Zardoz

Imagine COVID-19 as reflective of desires to keep demographics stratified, with no intermingling amongst different collectives, even though at the moment isolation is paramount.

The title sounded cool and it stars Sean Connery.

I imagine John Boorman didn't like ivory towers much.

Or the politics of the left in the early '70s.

Zardoz expresses such sentiments anyways with blunt instinctual derision.

It's absurd menacing political satire.

Confrontationally conceived.

In a hypothetical future, the elite have sealed themselves off within an impenetrable exclusive zone, where they live immortal lives of plenty, or at least with everything they need.

Outer regions know only chaos in maddening woebegone conflict.

The immortals have struggled to achieve enlightenment and have compiled vast repertoires of scientific knowledge, but some of them have grown restless, bored, tired of the limits of infinite perfection.

Fortunately for them, an enforcer stows away on the giant head that travels between realms, hiding beneath the grain, intent on acquiring wisdom (Sean Connery as Zed).

He introduces a unique element.

Curious carnal contrariety.

The immortals have cast off emotion you see, and live within stoic reasonable boundaries, with no children or families or nurturing, just rarefied rational discourse.

Subversive intentions plaque somnambulistic.

Those in control have qualified everything.

Gross exaggeration pervades the rigid Zardoz, but I still wonder how it was received at the time? I've certainly never heard anyone discuss it and don't recall it ever showing up in rerun.

I imagine it was cutting edge sci-fi for the '70s, at least some of the visuals are quite impressive, not the giant head itself so scandalous, but there are noteworthy technical features.

I still wonder if it was meant to be taken seriously, on some level I don't quite comprehend, but so much of it seems like solemn farce, like barbarians inside the gates.

But what seemed like solemn farce in recent memory is trying to transform reasonable debate these days, and what used to seem absurd is taken seriously, the public sphere in free-fall flux.

If people are currently worried that desires to function self-sufficiently are threatening the proliferation of the nuclear family, perhaps they were in the '70s (and long before then) as well, although I remain to be sure uncertain, even if I'm leaning towards "they definitely were".

A future where people suddenly want to stop breeding, generally, no matter what ideology predominates, seems highly unlikely to me, however.

There's just too much comfort in relaxed recreation.

With agency attached to the conjugally bold.

Nice that the opportunity to not have a family exists though, medieval pressures must have been stifling.

Can't say I recommend Zardoz.

Although it's certainly out of this world.

The Atomic Submarine

Imagine those fighting COVID-19 as the crew of the resolute USS Tigershark, boldly patrolling the Arctic Ocean, guarding against micromanaged wherewithal. In television and film.

Sometimes you don't need to worry so much about Olympian heights and infernal crevices, you can just adapt the golden narrative mean to whatever random idea happens to inspire you.

Sometimes editing gets in the way of the cultivation of free spirits, and naysayers and critical conjurors would have only ruined crafty good times.

Sometimes it's important to have multiple characters who are never really developed, yet keep keepin' on tried tested and true, to a formulaic instinct lock stock incandescent.

Sometimes you don't need bells and whistles, nooks and crannies, rhyme nor reason, you don't even have to use music to keep your film laidback, restless, thawed.

Sometimes questions or second takes only blind a unique vision, whose primordial circumspects would have never been sighted otherwise.

Sometimes when you're tasked with finding striking exemplars of independence, you need to look beyond considerations like applicability, to construct a more robust scenario.

Sometimes there's not much of a point but peeps find purpose in a lack of recognition, proceeding onwards sure and steady without projection, forecast, recall.

Sometimes you simply love somethin' that isn't overflowin' with shoulds and s'post'as, something that no one else seems to get but for you guarantees resolve.

Sometimes meaning isn't meant to be profound, it's more of a relaxed Sunday afternoon expression, perhaps achieving momentary awestruck ends, but without desires to influence or motivate.

Sometimes time is of the essence, so not much time is taken, yet something still comes together, with definitive shape and yield and texture.

Sometimes you need a little context, sometimes simply nothing at all, sometimes there's periodization, at others, essential breakdowns.

Sometimes not taking your time and advancing posthaste full-throttle, creates something larger than life, in the hearts and minds of curious imaginations.

Sometimes things seem so serious, so stressed out and commandeering, best to tune it all out and proceed without ever contemplating repercussion.

There have to be reasons why The Atomic Submarine is in the Criterion Collection, perhaps its total lack of assumption justifying free form collocation.

There's a certain charm no doubt that generates magnetism when you act without thinking.

And you still manage to pull it all off.

