Samson & Delilah

You wonder how worlds so radically different could obliviously exist side by side in the same country, one characterized by wealth and prosperity, the other struggling to get by day after day.

In Samson & Delilah, two Indigenous youths run into trouble on their reservation, and soon find themselves living on the outskirts of an Australian city, unable to speak English or find work.

Unfortunately, charitable organizations don't find them and take them in, and help them adjust to the cultural shock, and find work and food and lodging.

Delilah's (Marissa Gibson) mother used to make elaborate quilts which a broker sold for her in the city, giving her $200 for her trouble, then selling them for $22,000.

Delilah finds the gallery by accident but the dealer has no time for her, she then makes cool designs of her own which she isn't able to sell.

Their story takes a violent turn as outrageous thugs come bellicosely calling, imagine you just want to co-exist and make friends and all you ever encounter is hostility. 

It may seem extreme but the story's the same in different parts of Canada.

If only different peoples looked upon each other with respect.

Without fatalistic ill-will.

Fatalism rots the brain with unproductive morose cynicism, replacing imaginative variable dreams with motionless stagnant gaunt depression.

Ask yourself who's spreading fatalism and challenge them instead of fighting yourselves, while striving to build stronger safer communities within which kids are free to prosper.

It would be cool to be a general or a CEO, a principal or a famous actor, but there are so many other cool options out there which also offer a neat way of life.

Samson & Delilah is one of the most heartbreaking films I've ever seen, who could possibly want the world to be that way?, there's still so much work to be done. 

For how many more decades do we have to read or view stories like these before lasting bridges are built all over for different communities?

It's a problem for both the left and right.

Perhaps both sides should spend less time transferring blame. 

The Interpreter

So tragic there's such a huge gulf between critiquing power and possessing it, between imagination and practicality, competing bright responsibilities. 

What would have happened if Che Guevara had formed a well-meaning headstrong government, would it have been universally praised, or severely vilified like Castro's?

Would he have taken the time to build strong institutions with rational checks and balances, to prevent the rise of absolutism while maintaining socioeconomic consistency?

It's much easier said than done even if that goes without saying, European political institutions somewhat of a miracle when compared to alternatives around the globe.

But somehow through sustained mutation they've been peaceful and prosperous for quite some time, level-heads seeking reasonable consensus from non-extremist points of view.

If this tradition doesn't exist historically and there's no popular will to develop such institutions, how do you move from engrained despotism to sustainably developed reliable democracy?

Such a convergence of logical goodwill formidably depended on with dextrous vigour, somehow did emerge slowly over time, and despotism was overthrown however. 

But the absolute has come again become popular along with a shocking lack of tolerance, opposing viewpoints seeming to prefer rash brinkspersonship to clever rational debate.

The absolutists claim tolerance and personal liberty is another form of stern absolutism, even as it guarantees they aren't arrested within certain limitations.

Tolerance and personal liberty may not appeal to people far too prone to despotically upholding regulations, for whom deviations from a strict code of manufactured conduct results in diabolical shame.

But so many much less serious people don't see the extremist point, don't understand why they should never have any fun and live as if they're a frigid textbook.

It's not that they don't follow the rules, they just often see them like ethical guidelines, making sense within many situations, while at times lacking practical accord.

Thus, taught to generally think critically with an aversion to violence outside of pragmatic games (outlets for pent up emotions), they tend to promote fun and thought provoking amusement to make life much more thrilling outside of work.

If that's an absolutist viewpoint it's more universally liberating than strict extremes, which impose absolutist regulations and ruthlessly punish those who critique them.

How to slowly move towards a more tolerant society if government after government tyrannically disappoints?

There are too many factors that come into play.

But I'd start with independent education. 

Rambling Rose

A traditional bourgeois family reservédly ensconced in solemn routine, welcomes a new less particular nanny who emphatically declares with upbeat candour.

Indeed Rose (Laura Dern) lives in the moment and hasn't been raised to sidestep and sublimate, preferring a much more animate approach to life's chill steady wondrous stream.

The children don't know what to expect as they innocently regard and evaluate difference, Rose's behaviour much more lively than others, but mom (Diane Ladd) and dad (Robert Duvall) aren't noticeably upset.

