City Lights

Wandering laidback spontaneously cherished ephemeral awakenings, sundry mysteries modestly revealing the innocent nature of unconcerned life.

An ice cream cone there, a pigeon in a puddle, fresh bread at the bakery, a curious spirit squirrel, exuberant sights wondrously manifesting everlasting charm and atemporal enchantment. 

Through serendipitous accident randomly regenerating ruminative imaginative carefree spawn, convivial soirées lacking animate precedent distractingly emerge with ceremonious flair.

Intoxicating friendship somewhat slipshod yet pleasant on flippant occasion, the generous reward for a gracious good deed effortlessly envisaged with exoteric emphasis.

Eccentric shifts the Jekyll & Hideaway happenstanced heartfelt humanistic harkenings, reified revelling rhapsodic restorative multivariable unattached festive extravagance. 

Prone to dream and accustomed to ponder encompassing romantic tales of yore, not without disconsolate modernist reckoning the expedient means the intrepid underscore.

Genuine affection modestly blooming with characteristically enthused comportment, financial strains calamitously composing exacting employment through requisite stress.

The spirited caricature at times less attuned to definitive structure and integral schedule, opportunities imbued come and fervently go as fortune is sought through frenetic finesse.

Even through pugilistic disorder tantamount temptation courageously met, rambunctious refinement preponderant puma elastic engagement unhesitant concord.

If only cerebral stability assurédly sanctified affable orbit, and night and day enrichingly endowed the Little Tramp (Charlie Chaplin) with communal consistency.

Effort engrained not adamantly enraptured with his less hostile personalized approach, a tarnished cosm abounding with resonance leading to quizzical peculiar dispatch.

Not without their fair share of ingenuity trial and error consortiums inclined appreciated, yet not so overwhelmingly invigorating as to usurp inherent inhibitions. 

But life bewitches corresponding mutually conducive alert resilient storytelling, warm and friendly habitual interaction rather agreeable tractable lively.

You don't have to be born rather rich to spiritually divine wealth from the inside.

Productive piecemeal pairings.

Untold aloft melodious blooms. 

Night after Night

Having achieved everything he could have hoped for from his prestigious local nightclub, a determined renaissance gangster seeks to improve his diction and grammar (George Raft as Joe Anton).

He's had enough of the high-life and wants to sell and settle-down, while perhaps impressing an elegant socialite who frequents his club from time to time (Constance Cummings as Miss Jerry Healy). 

His headstrong critical MC presents well-reasoned practical counterpoints (Roscoe Karns as Leo), with ambitious crafty reckoning which seeks not to retire.

He's rather down to earth and not inclined to embrace change, unless it corresponds to how he's been duly raised.

Trouble comes a' brewin' a potential clash with a rival gang, if they decide to stay in business they'll have to find ways to paunch and placate.

While light of heart romantic daydreaming keeps the mood upbeat and comic, as if nothing could ever go wrong while everything crashes down around them.

The fair-minded touch and ironic innocence distinguishes Night after Night from Godfather III, and many other gangster films which recklessly embrace chaotic pedagogy.

Perhaps love can win out in the end as competing interests jive and juke, the daring couple courageously coaxing wholesome pasteurized down home subsistence.

It's easy to suddenly give up what you never had in the first place, but how do you switch from constant activity to a much more sedate way of life?

In your athletic prime at the communal heights of your insurgence, how do you leave everything behind to emphatically embrace holistic chillin'?

The pandemic gave a crash course in blatant dull nerve-racking meaninglessness, where the majority of the world had to embrace stasis like a misanthropic maelstrom.

Day after day distressing thoughts intensifying this could go on forever, bleak things were as they found a way to mischievously finagle mass conjecture.

Hopefully, while embracing lockdown many people adopted Mr. Raft's approach, and took the time to learn new things while creating song and tech and recipes.

Perhaps he was able to change and learn the rudiments of discursive intrigue, he certainly would have had a tale to tell ala Dashiell Hammett or even Joseph Conrad.

