Adventures of Zatoichi

Eternal blinds visual damnation slowly effectively giving rise, to hypermultivariability indefinitely attuned to cosmic reckoning. 

The simple desire for innocent pleasures modestly driving the ambitions of many, the humble accumulation of bread and cheese a moderate treasure for the wise self-sacrificing. 

Zatoichi's skill and formidable awareness accompany his thrifty modest travels, as village titans and bucolic corruption seek his lonely isolated bearing. 

So many feuds, town after town disputatiously confronting overt avarice, as unhinged exaggerated individual aggrandizement seeks the infinite with imperial zeal. 

The ironic cost of so much enrichment the disdainful envy of the ambitious, as tidal forces ebb and flow throughout the civilized ornate chaos. 

Amidst the stately modern delineations of robust power and cultural durability, Zatoichi still honours nature and his surrounding environment with honest faith.

And as the world diabolically considers its destructive fate the peaceful chant, having already accepted ontological eccentricity as a playful chiding lifelong friend. 

Imagine Zatoichi & the Trump Administration how much fun could be had with that?, as millions and millions are robbed and cheated the impeccable swordsperson no doubt riled. 

Familiarity, it seasons a politician and makes them much more easy to trust, the beloved sight of a familiar face like electoral gold in political contexts. 

That's why I figured Kamala Harris wouldn't win last time around, she wasn't familiar and although she easily made the best candidate, she had next to no time to win the American consciousness, making it easy for Trump to win. 

Bernie's still around however and if I'm not mistaken he resides within, that very deep and trusting American consciousness, he's been around for so many years.

Go with an unknown or Bernie or Kamala I have to admit that even though he's old, I would wager Bernie's familiarity is the most endearing within the United States (he's like the anti-Trump). 

Strange how one country could be so ideologically opposed to itself.

While constantly promoting its national interests. 

With resolute defiance. 

And airtight indefatigability. 

Kiru

A controversial maiden inspires jealousies which enviously lead to stricken confrontations, the observant brotherhood left cold and calculating before it's decided to cut-off her head.

But not before she virtuously births an innocent child helpless and unaware, ancient superstitions forecasting gloom, the oblivious baby naked and hungry. 

A childless widower from another province magnanimously agrees to take him in, and then convivially proceeds to multifariously teach him the delicate art of manifest sword fighting. 

He learns the way of the samurai and displays innovative sought after gifts, a restless soul still prone to wander yet always respectful of heritage and duty. 

His father criticizes the master of their dojo who then collusively plots his reckless murder, Kiru arriving in time to discover his own true origins as his father passes.

Left on his own with exceptional skill he bravely ventures forth across the countryside. 

Running into manifold sinister scenarios. 

As the volatile nation erupts in fury.

Honour and betrayal emphatically display their blatant enmity through disgrace within, anyone seeking uncontested quarter treacherously cut down with unceremonious deception. 

As personal aggrandizement and grandiose ambition see a courageous void where others detect virtue, the warring factions give way to anarchy as coveted roles are scurrilously usurped. 

The mad despotic imposition of imperial autocracy in morbid bloom, the constant bitter pernicious infighting leading to death and decay all around.

Malignant plans malevolently metastasize with voluminous cunning and radical inconsistency, improvisationally and opportunistically adopted with sly exhibition and wanton excess.

Alternatively, progressive industry can level the playing field and cultivate peace, so one's life doesn't uselessly and quickly end and striking harmonies congeal lay resolutions. 

Would you really rather launch a ground offensive in hostile Middle-Eastern territory from the sea?

While an idiot madman with no army training . . .

. . . covets unwarranted legendary honour?

Griffintown

Troubled times chaotically emerge across a once united and prosperous continent, the deranged whims of an unhinged jackass breaking down decades worth of trust.

New scenarios effectively matriculate within the given framework with contagious hope, as people more familiar with continental commerce focus their insights on local trends.

At times feeling somewhat uncertain as the opaque puzzle shifts and sideswipes, the compelling example of a nation within a nation spiritually instructs the neophyte tenure. 

