Przypadek

Can alternative decisions made in relation to one specific random event produce remarkably different outcomes for an inquisitive mind adapting?

Is it possible that the same person could emphatically respond with melancholic gusto, to diametrically opposed scenarios with shocking dialectic outcomes?

With or without exciting possibility with political support or in the thrilling underground, perhaps with traditional familial responsibilities, could the same person react so divergently?

As if sociopolitical engagement is a mischievous abstract maelstrom, different vessels like practical responses to a constantly shifting incredulous multiplicity.

As if the unexpected the unforeseen consistently introduces unprecedented dilemmas, which reimagine concrete foundations in need of striking transformative flux.

To stay afloat you employ grey flexible conducive relevant bold applications, circuitously dissected by ideological currents simultaneously engaged in the same opaque struggle.

Personal appeal and gracious mentoring provide fleeting cerebral provisions, from one piquant portfolio to the next, subjective instinct objective humour.

Competing forces build dams and levees attempting to limit the Kafkaesque exposure, material movements and spiritual sustenance providing relief within the grand disorder.

Isms and ists market intellectual plumage attempting to bridge variable discreet gaps, consistently haunted by resonant biology (hunger) as they uphold existential preservation. 

The absolutist seeks total control of the entire byzantine aqueous edifice, presuming resulting tsunamic ostentation will one day be followed by mass mellifluity.

The democrat limits the forbidding forces and offers advice for multivariable instances, celebrating fluctuation itself out of sincere respect for public opinion.

Witek (Boguslaw Linda) is immersed within different currents in Kieslowski's Przypadek, immanent ideological commitments compromising noble romantic resolve.

Even the lavish lagooned levitation leads to despondent airborne rupture, every random disparate path linked through chaotic contemporaneity.

Give me a raft or a kayak I suppose, some good bread and a variety of cheese.

A ride hitched on the back of a whale.

Some good books.

A salient film.  

En kongelig affære (A Royal Affair)

A gifted enlightened town doctor (Mads Mikkelsen as Johann Friedrich Struensee) fortuitously finds himself suddenly reshaping his country's (Denmark) feudal character in Nikolaj Arcel's En kongelig affære (A Royal Affair), relying heavily upon his lucid acumen to enact social democratic reforms. 

But a misguided sense of permanency and an affectionate indiscretion result in his ignominious downfall.

King Christian VII (Mikkel Følsgaard) wants little to do with ruling and prefers to revel in unconditioned debauchery.

Doctor Struensee does little to disuade his ambition and the two strike up an amiable friendship, prominently acting for the good of the people.

As opportunity strikes, freedom materializes, yet its nascent state fails to consider history's quotidien counterbalance.

As dinner is served, a competitive course of cultural compositions is collusively seared, and the foundations of a revolving polemic picturesquely present themselves.

Too picturesquely perhaps.

One of En kongelig affære's principal problems is that there aren't any proactive plebeian representatives. A film boldly illustrating a crucial moment in Danish social democratic development should have likely included characters to whom said developments directly apply.

Instead they're stereotypically depicted as a mob.

It may have been too maudlin to include proactive plebeian reps but it also lacks a healthy contingent of subtle continuous economically disadvantaged background personnages which could have diversified its filmscape.

Obviously doing this continuously throughout a film is expensive and time consuming, and since En kongelig affære highlights the dangers of proceeding too quickly with social democratic reforms, perhaps this is an example of form working hand-in-hand with content.

The economic dangers are obviously real but so are the dangers of a right wing government that constantly pleads poverty (or creates an inexhaustible debt) when there is in fact of abundance of wealth, and the film examines a period which inaugurated social democratic reforms, not one where they already hold partial institutional prominence in some countries.

The King is at least cognizant of his faults and logically prefers friendship to fidelity considering his own predilections.

The film also concerns a love affair.

Don't know if I've ever seen a better example of the ridiculousness of the absolute application of ideology than when the Queen (Alicia Vikander [Denmark's Keira Knightley or Natalie Portman?]) is told to be more ladylike while giving birth.

Outstanding.

Take this Waltz

Disorientingly positioned between two socio-cultural persuasions (traditional vs. open marriage), one, familiar, cozy, predictable and solid, option 2, unknown, spicy, spontaneous and in inspirational flux, Take this Waltz's Margot (Michelle Williams) struggles to choose a specific gravitational counterpart, their contradictory forces amorously messin' with her mind.

