Just Mercy

It's clear enough that justice is a matter of guilt or innocence, the guilty party convicted for their crimes, the innocent individual eventually set free.

It's also clear that determining someone's guilt or innocence is a lengthy complex procedure, which takes multiple factors into account in order to assert the highest degree of reasonability.

These factors are subject to various interpretive procedures, presented by prosecutors and defence attorneys according to alternative plausible perspectives, each perspective like a contradictory ingredient in an opaque conflicting recipe, which is hopefully judged without bias, within the spirit of daring independence.

Different narratives emerge.

But which one is in fact correct?

Some cases are more complex than others, however, and Walter McMillian's (Jamie Foxx) conviction for murder in Just Mercy is presented as a serious perversion of justice, the evidence supporting his innocence both reasonable and overwhelming, as brave civil rights attorney Bryan Stevenson (Michael B. Jordan) has to go to great lengths to prove.

The world needs more lawyers like him.

He's harassed and humiliated for doing his job to the best of his abilities, because local law enforcement was more interested in locking someone up for the crime than actually finding the guilty individual.

Since they were unable to find the guilty individual, they arrested a prosperous African American, who had been bold enough to do his job well and earn a respectable living, by working hard and honestly persevering.

Serious roadblocks prevent his retrial from moving forward, but his lawyers are determined to see he has another day in court.

Their interactions add interpersonal integrity to the story which abounds with emotionally charged dialogue, dispassionately conveyed, to reflect bitter rational despondency.

Hope and hopelessness creatively converse within to highlight gross jurisprudent indecency, but the resilient lawyers care about truth, and won't back down in the face of disillusion.

Tim Blake Nelson (Ralph Myers) puts in a noteworthy performance as a felon who gave false testimony which led to McMillian's conviction, emanating a compelling presence on screen which complements that of Foxx, Jordan, and Brie Larson (Eva Ansley).

I haven't seen everything Foxx has done since Ray but his performance in Just Mercy reminded me why he once won an Oscar.

I hope films like Just Mercy and Dark Waters inspire practising and potential lawyers to keep fighting the honourable fight.

I know it's hard to remain hopeful sometimes.

But without hope there's just the abyss.

Tweeting relentlessly.

Calling the bravest most intelligent American service people dopes and babies.

It really is reminiscent of various depictions of Caligula.

Reckless callous abuses of power.

Blind unilateral engagement.

1917

I like 1917's title.

It's blunt and non-specific, refrains from attaching nuance or particular, as if it chronicles events that took place during an extended incredibly bleak period, wherein which there was no end in sight to World War I, it must have seemed neverending, interminable, no matter how many battles were won or lost, with no choice if you were fighting but to endure, and make the most of the intrinsic chaos.

Both sides dug in, in command of vast stretches of ground, neither able to advance much further, yet still attacking with fierce resolve.

One battle transformed into hundreds, a colossal mass of composite correspondence, broken down into tens of thousands of crucial messages, their import daunting and ephemeral, so much unravelling with unpredictable fortitude.

Cool heads necessitated nevertheless, hold the line, maintain chains of command, proceed stalwart and unerring, as the unprecedented slaughter horrendously escalates, it's estimated that 40 million people died in the war, from 1914 to 1918, like unleashed menace meticulously terrorizing, survival, a precious miracle.

1917 unreels in the thick of it, and doesn't romanticize the horror, camaraderie thrilling against a background of shock, a lifetime of trauma in little over a day.

An hour.

Two soldiers head out with a message intended to save over a thousand people, but their destination lies across enemy lines, even if they're theoretically deserted, different message, different day, as the film states, best foot forward notwithstanding, into the forbidding treacherous rage.

It's a bold endeavour courageously undertaken, but what they encounter's by no means light, the film doesn't present something easy or relatable, its distraught bedlam grotesquely abhorrent.

With a touch of reason shining through, a noble purpose, heroic deeds, the knowledge that if the mission fails things will be even worse, even if the colonel's far from hopeful in the end.

I won't say there must have been thousands of missions like this one, because the brave soldiers who undertook them were unique, and the grave risks they took at extreme peril shouldn't be compromised through comparison, courageous acts truly like none other.