Preferred protracted transfers.

Tuff Turf

Imagine COVID-19 as a partner who refuses to let go, even though they still have plenty of options, and their love interest's already found someone new.

Difficulties arise, and a family decides to move, leaving Connecticut with bold momentum, to resettle in California.

Youngest son and borderline ne'er-do-well Mr. Hiller (James Spader) struggles to adjust, for even if he shies away from academics, he still has zero tolerance for blatant thuggery.

Soon he's after the underachieving love interest (Kim Richards as Frankie Croyden) of his new high school's most prominent goon (Paul Mones as Nick Hauser), who takes none too kindly to the intrusion, and responds with blunt distaste.

Warnings are given, followed by the infliction of punishment, but Hiller will not yield, the conflict becoming uncharacteristically intense, for the '80s films I'm familiar with, must have been too young for this one, Tuff Turf's rather super-violent, quite brutal, by no means prim or whitewashed, Hiller takes on a volatile gang, and deals with the harsh repercussions.

The film seems less threatening early on, as if the happy-go-lucky will prevail, but Hiller's not Chris Knight or Ferris Bueller, and he takes full-on shocking beatings.

Yet at other times Tuff Turf's so light of heart, like when Hiller's successful brother comes to visit, or he playfully crashes a country club buffet, plus the cool emphasis on all things bike.

Half the film's like a wild music video that's primarily concerned with advertising bands, the plot secondary to the electronic beats, the horn section, the bass, the guitar.

At times you wonder if they're even going to try to develop a plot, or just revel in melodious bedlam.

Then they do sort of develop a story which becomes incredibly dark and grim, like Pretty in Pink meets Scorsese, with a gashed and gripping head wound.

The principal is introduced to warn rebellious Hiller, but he never shows up again, school's practically left behind, less scholastic endeavour than even Twin Peaks.

Hiller is now in public school after having been thrown out of an elite prep college, but since his father (Matt Clark) lost his business, he wouldn't have been able to attend another one anyways.

The awkward. It's like someone who doesn't fit in keeps generating awkward tension throughout the entire film which becomes increasingly crazed and combative until it erupts in full-fledged frenzy.

With bands rockin' out and tacked on family values.

It's like director Fritz Kiersch didn't like '80s films and sought to release something countercultural, which couldn't have possibly been appealing, but seems to be focused on generating esteem.

There could be a sick sense of humour here that I'm glad I'm not getting.

Enter Seinfeld's bizarro world.

Kitschy immiscibility.

Dragonslayer

Perhaps imagine COVID-19 as a monstrous dragon, and the heroic medical staff battling it adventurers of old, their quest having been thrust upon them, inspirational responses extolled and trending.

An aged wizard's sage awareness awaits a quest forthcoming (Ralph Richardson as Ulrich), his bold apprentice bemused and fitful (Peter MacNicol as Galen), the faithful announce they have arrived.

They believe only he can vanquish a dragon who constantly threatens to terrorize their lands, its will merciless and unrelenting, yet appeased through maiden sacrifice.

Ulrich humbly grants them audience then agrees to forthrightly aid, setting forth that very same day, unconcerned yet frail and weary.

But a representative of the King (Peter Eyre) has followed them (John Hallam as Tyrian), and he does not believe in magic, requiring proof of Ulirch's prowess, a test which he's unfortunately doomed to fail.

His apprentice grieves undaunted, and clutches a spellbound amulet, which increases his powers tenfold, and provides him with spirited courage.

They depart to face the dragon and end his covetous tyrannical reign, but their goal is fraught with peril, and disastrous crypt uncertainty.

For if they are unsuccessful it will unleash diabolical fury.

Throughout the peaceful land.

Yet the situation remains intolerable.

And no one else is willing.

In an age when magic is fading from the world, having been supplanted by alternative spirituality, extant practitioners still heroically clash, to salute reckonings paradigmatic.

Royalty is not excluded, for the King's daughter (Chloe Salaman as Princess Elspeth) seeks not elite preference, a time when barriers between classes were being challenged, when the concept of fair play was something honourable.

While I believe Marvel Studios seeks to perfect age old narrative questing, and often does a remarkable job, its workforce perhaps raised on Superman and Dragonslayer, which urged them to vigorously diversify adventure, criticisms of their success akin to sour grapes, the opportunity to craft realistic drama pending, sometimes its heroes lack the unsung common touch, they're too ingenious and augustly endowed.

Although perhaps I'm being unfair, for we're introduced to Hawkeye's family, and Spider-Man's a kid from New York, and Star-Lord's a bit of a screw up (who still has his own ship).

