Bedlambience

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Known as the postmodern wilderness. 

In improvised collective verdant flow.

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

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

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

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

And keep the populace entranced in awe.

As widespread goodwill acutely flourished. 

To Live & Die in L.A

*Spoiler alert.

A dedicated cop three days from retirement investigates a lead and winds up dead, his partner vowing to swiftly find whoever killed him no matter what.

The suspect is a high-end counterfeiter nefariously known for exacting copies, but how to get in touch everything's been blown there's no simple way to track him down.

A skittish informant shares information relating to a different case, which at first seems somewhat useless until it's given a self-obsessed spin.

Money is to be exchanged between mutual no-good-nicks routinely unsupervised, and if they can quickly scoop up that loot, they'll have what they need to be in the running.

Unfortunately, they're cops, and this means they'll have to break the law, ethically aligned to the code of conduct indefinitely excelling in righteous caution.

They decide to go for it anyway and only barely escape with their lives.

Thinking congratulations abound.

Until they find out they've robbed one of their own. 

It doesn't start out well ye old To Live & Die in L.A initially seems like it lacks depth, at least when compared with Endeavour or Frost or Columbo it strikes one as lacking intricate detail.

Friedkin's no obnoxious slouch however he'd already refined detective films way back when, and therefore seems to be ironically playing with uptight conventions through comedic irony in the opening moments (the veteran cop's methods at the beginning are really sloppy). 

But as it unreels the bold and resultant unpredictable awkward yet resonant trajectory, audaciously revels and madly impresses with infantile ruses and crackerjack shakedowns.

Chaos, it's total chaos that keeps building 'til everything's fubarred, and wildly viewing the undisciplined nutjobs can't help but encourage cheer and applause (this is fiction not reality).

That is what seems like an old school bad movie which is somewhat undeserving of its cult status, insanely jukes and effectively gesticulates to bravely create a unique cop film.

The lead actor doesn't even have a ceremonious death he's just blown away and forgotten.

It tricks you into thinking it's dull and conventional. 

And then unleashes renegade noir. 

The Birds

Acute antennae belvedere bristles Solomon's mines toga extraction, copious comatose riddling rhzanythemums certifish-friar Tsk-Tusk Atticustard.

Gourmet grammerstone Althuscenario libretto l'oeuvre amorphous glob, Lazarus Beemsters minty MacGyver meteor mocha-cha hospice 'renade. 

Volatile vociferrous binoclover cuddle vehicule vixen saturnine dip, festive decor enigmatic microtiobse thistle expedient catacomb clutch.

Awkward accensual macabre mistel totemperate Calaway stillwater clan, cavebear curmudgeon anatomical hue particulate curdle lexicon smudge. 

Indisposed diligence Wituka wink bucolic embraceway durable danchor, stumbling sermonte carlotion wheelhousecall sitar sequester adamant strike. 

Demonstrative drizzle emphatic voluptuous stallion synchopita patter coblatter, mythical mastodon sashay seclusion stepsilon stammer catalisp flam.

Johnson and Johnson Special Agent Swanson forested flackery hillside hallow, somnolent starburst innocent glide inundated satchel levinous chime.

Brittle boxspringboard martian saguaro extraterrestrial salient entity, orbital thrusters ballroomy cusp stad piñachostie residual elegance.

Rummagpie slamstringed cornate cudgellatin instrumental zounds skyward soaring sedation, baseline barometer chumdrum hobeat vocalibration rhythmic fugue. 

Battalion breeze formidable flock bedazzling Blue Jay carneige hobnibble. crucible cavalier camplified chorus edifice feisty resilient team.

Sodapop buzz effervescent vessel ceremonious shade salubrious standoff, off-kilter word smithmus smithereen resonance sequent schemata Jetson jocose.

Featherwing Zodiak pluminescent style bellicose beak truculent treatise, October lore steamwhistle station eloquent stash Go Jays Go!

Birds usually don't attack like they do in the film.

Even saw a bunch on the road today.

They kept intermittently flying forward while I was walking.

Looked like a fugue.

That was cool. 

Mein liebster Fiend - Klaus Kinski (My Best Fiend)

Imagine you're deep in the South American jungle working on a film as demanding as Fitzcarraldo, and your lead actor keeps erupting in fits of rage as you fight with the rain and the heat and the bugs.