Associated risks and issues of comfort are respectfully juxtaposed with daring intoxicating improvisational interest. 

As if a beautiful funny intelligent woman rediscovers that sensuous spark that unrecognizably redefined her as she let herself go in the arms of another, and it becomes increasingly difficult to dialectically distinguish her two suitors.

Until earthly realities draw attention to the responsibilities of the symbolic and the imaginary must be qualified by a degree of practicality. 

An escape, a happy place, something blissful, is required, where, perhaps, when emotionally tied to demanding conflicting relational engagements, one can reassert a transcendent sense of self while existentially weighing their details against their general affects, one which functions as a secret personalized counterpoint to that generated by the partner's enigmatic propulsive particle, from which balance can be dependently realized.   

Having interiorized and subjectively promulgated the gaze of her subjects of desire.

And negotiated a flexible impervious pact. 

The Lucky One

Don't really know what to say about The Lucky One.

Lead character Logan (Zac Effron) certainly is lucky.

While fighting in Iraq, he discovers the picture of an enticing woman lying in the wreckage and keeps it close to his heart thereafter. Having safely returned to Colorado, he then decides to find her and sets out on foot, showing her picture to people he meets. He eventually finds her (Taylor Schilling as Beth Clayton) in a small town in Louisiana and she gives him a job working in her kennel.

Against her better judgement.

Her jealous manipulative ex-husband (Jay R. Ferguson as Keith Clayton) is a smug policeperson, the son of a wealthy mayoral candidate, and a secure member of the local petty bourgeoise.

He takes none to kindly to Logan.

But Logan isn't afraid, and boldly refuses to play ball, trusting instead in the power of love and the genuine incorruptibility of his good intentions.

And the fact that lonely Beth starts wanting a piece.

The film would have been stronger had Logan encountered other labourers who had run afoul of Mr. Clayton's coercive tendencies and formed a resistance of sorts to counteract his abusive privilege.

Old Testament justice is thunderously administered, but a different solution, one galvanizing the resolve of mistreated workers, would have provided The Lucky One with a collective edge, thereby intensifying the fluidity of its amour.

The Artist

Pride leads to a tragic fall in Michel Hazanavicius's The Artist, as silent film superstar George Valentin (Jean Dujardin) refuses to adapt to a technological paradigm shift. Losing everything after the advent of the Talkies, he descends into a self-obsessed alcoholic tailspin while remaining loyal to his preferred form of artistic expression.

To which he was an unparalleled sensation.

Paying hommage to an abandoned form of film making which was responsible for cinema's resounding success, The Artist works, presenting a remarkable synthesis of motion and sound whose historical resonances are fashionably festooned.

Ludovic Bource's original music playfully harmonizes with the action and temporally positions us within a revitalized inspirational epoch. Jean Dujardin and Bérénice Bejo (Peppy Miller) use the full range of their creative non-verbal subtly to emit an understated existential dialogue which encourages evocative sensual reflections as one tries to imagine what might have been said.

Even as Valentin seems destined for dereliction, a sense of innocent naivety permeates The Artist's being, as its expertly timed stylistic complexities leisurely conjure an effervescent cascade of childlike simplicity by delicately condensing multilayered supporting complements into an affective cry.

Nothing that surprising takes place in the narrative itself. It's the cohesive viscid micro-details which transform each moment into an exception of its own that make The Artist such a compelling film.

Nice to see Ed Lauter with a supporting role.

The Way

After Tom Avery (Martin Sheen) learns that his son Daniel (Emilio Estevez) has died while hiking El Camino de Santiago, he flies to France and decides to undertake the pilgrimage through Spain himself. Unprepared for the journey and approaching retirement, he buckles down and proceeds regardless to try and understand his son's bohemian spirit which he had routinely belittled throughout his life. While coping with his loss, he reluctantly befriends three younger adventurous subjects who take a mysterious shine to his rigorous no-nonsense elderly personality, each embracing the trek for different reasons. Their heterogeneous individualist assembly forms a peculiar undefined pact as they encounter a colourful cast of characters while seeking lodging along the way.

