Excalibur

The reliable maintenance of fantastic legend convivially maintained century after century, as the present consistently bores its contemporaries and they adamantly search for entertaining alternatives. 

Odd that a nation as old as Britain doesn't cash in on more of its legends, aren't King Arthur and Robin Hood and Churchill just peas in the tumultuous historical pod?

Their markets are no doubt durable and habitually enable modest artists to prosper, even if some examples lack daring or innovation or narrative depth or multivariability. 

When to release the next instalment look to the Jurassic Park franchise I would, I was crazy excited to see the first one, and lacked interest after no. 3, but so much time had passed before Jurassic World came out, that I found myself enthusiastic again.

I remember seeing the Disney Camelot cartoon when but a wee lad in the 1980s, and how excited I impressionably was to see King Arthur wield sword from stone.

The idea of divine agency still genuinely compelling and keenly motivating, so odd to see it televisually disseminated in mad political advertisements. 

The idea never loses its intriguing longevity decade after decade millennia after millennia, but it ebbs and flows through the passage of time, logic and reason having lost popular ground in recent times due to the internet.

It's disheartening to see so many nations of well-read citizens lugubriously reduced, to listening to broadcasts spread by dictators that they were able to see through when they were 7.

You see the problems with dictatorships or monarchies or oligarchies played out in Excalibur, wherein which you have Arthur's prosperous reign followed by that of woebegone tyrants.

The sad reality that many strict rulers don't seek stable food supplies and infrastructure maintained, but rather personal aggrandizement that leaves the people starving and destitute. 

Thus, democratic stewardship tends to avoid despotic excesses, but the internet is making it ironically unpopular and volatile hardships are quickly returning.

You see the pattern laid threadbare in Jonathan Fenby's France: A Modern History, as manifold wild political compositions emphatically emerge in France post-1789 (42 different governments between World Wars).

But he points out how they eventually stabilized a working efficient civil service, with democratic goals at its tender heart, which has kept things running smoothly throughout the upheavals.

Something to shoot for something to preserve as the Internet Tyrants frustrate like Khan.

So many components they can't comprehend.

Which drives them to seek absolutism all the more. 

Mothra vs. Godzilla

A mysterious giant egg suddenly appears off the Japanese Coast, its contents baffling yet still intriguing, as diverse interests eclectically gather.

Unfortunately, environmental initiatives fail to posture before the egg is (absurdly) sold, by local entrepreneurial opportunists hoping to monumentally prosper.

A more ambitious wealthy exhibitionist hopes to create a theme park through Happy Enterprises, and entertainingly showcase the egg while also selling treats and delicious refreshments.

Concerned journalists soon learn of the plot and set about cultivating public opinion, hoping to create a massive uproar which may encourage government intervention.

They lament that there's no legal recourse to directly challenge the developers in court, especially after two miniature citizens suddenly arrive from Mothra's island.

Apparently, the typhoon sent Mothra's egg on a disquieting maiden voyage, and they've come to argue for its return especially since noble Mothra is dying.

The adventurists care not for her plight and refuse to give up their lucrative treasure.

Just as Godzilla comes a' callin'.

Hellbent on countercultural carnage.

A crash course in socioeconomics instructively awaits in Mothra vs. Godzilla, perfectly laid out with accessible language which any curious audience member would easily comprehend (with English or French subtitles 🤷).

Mothra vs. Godzilla may even indeed be a solid didactic tool to be used in classrooms across the land, schools effectively saving resources and time by simply showing this ridiculous film.

Perhaps that's what happened, there's no equivocal doubt that environmental regulations in some jurisdictions are much stronger, and that if you want to develop land like Ontario's Greenbelt, you first have to acknowledge local regulations.

Thus, the public outrage the journalists seek to nurture in ye olde Mothra vs. Godzilla (Mothra shows up in spellcheck but Godzilla doesn't), would likely also be backed up by laws progressively created over the course of the last century.

Hence, instead of bravely spending the last moments of her life epically battling the formidable Godzilla, Mothra could have cared for her fledgling young and perhaps even named or taken them for their first flight.

Perhaps Godzilla disputatiously emerged to figuratively encourage the creation of such laws, I've seen several nature shows about Japan, and it seems as if their wildlife is flourishing (except for whales 😢😭😿🐋).

Sad that Mothra had to physically give her life for such a turn of events to jurisprudently take hold.

Her larvae born argumentatively composed.

Their perspicacity irritating the aggrieved Godzilla!

Terminator: Dark Fate

Liked the new Terminator film.

I was surprised in the opening moments to see a beloved character shot down, and would have been angrier if that had happened much earlier, say in the 1990s, and then thought the initial terminator battle which followed was too textbook, too hasty, but after things settled down and the new parameters became clear, clearer, it took on a life of its own, and at times, seriously impressed.