Dad must even tame his boisterous unassuming bold habitual proclivities, while mom honestly proclaims forgiveness and showcases genuine compassionate forbearing. 

The men keep on arriving however, seemingly to test the young family's mettle, a cavalcade of imaginative dreamers thoroughly pursuing amorous soirées. 

Young Buddy (Lukas Haas) isn't objectively immune as fledgling contemplation ruminates attentively, a unique otherwise forbidden friendship delicately blossoming wholesome anew.

Such versatile carefree freedom suddenly emerging with urgent radiance, characteristically challenging pride and propriety through natural honest intuitive acclimation.

It's as if spellbinding concepts like orthodox mutual attachment, hold no sway in its wild articulate whirlwind romantic resounding arbour.

I've noted that many proceed this way and that there's an intricate network of corresponding customs, with which many people are generally familiar and even quite distinguished in erudite variety.

The difference in Rambling Rose seems to be a matter of frank exposure, the modest community in manifest shock yet still generally appreciative of the exotic literature.

Ships are launched and daydreams delineated as spirited love socioculturally embarks, as to the resulting societal effects I'm afraid I can't lucidly elevate or denounce them.

Is it supposed to be lighthearted and playful or quizzically uncanny or simply absurd, or is there a sincere yet humorous investment on potentially game changing display?

It's a fun if not controversial illustration of enamoured import indubitably worth noting, with fluid debate perhaps freely generated after the first mesmerizing viewing.

Patience and charity, ethical endeavour, concepts defined in so many ways. 

Itinerant artistic accolades. 

Would likely also make a good read. 

American Movie

The raw driven thrill of inspired independent film, chaotically coordinated lackadaisic laidback limbers.

Years of patient agile sure and steady accumulation, slowly taking fluid shape as patches pageants come to life ⛄.

Funding somewhat murky frenetic favours downcast debt, so much time having passed that latent doubts distract distend.

But undaunted brave creative will survives extends shoots forth, engaging adamant mutation festive fertile flexibility. 

Friends and family in support in varying degrees throughout the years, some prone to blunt dismissals, others grateful to take part.

No other option integrated multifarious febrile fortunes, indeterminate orchestration lively ritualistic passion.

I wish more people took the time to actively create in such a way, although there's certainly no shortage of homemade videos on the net.

But Coven's different it's a homemade film which genuinely applies individualistic techniques, to uncompromising storytelling free from marketed motivations.

Not that they weren't hoping to sell some copies and earn a little scratch, but they're not trying to fit a trend or join a movement or full-on capitalize. 

Its nascent steps like underground logistics reasonable existential acumen, confident enriching local community maestro marrowed mirth in motion.

Why not film the entire process year after year keep the camera rolling?, simultaneous narratives taking shape embossed emergence metamatriculation. 

No holding back compelling honesty bold and unconcerned developments, within which resides emancipation from so much scripted routine life.

With many friends and even more critics Mr. Borchardt pursues his grassroots vision, dealin' with a family of his own and difficult work at a nearby cemetery. 

And practically no income for years, sundry setbacks, animate tension, disapproval.

The will to strive on forth.

Incomparable stalwart artist.

A monumental cultural achievement to have so much room for so much variation.

Constitutional cross-purposes.

Irreconcilably rapt.

*Happy Thanksgiving!

Border Radio

A rock journalist and a musician engage in staple domestic tomfoolery, perhaps committed to sustaining the vital should meticulous mayhem materialize. 

In the meantime, for the husband, it's off down south after an act of theft, where he celebrates his unabashed freedom with expert chillin' and self-absorbed calm.

His wife's none too impressed but still must admit she wants to find him, steadily sleuthing viaduct volatility with mutual friends intuitive scorn.

Assistance is readily provided although outcome perusal remains rather suspect, socializing having-something-to-do spontaneously lithe indelible induction.

Like a lovelorn lullaby relapse cervezatude cut economic nausea, an uncertain arrhythmic frequency effervescently tempers said grizzly innocence. 