Even though Québec was once left behind by a dismissive and proud monopolizing English Canada, it still agrees to offer advice on how to build thriving local economies. 

Having resisted the colonialist onslaught of American media throughout the North, it boldly supplies creative exemplars of unique crafts and books and films. 

The delegates from Ontario saliently marvel in disbelief, at how a culture so close to the United States has intricately defined itself organically. 

An observer keenly notes the following theory that he holds dear, that artisans creating novelties in Québec are more concerned with sharing high-quality goods.

The esteemed sublimity culturally attached to exquisite crafts sold at affordable prices, startles and shocks the Anglo delegation with its general focus on expensive kitsch. 

Markets that have nothing to do with sports or wildlife begin to materialize throughout the country, as respectable and affordable innovations are given the green light by local banks. 

Québec's collective focus definitively refined through English Canada's dismissals, is fluently adapted by that very same network as it experiences the same thing at the hands of the Americans. 

Speeches are made across the nation warmly thanking Québec for its help, and sadly apologizing for the heinous way it was scurrilously treated by advocates of imperialism. 

And as time slowly passes, a miracle takes place, as things become so much much less tacky, and so unlike what's found in the States. 

And the focus isn't to spend as little as possible to make enormous profits. 

But to simply make quality goods. 

That people like.

And sell them reasonably. 

The Living Daylights

The Cold War once saw fierce international antagonists, cautious regarding thermonuclear war, but still aggressively advancing opposing ideologies. 

Both sides demanded zealous loyalty from civilians, professionals, and soldiers, and should you even joke about defection grand bureaucratic impositions would immobilize you.

Seeking international fluidity a Soviet informant risks defection in The Living Daylights, the British Government open to emancipatory accommodation should he share with them compelling intel.

An elaborate plan is put into place and the tenacious traitor finds his ticket West, ebulliently awaking in celebratory high spirits in a theoretically safe house in the United Kingdom. 

Yet the Soviets condemn the treachery and swiftly come calling for the disloyal comrade, boldly snatching the foolish hamstring from right under MI6's smug noses.

But was it the Soviets who destructively acquired him or is someone else playing an even riskier game?

Duping intelligence agents around the world.

With the audacious hopes of selling contraband.

I always thought Timothy Dalton was given a raw deal with the James Bond franchise, I rather liked The Living Daylights and find it a thrilling engaging spy film.

It would have been tough to overcome the impression held amongst the public at the transitionary time, that Pierce Brosnan would make a great Bond after his performance in Remington Steele. 

Still, don't let the outcome cause you to overlook The Living Daylights, it's a hidden gem that's easy to dismiss since it obscurely contends between auspicious giants (saw it in Prince Edward Island). 

In a lot of Bond films you quickly discover what the terrorist agents are up to for instance, but The Living Daylights keeps you guessing with fast paced reversals and indelicate election.

In contemporary times, it's been 4 years without a Bond film that's a sacrifice of at least a figurative billion, doesn't the franchise make hundreds of millions every two to three years and if they don't release a film haven't they awkwardly eclipsed themselves?

Ah well, a new film is to be released but not till 2028 states Google. 

Cool to see Denis Villeneuve directing. 

Hopefully he also gets the next Star Wars franchise.

Thunderball

Bullseye backwater Northern discretion metropolis moxy rummaging rituals, ye olde Big Smoke exclamatory bastion jamboree janglinter-stellargo sweepstakes. 

Strategic caution animate build-up ignited anticipation stepping-stone schema, stoic exactitude creature coagulate disciplined doctrine autumnal cloak. 

Sugarbeat sway bungalow diphthong arrhythmic mojo soaring centennial, intrepid ensemble offbeat syncopation novel Nostromo depth-conradicals. 

Nuclear Norbert surmiser stealth dragon-boat bulletin infernal ruckus, metallic mechanized Mordecai mocha silicon stammer electromagnetism. 