I admit that I love Rise of the Machines, as I mentioned several times years ago, and Salvation isn't that bad either, although I'm not too fond of Genisys anymore.

I was partial to seeing John Connor chaotically embrace his messianic future, I suppose because it's cool to see the same characters reimagined in successive sequels, even if improbability ridiculously assails strict logic thereby, but that's the trick then, certainly, isn't it?, to make the impossible seem reasonably sound?

Rise of the Machines embraces the ridiculous aspect of reasonable improbabilities and perhaps therefore seems farcical to some, insufficiently serious in fact, lacking sombre and solemn composure.

Although I still think it does a great job of bringing Connor and Kate Brewster together, Arnold Schwarzenegger encouraging reluctant pair bonding, and as far as romantic-comedy-action-sci-fi goes, I can't think of another film that even remotely compares.

But Dark Fate works in the classic Terminator revelations well, the moments when its characters suddenly find themselves subsumed by ludicrous fact, reliant on a team they've never met before, and a plan laid out like a derelict jazz solo.

It did seem illogical that John Connor could be the only one to save the future, that no one else would rise up if he fell, especially considering how eager so many are to assert themselves, against all odds, in oppressive circumstances.

Thus, alternative computations perhaps make more sense than Highlander reckonings, uncharted territory reinvigorating discovery, a traditional plot realigned and recalibrated, repopulated with narrative variation.

It's nice to see Sarah Connor (Linda Hamilton) back at it. She adds a lot of depth and hasn't missed a beat.

Plus the new characters define themselves well.

Mr. Schwarzenegger lightens the mood.

And is reintroduced with paramount timing.

I suppose it's tough to diversify these films without setting them in the future like Salvation, as long as a terminator travels through time to hunt, and a future leader awaits unaware.

But if you want to keep things solemn while blending in a slight comedic touch, Dark Fate provides a noteworthy template, the dam doesn't burst, humanity fights back, and don't forget the convincing revelation scenes.

Tim Miller and his crew clearly care about the characters and sought to deliver a cool film for its fans.

Theatre troops have been performing Hamlet for centuries.

Working in contemporary themes.

Or reimagining historical authenticity.

As artificial intelligence becomes more prominent, don't Terminator films become more relevant?

So much time wasted in paranoid conflict.

Why isn't it clear there can be more than one?

The Dark Tower

A monstrous evil, scurrilously preying on the gifts of the innocent, intent on unleashing a frenzy of chaos upon worlds existing within worlds, rigorously assaulting their towering quintessence, transporting between realms with exuberant malicious discontent to capture a child and exploit his powers thereby inaugurating bedlam's unconstrained malevolence, after he desperately escapes his minion's demonic clutches, landing in a western world thereafter wherein which hope still communally emancipates.

Like a University professor who tyrannically bends the wills of his or her grad students to her or his own, or a teacher conjured by a shrieking nightmarish Pink Floyd soundscape, the Man in Black (Matthew McConaughey) feverishly seeks young Jake (Tom Taylor), who fortunately manages to obtain aid through opposition (Idris Elba).

In the fantastic dominion of Mid-World.

By the light of a despondent Sun.

As crudely cavalier nauseous malcontents continue to flourish in Trump's grossly irresponsible political construct, The Dark Tower disseminates multilateral luminescence, illuminating paths upon which to sublimely tread, during the villainous nocturnal onslaught, and the promulgation of sheer stupidity.

While artists are abandoned within, violence is recreationally devoured, leaders remain isolated and drifting, and attacks wildly increase in ferocity, an undaunted team slowly assembles, afterwards casting utopian firmaments anew.

Not the best fantasy film I've seen this Summer (I'm wondering if that's why Spaghetti Week at the Magestic [or something like that] is advertised near the end [lol]), but still a cool entertaining traditional yet creative sci-fi western, even if I'm unsure how I would have reacted to it if I were 15, I certainly find it relevant enough these days to imagine that I would have loved it.

The magical power of rhetorical/literary/political/interdimensional/. . . metaphor gracefully comments and forecasts, providing young and aged minds alike with plenty of rationales to reify, while still bluntly emphasizing the truth of scientific fact.

Focusing on the good of the many.

As contrasted with unilateral obsessions.

The Magnificent Seven

Itinerant indicators reverently reconciling disputed claims to hegemonic fluidity, lethal voracity violently extinguishing, incriminating, decimating, on cue a feisty lass sets out in search of providential justice, fortunately then encountering a robust conscience unbound, who's also in search of restorative balsam, a regenerative surge, consultant of impoverished legend, unbeknownst heretofore.