Pervasive contemporary impenitent prognosis picturesquely pioneering meaningless mercy, a sense of indisposed primordial justice lacking formal judicial concern.

Prevalent protruding prolonged distractions sporadically instigate tranquil harmonies, like you're young with nothing to do and it's the summer and warm outside.

Disjointed realities then suddenly reasserted with a dutiful sense of improvised propriety, as if they're finally gettin' 'round to it as the lickspittle lackadaisically loiters.

With instances of distressed imposition diversifying resonant mischievous solace, at times the discontinuous gravity hauntingly strives to riff somnambulized. 

But holistic freedom's afoot, the cast permitted to add waylaid surety, a randomized reclusive carnivalesque germination engendering manifest familiar disarray. 

From 1987, an early progenitor of the mockumentary style more profuse in later years, still a wonderful way to tell a story, I'll certainly never grow tired of it.

Border Radio doesn't pose any questions anyone's been meaning to ask.

To develop an authentic visceral perspective.

Extemporaneously its own. 

Orlando

What one gains to live forever without aging amongst the royals, while perennially persisting in novel light of heart heuristics. 

Through non-determinate trail and error Orlando (Tilda Swinton) learns of love and politics, like a youngster dabbling in frisk and fancy with everlasting inhibition. 

Not that everyone's at play the social lab invokes decorum, but as time passes new tasks emerge mischievously befitting a young immortal.

Orlando the film generates true innocence ironically immersed in frayed executive, eager to dally forlorn forever while at times taking part commissioned commanding.

The typical tropes you find in narratives concerned with living forever can't be found, as Orlando frolics through the centuries with jocose beam and slight expenditure.

Thus, concerns with true romance and personal loss don't fit within, not that there aren't moments of genuine displeasure along with strong desires fawned unrequited.

Perhaps it's supposed to be much more serious I'm afraid I just can't view it that way, Swinton's simply just too adorable and seems at home at rest at play.

I've had this problem with les adorables who as a metaphysical rule loathe as I admire, thus I've had to abandon the practise altogether in terms of circumspect affection.

It was the same way with pets when I was a kid, I would try to hug them and they'd bite me.

Relationships must be easy since so many people have them.

It'd be nice to have more money.

But other people have the worst taste in everything! 😜

It's cool to see Orlando isn't fraught with studious indelicacy, and her immortality isn't feared or hated as she travels throughout the centuries. 

Why she doesn't travel to the northern forests of Canada and Québec to make a home remains a mystery, she could have watched the wildlife for 100 years and still have spent another 1,000 shopping.

But she loves her gloomy homeland with all its rain and absent bears, are there any major forests left in Britain?, I heard they recently brought back beavers.

A cool companion piece for Highlander, Orlando proceeds with judicious humour, like an earnest library patron who spends their life enjoying stories.

S/he's living them however which does seem like quite the nuisance.

Role playing, expectations.

Disproportionately fashionable.

The Glass Key

The Glass Key examines dependability from a grizzled volatile perspective, honest integrity effortlessly emerging through the proliferation of kindred spirits. 

Indeed, with praiseworthy pertinence it paradigmatically hails consistency, with foundations respectfully laid, long-lasting purpose integral commitment. 

Mr. Madvig (Brian Donlevy) has reached inspired heights and from his summit makes stern decisions, which at times irritate other higher-ups who have no wish to entertain options.

Correspondingly, a well-heeled challenger (Joesph Calleia as Mr. Varna) proceeds to kidnap his most trusted man (Alan Ladd as Mr. Beaumont), and offer him a lucrative deal that doesn't demand much extra work.

But loyal Ed unconditionally refuses and retains his credibility, friendship and values, virtue, integrity, much more important to his sense of self.

He's ruthlessly punished for his denial yet eventually rewarded for remaining true, the kind of generous modest confidante you don't often see adamantly succeeding.

But people used to dream of a world wherein which safe communities would flourish and prosper. 

Solid work their vital backbone.

As businesses excelled in sociosublimity. 

It's too bad the economy remains mysterious and whatever happens produces lateral results, wouldn't it be nice if prosperous good times could last much longer for more and more people.

