Unrueh (Unrest)

I've never spent much time considering anarchy as it's peacefully presented in Cyril Schäublin's Unrueh (Unrest), which looks at the coordination of semi-autonomous towns loosely connected in 19th century Switzerland.

At the time I speculatively imagine the old world stiff upper lip still strictly predominated, and many citizens were highly critical of the unyielding nature of cold absolutes (how could such a disastrous political outlook be experiencing a necrorenaissance?). 

Important things such as healthcare and education perhaps freely benefit from mass organization, not in the sense that you teach everyone the same thing, but inasmuch as you generally apply the same provincial standards.

Global networks of hospitals and international research can ensure progressive care is universally adopted, to treat the sick and combat disease to medicinally facilitate widespread health and wellness.

The application of such organization to the arts seems counterproductive in my opinion, however, since originality and novel spectrums often emerge in isolation.

Not that there shouldn't be dialogues amongst different uncanny artistic communities, I just don't believe in the codification of molecular alternative expression.

Thus, anarchy works well for artists not in the sense that they ubiquitously rebel (some rebellion works though), but rather to promote eclectic independence amongst individuals who could probably care less.

A lot of material is released every year and no doubt trends and patterns emerge, but the overarching mass cultivation of a specific outlook seems much too totalitarian to me.

Medicine prospers with codes and procedures to guide its workers as they care for the sick, education also benefits from structure to ensure people learn to read and write and count.

But the arts benefit from spontaneity and revelation and inspiration and chance, not that those things can't influence medicine and teaching, but if they're the governing impetus, you may unleash a pandemic.

Pandemics in the arts can be good since books that are fun to read should be widely discussed, they don't necessarily have to be a dangerous thing, although there's always bound to be critical controversy.

Oddly, as I've aged I've learned to incorporate anarchy into my life, I'm not even really that disappointed with things, my love for independent cinema and literature just keeps growing and growing.

It's a right wing strategy to make politics so unappealing that people prefer to generally ignore them.

So I'm still paying attention as best I can.

Although I fear I may have outgrown journalism.

Not The Guardian though. 

Definitely not campy films.  

High-Rise

Quiescently ensconced in an eccentric microcosm, floor upon floor of economically ranked struggles, celebrations, sacrifices, autarky inclined to divine judgment, electrical exclusivity dividing the aggrieved populace, factions and punishments and discourse, threats, rebellion, single Laing (Tom Hiddleston) remains professionally detached as the disdain of the upper levels begets a crusading demagogue, a brilliant attempt to self-sufficiently endure, chaotically chained to the repercussions of decay.

Experimental empowerment.

Entitled vengeance.

Daring to dream.

Ben Wheatley's High-Rise possesses a peculiar ambivalence which consistently deconstructs attempts to clarify its underlying motivations, inhabiting the illusive intersection where horror, comedy, and tragedy collude, where everything remains uncertain, and spectres illuminate aberrations.

Quick draw.

Technically, the film's outstanding. The production design (Mark Tildesley), cinematography (Laurie Rose), and editing (Amy Jump and Wheatley) shine forth with undeniable cheek and variability.

A team assembled.

At points the writing (Jump) struggles however, excelling at crafting believable impoverished and bourgeois dialogues, but failing to convince when enabling plutocratic mysticism.

Obviously a closer study of In Search of Lost Time is in order.

It's like a really tight elementary first or second script, Jump demonstrating that she has the ability to win awards, High-Rise impressing like Blood Simple or J'ai tué ma mère, Between the Buttons or David Bowie's self-titled album.

Childlike brilliance.

High-Rise sacrifices sophistication for shock and ordure, the script still excelling at not bothering to explain things which left me full of sardonic amelioration.

Cool cast of varied characters.

At its best when it's genuinely unconcerned, at its worst when it just doesn't care.

Winky face.

For such a massive apartment building, High-Rise doesn't showcase much of its commercial enterprise, only focusing on a totalitarian grocery store and some perfunctory athletic accompaniments.

Inflammatory reflections of hierarchical obsessions.

Sociopolitically speaking.

*Loved the quick-French-learning grocery clerk.

Slacker

Fluidly connecting multiple random moments from a day in the life of Austin, Texas, Richard Linklater's Slacker staggeringly introduces manifold characters, themes, and situations, each negotiating its own peculiar qualification, before fading into the background and constructing the affect. Rituals and declarations and circumstance. Considerations and diversification and history. Walking the beat, tweaking the pace, adapting the rhythm, refocusing the plurality. It's about difference, non-financially motivated objectives, rugged potential, and flourishing happenstance. The consent found within this emancipated group has not been manufactured as I've come to understand the white picket fence phenomenon and it's refreshing to watch as its manifestations suggest, plead, and evaluate before fading and reappearing with a refurbished energetically relaxed focus. There's no climax, build-up, or predictable order of things, just a number of individualized reflections presented and compellingly displayed.