Ikiru

The fluid motion of the bureaucratic stream meticulously generating endless paperwork, to be filed and effectively categorized as emergent initiatives continuously diversify.

A steady job punctilious no doubt but relatively safe with benefits and comforts, not as lively as poetry or sword fighting but still dependable, reliable, and calm.

Nevertheless, concerned citizens seeking dynamic change may run into hardships, if things stagnate and there's no will to moderately adjust the status quo.

In Ikiru, for instance, determined mothers seek to change their environment, due to the incorrigible waste water leaving their children covered in rashes. 

Coincidentally, a senior civil servant who loves his family and is known for hard work, unfortunately discovers he has stomach cancer and only 6 months to a year left to live.

He decides to uncharacteristically withdraw some money and extemporaneously galavant around town, and soon becomes harmlessly infatuated with a spirited younger employee from work.

As she becomes bored with their routine which is somewhat too outgoing for the conservative climate, she asks him why he likes to spend time with her and he bravely decides to answer.

Her youthful spirit it captivatingly seems has reinvigorated his thirst for life, and caused him to reimagine his working role and spearhead change within his department.

They never see each other again but her accidental influence bears auspicious fruit.

And without much time left to live.

He charismatically champions change.

Stick with Ikiru's good intentions it gradually builds to a wholesome climax (Ikiru, not the United States), difficult to make a thrilling bureaucratic film that modestly presents humble good natured caricatures. 

I'm so used to Kurosawa's samurai that this was a surprise full of uncanny feeling, where the civil service functions bucolically amidst the insurgence of lay councilpeople.

I wonder if it was inspired by Dickens it's like The Circumlocution Office in Little Dorrit, where one of its employees isn't exactly like Scrooge but still wondrously changes for the communal good.

Imagine translating Dickens into French let alone Japanese brilliant translators are invaluable. 

How to understand different languages so well at such high levels.

Mind-blowing to say the least!

Viking

Hypotheses deemed reasonable fluidly facilitate relational replication, as a team is readily assembled which closely matches one sent to Mars.

As the astronauts were being chosen they had to pass a psychological test, during which they could freely respond to a variety of random potentially standardized questions.

Due to the length of the voyage, mission control thought it might be prudent, to duplicate their isolated conditions and place hearty surrogates within similar circumstances.

These volunteers have to take the same psych-evaluations and should their responses match those from a trooper, they'll be given the chance to function as their facsimile on a secluded base back home.

Hence, as drama and challenge coherently test the bona fide in space, their echoes residing on Earth produce the same social situations and generate theories.

Should their Earthen bound drama produce results considered highly applicable, the astronauts themselves can follow their advice and adapt their strategies in focused concordance. 

But what should happen if things become boring or resolute tensions claustrophobically arise?

And are they the only active team, currently reimagining solar schematics?

Imagine NASA with a hundredth the budget still valiantly spearheading courageous initiatives, and as they attempt to recruit concrete fascination, wind up with aggrieved personality (so 21st century).

Thus the mission occasionally lacks prominence in the hearts and minds of the locked-down duplicates, and rather than concentrating on the historical import, nitpicking irregularities steadfastly taunt them (😌).

In terms of a dry lackadaisical critique of bureaucratic function and hands-on theory, Stéphane Lafleur's tremendous Viking industriously lampoons think tanks and committees. 

The results of their disputatious endeavours as preponderantly quizzical as they are performative, needless to say issues endemically complicate throughout the bewildered parallel missions.

Of course space travel and space bureaucracy spiritedly functioning on a shoe string budget, may encounter resonant difficulties as binding conclusions hatch and spawn.

As for the comedic expenditure, the genuine inanity etherealizes throughout, with a structured lack of determinate goals sincerely generating realistic implosion.

Much more clever than relying on a monster to suddenly instigate space shenanigans. 

Keeping the mission in mind.

Great companion for Babysitter.

Lean on Me

I must admit to knowing little about the daily operations of American schools, I've seen various films and read books presenting snapshots, but I remain largely unfamiliar with concrete details.

Thus when focused on a school like Eastside High as depicted in John G. Avildsen's Lean On Me, at first I'm tempted to trust to exaggeration through interests in presenting irate shock.