It wasn't the first film they'd work on under such circumstances they'd already completed Aguirre, the Wrath of God, like two powerful inconsolable filmmaking forces could only lament that they worked so well together.

Kinski live in front of an audience just being himself inspired by the crowd, introduces wild indefatigable levels of supreme individualistic animosity.

Epically convinced of his unrivalled unique ingenious multivariability, he rants and raves with intense proclamations defying anything other than his genius.

Herzog threatens him with death local Natives inform the director that they could kill him, his egocentric chaotic tantrums so unhinged they encouraged murder.

What was it like out in the jungle with that crew the environment challenging to live in without conflict, festering manic clashing wills capable of volcanically exploding at any time?!

They met when Herzog was 13 they briefly lived in the same boarding house together, where Werner took note of his animated routine and was remarkably impressed by his latent fury.

Which was unfairly unleashed at his expense so many so many times. 

As he efficiently crafted his tales.

Gluttons gormandizing.

I was impressed with Herzog's English it's pretty solid for a non-Native speaker, it's rare that someone comes so close to perfecting the accent and chooses so many clever words precisely.

Strange artists, creating through conflict rather than romance or adorability, tuned into the world's stately danger while insanely narrativizing its carnal threats. 

It's like Herzog was a creative Agamemnon and the furious Kinski his invincible Achilles, the two battling Priam and Hector while bellicosely diversifying German arthouse cinema. 

Mein liebster Fiend - Klaus Kinski (My Best Fiend) is fun to watch if you're looking for insights into their working relationship, not without examinations of Kinski's tender side, still certainly absorbed by his insensitive locus.

I wish this had been made before Kinski passed it would have been exciting to see him discuss his work with Herzog, it's no doubt a chilling account from Mr. Herzog's point of view, but it would have been so much more thrilling with more recourse to the alternative.

I'll have to do more research into his life I don't know much about his works besides these stunning Herzog adventures (plus more Herzog films too).

And that he was able to steal scenes and leave a lasting impression.

As the bitter anarchist. 

In Doctor Zhivago.

Athena

A chilling video is released depicting police violence in an unsettled town, where tensions run high and misperceptions embroil as many hardworking people just try to earn a steady living.

A noted family takes opposing sides after it's announced their brother was murdered, Abdel (Dali Benssalah), a celebrated war her who works for the police, urging calm, Karim (Sami Slimane), his volatile younger sibling, suddenly erupting with insurgent fury.

He leads a group of friends into a local police station which they ransack, taking the weapons back to an apartment complex where they prepare for a wild confrontation.

The police show up in force as similar uprisings break out around France, people tired of the reckless violence taking matters into their own chaotic hands.

But it soon becomes apparent that the video was staged by sadistic members of the belligerent far right.

Attempting to start a race war to further their mad agenda (with Google's Magic Eraser?).

Easily facilitated by the lack of oversight on social media. 

It's a disastrous grim scenario hypothetically engaged with extremist tensions, that points out the necessity of police restraint, and the overarching danger of unhinged fake news.

The news is much more healthy in a widespread differentiated spectrum, where sundry journalists are committed to the truth and manifold independent papers fact check ad infinitum. 

In Canada, Bell Media just cut another 4,800 jobs from its shrinking mainstream newsroom, meaning even fewer people with be responsible for the official news, the smaller the number, the greater room for error. 

And as a lack of trust emerges it's much harder to follow a small minority viewpoint, which indubitably pursues its own interests, the news should be expanding, not contracting.

It is expanding online with another 4,800 people now looking for work, some of the them may have to criticize vaccines or promote electoral fraud to pay the bills, hopefully not, but those stories aren't going away.

Athena takes a hard-hitting look at the inherent dangers of provocative intrigue, and the ways in which honest hard-working citizens have their lives torn asunder by base collusion.

Fact check your sources and be patient sometimes it takes a while for a story to unfold.

There are new media outlets currently blossoming who still respect the truth as their modus operandi (like the National Observer)(nothing associated with Trump). 

Note: they aren't trying to start a race war.

And they can take it when they lose an election.

*Athena is the best film I've seen so far on Netflix. Super impressed for sure. It could have played theatres no doubt. And found a huge receptive audience (like it probably has on Netflix too). 

