Doctor Dolittle

Interspecies communication does still at times remain mysterious, wilderness whimsy and domestic thrills elusively cloaked in restrained viscosity. 

Observation as opposed to communication may lead to less accusations of eccentricity, as people less familiar with the natural world inadvertently gaze with nostalgic wonder.

Food and shelter, warmth and comfort, still effectively govern so much animal life, with a steady supply of tasty treats so many wild creatures no doubt relax.

Not to the point of close interactions, should you be seen they'll likely retreat, unless they become crazy accustomed to your presence and learn to trust you through acts of goodwill (no word of a lie, a squirrel just jumped on my head! [crazy! {then scampered away}]).

A raccoon was crossing a road in front of me so I took some hasty opaque photos, before I decided to squeak or make a noise that suddenly startled him, so he ran up a tree.

Then I got some good photos as he turned to inspect what had made the sound, although he didn't remain still for very long, and I didn't get as many as I was hoping.

There's a special melody when I whistle when I'm swimming that this year I've adapted to function as bird song, and I whistle it whenever out and about with the unacknowledged guidance of improvised tender. 

It is amazing how much the animals really love their wilderness home, you see a lot of them on nature shows, the injured animals delicately taken care of by concerned staff and dedicated doctors, before being released back into the wild, where they dart off at lightning speed.

It is nice to have your own place to freely return to after work, with your routine and your habitual ways hardly ever criticized as you do this and that.

The ocean must prodigiously function like a limitless migratory freeway, where whales and dolphins can actively chill as days go by from year to year.

Do they think we're angels?

I must admit, I think they do.

There's something about the look in their eyes. 

Like spiritual ecstasy. 

Foaming and frothing.   

Kitten Caboodle

They existed peacefully in unison, in balanced harmony with inclusive nature, enjoying the modest bounty of the land with humble reckoning and agile foresight.

Their species had known these comforts since time immemorial and everlasting, when a bold and crafty constructive divinity cleverly thought of a newfound plan.

He noted that the expansive landscape hadn't changed much in recent centuries, and thought that if one of his creatures had cultivating powers the resultant wilderness would be more dynamic. 

In consultation with the chosen ones he clearly explained his wondrous plan, that they should henceforth build abundant dams with natural materials across the land. 

Many of the chosen animals had requisite questions in curious response, the inquisitive characteristics of their postures respectfully admired by their master.

He laid out the efficient plan in erudite detail with effective musing, taking into animate account regional differences and personality conflicts.

Yet even though the plan seemed fine and in fact brilliant from many perspectives, there were still those amongst them who thought it foolhardy and supercilious. 

They complained of the extra work and how it would conflict with nutrient acquisition, and lazing about in the hot sun on warm summer days ad infinitum.

The others pointed out that dam construction would ensure food throughout the winter, and the nearby lodge a place to stay that couldn't be accessed by wolves or bobcats.

Still they refused to believe longing to keep to the olden ways, and struggle if needs be from month to month and day to day.

And the divinity became fed up and indeed supernaturally decreed, that the species would be separated into different groups forever after.

The beavers would have a special tail and be given the miraculous gift, to venture forth throughout the land constructing dams for all and sundry.

The muskrats would keep the tail of a rat and never change throughout the centuries, in close resemblance to their ancient brethren yet less industrious over the millennia.

I always thought beavers got the idea to build dams and lodges from watching birds build nests. Isn't that true dad?

It might be little Timmy. Although I must admit, I really can't say.  

Bedlambience

Cyclically fated to hesitantly contend, the animals of the forest aligned themselves en masse, within and without the town which they inhabited, as the habitual schematics of their natures mutated.

The mice were typically afraid of cats who vehemently critiqued their colonialist endeavours, and skittishly hid from them in shadows while they austerely ruled the roost.

Simultaneously, the frisky felines sought haughty refuge from the fishers, who sought them out and about the town and were inclined to facetious wickedness. 

The fishers couldn't hide from the wolves however who were sincerely irritated by their standing, and adamantly composed themselves adroitly to boldly limit their expanding numbers.

One mouse was cunning nevertheless and taught his brethren to unite as one, and chase away the intrusive cats who were causing so much disastrous trouble.

The cats then followed suit and ferociously fought off the wanton fishers, who also abandoned their traditional independence and were able to fight off the wolves.

Not fight off I suppose, a rather messy state of affairs developed. 

Known as the postmodern wilderness. 

In improvised collective verdant flow.

I liked how the bears stayed out of it and just minded their own business, feasting on vegetation and nuts and honey it's a bear's life to be sure ad infinitum.

As far as the madness goes clever civilized rights seemed to be emerging, through the aggrieved disputes and senseless loss of life the affected animals came to an understanding.

