Dispatchwork

An aging pop culture enthusiast takes a break from his earnest studies, the consistent immersion in series and shows gradually decreasing as time slowly passes.

With so much to choose from and so little time the consumption of narratives loses its allure, but the habitual excitement at one time manifested still ecstatically dwells in his fatigued consciousness. 

Recommendations are made with animate care and melodious gusto, as several friends mention dozens of shows that have been released in recent years.

The list grows larger and larger an interminable agglomeration, the florid temptation to check things out at times seductive yet still dismissed.

Music slowly fills the void definitively left by the showcased absence, as limitless access to countless albums harmoniously etherealizes newfound grace.

But then one day a special edition is spontaneously ordered on DVD, to continue to build an old collection still awkwardly missing constituent parts.

The edition itself must be inspected at which point curiosity materializes. 

But some of the episodes seem somewhat dull. 

And he worries he's become a snob!

I liked how he finds the emergence of potential snobbery most distressing as it arises, an open-mind key to the random consumption of multivariable media ad infinitum. 

As it dawns on him that he's been overlooking and indeed dismissing shows he once liked, a nerd mid-life crises effectually disturbs his tranquil patient solemn solace.

Indeed the ridiculous must once again be humbly entertained with inclusive vision, the manifold intricate oblivious impeti ludicrously clarifying postmodern life.

Snobs often producing debilitating affects while shortsightedly obliviating upbeat creativity, their minds having lost the childish wonder they coldheartedly critique with bitter indiscretion. 

The rest of the edition is eagerly devoured with reverberating lighthearted august interest. 

Bringing back Bob Cratchit to mind.

While studying classic antiquity.  

Hook

Difficult to make sense of the concept known as "aging", the process by which you gain more responsibility as time swiftly passes.

Often people have what are known as "families" which help to delineate time, the parents feeling older as they watch their children grow, the children naturally developing and changing throughout their youth.

If you don't have a traditional family and find yourself single throughout most of your life, you won't have the reliable time markers to consistently compare yourself with others.

You have to be somewhat more mature in order to put in a solid day's work, but don't have to set an example in the evening since you have no children looking up to you.

The people who do have families are tough to understand because their lives are different, and you have to watch what you say to them so you don't accidentally sound like one of their children (they control everything).

It's best to say as little as possible indeed as you go about your daily routine, not stopping to take photos of insects or squirrels for instance if in their company and you see something cool.

Although it's hard not to take these photos since they make an otherwise dull life more interesting, and liven up a blasé day where patterns emerge to be adjusted.

You may wish not to mention the movies you've been watching and the books you've been reading as well, you're no longer supposed to have time for these things and they can get in the way of objective reckoning.

If you found yourself telling jokes and making people laugh throughout your youth, you may need to keep your comments to yourself in the self-obsessed adult professional world.

This may lead to more silence but you also won't lose your job, or constantly be stuck with the worst duties that no one else ever wants to do.

Not easy to be rigid all the time though especially when you're bursting with energy and comment, a book of ideas is a healthy outlet should serious demands occupy your attention.

You don't want to teach youth to be ridiculous all the time as they change and grow, since the working world is serious and you don't want them to be unprepared. 

But you don't want them to be stiff and overbearing throughout every typical working day either, so that they can get along with other people and don't find themselves wholeheartedly stressed. 

I honestly think many married adults have a tough time figuring out how to act as well.

But usually find a chill working solution, awkward conversation, lighthearted bearings. 

Sanjuro

The improvised planning of the itinerant samurai much more fluid in the cerebral Sanjuro, after a group of younger emboldened citizens discover a plot to dispose of an elder.

The samurai meets them by chance on a world-weary voyage leading to their door, where they innocently plan their audacious activities with impulsive daring and simplistic fortitude. 

Little do they know, they're being surrounded by the very same scoundrels they hope to challenge, who have brought at least 100 men to unceremoniously ambush them.

The samurai uncovers the plot and quickly overcomes his habitual boredom, immediately employing his requisite cunning like a grand-chess-master to outmaneuver the danger.

He swiftly realizes the group is honourable and therefore decides to offer his protection, putting advanced logic and reason to work in the adventurous aid of the sublime do-gooders.

But his lacklustre bearing his indolent mood doesn't quickly win over their skeptical hearts, especially since he drinks too much saké and at crucial times seems distant and irritated. 

They find when they listen to his strategic counsel they usually outwit their foes nevertheless.

And after much heated arguing amongst themselves, eventually agree to suffer his temper.

Not as explosive as many a chaotic borderline reckless wild samurai movie, but still quite endearing to strategic minds who truly love spur-of-the-moment planning.

Truly like an active chess game where each single move must be delicately balanced, the hardboiled yet caring demonstrative leader entertaining his students while refuting their folly (like the opposite of Trump's daily antics).

It's fun to watch as they impudently quarrel with the wise honest master lending a hand, alas no matter how many times he saves them they still adamantly doubt his chill erudition. 