But perhaps my lack of knowledge is tending to obscure manifest realism, and there are indeed schools comparable to this one down South, even if they're tough for Canadians to envision, I could never imagine things getting that out of hand.

The school's discipline has deteriorated so profoundly that extreme measures are suddenly called for, as a new principal is effectively hired with the hopes of increasing its state average (Morgan Freeman as Principal Joe Clark).

If its state average does not improve the state itself will take objective control, and personal flair and individual reckoning may fade into bureaucratic oblivion. 

Naturally their personal flair has lacked efficient recourse to strength in recent decades, and manifold undesirable elements have arisen to challenge rational rule.

It can be heartbreakingly tragic when genuinely concerned individuals are rashly ignored, and a lack of upheld respect for authority leads to wild insecure degeneration.

Mr. Clark's methods aren't widely appreciated and he's honestly difficult to deal with, as he takes absolute control and refuses to listen to anyone else's opinion.

He fights the unruly head on and makes great strides in encouraging learning, unconcerned with image or friendship or reputation he authoritatively expresses himself.

Within the extremist example the case is made for sharp edged discipline, if things degrade to such a level a hug and a bandaid may not solve things.

The question is what happens the next year after the situation has evolved, and newfound pride in educational advancement establishes roots within the school?

Then does the headstrong leader gracefully adapt to the less volatile circumstances, and once again encourage democracy amongst students and staff alike?

If so, the unfortunate necessary embrace of hard-hearted methods finds justification, if such a situation existed (massive drug dealing etc., not something as harmless as gender identity), and couldn't be remedied otherwise.

If the leader doesn't relax power or refuses to acknowledge his fellow staff, then disconsolate dismal camaraderie may lead to the loss of highly valued personnel. 

The next school year isn't the focus so the overarching jury provides no verdict.

However the school resists being taken over.

And becomes a safe place to learn again. 

Fotbal Infinit (Infinite Football)

Sometimes you savour the sweet conversation effortlessly generated by bizarro dreams. 

The improbability encourages rash exploration the ridiculousness of which augments middle-age.

Or any free-spirited time period wherein which dreams distract distinctly, and sweet nothings or crafty fantasies conjure wayward cogent reckonings.

Everything'd be too serious otherwise, there would be no compassionate touch, assuming the difference between reason and absurdity still maintained a coherent balance.

An unacknowledged coherent balance, the irregularities of sincerest trust, cultivated through fleeting foundations, or mutually presumed ill-favour.

In conversation.

There's an art to this kind of conversation which preserves imaginative youth, and myriad compelling narratives have theoretically been spawned thereafter (Ferris Bueller's, Strange Brew . . . ).

Fotbal Infinit (Infinite Football) examines a champion who's taken things way too far, so caught up in his gripping imagination that he's lost sight of the inherent humour.

It seems like he's taking his idea seriously, far beyond rational realistic applications, but he may just be humorously distressed, and there doesn't seem to be much else to talk about.

An injury suffered in his youth led him to stop playing soccer/football, and his dreams of moving to the U.S. were forgotten after his country joined the EU.

Expecting to find excitement in the years following, he instead wound up in a permanent position lacking bureaucratic fluidity.

As the years past his thrilling fantasy became much more appealing than his daily routine, and began to permeate every discussion integrated into his private life.

Does he take things too far in his reckonings and turn every conversation into an awkward exchange, or is there just nothing else left to talk about, and has he found expeditious refrain?

He finds ways to apply his dream to each and every social interaction, it's a remarkable feat of maladroit dynamism, that revels in novel disjunction. 

I'm not sure if he notices the difference between dream and reality any longer, but he's found a way to spice up his life that's at least individualistically invigorating.

What reality's in fact the most ludicrous is perhaps a pertinent question?

Beyond the public sphere.

Quizzical misgivings.

Discursive implosion. 

Ford v Ferrari

I could never get into car racing.

No matter what the track.

I watched a car race once one afternoon when I was 10 years old or so, while two brothers started brawling for some reason, and after 5 minutes or so it generally lost its appeal, I'm afraid I never had the desire to watch one again, cold storage, dusted away.

