The Bounty

Wild deliberations, imaginatively bred, cerebrally adrift on contemplative seas, evocatively swelling disproportionately sly arrhythmically attuned courageously attired.

I imagine it's still tantalizing to freely circumnavigate the globe, it may have been done ad infinitum but must still impress vessel-type depending.

In The Bounty, the rigid captain has it in sight as a resolute goal, but gives up after inclement weather bombards his ships for weeks on end.

He still reaches his destination where his hearty men modestly indulge themselves, the tropical climate and easy living a well-earned break from life at sea.

But for the celebratory accomplished return trip he wants to test the stormy waters again, to stubbornly realize his lofty objective which was wisely abandoned with sobre regret. 

His men have grown quite sick of the imposition of discipline at sea however, and many of them miss their island comforts with far fewer rules and regulations and lashes. 

Fearing they'll never make it, they openly launch an audacious mutiny. 

Taking the ship wherever it may go.

Never to see their Native homeland again. 

The Bounty takes an imperious shine to top-down order and absolutist reckoning, affirmatively upholding old school codes of efficient conduct and divine faith.

Circumnavigating the globe would have no doubt been a noteworthy accomplishment, to look back upon in your senior years with loyal disbelief and rebellious fidelity.

Dying in the attempt would have been fruitless and perhaps even mad obsessions pending, although if the captain had been less severe he may have subtly won the crew over.

He isn't a loveable man though and relies more on codes and duty than artful persuasion, unlike his affable mutinous counterpart whom the crew adores with uncompromised feeling. 

To take a ship and just sail off into the wide open salient distance. 

Could you have purchased your own ship and done that way back when?

Is it even possible to do that now?

Flying to Vancouver's crazy expensive.  

Ashes & Diamonds

With the joyous end of World War II comes further political conflict to Poland, as opposing ideological viewpoints daringly clash in the chaotic foreground. 

The communist regiments seem poised to take power after having gallantly helped dispose of Hitler, the surviving citizens reminding the elite that they've already seen far too much dismal bloodshed.

But the traditional league of orthodox clemency bellicosely seeks to thwart their ambitions, and hires assassins to grimly dispose of a high ranking Secretary poised to take power.

The courageous target hasn't been sighted due to anything specific regarding his character, but rather because his dead wife's sister has fascist pretensions and simply can't stand him.

With him gone, she can raise his son however she sees fit at the end of the war, the spiral of violence and subjective intrigue awkwardly infiltrating domestic reserves. 

As the man hired to kill him finds himself enamoured with a stunning luxurious barmaiden.

And begins to consider the married life.

Forbidden for so many years.

The tragic irony accompanying the victory so widely celebrated around the world, of the further continuation of hardhearted violence emphatically leading to civil conflicts.

Rather than festively enjoying the victory and considering alternatives to gruelling strife, the carnal urge to interminably fight recklessly drives so many soldiers.

Ashes & Diamonds brilliantly covers the provocative feisty post-war ground, with internal struggles and diabolical hypocrisy seamlessly co-existing through determinate grit. 

Multiple characters and distinct scenarios effervescently mingle with manifold whimsy, with more resonance than even Doctor Zhivago as it convincingly humanizes intriguing dysfunction. 

The old school duke, the whelp climbing the ladder, the drunken attendant, the maître'd, the inaugurated minister, the jaded cleaning lady, the tragic victims, the belligerent son, so many substantial and spirited characters imaginatively populating a volatile world, none less intriguing indeed than the would be couple who meet mid-conspiracy.

Domestic bliss presenting itself as an option.

As world weary indelicate tensions flare.

Decisions made, consequences reckon. 

On the eve of the postmodern dawn.

*Excellent film.

Fitzcarraldo

Fitzcarraldo is one of the best films I've seen and most of my initial reactions have likely already been observed, so here I'd like to focus simply on the ways in which Herzog films the oncoming night sky. Herzog's films generally have a relaxing bucolic feel to them as he patiently holds the camera upon a quiet countryside, a mountain or a pasture, accompanied by a light, swaying, pastoral soundtrack, gently allowing the viewer time to take in the scene and analyze it pensively and leisurely. This Herzogian feature abounds in Fitzcarraldo, and the ways in which he uses it to film various manifestations of dusk caught my attention, first, for the sheer beauty of the scenes themselves, second, by discovering the ways in which they symbolically depict Fitzcarraldo's dream of bringing the apex of opera to his jungle town of Iquitos. His dream is eccentric and grand, as sublime and gallant as it is foolhardy and questionable, and any predictions that could be made about his endeavours are etched upon the uncertainty of the night sky (after having been created during the preceding, transient, radiant evening). Whether they are the predictions of the seasoned, cynical rubber barons, or dreamy, idyllic Brian Sweeney Fitzgerald himself, they are both framed by ambition and cast courageously in the darkness.