The samurai is thrilling to watch if you like free confident ingenious odd heroes, whose skills are so genuinely imposing they take spectacular risks as if they were simply gardening (with bears).

Like a formidable saviour guarding the just from bellicose foolishness in corrupt mortal lands, the warrior proceeds with ethical daring even though he could have kept wandering alone.

From village to village the unruly countryside curiously wondering who will suddenly show up.

And add some spice to bucolic life.

At times routine, yet never overdone. 

Never Eat Alone

Some days I'm pretty busy, there's a lot of stuff to do, but I always try to reserve some time for loved ones, so they don't spend the whole day by themselves.

By so doing, I get updates on the day's events and share observations about my work and studies, while appreciating an alternative way of life which once flourished in yesteryear. 

Sofia Bohdanowicz's Never Eat Alone captures a nimble Canadian ethos, a light yet edgy thoughtful look at something wholesome that isn't austere. 

It reminded me of some of the best programming I used to see on the CBC in my youth, entertainment that was also instructive without making you feel like you were learning.

I know it's difficult for Anglo-Canadian films to compete with American ones in domestic markets, from conducting a bit of research it seems that even the most popular struggle to turn a profit.

I believe it doesn't have to be that way though because I've seen what they've done in Australia and Québec, similar markets where American films are also shown on a regular basis.

That's one of the coolest things about Québec, the minimalized American influence, it's so much less intense than you find elsewhere in the country, a remarkable break from an imposing character.

With the minimalized American influence and a strong focus on supporting local artists, Québec actually developed markets for their films which consistently play in local theatres. 

Talk to the people in Québec and you'll find they have a strong working knowledge of their celebrities as well, like Anglo-Canadians have of American and British ones, it's really quite impressive.

It came about when the Parti Québecois starting financing culture in the 1970s, the government started investing heavily in film etc. and people loved it - the industry took off.

The same thing can happen in English Canada if governments follow the Québecois lead, we can develop markets throughout the country that keep homegrown talent from moving away.

I mention this not only because this seems like the perfect time (this is the perfect time) but also because Australia did the same thing, their government started investing heavily in culture and they made so many incredible films.

Canada is quite similar to Australia in terms of size and population, it isn't on its own in another part of the world far away from the United States however. 

You would think that if the United States was your neighbour you would have an incredible local film industry, like Germany's rivalry with France, with theatres packed every single weekend.

I love English Canadian films like Never Eat Alone because they're creative and heartfelt and loving, if they had a larger market it would no doubt be outstanding.

Look at what Australia has done (see the Australian New Wave) and what Québec has done as well.

Seek out political candidates who would cultivate the same in English Canada.

Create tens of thousands of jobs for local artists.

Note: people always complain about how terrible American films are. Do something about it! Help create a climate where we make even better ones here! When people say it will never work tell them to look at Australia and Québec. It didn't happen overnight. But with support, it did eventually happen.

Criterion keyword: Canada.

*P.S - when I talk about Canadian actors, I don't mean the ones working in the United States or Britain. I mean the ones who have spent most of their careers living and working in Canada. Let's create a more prominent film industry for them. There's no doubt they totally deserve it. 

Transformers: The Movie

The famished malevolent Unicron proceeds uncontested throughout the Universe, devouring planets as he randomly travels destructively immersed within timeless space.

As he approaches Cybertron, the Decepticon leadership battles the Autobots, who have retreated to two of its moons and Autobot City upon planet Earth.

The battle is feverishly fought both sides taking heavy casualties, Megatron and Optimus Prime fearsomely opposing one another with embittered fortitude.

As the leaders tumultuously duel, they deal each other fatal blows, Optimus forced to give up the Matrix of Leadership, Starscream banishing Megatron thereafter.

Nevertheless, Unicron has foreseen that only one thing can possibly destroy him, the coveted heralded respected Matrix of honest and fair immaculate Leadership.

He finds Megatron drifting through space and begrudgingly transforms him into Galvatron, before tasking him with furtively retrieving the ancient Matrix foreverafter. 

Always crafty, Megatron decides that if he finds it he'll harness its powers, to defeat ye olde Unicron whom he rather dislikes for presuming omniscience.

But foolish Megatron ignorantly forgets that the divine Matrix only supports just leadership.

The Autobots also seeking to stop Unicron.

As their fight wages throughout the Galaxy.

If you happened to be born at the right time I doubt you'll ever tire of its soundtrack, Transformers: The Movie distilling a passionate craze of robotic rhythms and electro wavelengths. 

It abounds with versatile transformers as one product line replaces another, a trajectory perhaps not followed by other toy brand films after many audiences erupted in fury.

Noble proclamations exuding sublime paths of innocently-defined righteous leadership, embrace community or open-minded togetherness with characteristic sincere savvy. 

Age and youth within the continuum continue their wise and impulsive dialogues, as the reckless Hot Rod and the weathered Kup dispute various subjects throughout their travels.