A team is required, and recruits are sought after, testaments to old school social networking, eventually emancipating The Magnificent Seven.

Multiculturally enriching the destitute through discriminant codes of conduct, exacting rectitude, perspicacious pertinence, this gathering does not have much to say, but excels at prescribing succinct ontological defence.

As the raven confides, and the gold mine's owner makes a swift return, a legion in tow, the entire town prepares for battle, trepidatiously defending their laborious life blood.

Fighting for freedom as opposed to the bottom line, these settlers and their protectors ignite heraldic sentiments, ceremonial citizenship, congregated ebb and flow.

Modus vivendi.

Down home diplomacy.

Altruistic adrenaline.

No, other, choice.

Is the skilled professional fighting for what's right capable of so much more than the merciless hired goon?

Do psychotics reinterpret biblical messages to unequivocally promote themselves as capitalistic gods?

Will grassroots social democracy and its reunification with liberal biblical studies as theoretically envisioned by Bernie Sanders be effectively applied by a victorious Hillary Clinton?

Can the heroic fight of one small band of misfits leave a thought provoking lasting impression across a nation wide?

"Yes," I'm answering, "yes," to all these questions.

The Magnificent Seven's no Seven Samurai, but it's fun to watch, fun to take in.

Tons of intertextuality at play.

Irregulators!

And damned fine 21st century momentum.

Tally Ho.

Hardcore Henry

Apocalyptic awakening, immediately thrust into omnipresent annihilation, or birth in a fascist realm, unable to speak, cyborg awareness, the necessity of inductively coming to terms with what that means as a legion of minions attempts to obliterate you, escape from the blimp, follow the bread crumbs, instinctively strategize each and every incendiary reaction, awestruck athleticism, magnanimous masquerade, keep bursting with blunt obstinacy, survive to Frankenstein your creator, smash crunch dash ditch, pernicious reflexivity, maniacally coming into being.

Too insane.

Too psycho.

The opening credits suggest Hardcore Henry's parodying James Bond and is therefore supposed to be comedic, but if that's the case, it's a sick sense of humour that doesn't particularly impress.

The film's like a video game, like Henry's your character and you're trying to frenetically fight your way to the end, the unnerving celebration of violence perhaps meant to critique blitzkrieg obsessions, found in many a video game, less pronounced in Bond, still there, James Bond.

I don't think that's the case though, the opening credits also festively revelling in graphic death, Hardcore Henry consequently seeming like an elevation of violence for violence's sake rather than a reticent vituperative censor.

The audience is Henry as he fights his way to the top, always following his point of view.

Compliments for trying something different, but whereas this technique worked in Son of Saul, perhaps here suggesting that focusing too strongly on individuality leaves you suffering under constant threat, it's disorienting in Hardcore Henry.

The quasi-novelty wore off after 5 minutes and I quickly grew tired of the obscured frenzied panic.

Jimmy (Sharlto Copley) and his avatars provide comic relief but they also die brutally every time they provide information, as James Bond's contacts often do.

Way too much violence without much of a point.

I like raw bohemian unconcerned films, when they're done well, but Hardcore Henry just seems to be exploiting subconscious malevolence, like cockfighting or racism.

It's too easy.

Rash thoughtless elevations.

Scripted chaos.

Macbeth

A loyal man, a bold man, his mettle proven in battle like explicit prosperous ironclad invincibility, his enemies, the enemies of his King, thoroughly ruined, honesty guiding his sword's righteous judgments with dignity and will beknownst to the clairvoyant, who follow his progress with vision, with awe, with inveterate claws, clawing at his conscience to ensure it withdraws, it, submits, submits to the darkness consuming his integrity as ambition commands he ignominiously strike, strike at he who loved him, who cherished and honoured his fierce fidelity, madness the harvest of such grievous misdeeds, in allegiance with infamy, a prophecy fulfilled.

Would it be fulfilled either way, even if he had done nothing, would he still have been proclaimed King?

Encouraged in the act by his restless wife, they plot to ponder virtue askew.

Ravaged.

Betrayed.

In the Scottish Highlands, a tale peculiar to the realm yet pervasive in its cinematography takes shape once again, all power flagitiously corrupting, shallowly reaching out to its vengeful doom.

Focused primarily on primary characters, as opposed to other investments which would have broadened the spectrum, Fassbender, Cotillard, and Harris enrich their acts with multidimensional perplexities, yet Banquo (Paddy Considine), Rosse (Ross Anderson) and Malcolm (Jack Reynor) are sewn into the background like unacknowledged afterthoughts, to digest a pretence to royalty.