Thankfully supernatural order kept the populations reasonably balanced, and no one was able to wildly annihilate their future endemic friends and neighbours. 

If only the reasonable balance could manifest headlines like the alternative.

And keep the populace entranced in awe.

As widespread goodwill acutely flourished. 

Web Spring

As far as I know, spiders spend a lot of time building webs.

They're not that concerned with acoustics.

Birds irritated one spider intensely however because they could produce such beautiful songs, and as far as he knew spiders could not, at least not up until that present day. 

But they could make distinct webs consisting of varying degrees of strength, in sundry shapes and manifold sizes, they had an advantage from that point of view.

What to do with all that variety that was the frustrating engaging question, how to create mellifluous sound from the tactile strings composing their webs?

Then one day he was out and about testing web strength with an expert eye, when a sudden downpour caught him off guard and he slipped and fell onto a nearby leaf.

Yet as he slipped one of his legs dynamically plucked a heartfelt string.

And a wondrous sound was breathtakingly heard.

Soon to be accompanied in rhythmic jive. 

It's a bit absurd to think about a spider's web like a versatile guitar string, as if the metallic nature of the pluck could be fibrously reproduced in nature. 

Still, a compelling idea to think about spiders chill and jammin', throughout forests across the land at different speeds and variable tempos.

I liked how little Caleb taught the others how to play, and in their boredom they eventually created unique communal sounds ensemble.

Since different spiders have alternative sizes the resonant sounds of the sprightly webs, make for symphonic amplitudes after tuned to sonorous threads.

50 or 60 spiders playing their web guitars with eight arms apiece, would make for quite the orchestral gathering as it certainly does within the film.

I loved when the birds took part and graciously starting playing the compelling music.

Spider symphonies adaptively enchanting. 

Naturalists through song. 

*It's cool to watch spiders build webs.

**How did they evolve to do that?

Sashades

Lithe exercise fluid excursion 

'riching immersive diversions

'calculated inundated

'flexive pumice poem curated 

'steemed mismatch marshmallow thatch

iglooey bold em-haberdash

Lake Eerie dip fold nondescript

stoutwittischism fledgling fit

countreeoutside gossamer glide

the thawing icyclique alight

temperate traction interactions

cozy cuddlin' blind distractions

cheesy melt Gelfling adwelt

conif'rous swathe 'gebraic shelt

incongruous puddling-slish-slush

pole vaulting moulting impetus

fireside serrated blithe elated 

shifting visions coruscated 

sprightly heat gormandized treat

succulent sweltering biscuit

accomp'nying sonata swing

variable foxglobetrotting

birchbarking stove smooth steady flow 

surrounding hermitage' aglow

a pitter-patter playful chatter

mischievous observant clatter 

unbeknownst shy reckoning

instructive 'adverdant glazing

shimmering hazy mesmerized

startled and shocked nay stupefied

conducive randomized eclective

enigmatic stave selective

singsong chirps revitalized 

emergent flocks extemporized 

communal vibrant dispositions

friendship teamwork play indifference

nestled deep within the ground

lay creatures slumbering unbound

unconsciously in time aware

with rhythmic acrobatic flair

awakening slowly and grumpy

hungry hesitance harumphy

rolling over yawing sore

embracing ye olde forest floor

the eggs they crack the butter sizzles

alimentary festive fizzles

curious the contemplation

life in innocent 'carnation

symphony.

Buena Vista

Ricochet mesmer slipstream succour

lavender lychee ostentatious box,

glimmering gambit salient showcase

articulate amber forensic flutter.

Disputatious dimples congenial hoodwink

Cartesian ruse distracting artifice,

gatewaylaid fractal allegorical thresh

starboardroom stilts incensed interrogative.

Surmiserly summit plasticine perch

meteoric missive platonic pulse,

organic stature compatriot bling

mythicustardis rank collusion. 

Rubiks lexicubist heuristic hustle

postulate pulpit jalloquent jammies,

nasal synaptitude ‘cilious sights

budding gustation auracular spore.

Envisaged spawning clan osmosis

atypical tinkering noxious loci,

demstereo breadcrumbs stray emissions

Helios hummuster hamster queue.

Rowdy ‘curricular ringside hocus

glistening glide drenched composed,

sonorous speed pitchfork titling

lathe immersion soothsaying’ chide.

Chomnibus chortle burlap burmagma

echohort hooting jubilant shade,

regal component emerald swirl

nominal bombast negligent girth.

Lazuuli thicket persnickety pomp

opalescent timber carcabijoux wood,

auriferous musée optical transmission

looseleaf insignia sierra grotto.

Embellietzsche wiz imputed signs

carnavalesque temper video highlights,

modest decorum macadamia crunch

glamorous nuisance haughty hardwire.