It's still not the same.

It's almost cooler to see foolish Galen battle a dragon in the ramshackle Dragonslayer, making it up as he audaciously goes along, with neither team nor retinue, his friends helping him prepare and train.

He lacks wealth and cultural distinction yet still fights with transcendent courage.

Incredibly plying his trade.

Without recourse to vast enlightenment.

Setting forth day after day.

The Invisible Man

This review concerns a film where one partner is obsessed with controlling the other. That is what this review is about. I am not indirectly critiquing governments for introducing strict measures to combat the coronavirus. I think it is better to prevent the spread of the virus than to be in a situation where Canadian and Québecois or American or French medical staff are overwhelmed trying to fight it, and I therefore support strict measures which encourage more time spent at home working on projects and chillin' with loved ones, during these difficult times.

Relationship dynamics suffocate a partner's growth, their tight-knit bond overwhelmingly intensifying as she attempts to securely break free.

Cecilia (Elisabeth Moss) needs to conceal her whereabouts to avoid rage-fuelled repercussions, so she lies low at a friend's comfy pad, too frightened to venture past defined thresholds.

Before it's made known that he's suddenly passed and left her everything he possessed, a sense of calm then slowly regenerating, as she seeks work and amicable trust.

But something's not quite right as she tries to reestablish her steady routine, bizarre occurrences maladroitly dishevelling, which make no sense without supernatural recourse.

It becomes clear aggrieved reanimation is striving to drive her insane, but since evidence cannot be compiled, reasonability flounders defunct.

I've read articles equating break ups to alcohol or narcotics-based withdrawal, The Invisible Man investigating this phenomenon with gripping visceral bedlam.

It reminds me of Rosemary's Baby since its heroine struggles in aware isolation, as her support network distraughtly collapses, and she's left alone to forthrightly contend.

But it's not as fatalistic, not as hopeless or stifling, it leaves room for intact resolution, at time showcasing genuine frights.

Shocking downright frisked and freaky.

Mr. Griffen (Oliver Jackson-Cohen) is as extreme as he is obsessed, can't even begin to start contemplating letting go.

It's like maniacal withdrawal, unrestrained irrational concentration, people aren't like inanimate objects, if they don't want to date you they may never will.

I don't understand why people want to date people who don't like them that much, it seems like a cruel recipe for distress, isn't it preferable to spend that much time with someone you can be friendly with, so so much of your life isn't confrontationally composed?

Seems like the dark side to me, like you're surrounded by total negativity, with a logic totally its own, that only makes sense if you leap off the deep end, aren't there always new people to meet?

New interested individuals who can't wait to get to know you?

If you put yourself out there?

The Invisible Man doesn't present the most robust scenario but it makes the most of its chilling proposition, offering candid insights into ye olde independence, while aptly vilifying obsessive pretensions.

It's a solid thriller that doesn't overextend itself, excels within its particular domain, creating a shocking lifeforce all its own, invigorated by sincere performances.

Onward

I hope everyone's safe during these stressful times. I'll probably be focusing on movie rentals for the next couple of weeks but I did see a couple of films before things intensified.

Pixar's Onward presents a world wherein which fantasy has been replaced by modern convenience, elves and unicorns and cyclopses living suburban domestic lives, the thrill of questing overwhelmed by scientific adaptation, latent strengths subconsciously shimmering, unplanned adventure accounted for otherwise.

Two brothers playfully reckon within the alternative conception, one shy and focused on school, the other wild and reckless and daring.

Their mom (Julia Louis-Dreyfus as Laurel Lightfoot) has boldly raised them alone, since shortly after the birth of her second son, but she's found a new partner who helps out (Mel Rodriguez as Colt Bronco), the two forging a caretaking fluency.

Which is suddenly tested and challenged on Ian Lightfoot's (Tom Holland) 16th birthday, after he receives a gift left to him by his generous dad, a staff no less of wizarding renown, complete with a spell channelling reincarnation.

The elder Barley (Chris Pratt) seeks to wield its resiliency, for he's in touch with bygone days of yore, but he lacks verified authenticity, his spirit still ye olde die hard.

He's impressed when Ian the younger accidentally generates vision, but his sights fall short of reanimate goals, a quest necessitated sparked thereafter, the two departing with accents fateful.

And to hasten their destined good fortune, old school clues still commercially abound, a path purposefully and piquantly pinpointed, through cloaked coaxing postmodern realms.

Not this blog.