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. 

Wonder Woman 1984

Strange how 1984 was chosen for the title of the new Wonder Woman film, since Orwell's novel doesn't influence the plot, which has more to do with one man's unhinged megalomania. 

Indeed a somewhat bland artifact is found and brought to the Smithsonian in the 1980s, its legendary origins unknown at first as steadfast workers research and classify. 

But it turns out a television personality has been seeking its mythic prowess (Pedro Pascal as Mr. Lord), for it's reputed to grant a wish to whomever holds it in their possession. 

Diana (Gal Gadot) and co-worker Minerva (Kristen Wiig) were accidentally granted wishes, and didn't realize there was a penalty for unwittingly coaxing the treacherous stone.

Pedro wishes to become the stone itself and sets about granting elaborate wishes, his wish granting growing more and more outrageous as his prestigious worth ameliorates. 

Diana realizes he must be stopped and has to renounce her wish to do so, for even though she's ecstatic her love interest's returned (Chris Pine as Steve Trevor), his existence is taking away her powers. 

Minerva refuses to give up hers having grown accustomed to superheroic strength. 

The two face off near the chaotic climax.

As Pedro uses satellite technology to grant wishes throughout the world.

Satellites were huge when I was a kid not just in popularity but in size as well, now they're certainly much smaller yet possessed by a much larger number of people.

Does Wonder Woman 1984's use of the Orwellian date relate to contemporary global interconnectivity, or the ways in which satellites and other devices have linked billions of people across the globe?

The technology does seem essential and undeniably facilitates rapid communication, it's still fascinating how quickly one can converse with someone residing on a far off continent. 

But freedom lies with disconnection with a less engaged absorption of worldwide data. It's important to stay generally informed. But I feel so much better when I shut off the news.

I spent years finding cool articles to share with people and advertise my favourite news sources, and to contradict prevalent one-dimensional narratives which ignored the integrity of working people.

Perhaps some people did start paying attention and found some new news sources they liked.

Working class integrity goes without saying.

And used to be a focus in the media year round. 

The Taking of Pelham One Two Three

A worst case scenario wickedly presents itself, as a wanton team chaotically pursues destructive avarice. 

The day starts out much like any other with dedicated workers arriving on time, only to discover hijacking afoot, within New York's resilient quintessential métro.

It would seem like the clever no-good-nicks have made a crucial resounding error, for they negotiate far below ground with potential escape roots easily anticipated.

Indeed the confident métro crew is assured they must have them securely locked down, as they brashly make their outrageous demands, while keeping innocent victims hostage.

Tens of thousands of focused potential passengers find their reliable routes exceedingly disrupted, the mayor (Lee Wallace) resting at home sick in bed, ill-prepared for the grandiose bedlam.

Blue (Robert Shaw) has an intricate plan astutely designed to ensure freedom, but calculating flexible discursive Lt. Garber (Walter Matthau) is well-versed in hypothetical practicality.

A deal is made the money dropped off the hostages theoretically soon to be free.

But will the pressing mystery be expressly solved? 

With no time to spare for argumentative contingencies? 

Time trepidatiously taunts while eternal logic reputedly ruminates, the dastardly indiscreet daunting unforeseen having coalesced the stratified multivariable.

The villains counting on resonant distress to frenetically aid their high strung dissolution, rationalities calmly and patiently counter with wise sure and steady complacent formulae. 

It's not as unhinged as it sounds although different levels offer intriguing insights, multiple viewpoints evaluating the stress, most of the attention cast upon Garber.

If you love the smooth flow of the métro and would like to learn more about its labyrinthine intricacies, various practical details of its robust civility are athletically articulated within the script.

Within a stifling cataclysm to be sure that still balances thought and action, an unorthodox peculiarity to be quietly consumed with complex recourse to otherworldly stamina.

Cool how the filmmakers pulled such an elaborate vision off at large old school.

I imagine it was quite difficult to make.

Long before stunning technological surrogates.

Matthau and Shaw!

Zardoz

Imagine COVID-19 as reflective of desires to keep demographics stratified, with no intermingling amongst different collectives, even though at the moment isolation is paramount.

The title sounded cool and it stars Sean Connery.

I imagine John Boorman didn't like ivory towers much.

Or the politics of the left in the early '70s.