I like films however, so if a film about car racing is nominated for best picture at the Oscars I figured there must be something to it, something that transcends the actual racing itself, and perhaps highlights a point or two I never would have taken into account if I hadn't seen it, although I did respect car racing meanwhile, it's just something I could never get into.

Into watching.

It sounds fun, like it'd be something fun to do, not watch.

The film does a great job of demonstrating how much thought goes into winning such races, the coveted expertise possessed by precious few aficionados, who take the time to actively pursue their passion without thinking much about reward, the love of the game drives them, and it's impressive how much they know.

Honestly, seeing a company that was as big as Ford at the time take on a much smaller company that was going out of business (Ferrari) didn't appeal to me much, it's like the company that already has everything backed up by unlimited resources competing against a devout artist, who's passionately spent everything in the pursuit of something breathtaking and unique.

It's super American.

I didn't care for that aspect of the story much, but since Ford had the reputation for making less specialized cars and wanted to prove they could do something unique, I appreciated the improbability of the challenge, which would have seemed more profound without the wealth.

The incredible wealth.

But the team Ford assembles isn't rich, it's composed of hands on struggling independent artists who thoroughly understand their craft, and the film excels as they bat heads with bland executives, whose knowledge is much more concerned with spectacle (they think more about what to do if they've won as opposed to how to actually go about winning).

For some domains, a large bureaucracy functions well, ensuring the delivery of various services for vastly different markets, the inherent intricacies and size of which require multiple levels of thought, positions occupied by workers familiar with the terrain, and the flexibility to calmly deal with manifold contingencies.

If you're trying to win a race, however, if you're doing something highly specific for an individualistic set of circumstances, and there aren't multiple levels of thought, there are just a couple of highly skilled professionals who have the knowledge to get the job done, who in fact know what they're doing, and are making the most relevant observations, like Carroll Shelby (Matt Damon) and Ken Miles (Christian Bale) in Ford v Ferrari, then, as Carroll and Ken mention in the film, the bureaucracy can get in the way, and make simple decisions that need to be made absurdly complex, the absurd complexities making the practical goal unachievable, keep it simple, keep it practical and hands on.

If you want to do something bureaucracy can be frustrating because you have to wait so long for approval to do the simplest things.

Not so much in politics where it's important to think about the impacts of what you're doing.

But if you like the bureaucratic ebb and flow, I suppose the argument itself is somewhat compelling.

The film is somewhat direct and easy to follow, no nonsense is the phrase writers employ in writing such a narrative I imagine, everything has a traditional relevant point, and it presents a thoughtful situation full of risk, trial, error, reward.

It's the kind of light film pretending to be tough that makes a positive impact, if you don't think about it too much, if you just sit back and take it in.

It would have been cool if the impact the experimental nature of race car driving makes on domestic automobile manufacture had been briefly explored.

And it hadn't been so massive, so Goliath.

A generalized examination of a complex phenomenon.

Nice to see Jon Bernthal (Lee Iacocca) with a larger role.

A Perfect Day

The wild, the unknown, a war torn zone suffering the ravages of ethnocentric sterility walking the line between recovery and recidivism as peace talks rapidly progress.

A simple plan to find some rope and remove a dead body from a well, thereby providing the thirsty local populace with a free water supply, is bogged down in bureaucratic constipation while an independent team asserts their variability.

Mines, prejudices, flags, haunting uncertainties destabilizing the region.

But some citizens still know how to laugh.

Which influences A Perfect Day too seriously, as it comes across more like a buddy comedy than an illustration of bitter violence, like an episode from the 10th season of M*A*S*H, or friends sitting around a campfire having happy-go-lucky conversations while war pejoratively rages.

I like the characters, the situations, notably the cows who know how to navigate around land mines, but the hokey dialogue and purposive posturing (there's always a point someone's trying to make) wears thin after 15 minutes, or seconds, depending on your capacity to forgive.

It does stick it to overarching pretensions and legalistic technicalities that prevent people from doing simple things to achieve important goals, too many by-the-book applications occasionally hindering generally progressive initiatives.