As Optimus Prime graciously fades it's tough to imagine the Autobots without him, and somewhat frustrating that Megatron bounces back within the film while he does not.

Perhaps another feature that was widely criticized.

The animosity fading with age.

Love watching this film again and again.

Old school longevity, luminescent viscosity. 

Transformers One

Tough and experimental young friends resiliently attuned to calisthenic mischief, bored with their jobs and inherently curious about the political composure of their planet's temperament. 

They work in the mines digging for energon without the requisite cogs which enable transforming, carefree and dreamy yet brave and self-sacrificing they function with enterprising inquisitive accolades. 

Yet as their heroics win them applause their planet's adored leader isn't quite so impressed, indirectly banishing them to an unheard of sub-level where they find themselves managing disregarded waste.

Appropriately, after making new friends, they soon courageously travel to their planet's surface, in search of the long lost matrix of leadership, the location of which may have been revealed.

Further distress despondently awaits them in the inhospitable lands terrorized above, as the treacherous nature of their belovéd leader is freely showcased by a legendary warrior.

To inform their brethren that they were meant to have cogs and that their tireless labours simply profit hostile aliens, definitively emerges as a compelling mission to which they immediately respond with vociferous stewardship.

A revolutionary tale tempestuously told to harness innate hard-working nobility, bold transformations multivariably brandishing integrity and exception across the land.

The citizens denied their honest fair share of the spoils of their labours react with indignity, and collectively express their enraged disapproval with rebellious instinct and distinguished resolve.

Certainly focused on Transformers the sentient robotic aliens fuelling, narrative discord aggrieved animation improvised cognizance intermingling microbes. 

Unfortunately, their inspired insurrection leaves Orion Pax and D-16 at odds, the classic Professor X/Magneto dialectic reemerging with democratic/authoritative repercussions hemorrhaging.

It reminded me of Coruscant in Attack of the Clones when Skywalker and Kenobi chase down the bounty hunter, and ye olde "splinching" from the Harry Potter films when the newfound Transformers have issues changing.

Indubitably textbook evaluations of open-minded leadership resiliently tested, no doubt applicable to political studies should they seek exemplars of seditious tales.

Sad to see the flourishing enmity as it's coldly birthed in revolutionary flames.

To be spread far and wide from planet to planet. 

Megatron and Prime at odds thereverafter. 

Wrestling Ernest Hemingway

Wild exoteric bearings randomly committed to improvised exhaustion, airing grievances with cavalier cantankerousness as he recklessly interacts with resignéd strangers.

If you've heard his stories, you'll hear them again, and it's up to you to decide whether or not you're interested, I often find the exultation of recurring themes rambunctiously tender when conversing with the elderly.

Why not imperiodically exclaim lithe past successes with animate jocularity, especially after having reached your golden years with so much adventure to fluidly discuss?

Walter is much less extroverted he's reserved and mannerly and consistently respectful, following the same constructive well-meaning routine with dependable expectation each and every day.

He orders the same thing at his favourite diner every morning even if it isn't on the traditional menu, a light extravagance delicately hewn to courteously carve indissoluble discourse. 

Like dad, he likes his puzzles, and quietly contends with them lakeside in the afternoon, a peaceful way to flourishingly float throughout life's tranquil agéd fluencies.

Not as bold as Frank however and rarely seeking striking resonance. 

They make an impressive team nevertheless.

As they boldly navigate cyclical distress. 

Perhaps like Jekyll & Hyde characteristically split and bucolically subdued, Walter and Frank making a provocative duo which elastically excels at nothing in particular. 

Frank's unorthodox life during which he never developed self-critical reflections, at times leads to fun bike trips to see fireworks, at others buys a bottle of vodka as a going away gift.

Walter habitually goes with the flow and doesn't speak out unless drastically pushed, their arguments classic enraged debacles generating dissonant cutting offence.

I remember there being somewhat of a buzz about this film in my far distant maladroit youth, but I didn't hear about it again until sometime last week, and if there was indeed such a buzz way back when it was certainly well-deserved I rather liked this film.

Robert Duvall finds a new character to play after having already diversified so many roles, Richard Harris putting in the performance of a lifetime, it made me think that actors who still haven't found that ideal role still have plenty of time to patiently perfect it.

A great companion piece for Grumpy Old Men which was also quite popular around that time.

I hope the crew still isn't annoyed when people say that.

I'd most likely watch this film again. 

Athena

A chilling video is released depicting police violence in an unsettled town, where tensions run high and misperceptions embroil as many hardworking people just try to earn a steady living.

A noted family takes opposing sides after it's announced their brother was murdered, Abdel (Dali Benssalah), a celebrated war her who works for the police, urging calm, Karim (Sami Slimane), his volatile younger sibling, suddenly erupting with insurgent fury.

He leads a group of friends into a local police station which they ransack, taking the weapons back to an apartment complex where they prepare for a wild confrontation.