Eggstatic scramble dynamo rouse

emphatic clamber captious wrinkle,

revitalized cessation indicative lullaby

nutrient flux panjam’Alabam.

Cardinal construct tectonic willow

birch barking mad-hasher dashery-doo,

mandolin rhythm sinewfoundlinger

scallop malaise recrudescent tread.

Cavalier cadeptation kalamuschmooze

otiose llama blesséd bray,

beure d’arachide dissimulacrum,

cyberspace sizzle bold conjecture. 

Many things taste better with salsa.

I like to just have the odd mouthful.

Spicy, but not too spicy. 

Variety begets tempation.  

Dogmesticikitty

The snow refused to charitably yield and continued falling for weeks on end, the resultant piles indeed insurmountable as commerce and education could no longer function.

Even the army was unable to clear the vast voluminous onslaught of flakes, and people were locked down in grim seclusion with no emancipating end in sight.

For some, it was plain old February the dead of winter putrid and zombified, it was just a matter of one more board game before the resolute sun would resplendently shine.

But this time it didn't, the unabashed snow snidely fell with blanketing tempestuousness, as emphatic worries gradually increased with distressing implacable disregard. 

It felt like the time of the caveman as cloistered hysterics began to erupt, and too much time had awkwardly passed to relieve the tension with play and song.

When, to make matters worse, domestic cats and dogs revolted. 

And forged wild hunting parties of their own. 

From which safe refuge could not be found.

It's utterly absurd.

Like our cherished pets would ever wildly revolt against us!

It doesn't make sense if contemporary logic is keenly taken into universal account.

Still, the scene where the gigantic pack of dogs vehemently descended on the ________ team, was crazy intense and filled with emotion through the creative use of traditional plays. 

I suppose it was a bit cliché to have the army taken out first, to make the film that much more harrowing as the snow continued to fall.

The battle at the sequestered nunnery between the sisters and the barrage of cats, was spiritually sinister in its death-defying bedlam, no doubt ill-suited to Sunday school.

Throughout, the bewildered Trundle family oddly observes the ancient imbroglio, scholastically endowed and academically inclined they can't explain the pestilent reckoning.

I loved how the hibernating animals emerged from their slumber to save the town, passionately criticizing the dogs and cats for casting off their traditional domesticity. 

Ending the film with the bucolic, Just another god damn February, left me somewhat overcome with joy, the bizarro crisis having been averted, not bad for animation. 

Testudinosaur

A young foolish eager adult who enjoys walking through the woods, notes the changes in the forest as the vigilant years distend.

His mother wonders why he's so obsessed with taking photos in the woods, but kindly notes the intuitive goodwill curiously in touch with his endeavours.

He's able to find work which often keeps him strictly occupied, the crafting of exceptional texts first and foremost on his mind.

Unconcerned with traditional appearances or the usual ways in which people act, he compiles a vast collection of eclectic novel bric-a-brac.

As time passes, the resident animals become more accustomed to his presence, and stop worrying when he shows up at the local marsh to take his pictures.

In tune with local wilderness rhythms, he begins to notice turtles on the tracks, engaged in humble exploratory actions as they carelessly observe and note and wander.

As trains often use the very same routes to conduct their commercial affairs, the artist becomes alert and watchful in his cataloguing of the turtles. 

Then one day, a train approaching, he sees a turtle on the tracks, and moves quickly to swiftly move him/her to a safe location in the forest.

His timing is somewhat off and he arrives too late however.

Only to miraculously emerge.

In the supernatural land of turtles. 

With a larger budget the land of the turtle may have seemed more convincing, not that it doesn't have its unique features which encourage light compelling applause.

I liked how the turtles he moved off the tracks were pissed when they saw him in their land, and vented their sublime frustration with grizzled undisciplined nonchalance. 

Using real turtles in the crafting of the intricate scenes may have been frustrating, if they weren't incredibly adorable and innately attuned to all things cinema.

Theresa Montesque naturally shines as the helpful mom, who takes a modest interest in her son's work while trying not to be overbearing.

Who knew that turtles were using the tracks to secretly travel between dimensions?

As the sun beats down with wild intensity.

Throughout the typical working day.

*The voyage back to the forest is cool as well. 

**Never play around train tracks. You never know when the train might show up.

The Wild Robot

A helpful and benevolent domestic robot finds itself stranded in the wilderness, on an isolated island abounding with wildlife whom it initially can't comprehend.

It requires tasks, a role to fulfill, calling and purpose, industrious discipline, but the animals refer to it as a monster and tend to avoid making direct contact.

Except for an audacious fox who attempts to help it learn natural ways, after it uses its advanced programming to study the different languages the animals speak.