Is the enigma that utterly baffling that little can be done to create lasting solutions, which produce exceptional value through the vigorous application of industrious labour?

But don't idyllic dreams of ubiquitous prosperity lead to chaos when things go sour, and the joyful robust euphoria suddenly transforms into bitter discomfiture?

But don't others resiliently prosper no matter what the 5-year plan, having resigned themselves to modest mobility through the artful cultivation of resonant spirit?

Aren't others miserable throughout the mutations and can't ever clearly detect varying degrees, their general dismissal of every manifestation a blind dismal crude animate forfeiture? 

These categories pervasively persist and still remain applicable this postmodern day.

Cool to view how often they materialize with rugged elegance and futile skepticism. 

Stardust

A nondescript wall divides two lands both of which have little knowledge of the other, but on occasion people pass through to curiously see what rests on the other side.

One path resembles an old school version of what's often referred to as material reality, wherein which science painstakingly unravels concealed secrets through vigorous study.

The other's indeed much more magical where stars and witches contemporaneously reside, different life forms taking on supernatural proportions as fervid fantasy frenetically sculpts.

An adventurous temperate lad crosses the border one fateful evening, and strikes up an amorous association before swiftly returning home.

Months later, a newborn babe suddenly appears on his modest doorstep, with a note attached and explicit instructions that it's not to be opened till he comes of age.

The babe is reared by romantic blueprints cohesively intuited and adoringly suckled, and even though he lacks corporeal agency, his enriched spirit jocosely thrives.

In the land of fantasy, a brilliant star cavernously crash lands rather unexpectedly, after a none too heartwarming decree attunes unwitting rivals to stellar constellation.

But covetous witches soon learn of its misfortune and one sets out to acquire its light, for if she's able to eat her heart her youthful endeavours will then regenerate.

The former babe learns of his fantastic origins and is transported to the star to fulfill a promise.

Unaccustomed to the land of magic.

His enchanted spirit guides him.

Romantically adorned and everlastingly arrayed, Matthew Vaughn's Stardust rambunctiously radiates, as haphazard improvised declamation serendipitously seeks out love.

A shame to see the two worlds cut off from constructive dialogues akin to outstanding, pejorative prejudice presumed by both sides leading to mutually dissonant contention.

Should the elevated art of persuasion ardently lay down its feverish flourishes, to articulate waylaid concrete indubitably practical schemes and strategies?

Should the blunt and direct fatalistic alarmed wisecracking determinate brigade, allow for scandalous spiritual syndications regenerative uplifting abstract accords?

Do Marvel films in fact represent working syntheses of the aforementioned?

Perhaps at times they do.

As does the crafty Stardust.

*batteries not included

An agéd neighbourhood awkwardly scheduled for demolition posthaste, refuses to abandon one old school apartment and its rambunctious first floor diner.

The tenants see the surrounding wastes yet are unaffected by the deluge, continuing to live as they always have as if nothing has morphed, mutated.

The construction crew has to wait for the go ahead to destructively proceed, so they enjoy tasty heartfelt meals while negotiations wholeheartedly stall.

Unimaginative no-good-nics have been rashly trusted to encourage vacancies, but some people have lived there most of their lives and simply will not swiftly leave.

The rapscallions make things difficult and ruffle riled feathers with ill-gotten-ambition, while an elderly couple cooks crabs and captivates, and a nimble lass befriends an artist.

And just as the pressure seems too much and that their way of life may soon rapidly fade, mechanistic visitors from far off in space suddenly appear to set about fixing things.

Somewhat like Transformers inasmuch as they represent metallic life, they're also somewhat more adorable, and capable of reproducing.

I'm still not sure if enough research has been done to validate the benefits of artificial intelligence, if automatons are built by humans to act like humans is there not the potential for holistic disaster?

Data is generally calm and ubiquitously useful on STNG, but there are episodes when he malfunctions and almost kills the entire crew.

The reasons for his malfunctions are justified, it's like he was suddenly programmed to megalomaniac, but when he's sick the results are horrendous as opposed to the adorable cough of a feverish puppy.

If only I could trust humanoid leadership which seemed much more reliable from 1980 to 2015, but with the rise of Putin it irrefutably seems like imperialistic despots cannot be eradicated. 