Emilio Estevez's The Way elastically populates a variety of different situations with thought provoking revelations towards its healing goal. Some of the dialogue and interactions could have benefitted from a careful study of Woody Allen or John Cassavetes, but I can't deny that he works well within his elevated wide-reaching down-to-earth frame.

Heated exchanges. Romantic musings. Acerbic challenges. Carefree suggestions. Confident purpose. Cohesive wanderings.

Unpredictable traumatic events necessitate change. Improvised determined responses supported by but not rooted within historico-cultural traditions can lead to revitalizing affects. Social opportunities and previously unconsidered theoretical trajectories abound after the embrace of the other. Letting go and enjoying the difference leads to spiritual rebirth.

The Way.

The Adventures of Tintin: The Secret of the Unicorn

An adventure accidentally presents itself as commodities are exchanged. A secret lies deep within unconscious depths hidden beneath years of unchecked alcohol consumption. A helpful dog continuously discovers solutions to associated problems. And innocent Tintin proceeds unrelentingly.

Three clues have been placed within the masts of three model ships which represent a sunken vessel known as the Unicorn. A resourceful scoundrel seeks to decipher these clues in order to harvest a bountiful treasure. Tintin (Jamie Bell) is kidnapped and forced to take part in his quest. After cleverly escaping his captor's clutches, he meets a saucy Sea Captain (Andy Serkis) with whom he was born to encapsulate.

Steven Spielberg's The Adventures of Tintin youthfully and energetically galvanizes this filmic variation of the Tintin franchise. Fast paced deliberate inquisitive action meets dedicated trustworthy crafty redemption as comic interjections intermittently lighten the tension and purpose unites difference in the bonds of collaborative friendship. Travel is a necessity. Responses must be made according to specific temporal restrictions. The competition is ruthless and eager to displease. And historical antagonisms have been built into the dynamic so that contemporary animosities take on a legendary character.

It's very athletic.

Amiable and fun and full of life and nimble energy, The Adventures of Tintin is an enlivening family friendly film which pleasantly cushions the holiday season.

Limitless

A struggling writer (Bradley Cooper as Eddie Mora) discovers he can access nearly 100% of his forgotten memories/observations after accidentally receiving a miracle drug from his ex-brother-in-law, and proceeds to excel. He finishes his novel in 4 days and afterwards sets out to make his fortune. The drug's side-effects are none to pleasant, however, and he soon experiences blackouts and debilitating nausea. But because he's functioning at such a high level, there are basically no professional consequences and he manages to maintain employment while suffering a dangerous breakdown. Thugs to whom he unfortunately gave the drug come calling for more and it soon becomes necessary to hire protection.

Much can be said about Neil Burger's Limitless. I thought it was an entertaining film whose execution lacked appeal yet still established several provocative dimensions which encourage further reflection. The ways in which Eddie handles his drug addiction for instance. It's like tobacco companies using their resources to find a cure for lung cancer or governments investing heavily in land reclamation technologies to make mining more environmentally friendly. Or drug addiction itself. Burger de/reconstructs the pharmaceutical industry throughout, evocatively investigating its extremes. The cult of the individual is presented existentially and communally as Eddie and Carl Van Loon (Robert De Niro) square off, and the ways in which critical synthetic intelligences (and pharmaceuticals) are valued by a knowledge based capitalist economy receives dramatic attention as well. Eddie's rise leaves behind a lot of plot-related baggage which can be justified by the fact that he's continually moving forward, the film moving to fast for its own internal construction, like a drug addict, but it still doesn't spend enough time examining the publication of his novel or the fact that he could have used his abilities to write something comparable to Proust. The film's writing also has a certain flair that disappears after Eddie abandons his writing career, including the introduction of the ex-brother-in-law. The lows Eddie hits and their consequent despair and paranoia are cultivated directly and poetically as he struggles to maintain, and I thought Burger did a good job of filmically distilling a bad hangover. Sort of funny how when he's a broke relatively sober writer everyone treats him like a drug addict but when he starts taking pharmaceuticals and gaining prestige he's revered. One of the morals suggests that beneficial drugs whose side-effects are curtailed can help you become a United States Senator if you hire shrewd lawyers to cover your ass while curtailing said side-effects and can outwit your enemies when they come to kill you. Libya of all countries is mentioned twice. I guess Gadhafi should have invested more in research . . .