Unfortunately, one troubling day, while out and about doing this and that within the forest, it takes a tumble and accidentally falls on a nest of birds and kills the mother.

A baby survives however and now has no one to guide and nurture him, the harsh wilderness stepping in to potentially claim a helpless soul.

But the robot sees a task that can be fulfilled with warmth and friendship, the gentle nurturing of the chick through kind instruction and didactic teaching.

The fox hangs around and the oddball trio makes a name for itself in the wood.

The other animals curiously taking note.

Of the non-traditional heartwarming activities. 

If you like North American wildlife and tender stories with a tough edge, working within the tradition of Terminator films without the focus on armageddon, you may come to love The Wild Robot with sincere unabashed expressive levity, it's thoughtful and well-done and has something to offer both adults and children.

The robot's like a much less bellicose humble Terminator who eventually learns the value of life, and how hard work and honest self-sacrifice produce sweetly flowing constructive communities. 

It even builds a winter lodge that the animals stay in to keep warm together, it's like drinking-in-the-Jungle Book's-lagoon times 1,000 in terms of exceptional cool fictional animal gatherings (there's a lynx, an opossum [they cute!]), porcupines, a bear, raccoons, deer, everything, the wildlife coverage is phenomenal!). 

With the elegant message, the eloquent lesson to move beyond limits and calculation, by employing kindness and warmth and empathy to the curation of life wherever it's found.

The variety is multidimensional and it effectively blends technology and nature.

Please train A.I to love animals. 

How could they pose a systemic threat?

*I'll be watching this on a yearly basis for sure. Probably in the winter. Loved it!

All the Little Animals

The loss of a loved one lugubriously leads to a new set of rigid familial schematics, and whereas his mother was kind and generous, Bobby's intimidating step-father's acrimonious.

He hurt his head as a child and grew up differently thereinafter, homeschooled in isolation yet still loving and chill and fond.

Not very worldly indeed and wholeheartedly despairing of mature procedures, with hardly any of the requisite knowledge temperamentally toned through objective realism.

His step-father wants his share of the business and all he really knows is not to sign anything, dear old dad threatening a secluded lifetime in a mental institution if he doesn't play ball.

He makes an awkward break for it and soon finds himself hitchhiking across the country, with Cornwall as his destination without any money or clothes or friends.

Yet fate lends a gentle hand after he escapes a life-threatening situation, and meets an eccentric lonesome wanderer who delicately spends his free time administering.

Not a business or office or government but the deceased animals found throughout the countryside.

Whom he gingerly finds and buries.

As he comes across them in his travels. 

Logic and reason and management and consequence take on alternative hues in All the Little Animals, where the most unlikely of protagonists exceedingly champion magnanimous essentials.

There's no doubt that life in all its forms deserves to flourish for the time it's given, but it's not that often you discover the cinema courageously celebrating badgers and moths.

It's not a children's film although they may find it quite endearing, it resolutely adores all animal life and was even made in animal-hating Britain.

I'm even trying not to step on the shoots enthusiastically sprouting from the ground at the moment, hoping not to prevent the dynamic emergence of blooming nimble evergreen plant life.

Inasmuch as I've never seen anything like All the Little Animals before, I have to admit to remaining spellbound regarding its altruistic import.

It's like David Suzuki or David Attenborough asked one of their grandchildren to write a movie.

And somehow it actually got commercially made.

With a stellar cast.

Love for books and animals. 

*I mean to say that it's incredible that this film was made and it would be great if there were more films like it.

**There must be many British people who like animals, all I know is bears went extinct there thousands of years ago (according to Google and a Bears book I read years ago). 

***Islands. 

Kaguya-hime no monogatari (The Tale of the Princess Kaguya)

A childless family holistically subsists within the fertile abundant countryside, utilizing enriching multifaceted bamboo to productively nourish and equip their household.

One bamboo shoot proves more elaborate than the other versatile exemplars within the forest, revealing a miniature person no less in need of love and warmth and shelter and guidance.

Her new parents are unsure of what to do but know she grows quickly and flourishes in nature, as she swiftly befriends the local children who generously teach her about plants and animals.

Other discoveries within the forest lead her father to believe she's destined for royalty, fine silk robes and a huge pile of gold lead him to seek stately honours sequentially.

They move away from the cherished country to the imposing capital where they've built a mansion, and hired a discerning professional nanny to strictly teach her the rules of etiquette. 

She responds with traditional transgressions and febrile fits of fervent fury, but eventually settles into her chosen role out of dutiful love for her mother and father.

Bold noblepeople from across the land soon come a'-calling in pursuit of marriage.

But she responds with impossibility.

To which they counter in roguish fashion.