But it's too much like The Monuments Men or what I imagine Whiskey Tango Foxtrot will be like (best title I've seen in years), local horrors eclipsed by cute and cuddly outsider shenanigans insufficiently solemnizing the inherent gravity of conflict, like showing up to play in the NFL without wearing pads, a warm fuzzy giraffe, not an omnivorous black bear.  

Still Mine

Couldn't help but wonder what Michael McGowan's Still Mine would have been like had it been made in the States.

The narrative introduces a stern yet friendly do-it-yourself farmer named Craig Morrison (James Cromwell) and his loving wife Irene (Geneviève Bujold), 2 of their 7 children, and the traditional family structure that intergenerationally holds them together.

Craig is 86 and in incredible shape.

When it becomes apparent that his home can no longer safely accommodate Irene, due to her ailing health, he decides to build a new one, on his own, going so far as to cut down the requisite trees, by himself, this guy's hardcore.

But bureaucratic regulations and an intransigent unsympathetic inspector (Jason X's Jonathan Potts as Rick) go to ridiculously meticulous lengths in their adherence to related laws, even after Mr. Morrison yields to their demands, doing everything he can to uphold them, paying hefty fees along the way.

Craig Morrison is exceptional.

He's 86.

He's in better shape than I will ever be.

He doesn't only know how to build a solidly constructed immaculately modest house, he can do it, he starts doing it, he does it.

Still Mine makes a great case for the fact that some individuals possess the necessary skills and knowledge to develop intricate ideas and see them through, on their own land, even though they may not hold related educational credentials and may be unaware of the legal consequences of doing so at first, yet if they are still willing to abide by said consequences after discovering their existence, they should therefore be given some productive leeway by obnoxious young bucks with nothing better to do but cross every t.

Mr. Morrison yields.

He pays.

He plays ball.

Weapons aren't involved, the film's not called The Grandfather Clause, he has the wherewithal, and doesn't go ape shit.

I didn't like how he cut down old growth spruce but that's another matter.

He makes a funny point about how many of the houses built in St. Martins New Brunswick without a National Building Code 200 years ago are still standing.

Still Mine also romantically nurtures a devoted conception of marriage, which is difficult for me to understand after all that Proust.

Not that everyone isn't devoted to marriage in In Search of Lost Time.

They simply employ a counterintuitive methodology in their application of various codes of conduct.

Zero Dark Thirty

Accumulation. Asseveration. Evisceration.      

Kathryn Bigelow's bureaucratically bitchin' tenaciously pitchin' Zero Dark Thirty nonpartisanly coordinates the clandestine predications of a resilient stalwart team.

In/directly lead by Maya (Jessica Chastain).

Militaristically maneuvering from the collection of data to the formulation of hypotheses to the execution of ideas, they uniformly act like the production of a covert thesis.

Perhaps this thesis asks, "can we successfully fabricate a concrete entertaining internationally provocative blueprint which periodically articulates anti-terrorist protocols which seem bona fide yet cleverly dissimulate each and every event that took place, apart from the lengthy ending, thereby functioning as overt espionage (and trumping Argo)?"

This question may be a bit much considering that what takes place seems to follow a logical asymmetrical pattern the fabric of which conceals/reveals both sides (as depicted in the film) regardless.

Nevertheless, even though its bravado is qualified by stats and potentialities, Zero Dark Thirty impresses practical unrelenting retributive necessities across its apolitical spectrum, collocating resourceful avatars with seductive sentiments, in a potent, charismatic, collection.

Argo

It should be noted that Ben Affleck's Argo takes bold steps to attach the responsibility for the hostile anti-American attitudes presented by some Iranian citizens displayed within to the political activities of American and British authorities of the 1950s, and that it is these same authorities who are in/directly responsible for the subsequent rise of madpersons like Ahmadinejad.

It should also be noted that this may not be the wisest time to be releasing a film which displays passionate anti-American feelings amongst those very same citizens, due to the potentially volatile dynamics of our current historical period, although, perhaps my reluctancy to endorse its timing could be a sign of my own hesitancy in regards to taking great risks, which Mr. Affleck, in creating this film at this particular time, has certainly done.