1917 assigns dignity to millions of lost lives, bold soldiers following orders handed down the line, speculative commanders rationally assailing the unknown, in fierce combat, nothing certain or stable.

War isn't something to be romanticized and you can learn this without having fought in one.

I was glad to see 1917's generally grim.

I'm more into scripts but the camera work in 1917's incredible, it pulls you in and epitomizes the helplessness.

The pressure.

I can't recall many films with better cinematography (Roger Deakins).

Reminded me of The Player, Touch of Evil, La nuit américaine, and Birdman.

Tenki no ko (Weathering with You)

Alone in Tokyo after having made a run for it, Hodaka Morishima (Kotaro Daigo) makes the most of unsettling circumstances.

But good fortune shines upon him, and he soon finds digs and a steady job, searching for different people to converse with, then writing about their random tales.

While he was struggling he sought daily sustenance, and at times it was hard to come by, and one evening while embracing hunger, a fast food serviceperson came to his aid (Nana Mori as Amano Hina).

Later, as fate would have it, she finds herself unaware in villainous clutches, with those who seek to exploit her, when he arrives with earnest daring.

Soon they're dearest friends, thoughtfully navigating the cold world around them, applying logic innocently improvised, perhaps inclined to amorous ascension.

As it rains and rains without pause everyday, Hina possesses a miraculous secret, which becomes a full-time job, a luminous pastime enriching alight.

Yet they both should technically be in school, and authorities are aware that Hodaka has run away, and as freedom becomes less unattainably disposed, the police move in to assert jurisprudence.

But before pressing realities come bluntly crashing down, Tenki no ko (Weathering with You) comments on life on the road, on the non-traditional fluidic path, its characters deep as they envision comprehension.

How first love beyond distress and despair can illuminate so much steadfast life, how the forgotten vivaciously remonstrating can evoke prosperity and happiness.

It's not as cheerful as this perhaps sounds, they do encounter pressure and danger, none of their lives void of hardships, which their friendships soothe and mitigate.

I imagine the film's appealing for youthful and aged audiences alike, for its style is sharp yet light and its content free yet fiercely embroiled.

Its diverse multifaceted script examines difficulties associated with never having time off, the necessity of full-time employment, how hard it can be to find a hotel room, compassionate animal care, conjugal misperception, emotional conflicts embraced as children are raised by others, thriving commerce, an unorthodox feisty existence, as if every scene's integral to the narrative yet still has something to say about non-fictional working life, the pros and cons of picking things up on the fly, strong bonds forged as people innovate together.

The film can be so many things for so many different people, its premise built on controversy, its action elevating resolve.

It's first rate magical realism, which rationalizes impossibility as it critiques the real, abounding with incredible depth, Makoto Shinkai is a brilliant storyteller.

I loved how the animation captures the rain and the story highlights the joys of sharing meals.

A film composed to keep you thinking.

Without abandoning soulful yields.

A Vida Invisível (Invisible Life)

Tumultuous times await a romantic spirit after she's left behind with child and her family brusquely disowns her.

Or refuses to allow her to come home after she returns from her amorous adventure, alone with nowhere to go, having fallen prey to dishonest advances.

Made when she was ready to sacrifice everything.

Her sister's left unawares, has no idea what's transpired, and marries as the months and years pass, settling into domestic life.

But she never gives up her dream of playing the piano in Vienna, nor stops thinking about her missing sister, who communicates regularly in writing, her messages intercepted by a disapproving husband.

The oft irreconcilable relationship between emotion and principle forges an ethical current within, the husbands obsessed with how things appear, the wives sympathetic to concrete reality.

I can't understand how a parent could care more about a principle or social standing than the happiness of their child, or how they could disown him or her absolutely for doing something they may have once considered.

Themselves.

Some things lack prestige or appeal until you've reached a certain age, and it's difficult to imagine that one mistake made in the grips of youthful passion could ever prevent them from luminously radiating, for if principle isn't able to take what once seemed irrefutably endearing into aged spiritual account, are the thoughts and feelings of younger generations to perennially persist in ill-defined obscurity?

How could you know that your grandchild is being raised in a neighbourhood close by and that you've given his or her parents no assistance whatsoever to ease their emotional and financial distress?