The dependable roots of a heartwarming Ghibli magically take hold of one's heart within, and enchantingly propagate independent merrymaking with soul-searching skill and tender echoes.

The sought after attention to naturalistic detail and focus on animals of all shapes and sizes, can be wondrously found once again throughout what's come to be known as Kaguya-hime no monogatari (The Tale of the Princess Kaguya).

Crafts are also concentrated on as the Princess moves from station to station, animated accounts of diligent artists distinctively engaged in woodworking wonder. 

The eternal struggle between the carefree ways of a bucolic youth clashing with urban responsibility, permeates the bewildered action as the coveted Princess takes centre stage.

Would it have been better to introduce the Moon People at the beginning of the film instead of much later?, the lack of foreknowledge briefly generating confusion as the shocking revelations augment the end.

But the intricate detail, the copious love for thriving nature to be found within.

And the ways in which it appeals to the fortunate throughout life.

Seductively soothes.

Any critical sensation. 

Storm Boy

A mild-mannered father (Peter Cummins) takes up fishing off the rugged coast of Australia, securing a modest independent living for him and his only son (Greg Rowe as Mike 'Storm Boy' Kingley).

His wife passed on unfortunately and he never sought the hand of another, incredibly chill laidback pastoral but still stern about materialistic things.

His poor son would like a radio to tune into the outside world, he's naturally curious and doesn't attend school and would like to learn more about his bustling surroundings.

But he's not a brat, he doesn't bother his dad in routine disgruntled tantrum, instead he turns the beach and its enveloping countryside into a multifaceted mysterious classroom.

His habitual innocent candour leads to the making of animal friends, notably after finding some baby pelicans whose parents were likely shot by casual hunters. 

He takes the babies home and helps to raise them with good ole dad, forging fluent amicable bonds, one even stays on into adulthood.

Mr. Percival makes adorable sounds while going about his pelican business, and proves quite perspicacious as the sea erupts in challenge.

But will 'lil Storm Boy ever go to school or at least take correspondence courses?, so full of life and compassionate vision he'd no doubt benefit from general learning.

His Indigenous friend (David Gulpilil as Fingerbone) encourages schooling and teaches him to be cautious 'round snakes, perhaps too cautious indeed they're lifeforms too with a right to exist!

Nevertheless, young Storm Boy authenticates the amiable inquisitive frontier spirit, perhaps not as wild as at the time of first contact, but still overflowing with naturalistic life.

If you can still find joy in nature there's certainly an abundance in Canada and Australia, true the winter makes it difficult in North America, but there also aren't many venomous snakes (or spiders).

Storm Boy presents open-minded individuals who haven't been misled by prejudice, and gradually shows them peacefully interacting with intuitive grace and humanistic dignity. 

It also composédly challenges speciesism by crafting integral animal friends, not just cats and dogs but other animals who can also learn to harmoniously co-exist.

Its inherent calm enabling chill well-meaning tranquil harmless goodwill, should make Storm Boy a family favourite for different generations not only in Australia.

A must see if you have a family that's genuinely interested in the natural world.

It's not entirely chill, tough scenes await!

Why the emphasis on gruelling mortality?

*Isn't Kes's return the worst episode of Voyager?

**Speciesism doesn't show up in spellcheck!

***I can't find the Storm Boy sequel online!

Mononoke-hime (Princess Mononoke)

A young prince must fight a demon who threatens the prosperity of his humble village (Yôji Matsuda as Ashitaka), his people forced to flee long ago after infuriating the emperor. 

He successfully slays the intruder but touches its infected tentacles too, a curse then emerging within his arm which the village elders cannot cure.

Not willing to sit back while it spreads he boldly departs in search of medicine, making his way to a rowdy village engaged in the act of making iron.

He's welcomed for having rescued some of its menfolk from irate wolves, the village leader (Yûko Tanaka as Eboshi-gozen) eagerly entertaining and letting him get to know her people.

But as it dishearteningly turns out, their ironworks is destroying the local wilderness, where a resident forest god has lived forever, in quiet peace and regal seclusion. 

The animals are loosely united and intent on fighting the destructive town, arguments erupting amongst them, at other times, cohesive calm.

A young maiden lives with the wolves and is just as fierce in her condemnation, known as Princess Mononoke (Yuriko Ishida), she denies fear and exhales resolve.

Prince Ashitaka soon finds he's in love with her as all hell emphatically breaks loose.

Eboshi-gozen wants the god's head to grant immortality. 

But is unsure if the legend's true. 

Princess Mononoke and Prince Ashitaka find comfort in their mutual adoring amicability, the ideal unification of masculine and feminine harmoniously embracing age old enlightened daring.