The outdoors, the wilderness, the sense of suffocating desolation, how did these people feed themselves?, how did they carry on?, haunts the film with supernatural astonishment, the absurdity of power, fickle and disobedient, revolving extolled gradations.

Justin Kurzel's Macbeth acclimatizes its audiences to considerations of the play's rough isolation, its principal inhabitants becoming pointless as they pointlessly seek out pointlessness, creating that which would have been created had they rested abreast, harbingers of decay, impatience fraught with void.

Cinematography by Adam Arkapaw.

Terminator Genisys

Commencing once more, this time back where everything began, beginning again to inaugurate forlorn frontiers, Terminator Genisys reimagines its origins, to reflexively commentate, and consecrate anew.

The timeline has changed, as have the order of operations, Skynet incorporating both the personal and the domestic, along with its traditional military allies.

Nebulous nexus, motivate, guide, extend.

The dangers of having a lack of alternative options in the marketplace, monopolistic malfeasance, play an indirect role, Skynet having attracted over a billion customers to its Genisys device, prezoned, its ability to impact massively thereby enhanced, one platform, one strident mechanism.

Mired, fired, and expired, the T-800 (Arnold Schwarzenegger) continues to battle more advanced models, unyieldingly dedicated to protecting Sarah Connor (Emilia Clarke), Kyle Reese (Jai Courtney) doubting his reliability, after travelling back in time, to 1984.

The T-800's really quite touching.

He has an endearing way of expressing himself, and his comic aspects, notably developed in Rise of the Machines, productively flourish, theoretically postulating like STNG's Data, complaining about the shortsighted cruelties of belittling dismissals, and infiltrating a hospital with love in mind to bear.

How he came to love is a matter for the following sequels to discuss, his programming perhaps having become so used to Sarah's comforting presence, to the purpose and companionship with which she constantly provides him, that an artistic subroutine miraculously generated, a jet scream's genesis, Terminator Genisys.

Don't praise the machines Kermode.

Internally within the progressions of the franchise, within the growth of a character over a 31 year span, it does seem as if he loves, as if crying is something he somehow learned to do.

Perchance revolved excused and ruffled.

The franchise does progress, adding a contemporary dimension as previously mentioned, the Dysons (Courtney B. Vance as Miles, Dayo Okeniyi as Danny) showing up again, issues of fate expanding and contracting like predetermined infinities, the O'Brien (Wayne Bastrup/J.K. Simmons) character
functioning like a cooler Dr. Silberman, whom I still would have liked to have seen, they used him so well in T3.

Still shocked by what happens to John Connor (Jason Clarke), but it fits with the anti-monopolistic theme, even if it encourages a nuclear hemorrhage.

To be operated upon in subsequent films.

It's really aware of itself as a franchise now, the Terminator films, so this film relies heavily upon its legacy, there's a stronger sense of independence in the others, like they weren't setting up a trilogy, while still striving for uniformity akin.

Apart from number 4; events from Salvation are ignored.

It isn't that bad. I started liking it after watching it 3 times.

The duplicated scenes lack the intensity of the original.

The dread.

There's no Bill Paxton.

They should have spent more time on those.

Nice to see the franchise alive and kicking.

Tough to think of where it will go, without coming across as excessively dry.

Everyone's together in the end.

They might still be together at the beginning, next time round.

Unheard of.

Mad Max: Fury Road

Accelerated omnipresent pressurized pulsation, strict violent fanatical allegiance, the strongest suffocating to prosper penultimately, commanding the collective will, autocratic anarchy, order established where there was only suffering, fierce frantic fallout, old world technologies mechanistically motivating, the power to recreate them exhausted in the flames, control what survives, post-apocalyptically yield and burn.

Tyrannically.

Immortan Joe (Hugh Keays-Byrne), ruler of his domain, is challenged by the free thinking Imperator Furiosa (Charlize Theron), who audaciously seeks escape, from his unleashed sands of thine.

The film irresistibly functions on a need-to-know basis.

Little is directly explained, it's a filmic theorist's broadbanded El Dorado, compelled to advocate and wager, within absolutism's clutches.

While enjoying a chaotic chase which minimalistically yet compellingly develops multiple marooned mindsets, simplicity functioning on a complex sociological level, artistic in its expansive brevity, enhanced by stunning complementary visuals.

The people, the elite, the executive, their competitors.

You get a sense of what the film will be like early on, when Max Rockatansky (Tom Hardy) attempts to flee his captors, boldly leaping to what would represent freedom in so many action films, only to fail in his attempt, and be overcome by the frenzied horde.

He could be the most unfocused upon heroic figure I've seen in a strong action film, he's not the main character, rarely says anything, his actions have beneficial repercussions for those claiming individuality, but so do those of others involved in the same blind maddening quest.