How could you suddenly dismiss all the wonderful times cherished with your children as they grew, because they didn't follow a rigid rule to its stifling incapacitating letter?

Is it possible to love rules and regulations more than flourishing life?, to abide by stern codes and customs when surrounded by contemporary endeavour?

There's no doubt youth seeks to uphold what they've been taught to behold as rational, but to make sense of rational traditions when you're young overlooks the exuberance of life.

A Vida Invisível (Invisible Life) demonstrates how a young adult cast aside by her family digs in deep and vigorously strives.

And how that family suffers in her absence, how it would have prospered with her vital strength.

A sorrowful tale crafting knowledge woebegone, which contrasts domesticity with independence to challenge stubborn points of view, it exhales tragedy with forlorn breaths while encouraging compassion and understanding, as siblings long for the abandoned innocence that once so thoughtfully bloomed.

Is it not more shameful to abandon your child?

To leave them alone to dismally struggle?

I'm not encouraging reckless behaviour.

But mistakes require sympathy, not severe punishments.

Ford v Ferrari

I could never get into car racing.

No matter what the track.

I watched a car race once one afternoon when I was 10 years old or so, while two brothers started brawling for some reason, and after 5 minutes or so it generally lost its appeal, I'm afraid I never had the desire to watch one again, cold storage, dusted away.

I like films however, so if a film about car racing is nominated for best picture at the Oscars I figured there must be something to it, something that transcends the actual racing itself, and perhaps highlights a point or two I never would have taken into account if I hadn't seen it, although I did respect car racing meanwhile, it's just something I could never get into.

Into watching.

It sounds fun, like it'd be something fun to do, not watch.

The film does a great job of demonstrating how much thought goes into winning such races, the coveted expertise possessed by precious few aficionados, who take the time to actively pursue their passion without thinking much about reward, the love of the game drives them, and it's impressive how much they know.

Honestly, seeing a company that was as big as Ford at the time take on a much smaller company that was going out of business (Ferrari) didn't appeal to me much, it's like the company that already has everything backed up by unlimited resources competing against a devout artist, who's passionately spent everything in the pursuit of something breathtaking and unique.

It's super American.

I didn't care for that aspect of the story much, but since Ford had the reputation for making less specialized cars and wanted to prove they could do something unique, I appreciated the improbability of the challenge, which would have seemed more profound without the wealth.

The incredible wealth.

But the team Ford assembles isn't rich, it's composed of hands on struggling independent artists who thoroughly understand their craft, and the film excels as they bat heads with bland executives, whose knowledge is much more concerned with spectacle (they think more about what to do if they've won as opposed to how to actually go about winning).

For some domains, a large bureaucracy functions well, ensuring the delivery of various services for vastly different markets, the inherent intricacies and size of which require multiple levels of thought, positions occupied by workers familiar with the terrain, and the flexibility to calmly deal with manifold contingencies.

If you're trying to win a race, however, if you're doing something highly specific for an individualistic set of circumstances, and there aren't multiple levels of thought, there are just a couple of highly skilled professionals who have the knowledge to get the job done, who in fact know what they're doing, and are making the most relevant observations, like Carroll Shelby (Matt Damon) and Ken Miles (Christian Bale) in Ford v Ferrari, then, as Carroll and Ken mention in the film, the bureaucracy can get in the way, and make simple decisions that need to be made absurdly complex, the absurd complexities making the practical goal unachievable, keep it simple, keep it practical and hands on.

If you want to do something bureaucracy can be frustrating because you have to wait so long for approval to do the simplest things.

Not so much in politics where it's important to think about the impacts of what you're doing.

But if you like the bureaucratic ebb and flow, I suppose the argument itself is somewhat compelling.

The film is somewhat direct and easy to follow, no nonsense is the phrase writers employ in writing such a narrative I imagine, everything has a traditional relevant point, and it presents a thoughtful situation full of risk, trial, error, reward.

It's the kind of light film pretending to be tough that makes a positive impact, if you don't think about it too much, if you just sit back and take it in.

It would have been cool if the impact the experimental nature of race car driving makes on domestic automobile manufacture had been briefly explored.

And it hadn't been so massive, so Goliath.

A generalized examination of a complex phenomenon.

