Miracle on 34th Street

It often seems like the jaded objective concrete materialistic obsession, is a feature of contemporary times which didn't exist in bygone days. 

The lack of spiritual enlightenment often attributed to common sense, seems like it wouldn't have existed long ago when cultures were more fantastically grounded. 

But if 1947 is the time marker which correspondingly took place 78 years ago, the agile contention that the present is less imaginative loses momentum in Miracle on 34th Street. 

For within its festive reels we find compulsive dismissals of the Holiday Spirit, and exacting rituals tempestuously inclined to rid its culture of compelling levity. 

Does the indefatigable spiritual not viscerally sustain scientific experiment, through the steady encouragement of alternative endeavours that strategic reasoning would have never conceived on its own?

Does the existence of incorporeal ethereal intangible dynamic being, not facilitate unorthodox thinking that leads to new developments in scientific theory?

We find stale and overwrought examples of traditional skeptical and cynical thought, dismissing the essence of Christmas with contemptuous vitriol in 34th Street.

Even as the remarkable benefits of harmless play lead to exceptional results, bitter acrimonious characters still crudely objurgate Santa's existence. 

Even as he exhaustively displays a meticulous knowledge of toys and where to find them, while speaking different languages with intricate foresight and linguistic flexibility, he's still excessively critiqued by agnostic stipulations from a roundabout age, and even thrown in a mental institution for boldly defending lighthearted humour. 

Should spiritual folk condemn the scientists to an improvised world of non-traditional reckoning, or should psychiatry and reason clerically expel all otherworldly thoughts from cultivated continuums? 

Does a grounded focus on reason and science not lay the framework for reliable consistency, while alternative arrangements cosmically endowed exalt sleigh bell sensations in ceremonious flight?

Does the fortuitous blend not effortlessly synthesize yin and yang with reflexive sanity?

That brings about open-minded efficiencies? 

Magic and moonbeams.

Hot cocoa. 

Gingerbread. 

Young Guns

Serendipitous saddling fomenting fortunes crackerjack kindness reverent rustlin', stampeding torrents literate loci instructive succour obliged education.

Haberdash hogshead tenacious teamwork Rubiconstructive retained regulators, truculent taunting subsiding swagger intellect jambience burgeoning blossoms. 

Collusive commerce nefarious networks jingoist junction Tatooine tirades, secretive sinuous stealthy swashbuckle malicious murder curmudgeon cabal. 

Renegade retinue leaderless posse passionate penchants kinetic collective, diatribe deputies laconic lawmen nebulous neophytes seditious swerve.

Mad uncharacteristic unruly Blitzkrieg undisciplined dagwooden undaunted dragoonies, occultist oddballroomatadorabble incensed discipupils adherent litter.

Internal combustion unsettling disputes cardionysus fraternal fissures, exacting ill-favoured rogue smallpox impression newfound internecine audacious comport.

Poetic proclivities amorous auction studious studebake uncertain unction, indiscreet bold nimble enamoured sojourn conjugal cosign vigorous reach. 

Bellicose business exceptional tenure unwavering purpose conspicuous focus, shock instigation lawless calibration embellished belief conceptual savvy. 

Indelicate danger insurmountable agency doughty nuthatch infinite conflict, rigorous tumbledown improvised fortitude carnivalesque formidable foes. 

Survivalist synergies wilderness verve exceeding temerity ambitious being, Old Mexico-sponsored galvanized gumption offhand industrious bushwhacking beatitudes. 

Unforgotten friendship disheartening news sinistorytime sequential stark staggered symmetry, foolhardy reckoning brave composition inexhaustible mantra cataclysmic mavericks. 

Innovative illogic western wimbledowntown youthful yippee-ki-yay exotic entertainment, perennial favourites ricardiocast enticing implausibility unkempt exaggeration.

Love Terence Stamp's role in this film.

Innate improbability. 

The best Billy-the-Kid movie I've seen.

Followed the cast in different films for years.  

Major League

The atypical gathering of eclectic characters subliminally motivating awestruck change, through random fluid mismatched architectures cohesively drawn and effervescently flexible.

It must be peculiar to sit back and watch as new agile team members come and go every year, wondering how they'll fit together in what's known as a unit out on the field-court-ice-or-diamond.