Caribbean swagger cephalopodlings reflexive rambling cicada flutter, lakeside loceanic non-chalant nestle invigorating voyage intricate mission.

Icy exterior fermenting frost indelicate disposition streamlining fleuve, extracurricular severe centigradiant ewokkie-talkie treetop tenacity.

Ballroom maneuver freeflowing rush serendipitous shakedown acute commiseration, deputized famished disintegration gargantuan glade embowering silchouette. 

Embellished chou-fleur stuffingerlineage poetatomtomahawk squashtonbaby, gravelveetartartan pumpkinkstandardice rollcutivivation turkeenerf-herdermal.

Scoop-gobbledegook disproportionate pita puffin fastiduitedious stilts, clement vocalibre exseedentary boogie-woog nerverdure modest matriculates. 

Blastercine hommage home run derbeelze ladda-scrabba-blue-jabba crucible crunch, intermittent Ojibway incremental Algonquin Thanksgiving inninjas Six Nations stride. 

Forestéd-talons feverish flights supersonic swoop aerodyne lather, take-off-eh-sucré heightening exhibition skydomicîle-sambience Roger's zentripetals. 

Felicitous sentier trailblazing teamwork warlockerroom staff efficacious bearings, integral artistry verge virtuosos orbitathletism inherent fun.

 Nice to see the leaves changing colour.

Chlorophyll candour.

Neticulous nesting. 

Many thanks family and friends. 

It's been a good year.

Many animal sightings. 

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. 

Dune

It's a shame Dune ended up being a negative experience for David Lynch. Some of it's very well done. I still love watching it year after year.

Some of the heavier action sequences like when the Harkonnens attack Arrakis or the sandworm battle at the end, don't fare as well as those that you find in Star Wars or Star Trek, and a lot of movie goers tend to focus on those transitions which are often filled with nail-biting excitement.

It would be nice to watch a copy without the consistent inner-character monologues as well, too bad it wasn't as huge as Blade Runner and such an alternative was never released.

Nonetheless, in classic Lynchean style the scenes with the villains still seriously impress, especially the introduction of the Harkonnens which I would argue is some of Lynch's best work.

It's grotesque and terrifying and over-the-top and the attention to detail is so immaculate, along with the chilling production design all focused around Kenneth McMillan's performance. 

I've seen him show up in other films where he didn't have a serious role, in Dune he steals the show though, alongside many prominent actors.

Lynch also thrillingly excelled with his less psychotic sublime nobility, notably during the scenes with Dr. Kynes when they head out to look over spice production. 

When Duke Leto demonstrates that he truly cares for the integral lives of his working people, it's a powerful moment that evocatively captures the democratic spirit of the times.

Kyle MacLachlan has his moments too as does Patrick Stewart, Siân Phillips, Francesca Annis, and Brad Dourif, in interviews I've seen with actors Lynch worked with the genuine admiration clearly shines through.

If you want to see Lynch the editor at work you should compare the theatrical version to the full-length feature, the excessively long studio-cut version that he had his name removed from.

It is much much much worse and you can see Lynch's genius in full swing, when you watch his director's cut and see how he saved so many scenes.

With strong performances, a complex plot, an intricate unique production design, along with his trademark wicked villainy, Lynch's version still impresses.

Denis Villeneuve's films are remarkably well done too and I hope he gets the next Star Wars franchise.

I hope they stick with one director for the entire run.

He's a contemporary sci-fi master. 

Sanjuro

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And add some spice to bucolic life.

At times routine, yet never overdone. 

Transformers One

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To be spread far and wide from planet to planet. 

Megatron and Prime at odds thereverafter. 

Shin Zatôichi: Yabure! Tôjin-ken (Zatoichi and the One-Armed Swordsman)

Across the multivariable definitive lands of bellicose old school Japan, Zatoichi continues to awkwardly progress in search of honour and friendship and loyalty.

Unfortunately, his enduring prowess leads those who would traditionally salute his daring, to mistrust his holistic self-sacrifice as he haplessly seeks to help them.