A puzzle at a Manticore's (Octavia Spencer) family restaurant.

The Manticore soon following in hot pursuit.

Accompanied by one concerned mom.

An imaginative synthesis of disparate epochs awaits in Onward's fraternal reels, as uncertain raw ambitions clash with preplanned determinate yields.

Reminiscent of long lost considerations concerning the cost of extant classics, their prices incongruously reflecting their contents, their value oft overlooked, disregarded.

Yet these classics still hold precious astral ascensions beheld by generations long passed, their texts emitting contemporary resonance distilled like essential tranquility.

Onward perhaps doesn't reach such a level but it still reverberates with atemporal antiquity, focused on vigorous concentrate, bizarro bewitching indiscretions.

Perhaps something's been lost in recent centuries as technology's progressed exponentially, as appliances ease once ubiquitous burdens, as knowledge globally and internationally expands.

But you can still find that primordial spirit should you have the will to seek it, as simple as a trip to Parc Jean-Drapeau, or restaurants chosen at random.

There are many ways to fill your life with unfiltered excitement, classic art, walks in the woods, and good food just the tip of the iceberg.

But we've more or less lost some ways that used to be quite destructive too, such as global conflict and fast spreading diseases.

So remember to proceed with caution.

In case you don't like what you find.

I'm looking at you coronavirus.

I support strong measures to prevent it from spreading.

The medical personnel who have to fight it are risking their lives.

Sorry We Missed You

I definitely prefer a cultural situation wherein which a strong middle-class encourages economic diversity abounding with difference and opportunity, to one where a small group of narrow-minded zealots attach binding negative moral judgments to everything that doesn't suit their personal beliefs, but I also don't mean to suggest that a culture with a strong middle-class is in itself problem free, Ken Loach's Sorry We Missed You providing striking examples of such stifling demotivating issues.

I don't recall another film that captures the struggles of a working family more poignantly, one that's more well-rounded or depth prone, as Ricky (Kris Hitchen) starts working his new job, and the long hours keep him far from home.

He's been steadily working hard at different jobs throughout his adult life, but none of them have generated much wealth, and even though his family is reasonably provided for, their debts have mounted over the years.

His new job offers a really high income (1200 pounds a week) even after subtracting the cost of the van, and if things work out would give his family a sought after leg up, the job he's been waiting for for many a year.

But it's 14 hour days sometimes 7 days a week, and mistakes will not be tolerated, there's no time off to deal with unexpected troubles and financial penalties if you make an exception.

He's a loving family man who sincerely misses his wife (Debbie Honeywood as Abbie) and children (Rhys Stone as Seb and Katie Proctor as Liza Jae), and his son Seb's been acting up and missing school, things becoming much worse after he takes the new job, and is no longer around to hang out and be there.

It becomes clear that he needs to be there after Seb's suspended from school and caught shoplifting, but his boss (Ross Brewster as Maloney) has zero tolerance for anything besides "yes, sir," and Ricky won't consider finding an alternative.

He's not even technically a boss, Ricky is supposed to have his own franchise, but he needs to find someone to work for him if he can't, and can't find anyone to sub for him unfortunately.

The fact that he won't quit even though he should heartbreakingly highlights his financial desperation, the enormous bounty of his culture's goods and services outside his economic grasp.

His family doesn't even seem like they want that much but they're still immersed in commercial ideals, and he wants them to have access to everything they desire, even if it means he has to work non-stop all the time.

First rate hardboiled realism.

A stunning critique of conflicting priorities.

I usually think it's better to live off credit than to live somewhere where credit isn't available and you have nothing, but I don't know what it's like to owe credit card companies tens of thousands and I'm not supporting a hungry family.

I've been in situations long long ago where I've dreamed about the job Ricky finds though, the financial stability, the extra cash, more or less managing your own working day, a crazy high income that will pay every bill.

If I had kids I would want to spend time with them though, especially on Saturday night, and for them to have all the things that they want, even if it meant racking up huge debts I'd do it, but I'd still be driven to pay those debts off.

That's perhaps the state Ricky finds himself within in Sorry We Missed You's hard-hitting final moments (it ends at the perfect time).

He's completely torn between work and family.

And at a loss to know what to do.

It's a wonderful family too, he's helped build something special after work.

And they totally miss having him around.

And are super worried about his health and safety.

If wages aren't going to keep up with inflation, or if wages stagnate while prices keep going up, and good jobs don't have sick days or sympathy anymore, isn't that a no win situation all around?, shouldn't prices stay the same or decrease if wages don't go up?