I myself believe that an incredible secret has been kept in Iran based upon my viewings of Marjane Satrapi's Persepolis, Maryam Keshavarz's Circumstance, common sense, and a conversation I had six years ago in passing, that being that many, perhaps even a vast majority of Iranian citizens, don't care whether or not they develop an atomic weapon, have no wish to go to war with Israel, and simply want to peacefully work, live, laugh, love, and travel in a clean environment, like citizens in every other country, without having to be afraid all the time.

Yet I have no idea what you do when a lunatic like Ahmadinejad is in power (or George W. Bush for that matter) or how to go about diffusing the situation.

There are scurrilously ambitious people who seek power and consider everyone else to be like them. They employ reprehensible tactics to achieve this power, and, thinking everyone else to be like them, seek to prevent others who aren't like them from employing the same tactics to usurp them.  This attitude is applied nationally and internationally. Seeing conspiracies everywhere and fearing violent reprisals, they conspire violently, thereby creating that which they feared in the first place, vaingloriously spreading misery.

Argo goes a long way to prevent the spread of misery in its best scene by cleverly intermingling different realities facing American and post-revolutionary Iranian citizens, a scene which shows the Americans laying the rhetorical groundwork to 'make' a fake movie while Iranians try to punish the American and British imposed Shah who butchered them for decades and managed to find sanctuary in the States afterwards, a scene which pulls its American audience into the Iranian situation, its frame reminding them to bear in mind that the events depicted took place in 1979, 33 years ago.

In one of Star Trek the Next Generation's best moments Worf (Michael Dorn) commends his son Alexander (James Sloyan/Brian Bonsall) for choosing the path of peace (Firstborn).

Yes, Worf highly honours the path of peace.

By creating a film which exoterically tackles an extremely important contemporary international political phenomenon with the goal of saving lives or preventing a war, which places the situation within a controversial militaristic, governmental, and individual historical context, Ben Affleck's created quite a film, its exoteric qualities capable of entertainingly reaching a wide audience, and perhaps having a lasting affect.

As if to say, if you thought there was anti-American sentiment flowing through Iran 33 years ago during a volatile time of historic change directly caused by the meddling of American and British authorities, imagine how much there will be if an actual war is started, for decades, centuries, to come.

It doesn't have to be like that.

Not at all.

Cats and Dogs: The Revenge of Kitty Galore

Dogs often do not get along well with cats. And cats seem to be consistently hostile concerning dogs. These facts form the foundation of Brad Peyton's Cats and Dogs: The Revenge of Kitty Galore, a family friendly adventure film wherein cats and dogs must work together. A rogue hairless cat named Kitty Galore (Bette Midler) is determined to transmit The Call of the Wild across planet Earth via satellite in order to cause dogs everywhere to react violently towards humans. But trailing her are Diggs (James Marsden) and Butch (Nick Nolte), two mismatched canines who need to learn to work together if they're to foil Kitty's dastardly plans. Initially unsuccessful, Diggs and Butch discover they need the help of a cat named Catherine (Christina Applegate) if they are to defeat their foe. Can cats and dogs professionally learn to competently overcome their eternal apprehensions, or will Kitty Galore disseminate her sinister message, thereby destroying everything dogs have worked for since the beginning of time?

Wasn't the hugest fan of Cats and Dogs 2. Didn't think many of the jokes were funny, thought most of the situations were ridiculously over the top (not the good kind of ridiculously over the top), and couldn't stop myself from taking a quick nap after the first 45 minutes. And what's Catherine doing at Dog Headquarters at the end of the film? Shouldn't she back at MEOWS taking care of cat related business? The youngsters in the theatre seemed to enjoy everything however, and clapped and laughed throughout. Not as deep as say Disney's Hercules, but still possessing enough childish wit to entertain its target audience, Cats and Dogs 2 won't likely find many parents wishing to view it for a second time, but will likely maintain a special place in the hearts of enthusiastic children.

The Harder They Come

Peter Henzell's The Harder They Come presents a non-traditional character study of an ambitious musician who tries to build Rome in a day. The character's identity is established firmly on the basis of contemporary action rather than personal history as he reacts to his culture's power structures audaciously. Ivanhoe Martin (Jimmy Cliff) moves from the country to Kingston, Jamaica, in search of a job. His only significant talent is musical and although he cuts a hit single, it isn't enough to pay the bills. Frustrated by having to sign away the rights to his music, he tries to distribute it on his own only to be stonewalled by the system's monopolistic designs. Underground jobs and retributive punishments follow as he tries to fight for a better wage against the fat cats who control the city. After shooting at both police and fellow marijuana distributors in the same week, he soon gains the notorious public image of reckless fugitive and cult hero.