With moving parts and composite challenge the nimble athletic remodelling calibrates, edgy solemn yet energetic magnetism definitively nuanced in shifting vortex.

An organic balance fluctuates and fades before vital rebirth augments and accentuates, a mild hiccup a streak a slump a reinvigoration freely generating distance.

How to stay focused and lithe and playful week after week and month after month, routine exception high-stakes expenditures structural discipline emphatic renaissance. 

How to guide a union of adults all too familiar with speeches and pep-talks, who have heard every motivational strategy ever conceived from one match to the next.

How not to be weighed down by observations effectively emerging as time swiftly passes, which lead to malleable conclusions and definitive inexactitude diabolically speaking.

The media once widely limited to newspapers and critical televisual broadcasts, efficiently delivered by educated professionals widely recognized for knowledgeable accuracy. 

Now with the rise of social media excessive vitriol immediately spreads, and chaotically drives mad counterintuitive visions ingenuously improvised and ephemerally splayed.

Yet the team disputatiously endures and genuinely proceeds with inherent daring, as line-ups embrace wondrous orchestrations wildly testing alternative points of view.

Remarkable unexpected achievements boldly illustrating upbeat courage, the surprise substitution line-up modifications trending exciting unprecedented change.

Anticipating the unexpected.

Highlighting the trusted novelty.

Serendipitous schematics. 

Andromeda naysay epsilon.

Must be tough making a living in sports.

Good thing it's known to pay quite well. 

At times.

Yearning

 *Spolier Alert

A dedicated daughter-in-law spends her life managing her new family's business, her intricate savvy and reflexive know-how having saved it from ruin during World War II.

Her husband passed in the war though and she sadly never married again, although she honourably cherishes his memory with devout respect and wholesome dignity. 

A new supermarket opens in town and starts undercutting their trusted prices, leaving her in-laws in a difficult spot which they need to manage with nimble moxy. 

It's decided to expand the business and boldly open a much larger store, but the loyal intuitive multifaceted manager is initially denied a leading role. 

It's thought that she should remarry and a suitable candidate is wisely chosen, 17.5 years having gone by since her husband passed, the idea perhaps not that socially awkward.

But she refuses out of heartfelt devotion and eventually decides to return to her home.

But not before she distressingly discovers.

That her deceased husband's younger brother is madly in love with her.

The ending's a brilliant illustration of the conflicting post-war attitudes in volatile Japan, the younger less rigid experimental viewpoints and the older more orthodox sociocultural rules. 

Reiko has to admit that she has feelings for Koji and that she's felt amazing since she learned of his passion, yet still feels determinably duty bound to her old husband's stately ultimate sacrifice. 

She's also much older than Koji and it's a bit weird marrying two brothers from the same family, but that doesn't mean she isn't tempted to continue living in the world she's created.

Unfortunately, while travelling home Koji follows her upon the train, and in their confusion they depart somewhat early and get a hotel just to think for the night.

Koji goes for a walk after another heated argument morosely breaks down, and gets too close to a haunting cliff's edge and earth-shatteringly falls to his unrequited end.

But is the film condemning Koji for having tried to break with the old conservative ways?

Or modest Reiko for not having embraced the newfound less severe liberal ideology?

It's classic obscured ambiguity which likely still generates debate amongst film fans.

A genuine tragedy embroiled in conflict.

Much too serious or excessively light. 

Days of Thunder

One thing I never really got into was car racing.

I remember the first time I watched a car race on old school television in my youth, and I wasn't that interested in the material, and became nervous when 2 of the brothers present started brawling, it was an awkward day, but still memorable to say the least.

Cars just never jived with me, although they are certainly a convenient mode of transportation, and a significant component of many postmodern economies, and if not dangerous and illegal, it would be fun to drive fast.

Reason and logic eventually came to their aid as I rationally considered their universal value, and when not living in the city they are arguably essential, although I have spent countryside months strictly travelling by foot, bike, and kayak.

I also rather enjoyed Grand Prix Weekend in Montréal, although to be honest I wasn't that interested in the race. It did bring thousands of people to the city however and gave it a unique flair that caught my eye, the lauded difference even if somewhat opulent still impressively stuck out in the urban landscape.