Strict absolutes murderously upheld haunt his path in this instalment, as an adventurous family visiting from China runs afoul of ancient custom.

Indeed as the lauded clan leader austerely passes in procession along the road, those in front of him must free the way and humbly kneel and bow and worship.

But a Chinese child's long cherished kite suddenly takes off in front of them as they pass, the swordspeople immediately responding with rancour and consequently murdering strangers in their midst.

A one-armed swordsperson also visiting from China valiantly defends the un-armed innocents, only to be blamed for the resultant massacre and viciously hunted in the shocking aftermath.

Sometime after he flees he encounters Zatoichi with the aghast child, Zatoichi unable to understand his language, but as luck would have it, the boy can translate.

They stealthily stride and furtively fascinate until they find shelter amongst the survivors.

But after Zatoichi departs to gather supplies.

He's erroneously blamed for revealing their location. 

You see people who are interested in the same things curiously associating with one another online, without having to worry about nation or culture the similar interests promoting cohesive bonds.

Dispiritingly, the disseminators of widespread mistrust also prosper online, and miserably challenge the international forums within which global communities thrive and flourish.

Star Trek's universal translator certainly eases linguistic burdens, and makes cross-cultural convivial communication much more generally verbose and heartfelt.

We're not there yet but translating devices are consistently improving year after year, in twenty years I reasonably imagine a similar device may in fact exist.

Back in the day, such a miraculous enabling would have engendered dialogue between Zatoichi and the One-Armed Swordsman, and they would not have had to recklessly engage in a lethal death battle to settle the score.

Perhaps with ameliorated time and animate progressions we'll get there one day.

As the intuitive ideas of younger generations.

Make political headway worldwide. 

Hidalgo

It never really made much difference to me what College or University you went to, or if you learned esoteric details about different branches of knowledge while on the job, what mattered was how enthusiastically you applied yourself to whatever hand you happened to have been dealt, and how you strove for improvement regardless of class or birth, which generally reflects the spirit of the times I grew up in.

Thus, it wouldn't surprise me if Community College students were also making breakthroughs in respective fields, as Frank Hopkins does in Hidalgo, in the competitive sport of horse racing. 

He didn't get his trusted steed from a well-off breeder publicizing coveted lineage, or even from a local stable offering beginners a tempting free ride, instead he chose his trusted mount from a herd of wild mustangs in Oklahoma, whose descendants still freely ride to this day, un jour j'espère les voir.

He gains a world renowned reputation for winning long distance races in the United States, indeed winning an incredible number throughout his lengthy career.

His reputation becomes so enviable that he attracts the attention of Middle-Eastern competitors, who challenge him to the toughest horse race on the planet, a 3,000 mile trek 'cross forbidding deserts.

He's a first class gamer, he courageously responds, with neither question nor concern for personal safety, even after it becomes apparent his life's at risk, and it's not only the elements who seek to hunt him.

He must face some of the finest stallions to have ever been bred in horse racing history, amongst opponents who doubt he will survive one day on his wild unsung beast who lacks proper pedigree.

But as so often happens in the world of sport which usually celebrates talent regardless of rank or birth, Hopkins and Hidalgo really are the best the world's ever seen, and tenaciously win the "Ocean of Fire".

Exceptionally difficult to do and requiring a genuine degree of hard work and sacrifice, but if raised in even a moderately honest political system, if you excel, you should modestly prosper.

Hopkins takes his prize money and doesn't spend it on lavish trinkets, but rather hears that a herd of mustangs is going to be shot, and pays handsomely for them to be released back into the wild (Go Broncos!) 💌

Born of two-cultures and horrified to have witnessed the scurrilous slaughter of unarmed Native peoples, he proceeds honourably as best he can and must be one of the most successful athletes ever.

It'd be cool to see Viggo Mortensen win the Best Actor Oscar some day.

He's had a lot of roles like this one.

Where it seems like he's holding so much back.

*Unlike Captain Fantastic.

