and didn't let up even as things became more and more challenging.
He sacrificed a lot to stand up for people's rights and kept on 'till he won a settlement that cultivated fertile grassroots.
His family stood by him throughout and dealt with the despondent gloom, unyielding support and commitment, intense cohesive telemetry.
Dark Waters isn't about ideologically or politically motivated avengers, it's about a god-fearing straight edge family who took plutocrats to court to help a struggling farmer (Bill Camp as Wilbur Tennant).
It calls into question categorial delineations.
While harvesting democratic crops.
Beyond popularity.
More films like this please.
Wednesday, December 11, 2019
Frozen II
The difficulties of mastering flawless positive speech that outmanoeuvres misinterpretation, finds itself humorously depicted in Frozen II, as an enamoured lad seeks conjugal union, and a mysterious voice beckons far away.
It can be a delicate art requiring stealth and foresight, the rewards of which may be as enduring as the punishments severe.
Best to accustom today's youth with non-threatening exemplars of the phenomenon, to instruct them in courtship ritual without disparaging l'amour.
Preparation can no doubt come in handy but the challenge thinks for itself and analyzes, while in sport there's often subsequent opportunities that are much more grave and emotionless.
Fortunately, as time passes, and expectations lower through habitual frustration, disbelief may transform into cheek, which can be more pleasant in conversation.
Nevertheless, the pleasant and playful nature of the cheek can cut deep if lines are crossed, and discovering the character of such lines can be baffling, if you proceed in sarcastic error.
Blunt hopelessness can also generate fervour thanks to the preponderance of alluring sitcoms, but your inner caveperson can't be too savage if it's to feast 'pon nimble nuptials, not that it still can't wax blunt and beastly while applying scandalous enchantments, just a matter of discovering that line, and its various malleable preferences.
If the beast doth find itself wed, said enchantments may slowly lose their lustre, at which point a more robust appeal to enthused gentility, approaching but never realizing neutrality, may encourage less animated hostilities, or perhaps even reincarnate charm.
Of course it can help if your partner once indeed found you fascinating, and isn't interested in shaking things up, going through the whole process again a tedious bother, if you can't simply forgive and take.
I admit that without the fascination it can be bewildering as to how to proceed, and perhaps not worth the effort, if it must be relied upon in perpetuity.
But arranged marriages do seem to flourish at times as the couple engenders divine trial and error, although so many stunning passionate texts have been crafted as they fray.
Best not to think about it perhaps, natural blundering oft preferred to rehearsed theatrics, are they jazzy or strictly classical?, or a bountiful counterpoised mix of the two?
Changing as the years pass.
Clues help.
Decipherable clues.
Correct assumption besting bewildered resonance.
I suppose it's fun, it's supposed to be fun.
Keep that in mind, remain light of heart.
Frozen II!
*I've been single most of my life.
It can be a delicate art requiring stealth and foresight, the rewards of which may be as enduring as the punishments severe.
Best to accustom today's youth with non-threatening exemplars of the phenomenon, to instruct them in courtship ritual without disparaging l'amour.
Preparation can no doubt come in handy but the challenge thinks for itself and analyzes, while in sport there's often subsequent opportunities that are much more grave and emotionless.
Fortunately, as time passes, and expectations lower through habitual frustration, disbelief may transform into cheek, which can be more pleasant in conversation.
Nevertheless, the pleasant and playful nature of the cheek can cut deep if lines are crossed, and discovering the character of such lines can be baffling, if you proceed in sarcastic error.
Blunt hopelessness can also generate fervour thanks to the preponderance of alluring sitcoms, but your inner caveperson can't be too savage if it's to feast 'pon nimble nuptials, not that it still can't wax blunt and beastly while applying scandalous enchantments, just a matter of discovering that line, and its various malleable preferences.
If the beast doth find itself wed, said enchantments may slowly lose their lustre, at which point a more robust appeal to enthused gentility, approaching but never realizing neutrality, may encourage less animated hostilities, or perhaps even reincarnate charm.
Of course it can help if your partner once indeed found you fascinating, and isn't interested in shaking things up, going through the whole process again a tedious bother, if you can't simply forgive and take.
I admit that without the fascination it can be bewildering as to how to proceed, and perhaps not worth the effort, if it must be relied upon in perpetuity.