Doesn't the system collapse if there's too much general credit card debt?

Shouldn't goods and services and rent and cars be more affordable if wages aren't increasing?

How can there be a financial collapse after which prices stay the same?

Isn't capitalism supposed to adjust itself accordingly?

To take the burden off working families and the next generation?

So they don't have to work quite so much.

And there isn't another financial crisis?

Papicha

No culture holds a monopoly on dreams, and imagination flourishes partout.

The independent creative soul seeking expression in Papicha, hopes to hold a fashion show to entertain family and friends.

It sounds harmless, exciting even, the chance for blossoming ideas to vibrantly echo, encouraging innovation in a fluidic field, alternative takes celebrating life.

Papicha's (Lyna Khoudri) friends are supportive and helpful as she gathers materials and steadily creates, her unique approach to her cherished surroundings generating catchy sartorial yields.

Her school is hesitant to host the event due to rigid communal concerns, but spirited protests and resilient complaints eventually attain freeform prosperity.

If it were as simple as all that a happy tale would have no doubt been told, chronicling the trials of a determined artist as she vigorously strives and creates, ideas liberated in context under examination before emerging as works of art, perhaps a rival may have produced organic stress?, without seeking to spoil the show.

Does the suppression of diversity and alternatives not lead to the unconscious promotion of anguish, as there are no outlets for the maintenance of spirits who don't fit within specific contexts?

Does the encouragement of a modest spark of independence not lead to more thrilling variety, or at least much wider choice in terms of goods and services, for a culture's commercial life?

With a wider variety of goods and services (many of which are hopefully green one day) isn't an unconscious spirit of fun sustained, at least outside work's rigorous domain wherein which focus breeds success?

And if there are a wide variety of goods and services readily available to choose from, do people not want to succeed at work as well?, for greater working success may lead to higher incomes, with more money to spend on compelling variety.

I used to make lists of items to purchase on the completion of demanding contracts, and they helped me to focus and work as they facilitated growth potential.

How does a culture change and grow if youth aren't encouraged to creatively apply themselves, if there aren't outlets wherein which they can share and potentially generate new thought provoking synergies?

A thriving middle-class creates job opportunities and a spirited thrill for life, the resultant cultural diversity as baffling as it is compelling.

Papicha has an idea and she adamantly pursues it, perhaps recklessly considering her culture's extremes, but her determined pursuit still celebrates creative freedom, the unbridled enthusiasm for which can't be denied, a brave artist refusing to back down, diversity facilitating life.

Ordinary Love

Here's a subject I haven't encountered often at the cinema as of late, a married couple who still gets along well even though neither partner is submissively disposed.

Generally without complaint.

I've noted representations of successful marriages in recent years, but they usually abide by gender stereotypes, with the wife housekeeping and the husband breadwinning, often set in the past to naturalize the difference, as if the conjugal relations of yesteryear were generally characterized by formulaic harmonies, films challenging this perception at times, others revelling in the traditional preconception.

Ordinary Love's set in the present and the characters get along, and there's no volatile outrageous power struggle, as they live their lives in relative peace.

It's cool to watch even if the drama's somewhat sad.

For here we have a man who respects women, and doesn't just expect them to unconditionally abide, and a woman who respects men, and likes listening to what they have to say.

There's mutual respect flourishing and growing even if they're no longer up to much, and they like spending time together, can't imagine it any other way.

Their routine may be somewhat settled but they've found fascination in simple pleasures, like they both love playing chess yet neither contestant seeks victory, like they'd rather just curiously move their pieces around the board instead of immobilizing the opposite king.

Thus they have clever conversations which are neither sedate nor belittling, carving out pleasant yet challenging common ground, upon which to express themselves honestly.

They love to play.

It's like every day's a potential mystery the composition of which is slightly thrilling, and even though there may be recurrent themes, they're part of the reliable fun.

Things can become boring if you don't remain active and you're not committed to one another, but through unspoken active commitment so much novelty unwittingly refrains.

It's not about winning and losing as Joan (Lesley Manville) and Tom (Liam Neeson) demonstrate, but rather an inquiry that has no resolution and is therefore much more compelling.

Goals at work indubitably, if you're an athlete you should diversify your game, but letting go of power and statistics may lead to more imaginative marriages.

Such a marriage is perhaps more like the literary appreciation of slow moving resounding change, the pieces on the board strong and fierce, but not seeking to injure or harm.

Just have to love being in love I suppose, after youthful passions subside.

Stunning variations on a steady theme.

Past futures creatively reckoning.