Direct absolutism, indirect social democracy, levelled out blunt mysterious jagged character development mired in an unending conflict which intuitively yet intellectually assaults tyrannical preconceptions.

I'm placing Mad Max: Fury Road on my list of favourite action films, with Aliens, Robocop(1987), and Terminator 2.

There's no need to impose rank.

It demands that you find the definitions.

Immersing you in its world thereby.

Providing clues.

American Sniper

Clint Eastwood's American Sniper is about soldiers.

It's not about politics or asking questions, it's about the people who risked their lives fighting for a cause they believed in, incendiary polemics aside, they were on the ground, fighting an enemy intent on killing them, living through events that would haunt the survivors for the rest of their lives, experiential extracurricular extents, forging bonds through action, teams, through combat.

It's focused on one sniper in particular, Navy SEAL Chris Kyle (Bradley Cooper), with a gift for precision, an eye for detail.

He becomes a legend.

A part of a team, embracing his role as protector, he saves the lives of his fellow recruits time and time again, through vigilance and dedication, making decisions no one should have to make, accepting the consequences, psychologically covering up the outcomes.

Civilian life becomes difficult.

He leaves unfinished business in Iraq, a nemesis at large, who continues to hunt his compatriots, this unnerves him as he tries to live with his family, überconscious conscience, the fall out of his exceptional track record.

Which leads to an exciting Young Guns sequence.

A compelling cinematic interpretation of levelheaded battlegrounded hysteria.

Direct, straightforward, and to the point, while mixing in enough trauma to unsettlingly exfoliate, American Sniper brings together eclectic teams, unified through bitter shattering circumstances.

What actually took place is fictionalized to the point where it makes a strong war film, however, this aspect of its creation makes what actually took place seem fictional, which takes away from its realistic impacts.

But it still salutes the life of a great Navy SEAL who went beyond the call of duty and risked everything to do what he believed was right, individuality within the collective, cohesively functioning as one.

Made the most of the worst possible situation.

Persevered.

Fury

Sadistic circumstances, engendered by power mad xenophobic imperialistic bombast, retreating, hunted by freedom fighters, the Fury of the Allied Forces, annihilating the remnants of Nazi Germany, near the end of the Second World War, still, mired in combat.

Aldo Raine (Brad Pitt) was amazing.

My favourite character to emerge from war-related American cinema in the last 30 years.

By 30 years, I mean ever.

Let's make another film starring Aldo Raine, once again, killing Nazis, but this time stick him in a tank, once again, in command of loyal subordinates, dedicated to reasserting, the magnanimity of the free world.

The free world is not always magnanimous.

One of his loyal subordinates is new.

Green and foolhardy, he is unprepared for battle.

Yet battle engulfs him, and he must quickly acclimatize himself to its demented terrors, its requisite insanities, to become part of Aldo's team, thereby taking responsibility for his own actions.

His acclimatization permeates the film, which is generally another, mass produced somewhat cool entertaining ra-ra we won World War II flick, focusing on the greenhorn's shock, Fury, then saved by an unexpected scene.

Suddenly everything stops, and domestic bliss is upon us, patient and forgiving, miraculous medicinal mercy.

The scene shifts from the blissful to the hogtied, however, as the confines of the present, tacitly shriek euphonics in memorial.

Unexpected and outstanding.

The Germans are divided into the good and the bad, the civilians and the SS, the former, liberated, the latter, condemned.

Perennially.

Dracula Untold

Dracula revisited, often portrayed as a vicious bloodthirsty tyrant, recast as a loving devoted father, husband, and ruler, willing to risk everything to secure the social prosperity of his dominion, brought up as a warrior, who excelled beyond limitation, against his will, trial by fire, impeccable excretions, having returned home a free man, to govern his people with wise, trustworthy gentility, through the art of thinking critically, and the continuous deployment of tribute.

Yet battle once again demands his obedience, a battle that can't be won through earthly means, and a pact is made with transcendent deviance, limitless power, for an insatiable thirst for blood.

Thus the iconic villain is torn, invincible at war, romantically condemned by his true love.

It's a different take on Dracula, Gary Shore's Dracula Untold, the latest vampiric franchise to tenderly and ravenously strike.

It's alright.

Somewhat cutesy at times, which is odd for a mass produced vampire film, making derelict lesions and hallowed imperfections seem direly quaint by comparison; however, its protagonist is rational and his love undying, his fidelity to the centuries, like twilight's eternal fountain.

Missed Jarmusch's Adam a bit while viewing, but it's unfair to compare the two visions.

Glad Jarmusch made that film.

Jodorowsky and vampires?