But arranged marriages do seem to flourish at times as the couple engenders divine trial and error, although so many stunning passionate texts have been crafted as they fray.
Best not to think about it perhaps, natural blundering oft preferred to rehearsed theatrics, are they jazzy or strictly classical?, or a bountiful counterpoised mix of the two?
Changing as the years pass.
Clues help.
Decipherable clues.
Correct assumption besting bewildered resonance.
I suppose it's fun, it's supposed to be fun.
Keep that in mind, remain light of heart.
Frozen II!
*I've been single most of my life.
Tuesday, December 10, 2019
The Rock
Decided to revisit The Rock last Summer after stopping by a local thrift store, and impressed was I as it chaotically unreeled.
It reminded me of a time when I still considered blockbusters to represent the best of what cinema had to offer, long before I discovered non-British European movies (I already knew about British films), Québec's vital film industry, Takashi Miike, Kurosawa, or Criterions.
Blockbusters are still kind of fun, especially when they're deep, the big picture critiqued in miniature, striking slices of stark sensation.
After the insane number of sequels released last Summer I even found myself wishing another Skyscraper was in the works, not a Skyscraper sequel, to be precise, but something sort of different that at least attempted to start something new.
Even if it channelled Die Hard.
I've mentioned this before.
Stuber filled the gap meanwhile.
The Rock never had any sequels and if it had they likely would have seemed preposterous, or at least too logically improbable, if they had sought to reunite Cage (Stanley Goodspeed) and Connery (John Patrick Mason).
The film's actual plot still likely seems preposterous if you read or talk to people about it, or see it I suppose, even if it rationalizes insanity well.
If you don't like action films or sports I imagine watching The Rock would be excruciating, 20 plus years later no less, some of its best lines as ra ra as they are hyper-reactively appropriate, like watching solid Monday Night Football, a Raptors/Clippers showdown, the Leafs facing off in Montréal, or Hamilton taking on the Argos.
As far as I remember, it was released before globalization took off, or just as it was taking off, when America was examining itself critically, even from militaristic perspectives.
And the hero's a green nerd (Cage) who'll pay $600 for one of the Beatles's worst albums (old vinyl though), his partner a dangerous Brit who's been locked up for at least 30 years, like Michael Bay of all directors was deeply concerned with creating something memorable, something that had never been seen before, in sharp contrast to so many new action films.
Take some of these scenes.
After some tourists find themselves locked up on the Rock, there's a really short moment that lasts long enough for one of them to say, "what kind of fucked up tour is this?"
It's funny, and could have easily been left out, but Bay realized how cool it was, and kept it in to generate humour and tension.
I've never seen anything like it in a Marvel film, even if they excel at multidimensionally entertaining.
There's also a high speed chase through San Francisco that revels in cinematic mayhem, that introduces a tour of the city, on a trolly, as everything goes to hell.
Then, as an elite group of Navy SEALs prepares to take on well-heeled Marines on Alcatraz, and Mr. Goodspeed seeks a breakdown of what's going on, one of the SEALS (Danny Nucci as Lieutenant Shepard), a relatively unknown actor at the time who had yet to say anything in the film, delivers an extremely precise borderline passionate synopsis, that startles as it summarizes, and shocks with exhilarating brevity.
What an opportunity for a young actor.
Nucci totally nails it.
There's nothing like that scene, that moment, in current action films, like the lines were created to give someone the opportunity to build a career, instead of all the roles going to world cinema's best and brightest.
It's like the actors in The Rock are fighting to build or sustain a career, from Vanessa Marcil (Carla Pestalozzi) to Tony Todd (Captain Darrow) to David Morse (Major Tom Baxter) to John C. McGinley (Captain Hendrix), no one holding back or resting on old school precedent, just givin' 'er hardcore with ample opportunity to do so.
There are at least 17 actors who stand out in this film.
That's a script that cultivates 1990s diversity (written by David Weisberg, Douglas Cook and Mark Rosner).
Cage and Connery work well together, the former frenetically perspiring athleticism, as he's suddenly thrust into the frenzied fray, replete with doubt, inexperience, and a pregnant partner, Michael Biehn (Commander Anderson), Ed Harris (General Francis X. Hummel), and William Forsythe (Ernest Paxton) givin' 'er too, the film's just so damned professional.