The majority of the world may seek the safe integration of benevolent artificial life, but all it takes is one crazy person to hire someone with the knowhow to create fierce warlike robots.

Will the first person to possess the knowledge turn down trillions and keep it to him or herself?

I suppose there are many countries without nuclear weapons.

But forever is a very long time.

The Long Good Friday

It's generally a trick, a feint, a grand complex scheme disingenuously designed, but if you've often experienced that kind of thing, you develop a sixth sense for the tell tale signs.

Harold (Bob Hoskins), on the other endowed hand, creatively blends with intuitive agency, his prosperous organization having smoothly flourished and kept the peace for 10 solid years.

Thus, when he comes home from a trip to outrageously find his peeps under attack, he needs to improvise with eclectic fortitude to expediently reveal the clandestine culprit.

You wonder how Obama did it, how he governed so smoothly for 8 steady years, remember back to a time much more peaceful when radical initiatives didn't rule the day. 

It wasn't that long ago, just somewhere around 6 volatile years, during which there's been an unpredictable focus, not to mention war, and a horrific pandemic.

The last 6 years have felt like 16 there's been so much tactical upheaval, so many mad disillusioning developments that challenge one's engrained trusting instincts. 

I don't want to be suspicious since it's much less pleasant and generally agreeable, but when so many things just don't add up, you inevitably create theoretical explanations. 

But if the current state of affairs seem reckless and your theoretical explanations even more so, cultural productivity may indeed be jeopardized if suddenly embraced, induced, disseminated.

But the bizarre and the hijinx-haywire seem to reemerge in the news every day, uncanny wild multidimensional mayhem recodifying mainstream matrices.

But it was only 6 years ago that you never would have thought we'd have worldwide carnage, or a viral plague destroying the middle class, or millions of people distrusting the world's leading electoral system.

I remember reading about radical tactics designed to make people stop paying attention (probably Chomsky), so it's important to stay in the loop even if it becomes increasingly distasteful. 

While remembering ye olde Obama.

And a peaceful world respectfully strung.

So much desire for the bland sensational.

Sweeping equivalencies, overlooked, effaced. 

Highlander II: The Quickening

The ozone layer all but disappears and the sun's rays punish those still living, until the Highlander known as MacLeod (Christopher Lambert) constructs a massive shield to offer protection.

Years later he's robustly agéd and quietly withdrawn from the engaged life, immortality having faded away after he emerged victorious in instalment one.

He has the choice to peacefully pass or return in triumph to his home world, and since he's grown fond of his new home, he has no desire to solemnly depart.

But back on planet Zeist, the bitter general who once had him banished (Michael Ironside as Gen. Katana), fears his agile reemergence and sends his minions to ensure fatality. 

Meanwhile, the necessity of the shield has been called into commercial question, since environmentalists believe the 'zone has regenerated but still lack evidence to prove their theory.

The entire planet is indeed a customer of the corporation who owns the shield, and if it was proven to be non-essential the most lucrative business ever would swiftly fade.

The minions arrive and quickly find MacLeod and waste no time waiting for the perfect moment, but he resoundingly responds in style thereby regaining his cherished youth.

Having met the leader of the environmentalists (Virginia Madsen as Louise) he must now ethically decide, if he's to investigate their audacious claims with the help of age old friends such as Ramírez (Sean Connery).

But soon Katana arrives in full-on monumental fury.

Dire reckless chaotic reckoning.

Bizarre changes impenitent brood.

There's still a lighthearted touch to the imposing abyss presented in Highlander II: The Quickening, as attempts to seem serious are undercut by mischievous mayhem and lithe longevity.

The return of Ramírez is cheerfully welcome even if the rationale is somewhat ludicrous, and calls into question much of the first film's action, without justifying MacLeod's amnesia.

I suppose the animate sequel strives to diversify the original's plot, but sometimes initial features shouldn't be reimagined or incongruently altered.

The comic touch and Connery's unconcern challenge this point of view with certainty, but not with enough striking substance to leave one feeling unconditionally moved.

The original Highlander's such a cool film I highly recommend it if you haven't seen it.