Ivanhoe Martin reacts violently to the barriers in place concerning his personal advancement. Not content to sit back and let the idle few receive the majority of the fruit harvested by the ingenuity of the many, he takes on the system by any means necessary. It's fun watching a wildperson throw caution to the wind and stick up for his idealized rights, and since he survives, the perennially dispossessed begin to revere and love him. As time passes, those in control try to suffocate the network feeding and housing Martin, and the results are as actively ineffective as they are passively revolutionary.

The Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call - New Orleans

Never thought I'd see Abel Ferrara's Bad Lieutenant reworked and revitalized but that is what Werner Herzog has done in The Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call - New Orleans. Opening on an heroic note, Lieutenant Terence McDonagh (Nicolas Cage) quickly proves that he is on par with Harvey Keitel's degenerate masterpiece, as he travels the streets of New Orleans using his badge to procure as much prurient activity as he possibly can. Things are complicated: a camera has been placed in the police department's evidence room, making it more difficult for him to obtain free narcotics; when a costumer assaults McDonagh's prostitute partner (Eva Mendes), he threatens him even though his political contacts are severe; he is suffering from chronic back pain, the result of his aforementioned heroic act; his gambling debts mount as he can't catch a break and his bookie (Brad Dourif) comes calling; a protected witness escapes under his watch and after ruthlessly interrogating his politically connected grandmother to discover his whereabouts, he is temporarily removed from duty; his relationship with his recovering alcoholic father (Tom Bower) remains estranged; and he can't find the means to put the cocaine dealing murderer Big Fate (Xzibit) behind bars. Certainly not the most family friendly film, The Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call - New Orleans offers a pristinely nocturnal portrait of a successful substance abusing professional scumbag, shot through the discarded lens of an alcoholic looking glass. Deconstructing the traditional hard-working-by-the-book-master-narrative, it brazenly points out that corruption often finds its own rewards, while highlighting the nefarious steps that must occasionally be taken in order for justice to be virtuously upheld.

The Class (Entre les murs)

Really liked Laurent Cantet's The Class (Entre les murs). It follows the life and times of a Parisian high school over the course of a year, focusing specifically upon Mr. Marin's (François Bégaudeau) multicultural French class. The realism is solid. The scenes within Mr. Marin's classroom are generally quite lengthy, demanding an extraordinary amount of discipline from their adolescent actors, reminding me of the long, patient shots found in Elephant, The Player, Touch of Evil, and Day for Night, albeit with a relatively stationary camera. And the teens never lose character, always seeming like rambunctious, asinine, aloof, acerbic, occasionally enthusiastic, rebellious teenagers, as Mr. Marin does his best to teach them the intricacies of French. Bégaudeau's performance is exceptional, the intelligent hip pseudo-snob employing a watered down version of the socratic method while suffering the consequences of its design, treading the fine line between friendship and discipline. Unfortunately, a troubled student lashes out during one of his uncharacteristic bursts of vitriol and Marin's then forced to deal with the personal and administrative consequences of his somewhat lackadaisical style.

Definitely complex.

There's a bit of sensationalism during a scene where Marin confronts two students in the playground for ratting him out, but this superrealism can be forgiven inasmuch as you can expect teachers to forget their role from time to time as their daily grind's routine wears on. The difficulties associated with trying to find educational solutions to extraordinarily complex pedagogical problems receive serious attention within, begging the question hyperactive hypocrisy or subdued solidarity? Can you find a way to teach the majority of your students how to teach themselves? Does enabling their critical insights invigorate their wit at the expense of their learning? Can constructive enmity be used as a didactic tool? What if your subjective approach begins to threaten your professional objectivity, progressive though it may be?

The Class examines these questions and thankfully doesn't provide any answers because there definitely aren't any (although many exist from time to time) which only ennobles their pursuit. Students are definitely a handful, so are teachers. So keep teaching. And learning. And causing trouble.