With a ne'er-do-well landing on a spike near the end.
This is what blockbusters could be like before pirating.
Greater risks.
Greater reward.
I'm recommending The Rock.
And watching it again this Winter.
It reminded me of a time when I still considered blockbusters to represent the best of what cinema had to offer, long before I discovered non-British European movies (I already knew about British films), Québec's vital film industry, Takashi Miike, Kurosawa, or Criterions.
Blockbusters are still kind of fun, especially when they're deep, the big picture critiqued in miniature, striking slices of stark sensation.
After the insane number of sequels released last Summer I even found myself wishing another Skyscraper was in the works, not a Skyscraper sequel, to be precise, but something sort of different that at least attempted to start something new.
Even if it channelled Die Hard.
I've mentioned this before.
Stuber filled the gap meanwhile.
The Rock never had any sequels and if it had they likely would have seemed preposterous, or at least too logically improbable, if they had sought to reunite Cage (Stanley Goodspeed) and Connery (John Patrick Mason).
The film's actual plot still likely seems preposterous if you read or talk to people about it, or see it I suppose, even if it rationalizes insanity well.
If you don't like action films or sports I imagine watching The Rock would be excruciating, 20 plus years later no less, some of its best lines as ra ra as they are hyper-reactively appropriate, like watching solid Monday Night Football, a Raptors/Clippers showdown, the Leafs facing off in Montréal, or Hamilton taking on the Argos.
As far as I remember, it was released before globalization took off, or just as it was taking off, when America was examining itself critically, even from militaristic perspectives.
And the hero's a green nerd (Cage) who'll pay $600 for one of the Beatles's worst albums (old vinyl though), his partner a dangerous Brit who's been locked up for at least 30 years, like Michael Bay of all directors was deeply concerned with creating something memorable, something that had never been seen before, in sharp contrast to so many new action films.
Take some of these scenes.
After some tourists find themselves locked up on the Rock, there's a really short moment that lasts long enough for one of them to say, "what kind of fucked up tour is this?"
It's funny, and could have easily been left out, but Bay realized how cool it was, and kept it in to generate humour and tension.
I've never seen anything like it in a Marvel film, even if they excel at multidimensionally entertaining.
There's also a high speed chase through San Francisco that revels in cinematic mayhem, that introduces a tour of the city, on a trolly, as everything goes to hell.
Then, as an elite group of Navy SEALs prepares to take on well-heeled Marines on Alcatraz, and Mr. Goodspeed seeks a breakdown of what's going on, one of the SEALS (Danny Nucci as Lieutenant Shepard), a relatively unknown actor at the time who had yet to say anything in the film, delivers an extremely precise borderline passionate synopsis, that startles as it summarizes, and shocks with exhilarating brevity.
What an opportunity for a young actor.
Nucci totally nails it.
There's nothing like that scene, that moment, in current action films, like the lines were created to give someone the opportunity to build a career, instead of all the roles going to world cinema's best and brightest.
It's like the actors in The Rock are fighting to build or sustain a career, from Vanessa Marcil (Carla Pestalozzi) to Tony Todd (Captain Darrow) to David Morse (Major Tom Baxter) to John C. McGinley (Captain Hendrix), no one holding back or resting on old school precedent, just givin' 'er hardcore with ample opportunity to do so.
There are at least 17 actors who stand out in this film.
That's a script that cultivates 1990s diversity (written by David Weisberg, Douglas Cook and Mark Rosner).
Cage and Connery work well together, the former frenetically perspiring athleticism, as he's suddenly thrust into the frenzied fray, replete with doubt, inexperience, and a pregnant partner, Michael Biehn (Commander Anderson), Ed Harris (General Francis X. Hummel), and William Forsythe (Ernest Paxton) givin' 'er too, the film's just so damned professional.
With a ne'er-do-well landing on a spike near the end.
This is what blockbusters could be like before pirating.
Greater risks.
Greater reward.
I'm recommending The Rock.
And watching it again this Winter.
Friday, December 6, 2019
Antigone
Tragedy strikes an immigrant family as their eldest son (Hakim Brahimi as Étéocle) is shot down while protesting his brother's arrest.