Nice to see Jon Bernthal (Lee Iacocca) with a larger role.

Cats

I hesitate to suggest that Tom Hooper's Cats produced its desired affects upon its audience, insofar as laughter was consistently generated within the theatre where I recently saw it, but that's not necessarily a bad thing if entertainment value is taken into account, for that very same audience no doubt foolhardily enjoyed themselves, even if their applause was critically attuned to camp as opposed to melodrama.

Is there a difference?

That would be a fun essay to write (in detail).

I would argue that Cats sets out to romantically investigate life on a thriving fringe, within a talented artistic community, independently predisposed.

It's a wonderful idea.

It introduces a variety of vigorous individuals who have taken the time to melodiously compose themselves, in preparation for a carnivalesque soirée, abounding with life and perhaps reincarnation.

A wicked cat who jealously seeks to live again nefariously disrupts the proceedings with cruel and covetous intent.

The historical social interactions of the innovative neighbourhood are observed by a fascinated newcomer who's introduced after emerging astray.

The songs are sung very well, there's no denying the musical talent, the robust sincere efficacious concerned camaraderie erupting with ecstatic charm.

But they rarely stop, there isn't much intermittent dialogue, and I'm afraid they're somewhat abstruse, or lack helpful points of clarification.

It's not that you can't figure out what's going on or find yourself lost within a byzantine delirium, but if you're not familiar with the story beforehand, you may find it somewhat obscured in the opening numbers, which are rather wordy if not longwinded, and lack sturdy lucid foundations.

Even if they are cats.

But they are cats, and there are a bunch of cool animated felines singing and dancing with paramount glamour, so if you aren't worried about what's actually going on, you have recourse to the wild absurdity.

Even though it's just a bit garrulous, I still wondered if it was primarily made for children, because the cat expressions employed fall flat throughout, but may appeal to the more innocently minded, if they're seeing a musical for the very first time.

The constant close-ups too, which seem like they're trying to generate wonder, but often cause people to burst out laughing, don't worry, the same thing happens to me.

So the melodrama's there, Cats at least approaches serious subjects with a touch that's light of heart, and leaves room for scandal and intrigue as it proceeds with the best intentions.

But if it's meant to be taken seriously, and I can't really see that happening, even if it improves as Ian McKellen (Gus the Theatre Cat) begins to sing, and there's a wonderful break where's there's no singing at all, just dancing, it may not universally succeed, although my hypothesis could be way off.

Nevertheless, films that are meant to be taken seriously which create serious comic appeal can be transformed into cherished camp, if the audience is there and willing.

The audience whom I watched Cats with was overflowing with playful cheer.

Is it always that way with melodrama?

To tell you the truth, I'm far from certain.

But people get angry if you don't take what they're taking seriously sometimes.

A matter of perspective, I try to keep quiet.

Little Women

Sisters living together in old school bucolic surroundings, lively animate reckonings overshadowing speechless gloom.

A cross-section of formative events congenially pitched and harmonized, love and care guiding inquisitive actions, a mother providing lucid instruction.

Not necessarily gloomy, it just seems like it must have been that way, so locked down in one specific set of circumstances, without the internet lying in wait.

But Little Women emphasizes grassroots creativity, or wholesome bonds forged through familial endeavour, the theatre as tantalizing as postmodern film, perhaps predating phrases like the art of conversation.

If people had no technological distractions to prevent them from directly interacting with one another (I'm reinterpreting the phrase), and dialogue flourished throughout the course of the day, conversation may have seemed less like an art form, and more like something freeflowing and natural.

Discussing topics at length may not have been reserved just for soirées and seminars, and sundry nuances may have been eagerly explored, by loquacious lackadaisical candlelight.

Perhaps with less of an emphasis on making weak arguments appear strong, and more of a desire to encourage prosperous articulation, people actually making their own nightly narratives, and debating while casually observing.

I was monitoring the activity of a relative the other day, who overflowed with tenacious curiosity, and I was somewhat relieved when The Last Jedi caught his attention, and I could then worry less about inspired destruction.

But I checked myself for having such thoughts, and took to heart accusations of entropy, for I should have been eagerly engaged, and ready for every distinct counteraction.