It's more difficult to figure out the role matronistically played by Eboshi-gozen within, for on the one hand she supplies freedom and community, on the other, environmental devastation.

Not only the naturalistic bedlam to be expected by efficient mining, but she also pursues the forest god itself, intent on despairing ancient resiliency. 

She frees many from vile servitude and supplies honest work for her surrounding cast, while promoting the development of Mordor, it's a difficult contradiction to balance.

Environmentally friendly mining practices at peace with resident animals, certainly would have been less burdensome, and providing a heightened degree of friendly interdependency.

Love still innocently flourishes beyond problems associated with industrialization.

A narrative like none other.

Forest mystics, spellbound exhilaration. 

*Note: Ghibli doesn't show up in spellcheck!

Fantastic Beasts: The Secrets of Dumbledore

The magical world continues to negotiate a menacing combative destructive threat, as Gellert Grindelwald (Mads Mikkelsen) and his fascist minions seek the subjugation of muggles worldwide.

It was thought their bellicose movement would disappear if generally disregarded, but seditious sympathy at the highest levels mournfully led to political profligacy.

Dumbledore (Jude Law) stands against them but can't deliberately enter the fray, extremely powerful amorous magic heartbreakingly preventing him from taking part.

But he assembles a resolute team who synergistically subverts Gellert's monstrous flux, not with enough prowess to halt his ambition, but still with enough daring to make things interesting.

A magical beast takes the ceremonious stage as the magical elite gather in mystical Bhutan, a creature capable of discerning spiritual integrity, a virtuous quality sought by the magical world.

Newt Scamander (Eddie Redmayne) was able to locate a Qilin mother just as she was about to give birth, but Grindelwald's devout disruptive subjects suddenly emerged and captured the youngling. 

Fortunately, unbeknownst to Grindelwald, the mother gave birth to twins.

While Grindelwald's magic somnambulizes one.

The other awaits felicitous fortunes.

Fantastic Beasts: The Secrets of Dumbledore makes bold strides in the fantasy realm, with Dumbledore's sexuality directly depicted, a groundbreaking step much like Marvel's Black Panther.

His tragic love maddeningly enduring frenetic devastating bland absolutism, as Grindelwald haunting proclaims, "but who will love you Dumbledore?", before retreating back to his despotic hideaway.

Jacob Kowalski (Dan Fogler) is also back at it with as much audacious reckoning as ever, somewhat hesitant and far out of his comfort zone, but still deftly clad in honourable bearing.

Not as many magical creatures to be found within this instalment, but perhaps a Fantastic Beasts series should be considered, with a dozen or so episodes that feature Newt searching the world for magical beasts like David Attenborough (something calm)?

I have to admit, as a personal addendum, when I'm writing my blogs I truly don't doubt myself, I often like many of the sentences or stanzas I create, and know that if I didn't have to work, they'd be even better.

But the real world is tough to negotiate and I keep expecting to find friends where I only meet adversaries. 

I suppose I'm supposed to get used to it.

But I just simply can't.

It's not a world worth living in. 

Birdy

I was surprised to discover I had never heard of Alan Parker's Birdy until last weekend, although I may understand why after having viewed it, such a shame it's been widely ignored.

In terms of animal rights, and the presentation of people who like animals, beyond belovéd nature documentaries, it's perhaps pioneering in its narrative.

In Birdy, a friendship develops between a young adult who loves birds (Matthew Modine as Birdy), and another who's more mainstream (Nicolas Cage as Al Columbato), the two interact without trying to change one another, and their reciprocally constructive friendship thrives.

Al may think it's somewhat strange that Birdy dresses up as a bird and pretends to fly, but they also bond through the reconstruction of an old car, and in other creative unique ways.

Unfortunately, they're both sent to fight in Vietnam as the draft cuts short their youth, Mr. Columbato returning with a disfigured face, Birdy having lost his mind.

The chief psychiatrist at the hospital hosting Birdy decides a visit from Al may help, and they meet up in Birdy's cell, while the film showcases moments from their past.

Why have I never heard of this film, why has it been forgotten, should it be a Criterion, it's strange seeing Nicolas Cage play the straight man?

It's possible that Birdy's gay although he never hits on Al, but he certainly has no interest in women, this could explain why the film's somewhat hush hush.

A mainstream relatable cool and comic film with an ambiguously gay lead character who loves animals, makes friends, and critiques the army, a recipe for artistic suppression if I've ever heard of one, what a shame, what a disaster!

It's still out there though available for rent from different places.

It must be one of Cage's first major roles. 

Another reason I'm surprised I've never heard of it.

But in how many films do you find leads who genuinely care about animals, films that don't try to make such lead characters seem nuts, even if having to have had to have fought in a war has driven one of them crazy, while attempting to appeal to a mainstream audience, without being overly sentimental?