Days of Thunder has a notable cast that efficiently keeps it real throughout the film, challenging one another and falling in love as respect is given to the race car industry.

A sequel could effectively diversify the latent material emergent in the original, using contemporary storytelling techniques to multidimensionally intensify the initial feature.

These films may have remarkable value thousands of years later after fossil fuels run out, and we lament that we never invested in alternative energies before worldwide chaos ensued.

Legends of planes and automobiles will no doubt persist for painstaking centuries, but will they endure for competitive millennia?, that is difficult to accurately predict.

As a model to aid such farfetched calculations we can evaluate the logical merit of anthropological studies, and theorize regarding how accurate they reflect the ancient past in terms of distinct reasonability.

But if everything is forgotten or narratively mutated through imagination, and DVD technology is one day re-created in the future, Days of Thunder would no doubt present something ancient yet futuristic to baffled theoreticians of old school mindsets. 

It would offer definitive proof that at one time human beings drove mechanized beasts at lightning quick speeds.

Many other sports may still be around.

But race car driving will require the Legend.

Into the Deep

It was difficult to take Into the Deep seriously until a friend verified it wasn't a mockumentary, it seemed so definitively rehearsed that I had trouble believing real people were being interviewed.

I read on Wikipedia that several people didn't want to be involved with the film after what happened, and that they asked for their scenes to be removed to avoid being exposed to public scrutiny.

It looks like their scenes were then reshot with real actors trying to seem as if their interviews were authentic, but it appears as if actors are trying to fake real life and it doesn't work at all.

Then there's what actually took place which seems even more improbable, a mad genius takes a reporter out for a ride in his submarine and then murders her and dumps the body.

He had been planning a trip to space and hoped to get there before his rivals, whom he had recently worked for until the disputes grew too intense.

Since he was hoping to travel to space, he inspired bright documentary filmmaker Emma Sullivan to follow him, and create a movie about his life for peeps curious about bold endeavour.

As she filmed she captured raw footage of a fledgling psychopath perhaps emboldened, by his sudden emergence into pop culture and its corresponding associations of invincibility. 

Which of course are rather misguided but if the film is true (honestly, I'm still not convinced), he thought he could murder someone in his submarine and then dump the body and get away with it.

When parts of the body are found shortly thereafter he has a wild tale for the police, which continues to change every time they find fresh evidence, until he's finally locked away.

I'm not sure if it's a syndrome, but with the ubiquitous flourishing of social media, along with ye olde traditional televisual outlets, it seems like many will take mad risks to go viral.

Supported by a culture which elevates malevolence and consistently associates it with power through film (even winning Oscars), when people find themselves in the popular spotlight, they may do whatever it takes to go viral.

Reality TV never faded either and with Twitter and Facebook its sphere of influence expanded significantly, whereas on the one hand you have people trained to work in media (CBC, BBC, CNN, NBC . . .), and on the other, a mass improvised colossus 😎.

Perhaps that's why the people being interviewed in Into the Deep seem like ragtag actors, they're trying to be real like their favourite reality TV stars while forgetting they are aren't acting (or are they?).

The story's no doubt incredible how did something like this ever take place?

The world has fundamentally mutated.

There's so much freedom if you live offline. 

Newsfront

Post-World War II Australia, urges to diversify held within restraints, some see labour and the left as an influential leap forward, others worry about the Stalinist labour camps.

Productive hardworking journalists diligently capture the news within, changes in political culture the business itself energetically presented in periodic vignettes. 

You get to meet reporters and camerapersons plus narrators and overarching executives, and see how their active interpersonal relationships mutate and shift with multitudinous accord.

It's well done, a compelling slice of raw kinetic dis/proportionate compulsion, intricately endeavouring to freely showcase a vast unparalleled nation changing.

How do you monitor the changes. what paradigms to pinpoint, spices to sojourn?, with the massive amounts of incoming data how do you choose which stories to circulate?

Do you want to be known for something in particular or to brandish and broadcast wide-ranging spectrums, is there a timeless quality to certain narratives or do waves a' wingéd work it unbound?

It's been sad to see labour's role in the forecast sharply decline in recent decades, perhaps as the internet expanded alternative sources practically emerged (animated comedy?). 