His brother (Rawad El-Zein as Polynice) sees what has taken place and responds with violence, adding assaulting a police officer to his crimes, which may lead to his deportation.
Their family bonds are tight and strong, and his sister Antigone (Nahéma Ricci) has a plan, to secure his dauntless release, even if it means she'll have to do time.
Her plan's a success, he escapes, she's arrested, and she settles in at the juvenile detention centre.
Where her brave actions are swiftly called out, in consideration of her brother's transgressions.
She's determined, dedicated, feisty, immutable, her conscience uprightly resolved.
Her partner (Antoine Desrochers as Hémon) fights for her integral freedom.
Stirring up quite the intense media frenzy.
No easy answers in this one.
The classic compelling mind*&%#.
Ethical issues abound as hearts clash in Sophie Deraspe's Antigone, a brilliant reimagining of the play, creatively and controversially brought to life, through the art of aggrieved contemplation.
Antigone's somewhat well-integrated.
She even won a scholarly prize.
She's by the book, constructive, rational, no-nonsense, the film critically absolved by her defiant reserve.
It's puzzling that she takes such risks for a career ne'er-do-well, yet provocative inasmuch as she avails.
The film intermittently interrupts the action with clever feverish pop-cultural analyzes, energetically presenting high octane observations, situating the narrative in the world at large, a broader multicultural context, that expands as the trial gets underway.
It's a convincing drama that excels at realistically depicting youthful and aged antagonisms, clearly in touch with the alternative views, and the ways in which peeps struggle to understand them.
Although Antigone's youthful rebellion ironically upholds old patriarchal schools, a cunning syntheses on behalf of Deraspe, who boldly articulates so many sharp distinctions, without seeming sentimental or preachy.
I'd argue Antigone upholds a great Québecois tradition of crafting rebellious films which make you think, like Mommy, Vic + Flo ont vu un ours, Quand l'amour se creuse un trou, or 1er amour, a unique style that's totally its own, that asks hard questions that have no answer.
But it's in trying to answer them that these films imaginatively assert themselves, as life presents impenetrable codes, as disconcerting as they are enlivening, basking in comprehensive intrigue.
There's no frosty sugar coating.
Just reality, action, dilemmas, mistakes.
Life.
Active living.
Insert The Matrix.
Bewilder.
His brother (Rawad El-Zein as Polynice) sees what has taken place and responds with violence, adding assaulting a police officer to his crimes, which may lead to his deportation.
Their family bonds are tight and strong, and his sister Antigone (Nahéma Ricci) has a plan, to secure his dauntless release, even if it means she'll have to do time.
Her plan's a success, he escapes, she's arrested, and she settles in at the juvenile detention centre.
Where her brave actions are swiftly called out, in consideration of her brother's transgressions.
She's determined, dedicated, feisty, immutable, her conscience uprightly resolved.
Her partner (Antoine Desrochers as Hémon) fights for her integral freedom.
Stirring up quite the intense media frenzy.
No easy answers in this one.
The classic compelling mind*&%#.
Ethical issues abound as hearts clash in Sophie Deraspe's Antigone, a brilliant reimagining of the play, creatively and controversially brought to life, through the art of aggrieved contemplation.
Antigone's somewhat well-integrated.
She even won a scholarly prize.
She's by the book, constructive, rational, no-nonsense, the film critically absolved by her defiant reserve.
It's puzzling that she takes such risks for a career ne'er-do-well, yet provocative inasmuch as she avails.
The film intermittently interrupts the action with clever feverish pop-cultural analyzes, energetically presenting high octane observations, situating the narrative in the world at large, a broader multicultural context, that expands as the trial gets underway.
It's a convincing drama that excels at realistically depicting youthful and aged antagonisms, clearly in touch with the alternative views, and the ways in which peeps struggle to understand them.
Although Antigone's youthful rebellion ironically upholds old patriarchal schools, a cunning syntheses on behalf of Deraspe, who boldly articulates so many sharp distinctions, without seeming sentimental or preachy.
I'd argue Antigone upholds a great Québecois tradition of crafting rebellious films which make you think, like Mommy, Vic + Flo ont vu un ours, Quand l'amour se creuse un trou, or 1er amour, a unique style that's totally its own, that asks hard questions that have no answer.