The Quickening offers further salient material.

Without the original's thought provoking plausibility. 

*That's my last review from the deep pandemic.

El espíritu de la colmena (The Spirit of the Beehive)

There was once what was known as censorship, so that impressionable youths could avoid narrative trauma, accompanied by bad dreams and apprehension, throughout the course of the traditionally peaceful day.

Thus, categories such as General Audience, Parental Guidance, PG-13, Adult Accompaniment, and Restricted, kept psychological maturity in check, and prevented the development of madness and paranoia within the investigative general public.

But with the advent of online movie watching these stalwart categories have become less applicable, and younger generations have been unsuspectingly bombarded with material ill-suited to their corresponding age-level.

Not that it didn't happen in the past, in El espíritu de la colmena (The Spirit of the Beehive) local enthusiasts bring the cinema to a small town, a wide variety of pictures featured, one week none other than Boris Karloff's Frankenstein.

Two young sisters (Ana Torrent as Ana and Isabel Tellería as Isabel) eagerly take in the age old tale of artificial authenticity, with its accompanying inherent lugubrity, its ill-fated misunderstandings.

The older soon swiftly realizes that the younger has been affected, and takes to morbidly teasing her with sadistic sordid sorority. 

The younger isn't ready for the antics since she can't make sense of the haunting tale, her vivid imagination set to haywire through the horrific happenstance.

They live on a vast estate sedately situated in the Spanish countryside, their father (Fernando Fernán Gómez as Fernando) dreaming of becoming a writer, their mother (Teresa Gimpera as Teresa) keenly focused on the past.

General guidance periodically emerges but ample free time encourages imagination. 

But is Frankenstein coming to get them?

Ill-conjured consumed contingencies.

The film brilliantly depicts thoughtful youth with jocose harrowing perplexed curiosity, a patient heartfelt delicate examination of distressing ill-computed dissonance. 

Why would someone create that?, they've found a niche through gross indecency, the dissemination of random ideas as incredibly eclectic as a national library.

I never watched much horror in my youth but later watched many of the films I'd ignored in my early twenties, occasionally encountering an impressive force but still often wondering why so grotesque?

But lives aren't only orchestrated through the coherent mechanics of the master narrative.

Ill-fated wayward comprehension.

Experimental novelty. 

Out of the Fog

Two agéd workers productively deal with routine life, having purchased themselves a boat to fish the Atlantic after work in the evenings.

I wonder if people still do this in cities if there are still ample public docks to use, to which peeps can tie up a boat which they can then launch after work at their leisure.

Hostility abounds, however, and soon a local racketeer requires payment, to prevent him from causing a scene which may indeed lead to less recreation.

It's outrageous, Jonah (Thomas Mitchell) and Olaf (John Qualen) don't make much money and their neighbours are chill, imagine leaving a boat tied up in a major city and trusting that no one will suddenly take it.

Must have been a more enlightened age within which goodwill played an important role, and blind distrust didn't ruin collectives who had ensured integrity for many a decade.

The racketeer (John Garfield) then has the nerve to start dating Jonah's daughter (Ida Lupino as Stella Goodwin), her old love interest none too impressed (Eddie Albert as George Watkins), she's hooked on the thrilling criminality.

Olaf and Jonah need a plan that may contradict their traditional habits. 

They may not be high flyin' men.

But can still respond if push comes to shove. 

Out of the Fog is a remarkable film inasmuch as it sincerely concerns itself with laidback seniority, and isn't obsessed with wealth or power and is instead rather critical of ill-gotten gains.

Imagine two heroes with no managerial insights cinematically lauded with genuine pride.

When do people living a modest life ever take centre stage nowadays, as they fight to maintain their lil slice from flagrant goons hellbent on violence?

There was a time when millions of these people got together and unified to challenge corruption, constructively working towards common goals like a 9 to 5 shift and weekends for family.

When the world changed in the '90s it seemed clear to me what peeps should do, the higher-ups and the leaders anyways should act compassionately to avoid a resurgence.

But they didn't of course no one learns instead they looked to the 19th century (we'll get away with it this time), and how well plutocrats and oligarchs had it before common people collectively organized. 