The police show up in force as similar uprisings break out around France, people tired of the reckless violence taking matters into their own chaotic hands.

But it soon becomes apparent that the video was staged by sadistic members of the belligerent far right.

Attempting to start a race war to further their mad agenda (with Google's Magic Eraser?).

Easily facilitated by the lack of oversight on social media. 

It's a disastrous grim scenario hypothetically engaged with extremist tensions, that points out the necessity of police restraint, and the overarching danger of unhinged fake news.

The news is much more healthy in a widespread differentiated spectrum, where sundry journalists are committed to the truth and manifold independent papers fact check ad infinitum. 

In Canada, Bell Media just cut another 4,800 jobs from its shrinking mainstream newsroom, meaning even fewer people with be responsible for the official news, the smaller the number, the greater room for error. 

And as a lack of trust emerges it's much harder to follow a small minority viewpoint, which indubitably pursues its own interests, the news should be expanding, not contracting.

It is expanding online with another 4,800 people now looking for work, some of the them may have to criticize vaccines or promote electoral fraud to pay the bills, hopefully not, but those stories aren't going away.

Athena takes a hard-hitting look at the inherent dangers of provocative intrigue, and the ways in which honest hard-working citizens have their lives torn asunder by base collusion.

Fact check your sources and be patient sometimes it takes a while for a story to unfold.

There are new media outlets currently blossoming who still respect the truth as their modus operandi (like the National Observer)(nothing associated with Trump). 

Note: they aren't trying to start a race war.

And they can take it when they lose an election.

*Athena is the best film I've seen so far on Netflix. Super impressed for sure. It could have played theatres no doubt. And found a huge receptive audience (like it probably has on Netflix too). 

Old

Engaging thrilling prospects.

Resortful relaxation.

Pack up the fam, head down south.

Fare thee well road weary travellers.

The Cappa(bara) family takes such a spirited initiative, and soon arrives at a stunning locale, where others await and luxury accommodates, the stay promising to be uneventful. 

Briefly after settling in, a special opportunity is secretly presented, a coveted invitation to lounge for a day, reputedly favoured spry striking resiliency. 

Soon they're off with a gourmet spread stretched out and chillin' at the isolated beach, the families engaged in freeform conversation when it becomes apparent that many of them are sick.

Even worse, after an even shorter time it appears as if the young ones have suddenly sprouted, and that everyone is aging indeed, at a rapid unusual alarming pace!

Different methods of desperate escape naturally present themselves without much thinking, each of them as treacherous as the last as the woebegone venturers routinely phase.

And just as Horror Beach or Death Beach seems about to claim its final victims. 

Escape ideogrammatically matures. 

Having been nurtured throughout the ages.

Star Trek themes and plots terrestrially abound in the seductive Old, as rapid aging and medical malfeasance malpractically matricurate along the coast. 

Certainly a creepy caper reminding visitors never to leave the boat, for they may find a pandemic peculiarity contraceptively constructed with scampy decorum. 

Nazi scum experimented on humans as do the fascist Cardassian monsters, such a practice to be met with sincerest defiance, through the aggrievéd art of humanistic condemnation. 

Had the beach's unique capabilities been made strictly known to concerned public agencies, there's no doubt reasonable decorum would have efficiently encouraged effective recon.

It would have made a cool nature documentary since as far as I know nothing quite like it exists.

Just to learn about, like bears or wolverines. 

To remain aware, never to be forsaken. 

*The idea may have come from reckless government initiatives hoping to store toxic waste near vital aquatic resources. 

Tender Mercies

A famous country & western singer who's been idle for several years, finds himself broke in an unknown hotel one sobering scant perplexing morning (Robert Duvall as Mr. Sledge).

Fortunately goodwill blossoms and he's offered a job taking care of the property, food and lodging worked into his cheque, it's not the greatest but it seems trusted stable.

As things become familiar, the owner takes a shine to his polite down home reckoning, and he responds with amorous accommodation the two soon marrying each for the second time.

Mr. Sledge has trouble with alcohol and solemnly recognizes he needs to steer clear, but sometimes it isn't as easy as just watching TV off the beaten track night after routine night.

He may have given it up but he once travelled from town to town, and had a solid reputation for endearing songwriting which earned quite the living far and wide.

A young group of struggling musicians discover his whereabouts and come a' callin', he's certainly not interested at first but slowly relaxes and responds obligingly. 

Will he be able to reforge a bond with the estranged daughter he hasn't seen in years (Ellen Barkin as Sue Anne)?

While learning to write songs once again?

And settling in with his new family?

Mild-mannered tame observation calmly generating commitment age old, convalescence coordinating calibrations reanimated rutabaga rapture.

The perfect recipe to get-back-at-it no immediate pressure no media exposure, just tranquil peace at play within inquisitive familial fulcrums.