And as those sources practically emerged traditional news outlets had to cater to a different audience, one with much more elitist pretensions that abruptly abandoned labour in Anglo/American markets.

A long time since I was in school, but even at that time interest in blending social strata had waned, except amongst the French Canadians living in Québec I met in grad school, of whom an enormously high percentage still cared about people.

The percentage was so high and at such a high level that Québec seemed like the best place to be, so even if my French wasn't that great I moved to Montréal to look for work.

I started reading a lot about Québec's history around that time as well, and enjoyed several engaging texts chronicling different periods of French Canadian culture.

I decided I didn't want to live in Toronto or Vancouver and read those books in isolation, or study Québec from afar if I had the chance to live there.

I cared about work and finances too but living somewhere I wanted to be meant much more. So much of life takes place outside of work it's better to live somewhere you love than grow weary with ennui.

Back to journalism, I imagined it would take longer for war to break out after major Anglo/American news sources abandoned the left, and the unhindered pursuit of either wealth or elitist standing once again imperialistically took centre stage.

It's happened nonetheless and will likely continue to happen for decades, if peaceful inclinations don't again take centre stage or at least form part of the master narrative's bedrock.

The jingoistic warlike right will tell you that it's natural just as they did before both World Wars, and it won't care while millions die as it coldly makes astronomical profits.

But just as many others are saying today and have been for previous millennia.

There's nothing natural about these conflicts.

In fact they're a grandiose perversion. 

Men with Brooms

In a fit of hopeless anguish a skip abandons his agile team, to roam the wilds of Northern Canada and Québec in a fruitless wayward daze (Paul Gross as ____ Cutter). 

But the rocks he had discarded within isolated aqueous depths, are miraculously discovered by his old school hands-on coach (James B. Douglas as Donald Foley).

Unfortunately, the act of discovery inflicts a devastating wound, otherwise known as a crise cardiaque, his surviving family forlorn and crushed.

But their genuine heartfelt grieving finds sincere communal support, and the very same itinerant skip suddenly returns from his mournful travels.

It soon becomes apparent that the desire to curl still proudly dominates, their cheeky resolute bucolic daring fortuitous insurmountable spirit.

Ashaméd young Cutter hears the call and asks his father for nimble aid (Leslie Neilsen as Gordon Cutter), the reliable team boldly reassembled to seek out unheralded victory.

Applauding damsels supply convivial radiant luminous supple backing, Cutter Jr. finding himself caught between a bonafide astronaut (Michelle Nolden as _____ Foley) and her comic sister (Molly Parker as ____ Foley).  

Like they've put the band back together they set out to resurgently compete.

Others awaiting their brave contention. 

Across the wilds of Québec and Canada.

I remember catching a Brier in my youth on TSN one frosty weekend, and I loved how every province and territory had sent a team there to compete. 

I loved how 'lil P.E.I suddenly held an equal footing with larger jurisdictions, and had the chance to potentially upset much more heavily populated provincial opponents. 

But even more so it seemed to me that many of the competitors may have come from small towns, without the wealth or social standing oft attributed to skiing (you can even play if you're overweight!).

I liked how teams perhaps from Moose Jaw, Swift Current, Gravenhurst, or Rimouski, had perhaps defeated rivals from Toronto or Vancouver to resoundingly compete for the coveted Brier.

Needless to say, I was even more enthusiastic to apply such a thought to rinks competing at the Olympics, and have always paid attention since to see if our curlers at least took out Russia and the States.

Men with Brooms comedically captures such thoughts in a raw salute to a passionate game.

If you've never watched curling, you should check it out.

There's solid competition at the Scotties Tournament of Hearts (and elsewhere) as well.

La planète sauvage (Fantastic Planet)

Far off on a hectic planet humans (oms) are treated as undesirables, the dominant haughty traag species rather intolerant of different lifeforms.

They possess much greater height and ancient meditative traditions, along with cryptic advanced writing which the oms can't readily decipher.

They manage the om population with paternalistic uptight disdain, their children allowed to keep oms as pets, the free wild peoples treated like vermin.

One rather observant om is introduced to traag learning however, lessons transmitted through an omniscient horseshoe which traag children use to develop and grow.