As parents prior to television no doubt must have rigorously been, how much tighter family bonds perhaps were back then, how much more available people were to please, how much more time there might have been for tasks at hand.

I'd like to read essays and/or books comparing 21st and 19th century pastimes, and Little Women as well, to learn more from its compelling story.

Greta Gerwig's film's exciting to watch, and kept me captivated from beginning to end.

It focuses on goodwill and charity at times which pleasantly caught my attention, not just because I saw it during the Holiday Season, but also since I rarely encounter self-sacrifice in contemporary film.

Or conversation.

Good things happen when people commit to reducing poverty and make healthier green alternatives more accessible.

It seems like the cast had a lot of fun while making it, but still worked hard to create a good film, the kind of vigorous reliable teamwork that can be facilitated by an emphasis on cool.

Having fun off screen while sincerely delivering when it's time to work, Little Women's most impressive, like working in Montréal.

And I've found a fictional companion for Ethan Hawke in my personal filmic pantheon (in my head), the one and only Laura Dern (Marmee March), they both keep showing up in so many cool films.

They've been around a while too.

Sort of like Harry Dean Stanton but not the same.

Not that the rest of Gerwig's cast didn't impress.

Left the cinema feeling happy.

Bombshell

You should always be wary when a film about Fox News comes out shining forth as a champion of the Me Too Movement.

It certainly is full-on Me Too, but what else does it have to critically say about Fox?

Within, female journalists are harassed as they assert themselves, but they're still sternly dedicated to Fox's opinion based sensational broadcasting, as opposed to the evidence or fact based reporting you find on CNN or in The New York Times, and except for one behind the scenes worker (Kate McKinnon as Jess Carr), who can't find work elsewhere, the journalists seem happy enough with Fox, just not some of the men who work there.

The men who work there whom they're upset with are total pigs who have transferred private adolescent locker room shenanigans to the grownup public sphere, wherein which they still behave as if they've never met a woman, or have never once even considering respecting one.

As seems to be the case in many American businesses, hence the rise of Me Too, women persevering in toxic environments till they accumulate enough evidence to prove they've been sexually harassed in court.

They're worried about their careers and futures as they proceed.

Such actions take an enormous amount of courage.

Total respect.

Bombshell (I get the double entendre, but still, that's the title you give to a film about Me Too?) excels at presenting strong courageous women who take huge risks to stick it to their perverted manager, Roger Ailes (John Lithgow), and highlights their struggles as they do so, as many of their fellow workers line up to defend him, and their own support staff voice apprehensions.

Inasmuch as Bombshell sets out to champion the Me Too Movement and sincerely critique sexual harassment in the workplace, it succeeds, that aspect's well done, and it isn't preachy or sentimental, it's rather a comprehensive factual account.

It's shocking to read about how much sexual harassment persists in the workplace, and the ridiculous "boys will be boys" mentality that assaults daring brave professional women, as chronicled in various news media at length for what seems like freakin' ever.

In the '90s it seemed like 2000-2020 would be much much much much different.

A world free from sexism, racism, ethnocentricity, and homophobia.

But unfortunately things seem to have become much worse.

Or haven't changed much and there's currently more exposure.

The number of unions have also decreased in the last twenty years, if I'm not mistaken.

And job losses and low wages have ignited tensions.

A strong mix of gender, sexuality, culture, and point of view can lead to dynamic working environments, as long as there's mutual respect, and a willingness to work together as a team.

The best working environments I've been fortunate enough to work within have been composed along such lines.

Doesn't sound much like Fox News does it?

When I think of Fox News, I think of sexist, bigoted, privileged caucasian men.

Bombshell critiques the sexist men who work there but doesn't sincerely critique Fox News itself, the style of overly opinionated news Fox delivers.

Some of the women who have been sexually harassed still want to work there.

Just not with Roger Ailes.

McKinnon does sum it up in a clever frightening nutshell, but I think the people who like Fox, upon hearing her summary, will probably just think, "totally".

Instead of, "damn, that sucks!"

I'd argue Bombshell is another attempt by the right to make it appear as if it cares about women's rights by severely critiquing its own.

But the characters within are still loyal to Fox's sensational opinion based misleading ludicrous brand of news.