It's not too late.

Guardians of the Galaxy

Penetrating deep within the lighthearted ventricles of fashionable intergalactic cysts, reflexive agility accommodating both the hunting of bounties and the wisecracking elite, plans projected then prorated, the deviants atomically deified, internal struggles, deconstructive precision, posterity balancing the incision of the blade, a rabble, a rabble arousing, athletic unexpected altruistic instance, for serenity's stringent spawn, the edification of the miscue, teamwork, trust, in tune.

Peter Quill (Chris Pratt) accidentally assembles a formidable team.

They have no choice but to restore order to the galaxy.

Well, not galaxy, more like the region of space they happen to be occupying.

She's green (Zoe Saldana as Gamora). Like on Star Trek.

The film intertextually plays with Star Wars as well, respecting, not glorifying, to hyperdrive into its own interplanetary perspectives.

And a characters says, "there's too many of them."

Searched for a YouTube collage but couldn't find one.

Classic.

I thoroughly enjoyed watching this band of misfits unite to attempt to thwart a fanatical genocidal dick, self-sustaining in their independence, stronger fighting as one.

Cheesy at times, but still raw, resplendent, and finicky.

Can't wait until they save the Avengers.

That must be coming up at some point.

Although, if the frequency of these films increases, curtailed earth shattering attempts to subjugate entire planets are going to start to seem humdrum, unless they continue striving for excellence.

Peter Quill saves Tony Stark, then gives him the finger.

On down the road.

Dawn of the Planet of the Apes

A community of apes is flourishing in the forests north of San Francisco, organized and thrifty endowed reactive brawn.

Humans must appease them to acquire a power source they need to continue growing and expanding, a power source lying within the ape's domain, war being an unpalatable option.

Unpalatable though it may be, both sides prepare for battle, while diplomatic agents attempt to harness cooperative wisdom, to the framework of a mutually beneficial future.

Peace and harmony reign for at least a solid three hours.

Before treachery incites.

Born of impenitent vengeance.

The film necessarily struggles to find its identity, as hostilities and passions obstruct the empowerment of conscience.

Perhaps it's too ape-centred for me, the wild productivity of the forest dominating the film's urban concentrations.

It points out that patience and understanding reside within the art of diplomacy, while focusing on how easily its designs are upset by spiteful infringements, the totality of objectification.

Which unleashes the violence of bedlam.

Crushing the foundation of dreams.

Transformers: Age of Extinction

Humanity has forsaken and betrayed the Autobots in the latest Transformers sequel, forcing them to strategically dissimulate in order to avoid detection.

An intergalactic jailer by the name of Lockdown (Mark Ryan) seeks to imprison Optimus Prime (Peter Cullen), punishing him for disobeying his creators, uniformly inhibiting his hard-fought freedom fighting.

Megatron's brain has been harvested and the technological secrets residing within have led brilliant scientist Joshua Joyce (Stanley Tucci) to believe that the power of the Transformer can be governed by Homo sapiens.

A new generation of Transformer is therefore created, to be used as military drones, the Autobots having become obsolete.

Fortunately a feisty independent struggling inventor has discovered the whereabouts of Mr. Prime, and he remembers the sacrifices he made, improvisationally fighting by his side.

Scolding his young daughter all the while.

The resulting combat, wherein the American individual boldly teams up with the abandoned to challenge the forces of oppression, is ingeniously summed up in the film's best scene, which sees Mr. Joyce cowering in a Hong Kong elevator, a momentary respite, from the cataclysmic confrontations.

Anyone notice the apartment complexes in Hong Kong?

Wow.

The act of creation unites the converging storylines, along with issues of operational control, to thematically cap the series's 4th instalment.

Convincingly hypothesizing a new set of sociotechnological indicators, while economically aligning them for the film's terrestrial inhabitants, earning a living subconsciously contends with manufacturing a soul, to experimentally produce a sensationally revelled playing field.

Because Age of Extinction is so long, the introduction of the Dinobots seems somewhat tacked-on.

However, the introduction of the Dinobots, is, awesome.

The President doesn't make an appearance and I'm betting when he or she does it turns out to be one of the members of Dark of the Moon's most disputatious romantic couplings.

Their presence was missing from Age of Extinction.

But the anticipation is something to look forward to.

Godzilla

The presence of two gigantic destructive monsters competitively reawakens the mighty Godzilla, perviously resting in his or her oceanic layer, content and comfortable, in its overflowing radioactive abundance.

Secrets have been kept from the people of Japan, and one man's overwhelming quest to ecolocute them, sets his son on the path to heroic indentation.

Project Monarch has known about the existence of these ancient beasts for decades and has been assiduously researching their origins, attempting to understanding what might be their purpose.