The glitz and glamour while lucrative and shocking perhaps abounding with eclectic reliability, may detach creative peeps at times, from the habitual contemplation that led to so many of their hits.

With so many different people creating in different ways it's by no means a rule, but I love how The Rolling Stones created their best stuff on the run from the law in the French countryside.

Cities are fun since there's so much variability dependably mutating and chaotically harmonizing.

But there's still novelty in the countryside deep down, if you sit back and listen to the offbeat proclamations.

Not the ones that cross the line but that hasn't happened much in my experience.

It's a unique world abounding with novelty.

What's available, not what you can't buy. 

The Raggedy Rawney

The Raggedy Rawney ruggedly critiques übermasculinst initiatives, inasmuch as it directly presents agile characters with no interest in fighting.

It seems straightforward enough that you don't force people to fight in wars, wouldn't they be useless in the lines anyway and prone to brutal discipline?

There are plenty of people ready to fight or at least ready to present themselves as battle worthy, does it not make sense to leave pacifists behind and let them constructively work on negotiating an armistice?

It actually seemed for awhile that the equation of manhood with military service was a formula fading into the past, and that the public sphere was productively expanding to include myriad alternative masculinist conceptions.

Isn't the cultivation of a world wherein which these conceptions flourish alongside traditional depictions of manhood, not worth tenaciously fighting for with the spirit of the emboldened Ukraine?

Does it have to be a rough juxtaposition of brain and brawn till the end of time, wherein which the athletically gifted furiously contend with well-read snobs?

Does the well-read snob have to continuously push books and learning upon active peeps who have no interest, do the active peeps have to advocate combat with ruthless resolve? 

Both groups secretly long to be genuinely accepted by the other, should they doubt the innocent choices that led them upon their steady trajectory.

Boredom often materializes even within an active routine, a theoretical solution imaginatively presenting itself as a romantic elevation of alternative lifestyles.

I was fortunately saved because I never really cared much about what others were doing (I could also do both), I really tried to seem interested for awhile, but people were often annoyed by my feigned enthusiasm (is there any other way?).

I tried to point out that most of the world inevitably has to feign enthusiasm, through much of their adult lives in order to ironically avoid malaise.

But you can't say that it's rather awkward they just keep presenting the same dull questions, and you keep delivering the same peppy response while wondering if you've gotten it right this time.

It can be rather amusing although you have to keep it to yourself, an honest description delivered with sincere integrity generally anathema and leading nowhere.

I didn't mean for this to be so tiresome perhaps it's not I really can't say.

Cheers to a world without military combat however!

Along with whoever engages in defensive warfare. 

*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.

Charlie's Country

An aging Indigenous hunter goes about his daily business (David Gulpilil as Charlie), peacefully reacting to impositions which have radically transformed his life.

He remembers the old school ways dating back for many a millennia, and is somewhat vexed by colonial laws which often prohibit related freedoms.

Regulations manage so much of what he's traditionally trying to do, that it's like his way of life's been outlawed to his habitual astonishment.

He makes a reasonable case simply stating that it's his land, simply being annoyed by the lack of work or the lack of interest in his culture.

While viewing the film and intently listening to his passionate music, it seemed like a monstrously depressing  history, that there was so much spiritual harmony to be freely nurtured that was generally overlooked by covetous Europeans.

Imagine free spiritual exchanges had won the day with interactive correspondence respectfully matriculating, and these songs and dances were also consistent components of the greater Australian (or Canadian) scene.

And that the cultures were really interacting with mutual respect across the land. And there had never been any lost generations. No chilling grand historical barbarism.

That's the problem with uniform exposition it antiseptically sterilizes so much life, and takes vast vivacious versatile vistas and obtusely replaces them with bland monotony.

It's not even that bland monotony should be overlooked if anything it should be give a different label, and treated with mutual respect that doesn't enrage its anger-prone proponents (note: Russia is invading other countries again and Italy just elected a government that reveres Mussolini).

If one ring rules them all it really does bind them in darkness, with no grand multivariable recourse sleep takes hold with soporific blindness.

I just sort of like trying this and that there are so many different styles available out there, it's as simple as flipping through channels on the TV, or just surfing around on the radio.

I had developed this latently in my youth but Montréal really helped it bloom, I can't think of a better place in Canada and Québec to learn to ensconce yourself in diversity.

Charlie just wants to peacefully live according to the ways his people have for millennia, and while attempting to confidently do so, keeps running into violence.

This leads to a sense of desperation which is worst case if treated with alcohol.

Would you understand if someone took your country away?

Why do you expect Indigenous Peoples to?

The Tracker

*Spoiler Alert.

I'm unaware of another director who critiques patriarchal excesses as well as Rolf de Heer, I'm thinking of Alexandra's Project and The Tracker, wherein which he holds nothing back in his critique of men.

Not men in general or every man but definitely racist and sexist men who go to extremes, in The Tracker's case a rifle toting lawperson who shoots every Indigenous person he sees (regardless of whether they're the one he's searching for), including women and the elderly, and in Alexandra's Project, a lusty husband who gets outduelled through passionate disillusionment.