Not many, Birdy may be one of a kind although I'm sure there are others I'm just not thinking of.

I loved it when they rescued the dogs.

It's tragic when Birdy can't open the window.

There should be more films about gentle souls.

That don't even have to focus on the horrors of war.

A classic '80s film deserving of more recognition.

Perhaps too many lines were crossed.

But there's nothing quite like shifting boundaries.

Conceptually speaking. 

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.

Koko: A Talking Gorilla

Koko: A Talking Gorilla presents pioneering documentary wildlife footage, shot long before Love Nature and BBC Earth emerged, it offers a direct hands-on approach to the crafting of naturalistic wonder. 

In a scholastic setting.

Is it possible for gorillas to acquire humanistic language skills?

Yes, Barbet Schroeder showcases the evidence within, and even if Koko doesn't learn to sign perfect human, he still learns hundreds of words by heart, and can engage in elementary small talk.

However, I have to admit that as I watched Koko and Penny Patterson communicating, I felt kind of bad for the verbose beastie, who seems somewhat uncomfortable a lot of the time within the film.

He often seems like he'd much rather be foraging around in the jungle, and although the experiment produces compelling results, did it thoroughly take into account Koko's natural instincts, his innate desires to gorilla about?

I like experiments that teach us more about animal kind because they're good at deconstructing stereotypes regarding non-humans, but so many of the them end with horrible results for the animals, that sometimes it seems like it's best not to conduct them.

I'm thinking about Susan Casey's book Voices in the Ocean: A Journey into the Wild and Haunting World of Dolphins, anyways, which starts out with a cool example of beatniks swimming with dolphins in Hawaii, while totally respecting dolphin kind's independence.

But then chapter after chapter chronicles horrendous interactions between well-meaning (and not so well-meaning) scientists (and others) and dolphins, which left me with a rather critical outlook regarding such experiments, since so many of them ended horribly.

I think animal awareness has remarkably improved in some countries and regions over the past 20 years, and there's certainly an abundance of caring people sharing animal love on the internet.

And I imagine generations are following David Attenborough's incredible example as they respectfully interact with our fellow Terran inhabitants (who have just as much of a right to this planet as we do). 

But the good's still mixed with an abundance of bad of cruel practices and experiments that are socially accepted, not to mention cultural prejudices which display shocking misguided horror, sign up for emails from Peta, be prepared for extreme woe.

Koko's treated well in the film and the people involved don't employ old school viewpoints, which justify outrageous abuses of intelligent animals based upon preferences for intellectual standing.

Rather they try to break down the barriers which uphold so many distressing rationalities. 

Koko still seems like he'd rather be playing.

I'm not sure where to draw the line.

I wonder what Jane Goodall thinks of this film?

Note: I love Orangutan Jungle School.

Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls

After the calamitous passing of a stalwart raccoon brother, Ace Ventura (Jim Carrey) despondently retires, taking up residence far off in an isolated Tibetan monastery, he settles inconsolable, while ruffling many a feather.

But his services are required in remote Nibia in the not so distant future, at the request of the concerned consul Vincent Cadby (Simon Callow), the monks grant him swift departure, bewildered go-between Fulton Greenwall (Ian McNeice) rather confused by his behaviour.

His assignment is to locate a sacred white bat known as Shikaka of the Wachati tribe, who is being offered as their Princess's dowry, as she prepares to wed a Wachootoo Prince.

The Wachootoo are none too amused by the unexplained disappearance, and threaten war to air their grievances, the Wachati much less prone to violence.

Ace has no leads no clues yet still proceeds with bold determination, vigorously applying his uncanny methods with pejorative pressure and erratic schism.

Enter the playful unpredictable with exuberant athletic jocose alarm.

Can't believe I never saw this in my youth.

Even if some films get better with age.

If you're looking for improvised mad unruly rowdy raunchy conglomerates, randomly exerting recalcitrant remonstrance, through unabashed gaseous discerning repartee, Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls offers reckless cheek unclouded unbound, services required, services rendered, with grand eccentric revelry.

The ways in which he ignores so much of what people say and transforms every encounter into an obnoxious farce, efficaciously deconstructs fussiness with counterintuitive constructive chaos.

If you love animals it's a must see, especially for the joyous concluding moments, wherein which trophy hunting is resoundingly beat down, by ecstatic health and wellness.

It's also hilarious, I laughed out loud several times, that doesn't happen often anymore, it felt amazing, it's just so much fun to watch serious people try to work with him, as he jettisons rarefied irreverence. 

But it does go too far I'm afraid, I was surprised to see it suddenly make light, of the ways in which European diseases and viruses killed so many Indigenous peoples, that joke should have been left out.