Thus, the cycle's repeating itself although there are millions of peeps trying to stop it.

Joe Biden is trying to stop it.

There's no doubt that he's a good man. 

Into the Deep

It was difficult to take Into the Deep seriously until a friend verified it wasn't a mockumentary, it seemed so definitively rehearsed that I had trouble believing real people were being interviewed.

I read on Wikipedia that several people didn't want to be involved with the film after what happened, and that they asked for their scenes to be removed to avoid being exposed to public scrutiny.

It looks like their scenes were then reshot with real actors trying to seem as if their interviews were authentic, but it appears as if actors are trying to fake real life and it doesn't work at all.

Then there's what actually took place which seems even more improbable, a mad genius takes a reporter out for a ride in his submarine and then murders her and dumps the body.

He had been planning a trip to space and hoped to get there before his rivals, whom he had recently worked for until the disputes grew too intense.

Since he was hoping to travel to space, he inspired bright documentary filmmaker Emma Sullivan to follow him, and create a movie about his life for peeps curious about bold endeavour.

As she filmed she captured raw footage of a fledgling psychopath perhaps emboldened, by his sudden emergence into pop culture and its corresponding associations of invincibility. 

Which of course are rather misguided but if the film is true (honestly, I'm still not convinced), he thought he could murder someone in his submarine and then dump the body and get away with it.

When parts of the body are found shortly thereafter he has a wild tale for the police, which continues to change every time they find fresh evidence, until he's finally locked away.

I'm not sure if it's a syndrome, but with the ubiquitous flourishing of social media, along with ye olde traditional televisual outlets, it seems like many will take mad risks to go viral.

Supported by a culture which elevates malevolence and consistently associates it with power through film (even winning Oscars), when people find themselves in the popular spotlight, they may do whatever it takes to go viral.

Reality TV never faded either and with Twitter and Facebook its sphere of influence expanded significantly, whereas on the one hand you have people trained to work in media (CBC, BBC, CNN, NBC . . .), and on the other, a mass improvised colossus 😎.

Perhaps that's why the people being interviewed in Into the Deep seem like ragtag actors, they're trying to be real like their favourite reality TV stars while forgetting they are aren't acting (or are they?).

The story's no doubt incredible how did something like this ever take place?

The world has fundamentally mutated.

There's so much freedom if you live offline. 

The Good Nurse

A dedicated nurse (Jessica Chastain as Amy Loughren), loyal and trustworthy, courageously works through a grievous illness, still unable to qualify for health insurance, she risks her life while raising her young.

She's often friendly and agreeable and willing to share her knowledge to help, as she does when a new colleague arrives (Eddie Redmayne as Charlie Cullen) who's uncertain of specific procedures.

After his sudden arrival mysterious deaths begin to take place however, the hospital trying to cover them up while law enforcement launches an investigation. 

The detectives can't get anywhere until interviewing Ms. Loughren when serendipity strikes, and they're surprisingly able to freely ask questions without being countermanded by obtuse anxiety. 

Their leads eventually suggest the new nurse may be deliberately murdering patients, but the hospital is so worried about avoiding scandal that they emphatically refuse to cooperate. 

Yet his newfound friendship has oddly bloomed and she's sympathetically gained his trust.

Will she be able to produce a confession?

Before he finds steady work in another hospital?

Life's strange and keeps getting stranger as developments which seem irrefutably truthful are lampooned with disgust.

A man's attacked and almost beaten to death with a hammer and days later it's a subject of amusement.

That's sick, utterly contemptible, and worse than that, for many it's acceptable, like the world I hoped for in my youth is a long way from seeing a 10-year conglomeration. 

Why are the lives of serial killers just as virally popular as those of human rights activists?, the void left behind by Hollywood's progressive ambitions eagerly filled by online streaming.

Are elitist attitudes so dismissive and haughty that literally millions would abandon democracy, in favour of an American monarch with absolute power over stunning diversity?

Look at the countries where dictators flourish, they aren't typically characterized by hearty abundance.

Autocrats do not share power.

It's not comic.

It's genuinely distressing.