The Fog

The bounteous coast rests undisturbed as a sleepy town's one-hundredth anniversary approaches, with celebrations planned and local dignitaries convivially extolling its historic virtues. 

Village life exuberantly proclaims distracting designations with robust levity, the festivities raising ebullient concerns regarding flights of furtive fancy.

Nevertheless, on the exultant eve a local priest embraces spirited whimsy, when a sudden shocking burst reveals a diary hidden within his walls.

The tale told within its pages describes scandal and betrayal, in terms of lucrative auriferous booty disillusionally constrained.

Best laid plans were thrown aside as a leprous colony was cruelly cheated, indeed instead of finding themselves a home their boat was led to crash upon the shore.

But the rocks didn't eternally tear the trusting ship forevermore asunder, its reconstitution phantominiously conveyed from the afterlife back to the ocean.

And on the very same date the town was founded it bitterly returns under cover of fog.

Contemporary inhabitants blissfully unaware.

A local DJ keeping them up to precarious speed.

Kind of nice when fog descends assuming you aren't travelling or working outside, the meteorological difference eccentrically billowing throughout the quizzical byzantine landscape.

Imagine the chaos if the definitive border dividing spiritual realms enigmatically decayed, and aggrieved spirits from far and wide universally re-materialized across the land.

Like the ending of Ghostbusters I suppose but trepidatiously globalized for postmodern import, the eclectic confusion and ahistorical equivalencies generating confounding limitless grievance.

It could be like a labyrinthine colossus of atemporal bewildered feuding, the manifold steps in the gothic epic as mesmerizing as any R.E.M spectacle. 

If there was time to chronicle the disputes the resultant absurdity may manifest calm.

A quiet regenerative cross-cultural splurge.

A lot of reading.

For something so dream-like.

*I've almost seen every John Carpenter movie.

Cutthroat Island

Born into the pirating lifestyle nimble Morgana instinctually dissembles, wary of trust yet a Captain indeed after her emboldened father is scurrilously betrayed. 

Her crew isn't sure what to think and she must challenge an usurper egads at the outset, her noble lineage fortunately enough to momentarily win over the superstitious complement.

Along with treasure, the knowledge of treasure its lucrative existence at least under consideration, but to exactingly locate it she needs two more sections of a sought after map, one part apiece held by each of her uncles.

One uncle's no doubt rather chill for someone living a mischievous lifestyle, not that he's easy to find or talk to he's just so much more agreeable than his aggressive counterpart. 

The covetous uncle murderously prone who sincerely sent Morgana's pop to frigid depths, isn't quite so avuncularly inclined as she bravely sets out in search of manifest booty.

A loyal cadre rests by her side unwilling to entertain freeform mutinous chatter.

An idle thief introducing an amorous wild card.

Uncanny insistence not to be trusted?

What a strange lifestyle how do you manage to even find markets for your ill-gotten plunder, or obtain a ship or convince a crew to courageously follow you blind on the ocean?

It may be relaxing out on open waters delicately gliding along currents without storm, if you had reached an ingenious understanding with tempestuous fate to contract sights forlorn.

I've often wondered if I would get seasick if an imposing storm suddenly emerged, or if I would just sit back and curiously watch as the incredible spectacle tumultuously unfolded.

I was stuck far from home in my kayak one day when a disturbing storm suddenly dishevelled, but rather than simply land and wait it out under some trees I paddled right through the heart of the tirade.

There was no thunder and lightning and if there had been I may have hit shore.

It was a cool sensation out there on the lake nonetheless.

Paddling through inhospitable bearings.

Cutthroat Island's not so bad if you like pirate movies they don't come out as often as you'd hope, the treasure's buried in a really cool spot that was a nice touch no doubt to be certain.

Must be fun to film out on the ocean the natural elements corresponding at play. 

With all the old ships as well.

The action's consistent and lively. 

Old

Engaging thrilling prospects.

Resortful relaxation.

Pack up the fam, head down south.