Many om years pass and young Terr (Barry Bostwick/Eric Baugin/Jean Valmont) acquires much sought after knowledge, his owner aging at a much slower pace, losing interest with her pet as a teenager.

He takes his opportunity to escape and brings the encyclopaedic technology with him, abruptly adjusting to life in the wilderness, with peeps wary yet impressed by his learning.

Thanks to the didactic device many oms begin to acquire an education, and prove just as adept as they reflexively do here upon our own bountiful Earth.

But the traags decide their numbers have grown much too large to be safely managed.

Presenting an ambitious and wicked plan.

To engage in full-on extermination.

Rather unsettling to casually watch as humans fall prey to strategic whims, carelessly launched by unsympathetic derisive dominant domineering giants.

Their diminutive size and lack of resources leaves them vulnerable to various beasts, as do their scattered proud distrustful clans who bravely subsist in scant isolation.

But the survivors bond in an abandoned rocket field and earnestly learn from Terr's technology, hoping to escape to a clandestine moon upon which they will be free from vile traag tyranny.

Education proves vital indeed and soon a less dependent state of affairs emerges.

As ingenious pedagogical applications redefine ancient endemic balances.

The parallels with our cherished home planet should not be dismissed or even overlooked, as billions of animals spend their entire lives in cages awaiting to be served up as food.

The industry could be much more humane and if meat consumption decreases we could stop global warming.

Unfortunately, pigs and cows can't read.

But there are still millions of humanoids who support them. 

Hobson's Choice

A prosperous shopkeep enjoys the comforts of gregarious bourgeois living, his agile workforce securing fresh profits, his lovely daughters managing his home (Charles Laughton as Mr. Hobson).

He gorges himself on plenty with ample criticisms and bumptious dismissals, boasting wildly down at Moonrakers, where he drinks too much on occasion. 

His lordly litanies cumbrously forget the lively existence of others, however, notably his eldest daughter Maggie (Brenda de Banzie) whom he assumes is bound for spinsterhood. 

She's been taking care of the business and is none too fond of the assumption, nor the incumbent caretaking it presumes, nor her lack of daily wages.

She's also aware that one of their employees is a brilliant natural bootmaker, who lacks worldly pretentious ambition, and could use a patron to his advance his skill (John Mills as William Mossop).

So she makes the bold decision to demand he quit and accompany her elsewhere, to open up a new bootshop in fact, and to take her hand in marriage. 

Soon they've lured much of her father's discerning clients to their innovative new brand, and even serendipitously composed an even more vivacious plan.

Take each film on its own nimble merits without drawing conclusions about family or gender, for in so many men have disavowed gallantry, while in many others women have done the same.

It's not my place to generally conclude which sex embraces banality more often, but rather to analyze proposed fictional and truthful evidence to ascertain who has spoiled particular instances.

It's not the safest way to proceed insofar as you wind up critiquing both sides, the level-headed amongst them appreciating the honesty, both sexes at times proceeding in error.

I think the secret is to revel in the difference the opposite gender provides, assuming they aren't physically or psychologically violent, as that gender manifests so many alternative aspects, over the course of a productive lifetime.

I suspect men who love women and women who love men find it much easier to productively live together.

Creating boundaries and mischievous rules for playfully crossing/breaking through rapt contradiction. 

Hobson knows only one boundary that which asserts authoritarian prominence, his subjects none too pleased with his grandiose postures, and willing to daringly challenge and disrupt them.

If you wish to proceed like Hobson, David Lean's Hobson's Choice may be perilous, for it champions multilateral fair play, within which multiple stakeholders prosper.

But if you seek to enjoy a well-crafted film wherein which democratic impulse constructively asserts itself, you may be rather impressed by this Hobson's Choice, which captures the spirit of resilient open-mindedness. 

The Prestige

Professional rivalry, two up and coming magicians, each determined to present the most striking spectacle, imaginable, yet one is careless, and the other's cherished love interest passes, things taking a vicious turn in the aftermath, as they both refuse to back down.

One believes in dangerous risk taking while the other is more reserved, although the intensity of their grim competition provokes grand transformations forthcoming.

One visits the coveted Tesla (David Bowie) at his residence in the wilds of Colorado, and requests the creation of a machine that can transport matter from one location to another.