But it's in trying to answer them that these films imaginatively assert themselves, as life presents impenetrable codes, as disconcerting as they are enlivening, basking in comprehensive intrigue.
There's no frosty sugar coating.
Just reality, action, dilemmas, mistakes.
Life.
Active living.
Insert The Matrix.
Bewilder.
Wednesday, December 4, 2019
The Good Liar
A reptilian overture preys on aged innocence, moving from one lonely widow to the next, as he amasses prim misfortune, too incorrigible to ever give it up (Ian McKellen as Roy Courtnay).
Lifelong aggressive tremens, no friend to terms or tact, slipped through the cracks for many a year, avoided wayward trim detection.
He's quite hawkish, rather diligent, a partner lending a helping hand (Jim Carter as Vincent), watching out for eager fools all too willing to softly land.
Romance by night, fraternizing by day, not one to take time off, he's insatiably disposed, as voracious as they come, an emotionless career psycho.
He meets another unsuspecting victim (Helen Mirren as Betty McLeish) all too happy to make a new friend, she's so overcome with infatuation it's not long 'til he's movin' in.
Her grandson's (Russell Tovey as Stephen) more suspicious and proceeds to make historical inquiries, uncovering a gruesome awkward scandal dating back to World War II.
But explanations are forthcoming and life's less bitter if you can forgive, the two making it up on the shifty spot, and carrying on as if nothing's unhinged.
But if the title's none the wiser, there may be more surprises in store, The Good Liar as composed as its enmity, begetting bitter strikes richly scored.
It's straightforward yet tough from the get-go, but neither textbook nor boring, a brisk pace highlighting the novelty, of high stakes octogenarian high-jinx.
The couple's half bourgeois, half streetwise, at times they pleasantly blend, Betty's sympathy keeping things afloat, providing excuses for Roy's demeanour.
I think a particularly vile realm in hell should be reserved for those who prey on the elderly, if such a place exists, and it's odd to see the elderly preying upon each other in this one, sheer proof of the ageless psychopath.
Certainly a good idea for a film and I can't think of anything else like it, although if it had been shot like a creepy indie, it likely would have made more of an impact.
It's a bit farfetched that Roy is still at large at his age, can you always work in a British detective?
Still enjoyed it, a bit of irreverent controversy, nice to see Helen Mirren and Ian McKellen in something dramatic, without fast cars or apocalyptic agendas.
Some unexpected twists keep it moving along as their coupling becomes more intense, neither too poised nor that full-on thug, without ever displaying much feeling.
Is this a date movie?
Lifelong aggressive tremens, no friend to terms or tact, slipped through the cracks for many a year, avoided wayward trim detection.
He's quite hawkish, rather diligent, a partner lending a helping hand (Jim Carter as Vincent), watching out for eager fools all too willing to softly land.
Romance by night, fraternizing by day, not one to take time off, he's insatiably disposed, as voracious as they come, an emotionless career psycho.
He meets another unsuspecting victim (Helen Mirren as Betty McLeish) all too happy to make a new friend, she's so overcome with infatuation it's not long 'til he's movin' in.
Her grandson's (Russell Tovey as Stephen) more suspicious and proceeds to make historical inquiries, uncovering a gruesome awkward scandal dating back to World War II.
But explanations are forthcoming and life's less bitter if you can forgive, the two making it up on the shifty spot, and carrying on as if nothing's unhinged.
But if the title's none the wiser, there may be more surprises in store, The Good Liar as composed as its enmity, begetting bitter strikes richly scored.
It's straightforward yet tough from the get-go, but neither textbook nor boring, a brisk pace highlighting the novelty, of high stakes octogenarian high-jinx.
The couple's half bourgeois, half streetwise, at times they pleasantly blend, Betty's sympathy keeping things afloat, providing excuses for Roy's demeanour.
I think a particularly vile realm in hell should be reserved for those who prey on the elderly, if such a place exists, and it's odd to see the elderly preying upon each other in this one, sheer proof of the ageless psychopath.
Certainly a good idea for a film and I can't think of anything else like it, although if it had been shot like a creepy indie, it likely would have made more of an impact.
It's a bit farfetched that Roy is still at large at his age, can you always work in a British detective?