Fare thee well road weary travellers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Escape ideogrammatically matures. 

Having been nurtured throughout the ages.

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

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

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

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

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

Just to learn about, like bears or wolverines. 

To remain aware, never to be forsaken. 

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

New Rose Hotel

I've never really understood the allure of pursuing high stakes crime. Most related films make it clear that should you reach 50 having embraced such a life, you're remarkably fortunate if you're not locked up and still have a small army of troops protecting you. It's not passing before reaching old age that's disconcerting it's living while constantly worrying about outwitting your adversaries. That must grow tiresome after awhile. But I suppose the work may be more exciting.

In Abel Ferrara's New Rose Hotel, Fox/Christopher Walken celebrates the risk-fuelled life, and living without fear or limits, it's one of his best performances.

Perhaps there's something of the actor's lifestyle caught up with imaginative redefinition, the lucrative transference of artistic synergies inherently illuminating his authenticity. 

The film's well-cast, he's amicably joined by a less animated yet lithe Willem Dafoe (X), who works as his trusted partner engaging in lucrative industrial espionage.

Asia Argento (Sandii) luxuriously complements his smitten improvised amorous calling, the hopeless romantic having found yet another seemingly impressionable curious enthusiast.

But she may have more than one identity and may not seek the cloistered path.

So distressing these inspired freedoms.

Ethereal interconnected independence.

It's kind of like sci-fi noir although the detectives aren't what you'd expect, they're more like spies helping a science-genius move from one covetous corporation to the next.

The ominous sense of impending doom delicately blended with ebullient hope, shockingly seduces and destructively serenades as the jocose trio travels the globe.

Ah well, it doesn't seem like they're hiring poets although in the '90s we really believed, or I did anyways, that the old world stereotypes prejudicially preventing misfits from finding alternative trade routes would fade away.

Into banal feudal oblivion along with war and irritable class-bias.

Since Trump things have changed dramatically.

Not to mention the woeful pandemic.

Nevertheless, I imagined the poems I've been writing recently for several years as time progressed. 

When new rhymes seemed improbable, I rewrote the language.

For better or worse, I don't really know. 

I am still having as much fun, although I need to start transforming my film reviews too.

The future radiating indeterminate.

Just picked up some more horseradish. 

The Locksmith

The paramount temptation to freely secure fast endurable easy money, fuelling stock exotic daydreams universally across the land.

So many things to buy so many dreams so many relentless advertisements, the tantalizing independence driving meticulous freeform stacked endeavours.

We learned about advertising in school and through communal discussions way back when, and it seemed like its inherent trickery was generally acknowledged by the critical populace.

And that knowledge was leading to prudent decision making or less rash impulsive purchases, as illuminating logic cut through the uproar and exposed the dispossessing illusion.

It does seem puzzling nevertheless that ads seem to hold more sway now than ever, that even with so much education the fascinating allure can't be seen through.

Therefore, is it education's responsibility to provide a more compelling entertaining alternative, that offers a more appealing cultural collective thoroughly enhanced by constructive minds?

Entertainment has indeed been highly sought after throughout the multifarious ages, whether through discus or sculpture or car racing people have striven to find distraction.

But do they find distraction within the established narratives spearheading impossibility, or within well-reasoned objective impeti cleverly crafted through a sense of fair play?

Rationality can broker enlightenment should cynicism or sarcasm be put down, and a bonafide chill embrace of equality effectively resonate within a community.

But does rationality create more jobs and lead to a more productive impacting workforce, or is it indubitably ludicrous sweet nothings that efficiently devise economic stratagems? 

The uncertain need for ridiculous knick-knacks ephemerally available to be freely disposed of, seems rather insufficient considering, but are they more appealing to the austere alternative?

Perhaps an inquiry should be led to decide the question for ever after, does the cultivation of spontaneous shenanigans outweigh judicious practical life?

Don't countries wherein which life is much more practical and strictly governed, with less nonsense and much more reasonability, have less robust economies?