Most of the men I've met haven't been quite as arrogant as the jerks in Heer's films, not that they don't like to have a laugh or air grievances (you really shouldn't try to take away or prohibit the means by which decent men let off steam regarding relationships [it leads to naturally angry people who don't want to change becoming more and more furious because they have no outlet for their frustrations {which aren't even that serious if the outlet exists unless they're extremists, but become much more intense if severely limited }]), but I picture them discussing other things besides sex and gender roles with their wives (especially after this long), and doubt they would take their prejudices to genocidal extremes (most of them were pretty chill back in the day).

In The Tracker, 4 men set out to find an Indigenous person in the Outback who's accused of killing a caucasian woman, one of them a multifaceted guide (David Gulpilil as the Tracker), one ruthlessly dismissive of Native culture (Gary Sweet as the Fanatic), another young and new to the territory (Damon Gameau as The Follower), and another just along for the ride (Grant Page as the Veteran). 

The Tracker mischievously leads them in the right direction at a slower pace than the fugitive, so he (Noel Wilton) always knows where they are and they never brutally overtake him.

Early on during the search, they encounter free Indigenous peeps enjoying their day, and the mad institutionally supported leader starts firing shots with reckless abandon.

The young recruit is utterly horrified which leads the old timer to question his intelligence, I've said it before, I'll say it again, belligerent jingoism doesn't inevitably monopolize the constructive mind. 

It certainly didn't in the '80s, '90s, and early 2000s when many films like this were being made, but it's become much more fashionable these days, with World War III looming on the horizon (after a pandemic [pass the Ricard]).

If you want to see a Native person fight back and courageously strike a blow for his resilient culture, The Tracker is indubitably a must-see, fully equipped with Indigenous justice.

The trigger happy lawperson is captured because his youthful charge refuses to let him shoot innocent people.

And this youth's generation likely brought about the reforms of my youth.

Which have stalled amidst a colossal prejudiced backlash. 

Big Top Pee-wee

Immoderately immersed in mirthful grand performance, Pee-wee (Paul Reubens) sleeps the sleep of angels, peacefully awaiting another day, after having taken up farming.

Things run smoothly throughout the day as he cares for his many animals, who enjoy beneficial loving novel caring warm down home attention. 

Pee-wee also conducts advanced research into curious crop cultivation, having created an experimental formula which smoothly encourages rapt abundance. 

Unfortunately, he's not well-liked by the suspicious surrounding townsfolk, who critique his unorthodox ways and general flip alternative wherewithal.

They're even less impressed when a mighty storm blows a circus to town, which lands on Pee-wee's farm, and decides to put on a striking spectacle. 

Pee-wee makes new human and animal friends as the artists passionately rehearse, and even finds himself enamoured with a newfound trapeze expert (Valeria Golino as Ms. Piccolapupula).

But will Pee-wee's heartfelt accommodation be enough to encourage the distressed townsfolk, to abandon their strict routines for a night out under the nearby big top?

So much time spent trying to logically deal with rational exploits reasonably accrued, that impromptu absurd acrobatics present odd vital sincere parity.

Not just the hotdog tree or the supple pioneering pig (Wayne White as Vance), but the lucid sense of compelling wonder that drives wild ludicrous imagination.

Perhaps they shouldn't be in charge of stern prosaic determinate consistencies, so much requisite quotidian reckoning modestly attuned to predictability. 

But shouldn't such manifest grain not be adorned with counterbalancing nuance, to promote extemporaneous serendipity at times throughout the working day?

Thus as the routine despairing delineations approach concrete banal immutabilities, the bizarre shocks and unsettles somnambulism to sustain lighthearted active metamorphosis.

Just as it's nice to have reliable routines when shocks turn to harrowing frights, responsibilities generating forthright designations seasonally aligned to nurture balance.

Big Top Pee-wee brings these spectrums together in animate judicious active definition, to demonstrate holistic productive health, thoroughly enriched through compassionate understanding.

As unequivocal rewards endearingly impact age old ambivalent inquisitive uncertainties, the wolf howls and the dragonfly zings with erudite sonorous sprightly melody. 

Like Dale Cooper's daily treat it can be something never encountered before.

Beware if it happens to be smoking.

Even 4 months later, it's tough to quit.

L'Atalante

A lonesome ship captain (Jean Dasté as Jean) finds himself a daring bride (Dita Parlo as Juliette), who courageously agrees to move onboard without a confusing hassle. 

Wedded bliss initially abounds as they travel from port to port, stopping in different cities and towns to embrace the local culture.

The first mate's a gentle eccentric who's found a niche to creatively conjure (Michel Simon as Le père Jules), the chill and abiding distracted captain having no problem with all of his cats.

When at sea he playfully finds various ways to amuse and entertain, while instructing the other members of the crew, at times even causing mischief. 