Ace goes off-roading through the jungle too, destroying a lot of delicate flora along the way, it just seemed odd for someone who cares about wildlife so much to destructively smother it with a huge machine.

These moments don't ruin the film but they were somewhat shocking and inconsiderate nonetheless.

Ventura's rebelliousness knows no bounds.

But at times exceeds even outrageous incredulity. 

The Beastmaster

Prophecy declares that an evil priest (Rip Torn) will be slain by a king's gifted son (Marc Singer as Dar), so he engages in open defiance, and attempts to murder the infant. 

Who is saved by a conscientious villager who them raises him as his own, teaching him the arts of logic and sword-fighting as he patiently comes of age.

As he matures he also learns that he has a natural gift with animals, and can indeed converse and interact with them as if they were taxonomic kin.

Soon his village is attacked by fierce barbarians and in the aftermath he alone survives, setting out to grieve incarnate wandering upon the open road.

By chance, one day he encounters two nimble maidens frolicking unrestrained, one who seems to take an interest in his imposing derelict tragedy (Tanya Roberts as Kiri). 

But she is to be sacrificed and must be boldly saved and then set free, Dar befriending other victims of injustice correspondingly, whom he agrees to fight along side.

They must save a dynamic city from the very same evil priest of long ago.

Who's allied with the barbarians. 

And hellbent on pernicious ritual.

A just emancipating vision disposed to humble daring legend, adventurously emerges as noble Dar quests impassioned. 

Instinctual freedom untethered largesse distinctly abound with forthright recalcitrance, within a realm chaotically composed through distraught prayer and demonic terror.

In an age creatively refusing to be limited by impossibility, Beastmaster brazenly interrogated lavish budgets and special effects.

If you want to imaginatively conceive beyond disheartening technological constraints, look to Don Coscarelli and his crafty film which pursued fascination reprieved regardless.

His animals were real and he wasn't confined by dismissive inconsiderate assumptions (don't make this: it will be cheesy), proceeding epically unimpeded by pejorative disjunction.

Perhaps inspiring many who work for Marvel or DC or independently this postmodern day, remarkable to see how much things change, over the course of the passing decades.

You think, "how could things surpass contemporary animate production design?"

While longing for long lost muppets.

Audacious initiative. 

Impossibility.  

With John Amos. 

Primal

Unable to abide by the rules and structures of traditional zookeeping, an independent spirit strikes out on his own, in the ironic pursuit of free ranging wildlife, whom he captures to earn his living.

Meanwhile a resourceful assassin has been caught by the American government, which plans to transport him back to the States, for having committed brutal crimes.

Frustratingly, he can't travel by plane, due to a physiological peculiarity, and must therefore be securely shipped, on the very same boat upon which Frank Walsh (Nicolas Cage) is voyaging, to facilitate the sale of his animals.

Elite military personnel vigilantly guard their prisoner, expecting everything to go as planned, but a not-so-subtle animate seizure brings about harrowing unforeseen circumstances.

Soon they're back on the hunt in an enclosed cryptic junk yard jungle, Frank's animals having been set free, to add wild beastly fierce complication, to a rather sensational schematic.

Venomous snakes, birds, tapirs, monkeys, and a ghost-jaguar enjoy unexpected freedom, locked down encaged no longer, curious to learn more about their new environment.

Will they accidentally assist in the improvised plans to recapture a crazed escape artist, or further annoy the troops as they search, while sincerity tracks them down?

Primal proceeds with raw carnal instinct intending to generally avoid incarceration, those who persist intuitively enacting intense entrepreneurial codes.

Its narrative logistics aren't far off course considering its limited budget, although I can't help but wonder how shocking it may have been had it possessed more bountiful resources.

It steers clear of Snakes on a Plane which I initially thought may have provided inspiration, preferring to stick to infused human conflict instead of concentrating on the ghost-cat.

Actors are given the chance to emit passionate refinements of character, and with less material to go on than enigmatic drama they still establish volatile identities.

Can't say I'm the biggest fan of capturing animals to sell them to the highest bidder. Especially the rarest inhabitants of the jungle. It's much more fun to think they roam free.

Life of Pi does make a strong argument in favour of zoos, but I think the larger animals still definitively abhor them (unless they're lazy).

I was mistaken in my initial hypothesis regarding Primal's concluding moments, but I can't say much more than that without giving too much away.

It's a cool film if you like this kind of story.

Would have been cooler with African American survivors.

And reforms leading to the release of the animals in the end. 

Has Nicolas Cage ever been in a film with Gary Oldman?

They're both best actor winners who never lost their cool.

As far as I know.  

Directed by Robert Rodriguez? 

. . .