Zardoz expresses such sentiments anyways with blunt instinctual derision.

It's absurd menacing political satire.

Confrontationally conceived.

In a hypothetical future, the elite have sealed themselves off within an impenetrable exclusive zone, where they live immortal lives of plenty, or at least with everything they need.

Outer regions know only chaos in maddening woebegone conflict.

The immortals have struggled to achieve enlightenment and have compiled vast repertoires of scientific knowledge, but some of them have grown restless, bored, tired of the limits of infinite perfection.

Fortunately for them, an enforcer stows away on the giant head that travels between realms, hiding beneath the grain, intent on acquiring wisdom (Sean Connery as Zed).

He introduces a unique element.

Curious carnal contrariety.

The immortals have cast off emotion you see, and live within stoic reasonable boundaries, with no children or families or nurturing, just rarefied rational discourse.

Subversive intentions plaque somnambulistic.

Those in control have qualified everything.

Gross exaggeration pervades the rigid Zardoz, but I still wonder how it was received at the time? I've certainly never heard anyone discuss it and don't recall it ever showing up in rerun.

I imagine it was cutting edge sci-fi for the '70s, at least some of the visuals are quite impressive, not the giant head itself so scandalous, but there are noteworthy technical features.

I still wonder if it was meant to be taken seriously, on some level I don't quite comprehend, but so much of it seems like solemn farce, like barbarians inside the gates.

But what seemed like solemn farce in recent memory is trying to transform reasonable debate these days, and what used to seem absurd is taken seriously, the public sphere in free-fall flux.

If people are currently worried that desires to function self-sufficiently are threatening the proliferation of the nuclear family, perhaps they were in the '70s (and long before then) as well, although I remain to be sure uncertain, even if I'm leaning towards "they definitely were".

A future where people suddenly want to stop breeding, generally, no matter what ideology predominates, seems highly unlikely to me, however.

There's just too much comfort in relaxed recreation.

With agency attached to the conjugally bold.

Nice that the opportunity to not have a family exists though, medieval pressures must have been stifling.

Can't say I recommend Zardoz.

Although it's certainly out of this world.

The Lion King

I wasn't going to see the new Lion King because I heard it closely followed the original's script, but I wasn't disappointed as it ceremoniously began, for the live action animation indeed compels and motivates.

It's no substitute for the real thing of course, and I prefer to watch nature documentaries, but that doesn't mean the visuals aren't stunning, or zoologically endearing, like a blizzard after a veggie burrito, a trip to the Planetarium, mango icing, or a macchiato with lots of whipped cream.

I can't stress how important it is to conserve Africa's remaining lions, elephants, rhinos, etc.

Their populations have decreased drastically in recent decades, and if concrete action isn't taken, they may disappear forever.

That's not an exaggeration, it's just basic math.

They have just as much of a right to exist as we do.

And don't really do anything to harm us.

It would be cool if politicians committed to shutting down Canada's ivory market during this federal election campaign, if it isn't distressingly frustrating that it hasn't been shut down already.

'Lil Simba (JD McCrary/Donald Glover).

Who's Canada's 'lil Simba?

Nurtured within the chillaxed Canadian and Québecois social sphere, one day emerging to challenge the dissolute Scar (Chiwetel Ejiofor)?

If you enjoyed the first Lion King film, I can't see why you wouldn't like this one, assuming you can get over how much money the film made without changing the storyline much, when there must be original narratives floating around out there that execs are unwilling to take a chance on, I don't really mind sequels as long as they're taken seriously, but an insane number of sequels and remakes have been released in 2019 thus far, as if pirated internet viewing's deeply cutting innovative bottom lines, and no one can afford to take cinematic risks, as if we're living in the age of bland cinematic prudence, born of misguided internet freedoms, which are transforming the world into Netflix, a remarkable minimalistic paradigm shift (it's cool to watch new films at home I suppose [I don't], but the result is that studios are now even less willing to embrace alternative ideas because their profits have been hit hard, theoretically).

Skyscraper!

Where art thou, Skyscraper!

If you accept that the new Lion King exists, however, regardless of its lack of différence, note, again, that it is a fun film to watch, abounding with commensurate degrees of age old wonder.

And imaginary animals can be placed in adorable situations that real life beasties instinctually avoid.