Unless otherwise afflicted he freely engages with wondrous vigour, curious to see what tradespeople showcase in their different shops when browsing ashore.

His carefree life is abruptly unhinged, however, when the captain erupts in a jealous fury, after his wife goes shopping alone without having told him where she's going.

The ship departs without belovéd focus in a callous reckless rage, the bride confused and emphatically crestfallen when unsuspectingly remerging.

It's up to le père Jules to reunite them (and save their jobs) if tidings be.

His merriment thrust afoul.

He departs for search and rescue.

At times your diligence is rewarded with an unexpected brilliant trajectory, overflowing with convivial abundance thoroughly enriched by awestruck tremors.

Le père Jules is one such exemplar and Jean Vigo's L'Atalante one such film, with innate incomparable gravitational intensity delicately nurturing improvisation.

It's always a  mistake to imagine the present as holding an unparalleled take on originality, not that novel films and books don't reside within, but other epochs also flourished creatively.

Perhaps Jules was inspired by one of Dickens's many compelling eccentrics, I really can't say, but he's the earliest example of a virtuous rogue I think I've ever encountered in cinema (1934).

It would be cool to work on a boat but what's even more, a boat full of cats, on top of that, a room full of oddities randomly acquired from around the globe.

Fully capable in times of trouble at others much too agéd to take things seriously, Jules has become one of my favourite fictional characters, in his travelling home upon the sea.

Well deserving of a remake in different languages in different countries, I wholeheartedly recommend the joyous L'Atalante to celebrate chill ideas and endearing personality. 

Die Brücke (The Bridge)

During World War II, as Allied forces cross into Germany, the Nazis refuse to surrender, preferring to enlist children and the elderly to fight against astronomical odds.

Men of conscious attempt to intervene but their humanistic pleas are stubbornly ignored, order and duty cold calculation overriding instincts for self-preservation.

The remnants of a revolting ideology still absolutely hold sway, the fascist Nazi imperialists still clinging to toxic masculinity.

Thus, a group of school children is enthusiastic when suddenly drafted, and given one day of uninspired training before being sent off to the field.

They've grown up together during the war and most unfortunately know little else, and they're very brave intent on self-sacrifice if it means defending their native soil.

The officer in charge decides to desert leaving the kids alone to defend a bridge, he's shot while trying to outwit the authorities codes and classification above all else.

Shortly thereafter, the very next morning, the kids find themselves ferociously tested, as three American tanks attempt to burst through their dedicated defiant deft defences.

What follows is an utterly loathsome grotesque pungent tragic lament, bold innocent lives needlessly lost which were harmlessly playing a short time ago.

Die Brücke (The Bridge) is rather graphic as it presents the fight like a typical war film, to bluntly accentuate the ghastly carnage with lethal despondent absurdist reckoning (the horror maniacally awaiting in the realistic absurdism).

Made in post-World War II Germany (1959) to assist with what must have been an abysmal spiritual reconstruction, I'm not sure how it was received, but it still makes a shocking impact.

I'd argue it's an essential war film which makes an impact like no other, the sight of innocent children enlisted to fight as thoroughly repugnant as it is catastrophic.

Earlier in the film, some of them are so carefree and playful they have yet to form dreams for the future, preferring to play tricks with mice or critique or boast as the endless day passes by like any other.

There were many films in my youth which sought to make war seem unappealing (Jacob's Ladder, The Thin Red Line, Apocalypse Now, Platoon), as artists set about creating a peaceful aesthetic designed to stifle cultural belligerence.

Peaceful egalitarian unions backed them up while fighting racism.

Too bad they lost their hold in Russia (and elsewhere).

And gave way to vicious nationalism.

Le Plaisir

 An agéd sophisticated debonair imbroglio, still likes to go out dancing, and equipped with mask and trendy attire he freely joins in at a local club.

But there's a collapse an unfortunate sudden enervating brisk inopportune muddle, and soon he's once again back at his apartment quietly recovering from sporadic plays.

His devoted wife who refused to leave after so many ceremonious years, explains how she came to yield when faced with so many imprecise delineations.

Star-crossed solipsistic synergies familial fetching fervent fermentation, a look at the oft unmentioned social graces as they've matured after so much time.

A small town business stays open late and is generally frequented by the well-to-do, who enjoy alternative flair and characteristic distraction on many an otherwise mundane night.

But on the Saturday evening in question the curious cast is nowhere to be found, which leads to an improvised assemblage of minds eventually provoking headstrong altercation.

Fantasy has set out indeed has gathered in an even smaller town, to celebrate a relative's coming of age without ornate robust discountenance. 

It's thoroughly agreed within the picturesque pastoral pastime, that they add modest cosmopolitan flavour to the reservéd village life.

Soon back across the way and once again settled into the imagination, local animosities swiftly disperse with neither grudge nor recollection.

Peculiar habitual practice efficaciously engendered.