L'Âge des Ténèbres

There you have it. You're 29. You don't have a job. You're in school hoping you will find a job when your program is finished, but, more importantly, hoping you do not end up as despondent as Jean-Marc Leblanc (Marc Labrèche) in Denys Arcand's new film L'Âge des Ténèbres (after having found that job in the years to come). Jean-Marc has grown tired of existence, of being married to the top third realtor in the country, of his children, of his government job (where he can’t help people solve their problems), every day, amidst Feng Shui interventions, language hearings, motivational speakers, hard times for being late after an hour and a half commute: and his mother is dying. Things are pretty bleak, and, rather than doing anything about it, he's escaped into dreamland, wonderful daydreams, distracting daydreams, where he is emperor, writing famous novels, appearing on television, randy, promiscuous. But his ennui's so intense he can't even daydream successfully and his banal reality cripples his reveries as well. Very sad. Very pessimistic. Also, occasionally funny.

Arcand's film is dense and scathing. "We can characterize our times with one word: disintegration." "We have no answers for you. Your lives are to complicated, the situation to complex." The cynicism that dominates much of L'Âge des Ténèbres criticizes government departments, health care provision, the nuclear family, public school, municipal by-laws, bureaucratic strategies, linguistic authorities, road rage . . . It's difficult to know whether or not the focus is ironic, poking fun at 'gloom and doom' "this is what's wrong with society" people, genuine, trying to instigate political change, intentionally bleak, allegorically accentuating the realities of Leblanc's castrated lifestyle, or a synthesis of the previously mentioned options, spiraling and reverberating within a tragic, comedic vortex. The commoner must face the realities of his boast. The main purpose of a bureaucracy is to ensure its continuing survival. Is 'genuine' communication forged by a union of souls or a random physical action?

The film's complex, presenting unsettling realities in a fantastic frame. But what political system isn't overrun with legal inconsistencies and bureaucratic redundancy, and how does one go about addressing these issues in a practical manner (which is perhaps the principle point)? Nevertheless, L'Âge des Ténèbres presents insightful observations concerning complex social, ethical and political paradigms, competently portraying a convoluted cultural mosaic with delicate vulgarity and humourous solemnity.

What happens after Leblanc's wife takes off for Toronto is impressive. The lines uttered by Leblanc's co-workers are impressive. The film’s impressive. Even if it's a bit overwrought, the multi-dimensional remainder of L'Âge des Ténèbres illuminates the brightest intellectual darkness I've seen in a while, reminiscent of Five Easy Pieces, Falling Down, American Beauty and Billy Liar, ironically titled, considering its impact.

No End in Sight

Charles Ferguson's new documentary No End in Sight presents a coherent explanation for the chaotic situation in Iraq. Ferguson explores how bureaucratic incompetence, managerial inexperience, naive idealism, and short-sighted decision making have turned Iraq into a bloody, vicious war zone. With an estimated 600, 000 Iraqi citizens dead, the future of the Iraq conflict looks grim, and Ferguson places the blame on a relatively small number of high ranking members of the Bush administration who theorized a strategy to maintain order in Iraq without reference to any sense of practical detail. The most notable mistakes were the dismissal of the Iraqi army, taking away the jobs of 500, 000 skilled military personnel and replacing them with rhetoric, the disbanding of the government, taking away another 50, 000 jobs from people well versed in the intricate details of governing the Iraqi people (replacing them with recently graduated students with no knowledge of Arabic), and the fact that the American Army permitted the citizen's of Baghdad to loot the city from top to bottom, leaving the American occupational bureaucracy with little to no infrastructure to begin the extremely complicated business of administering a foreign country. Ferguson's interview's skillfully illustrate the disastrous consequences of acting before planning, of making split-second decisions affecting millions of lives without forethought. It's as if a small proportion of the Bush Administration decided to invade a country over breakfast, made up their plan for the invasion over lunch, stopped for a quick nap, and then executed their plan over dinner. The future for Iraq looks interminably grim, and, according to Ferguson’s presentation, it seems as if stability is something generations of innocent Iraqis will never have the pleasure of experiencing.