Is it possible to stop global heating while engaging in carefree initiatives?

Questions for a later hour.

Such a shame to be so serious.

City Heat

Old friends convivially concerned with awkward jurisprudent balance, searching for ways to creatively uphold loyal dis/continuous partnership.

They started out on the force together courageously seeking intuitive accolades, in possession of tenacious temperaments objectively nuanced with novel bravado.

One eventually couldn't cope with the structure the preponderant rules and regulations however, and sought to manage his own private business investigating peculiarities for discreet clients (Burt Reynolds as Mike Murphy). 

The other remained with the force and reached the rank of lieutenant through toil and sacrifice, preferring to work alone on his cases, flying into a rage if you knock over his coffee (Clint Eastwood as Lt. Speer). 

Murphy's new partner one Dehl Swift (Richard Roundtree) suddenly finds himself provocatively endowed, when the ledger of a prominent crook finds its way into his audacious hands.

It's a serious gamble to brashly infuriate such an unpredictable extreme personage, without much planning or an intricate network through which to find quarter should things go awry.

Things quickly do go awry and the confused Murphy is left to pick up the pieces. 

Worried about his friend, Lt. Speer closely monitors.

As things descend into embittered entropy.

Putting the squeeze on anger-prone higher-ups always seemed rather inconvenient to me, not worth the potential fall out should inherent irascibility hit the fan.

You'd have to move fast with no trail regardless and leave behind your old life forever, and make sure not to spend the entire payload since finding a new job may encourage shocking questions.

You'd have to keep your stories straight with multiple strangers for many a year, I suppose a lot of people don't really care, but some keep pressing for coherent detail.

I imagine City Heat was widely anticipated by sundry Eastwood, Reynolds and Roundtree fans, and at the time was like a prize fight between Ali and Foreman sponsored by King. 

The music's a lot of fun and the atmosphere captures the noir aesthetic, some of the lines are really cool too and delivered with classic sarcastic wherewithal. 

I imagine excitement got the better of them, with a bit more time and care this may have been classic.

Still definitely worth checking out for curious fans and noir devotees. 

*Co-starring Jack Nance (Aram Strossell), Robert Davi (Nino), William Sanderson (Lonnie Ash), and Rip Torn (Primo Pitt). 

Criss Cross

Incumbent misfortune maladroitly radiates as a good natured local lad returns home from distant travels.

He's aware he shouldn't be visiting whom he can't help but want to see, his innate warm and friendly curiosity reimagining things as they've been.

But his love interest has tied the knot with a local entrepreneur who's none too impressed, as they still meet to catch up indiscreetly as if nothing's changed the palimpsest. 

Fortunately, he's found a way to cool things off before they get out of hand, for he works in an armoured car and is well aware of its routine.

With his knowledge of the vehicle's route he can plan a heist with his ex-partner's new husband, and they can all escape with plenty of dough to newfound lands malfeasant munchies. 

The plan is made even though stately trust still evades congenial understanding, the prosperous possibilities too tantalizing to ignore due to amorous prorated grievance.

But as the job is being pulled something's not quite right with the prized predicament.

Amicable relations remain unrestored.

Hospitalized convalescence pending. 

I suppose when you're writing a script like this you have to pile on the inherent should nots, character A should not have considered even more outcomes than character B or C and their devout minions.

The more radically preposterous and inimitably out of whack, the more likely the lugubrious outcome may surely seem like disastrous fact.

Imagine films like the disillusioning Criss Cross released in abundance each fiscal year, challenging sundry reliable westerns for box office cred impeccable sheer.

Makes you want to smoke cigars/cigarillos and drink whiskey/margaritas afield in the wilderness, perhaps cooking your meals on a campfire randomly fuelled by obstinate strain.

Has film noir ever taken off within space for an intergalactic aerodynamic decade, embracing comedy, tragedy, romance, beyond interplanetary conflict?

It is the age of globalization and it's taken on a disenchanting hue.

But rational applicability isn't so easily mis/construed. 