Another time, bewitched bewilder, fancy fortune expression mused.

An upcoming artist finds himself bedazzled by a striking model upon his canvas, so much so he seeks her hand and takes up residence outside the city.

But fleeting passion disrupts his airs and soon he derides domestic life, his young wife driven to mortal explicit moribund feats of declamation.

His arrogance astounds as he responds with dismissal as she attempts to take her own life, yet survives the disparaging doctrine with animate versatile proactive buds.

A happy couple, perhaps, thereafter, as inspiration jukes and jounces.

Age old conceptual reckoning.

The joys of youth.

Venerable wear.

*Written by men. 

Space Truckers

And through the passage of time, space is slowly colonized, commerce encouraged to flourish within, old school grievances inevitably emerging.

And as politics galactically expand, Earth's government loses control, one man attempting to exploit its weaknesses (Shane Rimmer as E. J. Saggs), with an army of invincible robots.

But his plans remain a secret and he has yet to transport them to Earth, stealth required clandestine collusion, patiently awakening, a trusty space trucker.

John Canyon (Dennis Hopper) arrives at a spaceport two days late with his sought after load, and payment is refused, confrontation bellicosely ensuing, but not before he's proposed once more to the diner's stunning waitress (Debi Mazar as Cindy). 

The confrontation proves irreconcilable and the corrupt boss is sucked into space (George Wendt as Keller), the independent contractor worried about his next move, he enlists the aid of an underground contact.

Who hooks him up unbeknownst with the robots and an even more demanding schedule, which he thinks he can steadily keep, if he transports the goods off-road.

After a collision with a camouflaged meteor he's left adrift in space.

Soon bombarded by covetous pirates. 

And their mad genius cyborg captain (Charles Dance as Nabel/Macanudo). 

Improvised tactics and frowned upon methods reflexively manoeuvre and bargain within, as Space Truckers celebrates old school individuals making a living through extant daring.

Equitable workplace regulations have yet to settle space so everything's controlled by executive caprice, and since there isn't much work to go around, obsequious dispositions flex and flounder.

Youth even confronts age old feisty Canyon and boldly recommends he play by the rules (Stephen Dorff as Mike Pucci), Cindy taking an amorous shine to him, the less stressful modus operandi. 

The company attempts to rip off Mr. Canyon so he responds with contentious cataclysm, just as Macanudo defies the government in order to pursue grand insurrection.

But Pucci doesn't betray his teammates or seek power or corporate control, differentiating himself thereby, in the chaotic mayhem.

The pirates take things a step further loosely organized and swashbucklingly conceived. 

As the formidable robots escape.

Still a future preferable to Covid. 

Puppy Star Christmas

An adorable dog couple welcomes some new pups to their family, while enjoying celebrity in the public eye, and wondering if they'll make good parents.

It's the Holiday Season once again and they're preparing to host a Christmas Special, and it's rumoured that Santa himself may attend, if not advertised with festive vigour.

But a rogue rival self-obsessed canine has grown tired of making an honest buck (George Newbern as Bark), and decides to enlist contacts from his villainous network in an attempt to take down the North Pole.

Since the elves are generally concerned with do-gooding they're ill-prepared for Bark's sneak attack, and his team quickly infiltrates Santa's workshop and soon locks down Mr. and Mrs. Claus!

They proceed to convert that very same workshop into a commercial purveyor of sought after goods, transforming the free toys Santa generously provides into lucrative commodities indeed for sale.

Such wickedness is shortly followed by an appearance on Tiny (Kaitlyn Maher) and P.U.P's (Mackenzie Sol) Special, where they advertise their soul crushing debauchery with outrageous voracious mad ill-gotten song.

Fortunately for Christmas, the aforementioned pups stow away on Santa's sled (it was borrowed by Bark's minions to fly to the Special), and soon find themselves at the North Pole, nervously determined to rescue Saint Nick.

But Bark's carnal influence and unwitting publicity has seen ye olde naughty list expand exponentially.

Are they too late to save Christmas?

Or is it serendipitous impeccable timing?

Only Christmas will tell, or a keen viewing of this here Puppy Star Christmas, I admit I hadn't seen a dog movie in some time (except for Plague Dogs which wasn't a family film [or wasn't a cutesy sentimental family film]), and wasn't prepared for the cuddliness initially.

But it was kind of cool to briefly immerse myself in a non-cartoon world where dogs can speak, and have their own shows and homes and families and are on an equal footing with adoring humanity.  

Strict logicians may find fault with Puppy Star's inspired non-traditional reasonability, even if it augments the wonders of Santa and his benevolent impetus this time of year.

Puppy Star's blunt depiction of super-greed wholesomely castigates avarice unbound, thereby celebrating altruistic endeavours without leaving joyous reckoning behind.

If you're still in touch with inner absurdity or things that seem nuts you may like this film.

It's fun to think about afterwards.

Perfect for the Holiday Season.