Perhaps she would have eased him through the difficult humbling light transition, with patience and resilient accord free-flowing effervescent livelihood.

The secret's to have animal sightings and to never indeed grow tired of them (I never will).

Perhaps even buying a dog or cat.

If possible, heading out on safari.

If I Had a Million

What would you determinately do if your health was failing and you possessed millions, and didn't want to pass them down the age old trusted family line?

A tycoon in a fit of rage suddenly decides to give his wealth to strangers, and writes cheques for a million apiece for names he chooses at random from a phonebook.

What follows is an ethical imbroglio passionately and humorously miraculously cast, which perhaps influenced the creation of Les nouveaux sauvages (Wild Tales) even if the films are remarkably different.

An eccentric somewhat clumsy dependable husband finds himself working in a china shop, but he's docked large sums each cheque for every delicate dish he's broken.

After receiving the unexpected payday he rambunctiously reckons with his unsettled fortunes, with over-the-top zealous improvised reasoning, intentions clear, message shockingly sent.

It looks as if traffic regulations and unwritten rules had yet to codify the road (1932), for within the imaginative film many a road hog sees disastrous comeuppance.

In fact a couple take their lucrative gains and buy several new automobiles, and then deliberately curtail the rides of unsuspecting self-centred motorists.

To give millions aways to strangers a thoughtful idea abounding with zeal, I'm surprised it's never been remade new predicaments and trends new peculiar outcomes.

Perhaps judiciously setting about to write epic poems about nothing in particular, slowly immersing oneself in the zone with full-time fortuitous finicky fitness.

Perhaps writing something indeed applicable to contemporary distressing disputatious globalization, factoring the rise of social media in, and the mad obsessions of emergent despots.

Perhaps heading out for lunch every day assuming the restaurant had daily specials, with many a nightly meal at Végo extravagantly sampling the multifaceted delights. 

Perhaps just giving everything away to save African wildlife endangered rhinos and elephants etc., spending your remaining decades helping out on a reserve taking care of various beasties.

Perhaps investing learning how to trade stocks and turning one-million into ten or twenty, never spending any of the original amount, leaving behind a preponderant nest egg.

Thought provoking film with a massive potential audience this kind of idea no doubt still compelling.

Who would the eight 21st century directors be?

Perhaps residing in different countries worldwide.

JFK

The level-playing field, inherent sportspersonship, in a democracy is change not necessitated by the inquisitive will of honest people?

When someone is elected whose outlook contradicts entrenched lacklustre routine, such contradiction embodies the emboldened principles upon which the nation was founded.

I'm not referring to a situation when someone seeks to rearrange the constitution itself, and make monumental adjustments which indubitably favour absolute power.

Democratic governments persevere because they aren't despotic.

If you think the suppression of despotism is in fact despotic, you need to reevaluate your political outlook, and perhaps study historical examples of various monstrous mechanistic despots.

It was indeed an unsympathetic government astutely equipped with monarchical pretensions, that led to general dismay within the American colonies, and the creation of a country unconcerned with kings.

The political system contains remarkable checks and balances designed to prevent the reassertion of autocratic discord.

But they rely on a sense of fair play.

Which the founding fathers took for granted.

According to Oliver Stone's JFK, President Kennedy wasn't interested in war with Vietnam, and was taking steps to move the country in a different direction, which likely led to his assassination.

He genuinely cared about and forthrightly sought a more peaceful world without violent conflict, a world less lucrative for the sale of weapons, as Jim Garrison (Kevin Costner) resolutely points out.

I often call Biden Michael Moore's president when I listen to him speak at length, he's a genuine person of the people and obviously cares deeply about general fair play.

From a distance, it seems like the only way to get ahead in the U.S if you're not well off is to join the army, and hope you never have to fight somewhere without a legitimate ethical reason (fighting Nazis).