When it becomes clear that aspects of said purpose threaten the longevity of prosperous American cities, the characters hear the kitschy call.

Pinnacled to pressure.

If at one time in your life you found yourself watching every Godzilla film you could find, Gareth Edwards's Godzilla doesn't disappoint.

It's, pretty awful, intermixing enough cheesy sentimentality to settle anyone's disputes concerning the hyperactivity of microwaved plutonics.

But this is what's to be expected from a film respectfully paying homage to its amusingly light predecessors, like a refreshing glass of chilled mountain dew, stricken yet satisfying, all the way through.

Dr. Ishiro Serizawa (Ken Watanabe) impresses.

Some of the best deliveries I've heard in a blockbuster for a while.

How I looked forward to his next line with unfiltered anticipation.

The scene where the troops skydive into San Francisco is incredible.

Captain America: The Winter Soldier

In/directly contextualizing striking pre-emptive phenomenons, Captain America: The Winter Soldier bravely condenses controversial polarities, from which it extracts a democratic essence, sentimentally sublime in its naiveté.

Perhaps beating Transcendence to the punch.

The issue of brilliant Nazi war criminals finding sanctuary in the United States after World War II is acknowledged, diabolical agents of HYDRA having nested themselves within S.H.I.E.L.D, whose limitless technological resources have given them free reign to menace.

They hope to take out millions of enemies in one extremely precise swoop, the ultimate pre-emptive strike, internationally derailing syndications of law and order, egregiously ignoring the global human factor.

The infiltration of S.H.I.E.L.D partially vindicates Eric Snowden and Julian Assange as their methods are proactively defended by Natasha Romanoff (Scarlett Johansson).

Radiantly representing today's youth.

The key to the relationship between these plot threads and the film's subconscious depiction of America's current identity lies in the Winter Soldier (Sebastian Stan) himself, who has no identity, who was revived to serve HYDRA and serve HYDRA alone, the memory of who he once was having been shattered into oblivion.

He is recognized by Captain America (Chris Evans), however, who is also having identity issues, yet he remembers why America (and Canada) fought during the second World War, thereby earning the trust of Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson).

Like Thor: The Dark World, Winter Soldier struggles to find itself during its first 40 minutes or so, although in this case such disappointments fit perfectly.

It's important to remember that when great actors aren't performing at the top of their game, it's okay to ask them to do additional takes.

I don't know how you'd go about doing this.

Just don't go Godard on them (see Richard Brody's Everything is Cinema: The Working Life of Jean-Luc Godard).

What follows is a thrilling politicized retrocrazed rush, Steve Rodgers outshining Themistocles, another captivating Marvel film, oh what a world what a world.

300: Rise of an Empire

I'm not sure if 300: Rise of an Empire is supposed to be taken seriously or rather should be treated as a healthy cerealized kitschtastic crack, its graphic epic historic amplitude hilted, jacked, and drawn, battle-ready and menacing in its entirety, strategically frothing, an implicated grind.

Themistocles (Sullivan Stapleton) and Artemisia's (Eva Green) nocturnal knockings knit like necromanced kerosene, enriching yet servicing quinoa, while Xerxes (Rodrigo Santoro) gracefully prances about like an impregnable prophesied faun, mystically captivating, ornate and commandeering.

There isn't really that much happening in the film besides battling and preparations for battling.

The majority of the battles taking place on water.

The Persians insist on invading Greece and go rather multitudinously about it, which necessitates constant inspirational speech making from Themistocles, a plain everyperson possessing ingenious gifts for fighting and strategizing, whose experiential wherewithal infuses his speeches with spry rallying rectitude, democracy under siege, his fellow citizens, pressurized and proverbed.

According to my tastes, many of the speeches fell flat, but since I realized that Themistocles's gifts were for warfare, not rhetoric, and his legend demanded that he set out to unite Greece, a soldier shepherding a synergy, I could forgive the fact that the words he chose didn't resonate with me, strictly focusing on their underlying message.

A relationship between father and son familializes both the preparations for and the acts of battling.

Heavy on the gore.

At several points it seems like the reasons for battling are secondary to the battling itself, blood spurting from hacked-off limbs the motif which occurs most often.

Which adds a mischievous quality to the design.

Which perhaps should be taken seriously.

Stalingrad

Improbabilities abound in Fedor Bondarchuk's oddly sentimental Stalingrad, my first look at a Russian blockbuster, just as grandiosely sensational as their American counterparts, so it seems, dazzling and heartbreaking, modestly skewed.

The film concerns one of the Second World War's Battle of Stalingrad's myriad crazed territorial trespasses wherein the Russians possess a building the Germans covet, hoping to win it back, their opposing forces exchanging ample audacities.