It's adorable.

And hard-edged, chock full of potent life lessons, much of the film's downright no-nonsense, although hakuna matata still resounds with bounty and ease.

Scar takes over again. Until 'lil Simba comes of age.

But wouldn't it be nice if successive governments respected what their predecessors had done, and didn't set about radically altering what they consider to be dysfunctional, unless you replace Scar, who is clearly dysfunctional.

It seems like all successive governments in Canada and the U.S are doing is reversing the decisions their predecessors made, regardless of the fact that significant portions of their countries/provinces/states value them.

There's no progress in such a situation.

And it must be a nightmare for career civil servants.

Politics is much more of a dog fight these days than it was in my youth, and the results are quite unsettling.

I doubt the NDP would change much of what the Liberals have done.

With the wily Jagmeet Singh.

Who's indubitably Simbiotic.

The Square

Contemporary art clashes with civilization as the repercussions of spontaneous decisions made plague The Square's timid curator.

The square itself is a beautifully conceived space wherein which those who enter should feel free to honestly engage with one another.

Crafted according to egalitarian guidelines, it promotes goodwill and kindhearted understanding.

The supersaturated sensation prone advertisers tasked to promote it can't think of a complementary way to proceed, however, their resultant ad generating the critical controversy they seek, but, nevertheless, it's unceremoniously steeped in just bitter outrage.

By bellicosely blending explosive guilt with tender innocence, the ad reflects mainstream media obsessions with death and violence, the ways in which news outlets focus intently on the abominable in order to generate higher ratings, the unsuspecting public perhaps functioning like the innocent child blown to bits within.

But recognizing such a purpose and detaching it from its grotesque depiction, as it's applied to a subject of the public sphere (a museum), isn't exactly something you can expect from all and sundry, since they're more likely to see an explosion killing a young child within a zone dedicated to peace, and wonder why someone chose such a disastrous advertising method.

Here, intellectual pasteurization confronts working realities wherein which it's reduced to sheer idiocy in a matter of viral nanoseconds, accumulating high ratings meanwhile.

This happens elsewhere in the film too.

Not the ratings.

Explanations making things much much worse.

Means and ends.

The Square brilliantly comments on detached postmodern peculiarities, the universal accessibility immediately granted by YouTube and Facebook seeing old world sociopolitical boundaries disappear in radiant flux.

But the film's also concerned with hapless Christian (Claes Bang), who has a good heart but is somewhat of a fool, who tries to live according to the square's ethics but doesn't really get it, and consistently generates fury as he tries to take part and must eventually defend his poorly thought out decisions.

Being a public figure responsible for promoting a cultural institution, he has to constantly answer questions that don't follow an adoring script, with discursive agility and multifaceted ease, but he often can't formulate the simplest of sympathetic responses, can't flexibly b(l)end with inherent political realities.

Christian's ineptitude is chaotically brought to life both publicly and privately after one of his performance exhibits goes psycho at a formal dinner (the embodiment of disenfranchisement playing a role it naturally wouldn't if elites didn't reflexively assume its rage [or a role played by the disenfranchised who wrongly assume the elites assume they're malevolent {best to take each action on a case by case basis/plus watch the ending of The Dark Knight\}]) and his oblivious attempts to get his stolen wallet back cause trouble for a young immigrant boy (Elijandro Edouard).

This review just looks at a small cross-section of what's reflected upon in The Square and offers hasty interpretations.

An international extravaganza that not so subtly uses contemporary psycho comedy to question paths the arts are following, and the constitution required to manage the synthesis of everything, it interrogates the act of questioning with dry satirical responses, and leaves one man floundering while he assumes existential parlay.

Vivacious vortexts.

Decay in bloom.

Knight of Cups

Mused poetic carefree wanderlust, surreally surfacing then subsiding like capriciously concerned intermittence invariable, a complete lack of quotidian confines embraces disregard with irresistible a/temporal flux, playmate flock, subject of desire, cuddly and cute with innocent charm and magnetic magma, bathing in eternal springs, climactic occultist vociferous chance, guiding tides through fortune and bedlam, the loss of a loved one, haunting insouciant amour.

Plot secondary to image and impression, a dream indulgently manifests its candour, an obsession with water like soul purification, from one partner to the next, transfixed, transpiring, like he's lost but aware of his surroundings, enjoying the good times but wondering, "what's the point?"