When confronting the startling statistics regarding gun violence in the U.S, I'm clearly surprised it's still so easy to buy a gun, so I asked myself, what kind of country do the people who sell all these weapons to their own people want to maintain?, and the answer is most disturbing, and passionately supported in many circles.

Weapons and violence, the assassination of presidents because they uphold alternative points of view, unravels the fair-minded fabric the founding fathers holistically created.

Is it that hard to work together to achieve productive common goals?

It works so well in so many countries. 

And has often worked in North America too.

Thunder on the Hill

A dire entrenching flood encompasses an unsuspecting village, and desperate peeps must swiftly find improvised accommodation at a local convent.

The industrious nuns run a spirited ship as they facilitate and extemporize, fortunately without interminable impositions grandiosely disrupting their heartfelt efforts.

Although a woman condemned for murder and about to be executed does arrive, notoriously regarded and somewhat embarrassed to be awkwardly engaged in social confines (Ann Blyth as Valerie Carns). 

Yet her aggrieved conversations bear exculpatory fruit, as a sympathetic nun believes her protests of innocence (Claudette Colbert as Sister Mary), and soon sets about finding her distraught betrothed and bringing him back to the nunnery by boat (Philip Friend as Sidney Kingham).

Soon the oddest detective film to ever be potentially considered film noir, spiritually emerges in the austere heights of a religious order dedicated to service.

The true identity of the guilty murderer having yet to be determined, serendipitous sleuthing and dogmatic deduction must altruistically absolve.

Fortunately, most of the town is expediently residing within the walls, so interviews can be conducted even though the weather is quite inclement.

And clues indeed materialize which fortuitously aid their compassionate endeavours, although rank and disbelief antiseptically quell the shamanistic tide.

I suppose on the one hand we find an age old symbol of old world dichotomies, wherein which traditional representations of gender discrimination uptightly abound.

'Tis true that at one alternative time there were less doors to freely walk through, and many institutions were therefore more robust due to a lack of external competition.

Yet within Sister Mary not so discreetly aids a countercultural phenomenon, a woman scandalously disregarded and about to be executed by the State.

She emphatically moves holistic heaven and high water through a genuine desire to see justice done, and thereby emancipates a forlorn soul judiciously condemned to prematurely pass.

Was director Sirk in fact intending to structurally distend sociocultural upheaval, through surreal suggestion subconsciously synergizing film noir with locally ascribed progressive inclinations?

I can't answer that question but as far as novelty is uniquely concerned, Thunder on the Hill presents convoluted cheek within the disputed conventions of film noir.

A lot of fun regardless if you're looking for something unlike anything else.

A critical reflection from a different time.

Bizarro upbeat romantic resonance. 

🍀

Hudutlarin Kanunu (Law of the Border)

The sociocultural clash between education and enterprise, meritorious machinations grandiosely fluctuating.

Things have persisted as they've always been "for quite some time" along the border, smugglers arriving with goods to sell to business peeps offering assistance.

The military resolutely guards the frontier in a valiant effort to intercept the contraband, but resident experts keep track of their movements to scout the best location to break on through. 

Well-respected within the village for consistently engaging in ardent daring, they formidably co-exist at ease, unless bitter conniving and envious collusion furtively challenge their courageous resolve. 

A less volatile competitor is introduced through the wisdom of altruistic daring, civil-minded citizens hoping to open a school, while encouraging the bandits to freely farm.

Education and farming may not lead to lucrative windfalls, but the inherent dangers are much less severe barring the influence of despotic drones. 

Through the gradual cultivation of reason their lands could reap imaginative harvests, peaceful traditions concordantly emerging through the rational yields of prosperous contemplation.

Naturally, the application of intellect to industry constructs productive opportunity, versatile able communal ends abounding with work and relaxation.

The work may be much more steady and the relaxation somewhat less encompassing, but the hopes of earning a peaceful living engender calm and earnest reckoning.

Strange how it plays out at times how people who have earned a fortune selling subs or fries, have more political influence than learnéd peeps genuinely devoted to study.