And that brand of news itself isn't sincerely critiqued, only the sexist men who work there.

Which makes Bombshell like an advertisement for a new fresher Fox News that cares about women's rights (come on!).

There's no emphasis on changing its style.

And that, I'm afraid, is a fact.

Marriage Story

The slow patient cultivation of specific general roles, patterns emerging as time passes becoming more rigid while still considered ill-defined, dynamic environs creatively encouraging unpredictable professional growth, but within their fluid energetic exciting jazzy continuums lies one person directing, and another following established codes, their lives constantly shifting reimagined as inspiration strikes, but the thought of doing something else never so much as remotely materializes, even though passive hints are presented until years have past and it seems like every decision's made without sincere consultation, even though he thinks he's listening and they're making joint discoveries, as fluctuating intensities eagerly fascinate, and everything's cast anew.

Perhaps a stunning aid for couples who have been married for quite some time, inasmuch as Marriage Story makes so much lucid sense, yet Nicole (Scarlett Johansson) and Charlie (Adam Driver) still can't understand one another.

Noting the errors Charlie makes may save similar marriages, I've always thought working together (jobs) is a bad idea, although some couples do seem to work well together (at jobs).

Case by case.

But it's perhaps more probable that in Marriage Story nothing can be done, since one partner's too caught up with too invested in a particular way of life, which can't suddenly change to fit new circumstances, circumstances which demand he abandon everything altogether.

Nicole no longer wishes to live in New York, which leaves Charlie without much room to work with, in a bit of a pickle as divorce proceedings commence, and he has to prove he resides in L.A.

While directing a play in New York.

He was just too immersed in the limelight to notice that something was going wrong, or that the passive suggestions were actually serious, and required full-on responsive note.

I don't know how to sift through the suggestions myself, I've never really had a deep relationship, but in theory I'd try to sift through them by listening for those that were presented more than two or three times, if my partner was passive. If a suggestion popped up that many times I would take note that it was indeed much more than a suggestion, and would adjust my busy schedule accordingly, if forgiven for having taken my sweet time.

Charlie and Nicole get along so maturely you wonder why they're getting a divorce?, until it becomes clear Nicole needs something less ubiquitous, and doesn't like the constant direction.

Even if her husband's brilliant and nice.

I think she grows tired of him always finding a solution.

And perhaps finds her life's become a novel case study.

I'm probably incorrect, as Marriage Story points out in passionate detail with great supporting performances from Laura Dern (Nora Fanshaw), Alan Alda (Bert Spitz), and Ray Liotta (Jay Marotta) (loved the Julie Hagerty [Sandra] and Wallace Shawn [Frank] too!), women really understand what women are going through, and men generally understand all things bro.

It's a wonderful film examining a complicated multivariable couple trying to keep a hectic life simple as things unravel at their marriage's end.

It begins with touching characterizations they've both written about each other (a ruse) that provide in-depth accounts of the time they've spent together, with literal poetic resplendency.

Reasons.

Multiple compelling reasons.

The caring insights written into every observation prepare you for clever thoughtful storytelling that keeps it real the whole way through.

It isn't particularly light nor overwhelmingly dark, but chillin' and anger both expound within, each scene enacting free flowing difference sustained within a modest versatile frame (except for divorce court), as if the characters may actually exist, and have something irresistible to say.

Nice intelligent successful people who for some reason find themselves married, clashing with cold cruel realities with which they'd both rather not contend.

Artists hiring lawyers.

There's so much thought in this film it's like reading a good book, you wait for years to see dramas as good as this one.

The scenes last for much longer than 30 seconds.

Multiple reasons are provided to explain something neither partner wishes to fully comprehend.

Nice to see Adam Driver and Scarlett Johansson in something without intergalactic conflict.

Noah Baumbach's made so many great films.

This is his first masterpiece (I never saw The Squid and the Whale).

Even when it slips up it just seems like it's his youthful innocence shining through, like an historical trope, like he hasn't forgotten a randier style, here transformed into something more aged, the present and the past blended like well crafted gritty red wine, that's been maturing for fruitful decades, and's finally ready for bold presentation.

Wish I'd seen it in theatres.

Netflix can no longer be denied (by me).