He believes such a sensation has already been acquired by his adversary, and spends a fortune to flagrantly duel, his nemesis not in possession of exhaustive funds, yet more innovative counterintuitively speaking.

I've never understood compulsive obsession and the personal desire to win at all costs. Sportspersonship is too valuable a concept to be obscured by personal ambition.

It's preferable to lose having played by the rules than to succeed through nefarious means, as long as you give your best effort and suppress destructive envious tendencies.

I pay too much attention to sports to proceed otherwise, not that I'm by any means a great athlete, but so many great athletes compete year after year without ever winning anything.

This doesn't prevent them from competing or trying to win one more time, they're great role models for the active spirit who never grows weary of enriching fair play.

Alfred Borden (Christian Bale) and Robert Angier (Hugh Jackman) take things to levels I can't comprehend, to resort to sabotage or deliberate vengeance insults the art they're skilfully crafting.

I thought the arts would be much more friendly in my youth since so many of the artistic people I knew were often kind, the realities of the art world somewhat disconcerting as people critically jockey for position.

I suppose there are fewer opportunities to succeed as an artist than there are for sporty peeps, and the lack of engaging opportunity drives ambition to psychotic levels.

But it seems better to chill on the fringe than embrace destructive psychologies.

If you want the world to be a better place and you adopt ruthless means how will anything ever change?

Beyond what's written.

More respect for aging artists in the Anglo-American sphere may lead to less intense conflict, I'm by no means an expert on French culture, but it's clear they hold the arts in much higher esteem.

In general, not in relation to me, French culture seems to cultivate a much more level playing field for the arts and sports, which could explain why they're so successful at both, why they keep generating such incredible outputs.

The Prestige is an excellent film that showcases unsettling realities. 

There's so little to soulfully gain.

Through bland underhanded corruption. 

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.

The Hummingbird Project

Cantankerous competition, bitterly motivating high-stakes vitriol, necessitating vast fluid resources whose liquidity lubricates mass, encouraging dynamic cerebral calculations the practicalities of which harness synergy, theoretical computations duelling in concrete enterprise, boldly navigating luscious landscapes in hard-driven entrepreneurial schism, ingenious thought desperately relied upon as if novelty could be canonically conjured, and instantaneously set in motion, to quickly generate multi-millions.

The improbabilities surrounding Vincent (Jesse Eisenberg) and Anton's (Alexander Skarsgård) attempts to drill a thousand-mile tunnel between the New York Stock Exchange and Kansas, within which they plan to lay fibre-optic cable that will outperform their former employer's minions, are astounding and truly incredible, especially considering Anton has yet to figure out how to save the plutocratic millisecond, and mountains, malcontents, miscues, and maladies lie mischievously waiting, before they ecstatically break ground.

The confidence required to move forward with such a plan is mind-boggling to say the least, yet Vincent's undaunted and inspiring enthusiasm still persuades financial managers to invest.

Mark Vega (Michael Mando) and many others sign on to build the tunnel, their subterranean expertise as lively as their adventurous spirits.

But Eva Torres (Salma Hayek) unleashes pure fury after Anton quits, and boldly sets about to ignominiously destroy him.

With vast resources at her enraged disposal, and an alternative theory which Anton disputed, she sets out with devoted crews, to disenchant his blind flexible resolution.

It's as if Kim Nguyen's Hummingbird Project takes ludicrous Marvel heroics, rationally exclaimed in their own fantastic realm, and practically applies them to the world at large, a more fragile world wherein which failure is a possibility, superpowers are strictly relative, you do have to consult people, and the opposition isn't quite so evil.

Most of the time.

In fact, Anton and Vincent were doing rather well when they worked for Torres, not millionaire well, but well enough, regardless.

Nevertheless, Vincent emphatically believes in his enviable idea as if he possesses bold superpowers, and willfully embraces godlike responsibility with the daring conceit of courageous miracle.

It's a solid film, complete with the coolest chase scene I've seen in a while, and it wouldn't have been nearly as chill if Vincent had been questioned more critically in the beginning, if doubts had disabled his radical undertaking.

Legalistic and tunnelling superheroics combatively abound within, with no sincere guarantees, no legends, no magic, no assurance.

Cultivating the great beyond.

Great cast.

Realistic enough.

First Man

I don't know what to make of space travel.