The learnéd peeps unfortunately often having no idea what it's like to have a job, the hard-working peeps at times remaining unfamiliar with advanced concepts acquired through idle study.

They're at loggerheads at the moment even if Trudeau and Biden seem fair, if Trudeau's coming across as a jerk he's been pushed, I love watching Trudeau the warrior.

Law of the Border bleakly presents a world with no local schools, to point out how much worse things are without the potential for education.

Critiquing the educational system is a natural by-product of having received first rate instruction. 

Imagine the arguments you'd have if you hadn't.

If the only way to advance was through agile reading?

Zatôichi rôyaburi (Zatoichi the Outlaw)

Supernaturally gifted with impeccable swordpersonship, a humble sightless outlaw wanders the volatile countryside, in search of incarnate justice virtuously beheld with moral reckoning, convinced of honest trust, and willing to lend a hand.

The ambitious in the village he frequents own a lucrative gambling den, which attracts the hopeful farmers who till the nearby fertile soil.

A bold person of the people peacefully warns them of their folly, once a valiant samurai himself now having embraced age-old non-violence.

Zatôichi (Shintarô Katsu) hears his amicable words freely delivered amidst hardboiled controversy, the local chieftains rather inhospitable regarding farsighted cultural counsel.

Much more sustainable for them to see hard earned wages carefreely lost, in a game they always win, as long as their clients suspect nothing. 

Zatôichi heeds the words of a rival boss who claims respectability, then eliminates his rivals, before heading off to a new town.

Until word reaches his modest ears that his friend's greed outweighs even that of his predecessors. 

The village folk on the brink of losing everything.

Virtue requisite animate sprawl.

The enduring everlasting narrative wherein which the modest thrive, with hopes of less stern reprisals for simply longing for fiscal fortune.

The powers-that-be vouchsafe possibility only at rare evocative intervals, to generate irrepressible interest in interminable decorum.

Yet the ethical still widely promulgate resounding wisdom begetting verve, their sure and steady dependable advice eventually leading to civility.

The desire to gamble remains strong and can't be vanquished with heartfelt speeches, opposing narratives cultivating instinct insisting they represent spiritual clemency.

The women of the village clearly understand the proactive message, and quietly long for zealous endurance and brave determinate consistent yields.

Zatôichi upholds aggrievéd rights and swiftly defends them with holistic levity.

Unsatisfied with inherent vice.

He upstandingly quells unhinged dishonour.  

The Fabelmans

Complications emerge as a young filmmaker comes of age (Gabriel LaBelle/Mateo Zoryan as Sammy Fabelman), traditional paths proving rather unorthodox, natural rhythms and dynamic imagination vigorously challenging habitual routine, bewilderingly misunderstood at times, what can you do, but keep moving forwards?

His father's (Paul Dano as Burt Fabelman) gifted with electronics and keeps finding new jobs in different cities, his career idyllically advancing, his family life somewhat haywire.

His oldest son for instance finds constructive camaraderie in Phoenix, and as his filmmaking aspirations develop, a curious legion facilitate his dreams.

Questions of race or ethnicity don't become confusing until they move later on, and non-sensical religious tensions frustratingly divide what should have been non-violent friendships.

Whatever happens he keeps creating never shying away from visionary responsibilities, sexuality a bemusing mistress, elaborately examined through multivariable storytelling. 

It's fun to watch as his narratives come to life and his ideas bedazzle and entertain, I'd argue it's essential viewing for any youngster hoping to one day make films.

The way he intuitively learns to encourage performance and produce special effects without any training, skilfully blended in far reaching scenes abounding with props and a large cast in motion.

I started writing poems in the woods as a lad and kept it up throughout my adult life, I never really wanted to coordinate people though, I generally preferred being alone.

It would have been cool to actively take part but everything was always quite serious, and creativity flourishes at play, when y'all ain't mad about somethin'.

Sam does extraordinarily well when directly engaged with others, however, and builds up what appears to be a genuine rapport in enthused environs.