Still enjoyed it, a bit of irreverent controversy, nice to see Helen Mirren and Ian McKellen in something dramatic, without fast cars or apocalyptic agendas.
Some unexpected twists keep it moving along as their coupling becomes more intense, neither too poised nor that full-on thug, without ever displaying much feeling.
Is this a date movie?
Tuesday, December 3, 2019
Knives Out
The details of a significant literary fortune gravely concern a renowned P.I., after its author passes away.
For multiple motivations could have driven his children to murder, although things seem quite prim and proper during preliminary investigations.
But bold personalities have lied about particulars to appear both innocent and ready to please, their uncoordinated individualized tales melodramatically unwinding under further examination.
Classic lackadaisical mischief improvisationally askew, a bit of lacklustre stiff-lipped cerveza effervescent undrafted clues.
An ingenue accompanies Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig) as hypotheticals brashly accumulate, her involvement hushed up meanwhile while others clash and conciliate.
Unnerved as if something's counterpoised, or shifty, ill-gotten, extraneous, her own misdeeds wouldn't be so incriminating, if they weren't so exceedingly awkward.
Disbelief as inherently relied upon as stealth or disingenuous inquisition, what's to be said is difficult to say, if everything isn't just brought right back up.
Veracity assuming verisimilitude.
Awaiting redoubtable spectre.
A murder mystery not as stealthy as I had expected, still induces endearing alarm, more commercial than Frost, Morse, or Vera, its lighthearted humour in sharp cheeky contrast.
Almost as if writer/director Rian Johnson is aware of the appeal of astute British sleuths, yet sought something less traditional for his star-studded Knives Out, then hired Daniel Craig (James Bond) to detect with a Southern accent, to craft something much more American.
It's first rate unperturbed spice mélange, unconcerned yet still strict and serious, bashful yet residually haunting, determined to make things up as it goes along.
It generates enough interest early on to still entice as it gives itself away, cleverly concealing less evident alternatives, to sustain reanimating perspectives.
If there ever was an old world its conception disputes the new, as the media picks up the scoop, and youth habitually makes the right moves.
It's cool to see a film that finds a physical image to sum up its form in the end, although I can't mention what it is, although from what I've said it should be somewhat obvious.
Neither too light nor too dark and damning, another creative film from the versatile Rian Johnson.
Not as edgy or grim as Looper.
But certainly a lot more fun.
For multiple motivations could have driven his children to murder, although things seem quite prim and proper during preliminary investigations.
But bold personalities have lied about particulars to appear both innocent and ready to please, their uncoordinated individualized tales melodramatically unwinding under further examination.
Classic lackadaisical mischief improvisationally askew, a bit of lacklustre stiff-lipped cerveza effervescent undrafted clues.
An ingenue accompanies Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig) as hypotheticals brashly accumulate, her involvement hushed up meanwhile while others clash and conciliate.
Unnerved as if something's counterpoised, or shifty, ill-gotten, extraneous, her own misdeeds wouldn't be so incriminating, if they weren't so exceedingly awkward.
Disbelief as inherently relied upon as stealth or disingenuous inquisition, what's to be said is difficult to say, if everything isn't just brought right back up.
Veracity assuming verisimilitude.
Awaiting redoubtable spectre.
A murder mystery not as stealthy as I had expected, still induces endearing alarm, more commercial than Frost, Morse, or Vera, its lighthearted humour in sharp cheeky contrast.
Almost as if writer/director Rian Johnson is aware of the appeal of astute British sleuths, yet sought something less traditional for his star-studded Knives Out, then hired Daniel Craig (James Bond) to detect with a Southern accent, to craft something much more American.
It's first rate unperturbed spice mélange, unconcerned yet still strict and serious, bashful yet residually haunting, determined to make things up as it goes along.
It generates enough interest early on to still entice as it gives itself away, cleverly concealing less evident alternatives, to sustain reanimating perspectives.
If there ever was an old world its conception disputes the new, as the media picks up the scoop, and youth habitually makes the right moves.
It's cool to see a film that finds a physical image to sum up its form in the end, although I can't mention what it is, although from what I've said it should be somewhat obvious.
Neither too light nor too dark and damning, another creative film from the versatile Rian Johnson.
Not as edgy or grim as Looper.
But certainly a lot more fun.
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