Frolicking friendship and family.

Joyful ambivalent sorrow.

The plot submissively burdens Knight of Cups with fluttering ephemeral obscurities, a parade of seemingly relevant yet easily dismissed observations following Rick (Christian Bale) from one romance to the next.

In terms of a study of presence, of the man who characteristically captures the attention of everyone wherever he goes, whatever he does, without making any effort, without having to do anything, Knight of Cups fuels his inner-strength, electrifies his childish wonder, examines his relationships with diverse sultry invention, a sense of tragedy troubling his mind, while he never has to work, and is surrounded by voluptuous vixens.

The images are stunning and it's edited like a cinematic poem.

The images and editing distract from its somewhat shallow subject matter, however, the man who has everything and doesn't have to do anything, such grief, how tragic!, and compensate by celebrating spontaneity, the continuous illumination of the surroundings, the camaraderie, the impartiality entrancing the fluidity, depending on multiple subjective points of view.

Would watch it again.

Christian Bale must have loved filming this one.

Editing by A.J. Edwards, Keith Fraase, Geoffrey Richman, and Mark Yoshikawa.

Cinematography by Emmanuel Lubezki.

The Riot Club

Into the bleakness.

Excessive wealth descends upon an unsuspecting family restaurant in Lone Scherfig's The Riot Club, debauched plutocrats at play, members of an exclusive enclave celebrating to excess in order to excrete authoritative postulates, rancid ribald raunch, the pecking order coaxing adroitly, a vaporous shroud, puffing up the smoke.

The club, the Riot Club, has been devoted to unfettered hedonism for centuries, but in this instance their antics are viciously nuanced, thereby vilifying their freedoms and demonizing their lust.

For chaos.

A lone voice criticizes the calumny, a new member of the club, but his opponent picks up on his indignation, and instigates the reckless in turn, consequently augmenting his rank.

The bourgeoisie holds fast to its integrity, refusing to perform like enslaved sycophantic drones.

The Riot Club plays a dangerous game; it seemed to me that abuse was encouraging latent sentiments of class consciousness within in order to deride the truly wicked, but it could be seen as a festive carnal salute to elitist angst, flagitiously large and in charge, seeking to practically express itself.

The film diversifies several characters, examines responsibility from multiple perspectives, uses its characters to make side comments on issues such as ethnocentricity and belonging, before igniting an inflammatory controversy which makes a sensational yet memorable impact.

Co-existence never seemed like much of a problem to me, you learn from different perspectives, take into account alternative points of view, make related choices.

If group dynamics aggressively seek to enlarge themselves through physical and/or psychological violence, and this behaviour is culturally normalized, a different standard of social etiquette reemerges, whose focus on threats and preemptive strikes significantly pollutes social spheres.

Replacing respect with animosity burgeons tyrannical dividends.

Controversial film.

The Wolf of Wall Street

What to make of this one.

Comparing Scorsese's Wolf of Wall Street to Oliver Stone's Wall Street could generate some compelling comparative data, in regards to their historical censures.

Has this particular epoch enabled Scorsese to direct without limits, to go beyond Seth MacFarlane and Adam Reed, to freely proceed with neither caution nor complaint in an excessive wanton capitalistic cynosure, to gratuitously salute the golden age of sleaze? 

He tests you within.

He bombards you with luscious images of in/accessible voluptuous beauties, interspersing tips on illegally playing the stock market, and then asks you whether or not you're capable of following the lecture, playing with the process of narrativization throughout.

Tantalizing tutelage?

He takes a group of guys who grew up together, installs one as leader after he learns how to make enormous sums of money, they all then make enormous sums of money, and they basically never leave high school for the rest of their lives, and not one of them even so much as ends up in the hospital.

There are funny moments.

But why they needed 180 minutes to retool this tale is beyond me.

There's just no Gravity in this film.

That's arguably the point, and it's presented as a best case example of raunchy sophomoric absurdity.

But there's too much exploitation for me.

It is fun getting to know smart women.

There's one female stockbroker who succeeds but her role's tacked-on, she's belittled in the end, and is initially dependent on the generosity of men.

However, like American Hustle, it's filled with tips on how to avoid being scammed.