I sort of wish I'd had an odd experience with an eccentric uncle like his in the film (Judd Hirsch as Uncle Boris) in my youth, I always thought the arts would be like a friendly union, remarkably incorrect was I.

But at times if I read the signs correctly there are definitely prolonged periods of fascination, and I'm very grateful to the people who support me, and put up with my variable moods.

Perhaps I should steer clear of the middle as is also advised in They Live, but I usually don't proceed with a plan, I just sit down and see what I come up with.

I suppose to be honest I'm guided by how I was taught to behave in my youth, in school, on TV, with family, and at church, the pedagogical strategies often at odds.

I imagine everyone's like that while trying to negotiate mutating stimuli.

If I don't say it often enough, I'm thankful.

Spazz may just be my best.

*I was really impressed that the mom in Everything Everywhere All at Once never abandons her daughter, not even with the universe at stake, she still believes in her troubled child. In The Fabelmans, Mitzi (Michelle Williams) leaves her husband for another man (Seth Rogan as Bennie Loewy), but it isn't a spur of the moment decision, and she struggles to hold on to her marriage for years before leaving. It must have been an incredibly difficult decision to make and I don't blame her for making it. I think people should try to make it work. But if it doesn't and you're miserable, there's no harm in leaving. She still looks after her kids and they continue to forge loving bonds. I always wanted things to work out as a kid. But so many things change with the passage of time.

Everything Everywhere All at Once

Multivariable universes loosely interconnected through tenuous familiarity, simultaneously emergent disproportionately taxing impeccably embellished latent hyper-reactivity. 

Perhaps every decision made unleashes alternative inconclusive realities, wherein which parallel characteristics authenticate ill-considered plans.

For each life, millions of distinct worlds invariably populate unique dimensions, which themselves continuously generate immutable mutations in a subjective infinity.

Perhaps it isn't a matter of corporeal space that the physical itself is in fact limitless, like compiling date online, how many electrons in a verbose atom?

Things take shape and manifest consistency during waking hours relatively structured, but just as the rotation of the Earth is imperceptible, perhaps sundry interdimensional interstices flourish undetected.

A brilliant way to travel between them is poetically realized in Everything Everywhere All at Once (apart from dreams), as an active mind abounding with creativity embraces overbearing disillusion.

As family pressures and economic doldrums reach discombobulating heights, escape can no longer be sublimated if it isn't the right thing to do.

She's (Michelle Yeoh as Evelyn Wang) done the right thing in many respects and has never abandoned her responsibilities, even as her father (James Hong as Gong Gong) consistently belittles her, and her wayward daughter (Stephanie Hsu as Joy Wang) refuses to help.

She's kept everything held together with infinite patience and herculean resolve, but one day it all breaks down as she embraces grave ontological flux.

That dangerous question - to be scrupulously avoided, "what if I'd done that instead?", is intensely multiplied ad infinitum, as she encounters representatives from manifold worlds, disparate lives she may have lived.

She has an active imagination so the alternative potential is tremendously profound, comic book confounding and consternating quandaries suddenly disintegrating routine life.

It's one part exceptional nervous breakdown curiously bewildering material reality, and a brilliant synthesis of fantasy and reality somewhat like magical scientific realism. 

I wonder what people who don't like comic books will think of Kwan and Scheinert's conundrum, the ways in which obsessive practicality is suddenly fantastically disposed?

Or how the comic book aficionados will inquisitively consider the realistic intrusion, the reification of their abstract dreams perhaps passionately unappreciated?

I like this kind of thing and the poetic transdimensional drive (you can jump between worlds if you figure out the improbable poetic thing to say or do in any situation), who didn't spend hours imagining such things in their youth, perhaps not with so much detail?

A mother's strength radiates incarnate.

Thankfully not in a world without feeling. 

Classic postmodern impetus.

My favourite Oscar nominee this year (it's super zeitgeisty, if you believe in that sort of thing).

Co-starring Raccoonie.