🔍 😜

Mandabi

The potential acquisition of a significant sum encourages excitement within a devout family, wives eager to eat rather well, a husband thinking about making loans to his friends. 

A grievous problem distresses nevertheless since he has no identification to speak of, and needs a birth certificate to cash the money order, and has no experience with bureaucracy.

It's awkward to watch as a predatory legion of pouncing perpetrators cheat and swindle him, his innate good nature abounding with trust yet rather unaccustomed to banks and business.

His heart's a good one and he encourages charity and likes to help out whenever he can, the arguments he makes to justify his largesse soundly structured and honestly thriven. 

But his country has yet to introduce public education and many are unfamiliar with dissolute tricks, remaining faithful and full of goodwill yet at times oblivious to the wolves surrounding.

Even with sound education the situation mutates and new issues develop, imagine how much simpler and more enjoyable things would be if you didn't have to take so many possibilities into consideration.

It's baffling to see so many of the same issues still manifesting within the news, as thoughts of progression from one's memorable childhood tempt thoughts of sociocultural disillusionment.

Teachers often genuinely care for the cultural well-being of their students, and provide relevant applicable advice that can be of great benefit in the world at large.

They can teach you a lot about advertising and how various schemes are trying to cheat you, if you learn how to spot them you may save a great deal and not look foolish from time to time.

Unfortunately, the world of commerce is intently aware of the challenge of teachers, and the ways in which such challenges decrease their profits and make it harder for them to trick you.

I often imagine that's why teaching is so severely criticized in the U.S and not as well-paid in some jurisdictions as it is in continental Europe.

As teachers try to help people learn how to avoid being cheated, the people cheating them accuse them of treachery and decrease their wages and credibility in turn.

Does a trusty glass of red wine every evening attempt to cheat you within such a scenario, or does it deconstruct the inconsistency with relevant ethereal coherent reckoning?  

Good music aligned with your tastes makes a strong complement harmoniously speaking. 

A figure eight, another Jets playoff win.

A walk down the boulevard.

The most recent exhibit. 

Sword of the Beast

During a period of volatile change, many samurai seek reform, to promote egalitarian civility and democratic justice, or clans less prone to autocratic caprice.

Yuuki Gennosuke (Mikijirô Hira) thinks his actions will lead to the cultivation of fairness throughout his clan, but after he disposes of its counsellor with his associates, the ambitious incumbent seeks their ruin.

The incumbent had convinced them to do it with promises of wealth and social prestige, Yuuki indubitably furious as he blindly flees to live as a fugitive in the fertile countryside.

He's zealously pursued by the ex-counsellor's daughter and many of the personnel he once considered friends, labelled an outcast bereft of sanctuary he's consistently betrayed everywhere he goes.

But he does find one independent man amusingly hoping to steal gold from a nearby mountain, in search of stalwart protection as he pans, Gennosuke can't deny it's a good place to lie low.

But another samurai has the same idea and already resides on the auriferous slopes, his wife assisting his painstaking efforts as they covet the haughty forbidden.

They've accumulated a vast sum but if they're suddenly caught they'll swiftly lose everything.

Will the two rogue samurai bond?

Before succumbing to age old destiny?

Hideo Gosha's Sword of the Beast illuminates chaos to deconstruct logic, as courageous honourable spirits innocently contend with mature corruption. 

The sundry enticing twists and turns cacophonously layered with magnetic disillusion, keep the frenzied imbroglio basting with aggrieved vehemence and eternal reckoning.

Not without a comic edge, its youthful characters at times light of heart, even while relentlessly pursued they still find time for love and play.

I imagine they mischievously reflect the carefree confidence of the young adult warrior, never fearing death or injury and ready to fight at any given moment.

Gosha gives these daring samurai manifold opportunities to prove their valour, in a celebration of just independence bravely challenging engrained malfeasance. 

With so-much death-defying animation it's impossible to tear yourself away.

Aligned with intricate ethical dilemmas. 

Who is the beast indeed?