A beautiful young Russian ingénue still lives in the building (Mariya Smolnikova as Katya) and 5 hardened comrades fall for her as the fighting intensifies.

The situation's dire and the soldiers are countering inestimable odds with neither supplies nor reinforcements.

Katya offers a fleeting escape from the surrounding horrors, reminding the men that they're fighting for a greater purpose, substituting radiance for perdition, dignity for misery.

Even if what I've read about Stalin's reign in the Soviet Union makes it sound like hell on Earth.

It's difficult to determine whether or not the film is simply celebrating the sacrifices of courageous persons thrust into an abyss whose maddening pressures necessitated the emergence of heroism, the overwhelmed and underfunded Russians forced to bravely ignite their internal flames (one of the best scenes depicts this), or if it's glorifying the war itself, the scene where two would-be lovers sit back and watch the artillery light up the night sky like a fascist/communist fireworks display functioning as a romantic yet too distracting display, although had I been in a similar situation I too would have likely watched in wonder.

Focusing on the inherently deadly and ruinous nature of the display rather than any secondary futuristic aesthetic qualifications no doubt.

The deadly and ruinous nature of the display isn't referred to, discipline is brutal as a Russian sailor is shot for presenting an alternative point of view, Stalin isn't mentioned with loathing, the best speech is reserved for the enemy German captain (Thomas Krechmann/Kretschmann)(it reminded me of Robert Graves's description of Julius Caesar's pre-battle motivations in I, Claudius), in short, the discourses of the Left are largely absent (one Russian soldier is reprimanded for using the word retarded and there's a conciliatory frame whose presence is dismissible), which I was hoping would not be the case in a film celebrating Commie heroes, even if I'm (now) aware that it was mass-produced in Putin's Russia.

It's not necessarily that improbabilities abound, but when I watch these films and think, "this is a life or death situation and that's what tricked you?", I tend to use words such as improbable to describe what happens.

A must if you want to see your first Russian blockbuster, even if it's one of the worst movies you'll ever see.

I was naively hoping it would be similar to Elem Klimov's Come and See (all I knew about the film going in was that it was called Stalingrad and made in Russia).

Here's hoping Putin doesn't become any more Hitleresque.

Anchorman 2: The Legend Continues

Ron Burgundy lead an extraordinary extracurricular promotional campaign leading up to the release of Anchorman 2: The Legend Continues, thereby suggesting that it must be an exceptional film, surpassing its comedic predecessor in varying degrees of hilarity, while stretching the boundaries of both ridiculousness and applicability, a voluminous viscosity, asinine yet chaste.

I'm used to seeing American comedies that are around 90 minutes in length but Anchorman 2 comes in at 119 according to its IMDB surrogate.

An out of the ordinary promotional campaign.

An extra 29 minutes.

Released a week before Christmas.

And Anchorman 2 delivers.

Ron Burgundy proves himself to be a sturdy bumbling honest easily upset independent intellectually discordant emotionally secure visceral champion for the everyperson, continuously and undauntedly moving forward, apart from when he decides to hang himself after a randy exhibition at Seaworld (see Blackfish).

He has his own polite style and definition of appropriateness which lead to conflicts when expressing himself within unknown vectors, yet he confidently bounces back and keeps focusing on the positive, action, reaction, proactivation, thereby inspiring his loyal news team.

Some team members function as reps for some somewhat revolting tendencies towards violence, but these tendencies are made to appear ludicrous, kind of, as Burgundy consistently outwits them.

The bats were a brilliant idea. The scorpions, the bowling balls, the bra covered in cats, the details, it's like every line and every scene were eruditely vetted by comedic veterans dedicated to making the best American comedy in years, many of the scenes appearing as if they were haphazardly thrown together, but you don't achieve this level of rowdy unconcerned reckless jocularity without patiently reviewing and editing every aspect of the production, while keeping in mind the havoc of the finished masterpiece simultaneously.

Film editing by Melissa Bretherton and Brent White.

Should I mention the battle?

The greatest most unexpected battle I've ever seen in an American film, with the Minotaur and a werehyena, that's right, a werehyena, plus a Canadian news team, introducing a fantastic sporty religious scientific historical mélange of postmodern acrobatic intensity, Alterius, Maiden of the Clouds (Kirsten Dunst) commencing the romp with her exclamatory horn, Vince Vaughn (Wes Mantooth), arriving at a pivotal, game changing moment.

Or Dolby? His song?

The figure skating?

The parenting?

Never really liked car chases but I do love animal stories.

Even better than Machete Kills.

Written by Will Ferrell and Adam McKay.