Would I like to travel to space?

Yes.

Would I like to explore space?

Yes.

Would I like to meet alien lifeforms?

Yes.

Do I wish extraterrestrial animals were featured more prominently on Star Trek?

Definitely yes.

It seems like an awfully expensive trip though, and since money hasn't been replaced as it has on Star Trek, in the Federation anyway, I would rather see trillions of dollars used to clean up the oceans, and feed the world's poor, and promote birth control worldwide, and proactively fight climate change.

Given the current state of the geopolitical scene, I unfortunately can't see any of those things happening soon, or at least until a cataclysmic environmental disaster dismally shakes things up.

I imagine if there was a God, and he or she did return, her or his first act would be to force us to clean up the planet.

While spending most of his or her time chillin' with dolphins.

However, I suppose if that happened the religious right would try to kill God.

Instead of just recycling things, consuming less, embracing flex-time, and marketing disposable containers.

I think I got that idea from South Park.

The science of space travel, the practical theoretical brilliance of the mathematicians, engineers, scientists, and technicians who managed to land a space craft on the moon, is still compelling nevertheless, perhaps the most risky unparalleled ingenious voyage ever hypothesized, even more important than whatever Donald Trump had for breakfast today, which I'm sure will intrigue historians and political scientists for upcoming untold millennia.

First Man doesn't focus on the math though, choosing rather to intently examine the brave astronauts who risked their lives to pioneer space travel, and they really did risk their lives when you consider how experimental the space program was, and rushed, incredibly brilliant no doubt, but still experimental and rushed, would you like to fly this ship we just made and aren't really sure about, not across the ocean, but into the stars themselves, and courageously embrace eternity with the fleeting awe of starstruck munificence?

True daring.

Yes.

It's a sure and steady meaningful account of the Armstrongs, beginning with the tragic death of their first daughter, and ending after Neil (Ryan Gosling) lands on the moon.

Mr. Armstrong is presented as an introverted somewhat cold yet loving man who lost a lot after Karen (Lucy Stafford) passed, but still remained a hard-working devoted husband.

Janet Armstrong (Claire Foy) struggles with the realities of being an astronaut's wife, when so many husbands aren't coming home, and the film reasonably showcases her frustrations at the rare moments when she presents them, her logical suggestions embraced by her husband, as the two practically exemplify self-sacrificing commitment and understanding.

First Man covers a long period of time but its snapshots are well chosen.

It's not overflowing with emotion or exclamation or patriotism, it's a much more sombre illustration of achievement that depicts determination objectively.

The events showcased within patiently generate their own significance while crafting a brave narrative that's much more familial than national.

I wouldn't have included only one black character as a voice of protest though, especially considering the resilient African Americans who worked on the space program, some of whom were poetically illuminated by Theodore Melfi's Hidden Figures, brilliant minds given deserved respect.

Nonetheless, First Man's temperate, generally formal calculus still makes you feel like you're really there, landing on the moon, taking steps in the most otherworldly of environments.

That we've visited this side of the galaxy.

I've heard Madagascar's pretty wild too.

I really felt like I was there, checking things out, wandering around, collecting samples.

I think we should clean up this planet first before heading to Mars or beyond.

I have the utmost respect for the people who risk their lives travelling to space though.

And the math that makes it all possible.

Imagine your team thought all that up and was right.

Too bad space travel's so expensive.

Although I've heard hemp can be used for just about anything.

Even to make fuel.

And it grows like a weed.

So it likely doesn't require pesticides.

Damn.

*Okay, I suppose there's room for ambiguity by writing, "rivetingly so, 😏", so I took it out, to avoid confusion. In my head I thought, "wait, use the word 'rivetingly,' you rarely use that word because you think it's used too often and people will obviously understand that and know that you're being facetious, because everyone knows that's the reason why you rarely use that word." After heading out for a bit, I realized no one could possibly understand that besides me, and rushed home after my appointment to correct my error.

Hidden Figures

On occasion, if you're asked to work longer hours for the same amount of money, the company you're working for is trying to ensure their profits increase every month/quarter/etc. and targeting your unpaid overproduction as a source of intangible revenue.

Red flag.

Make sure you're trying to find a new job if stuck in such a situation.

However, if you happen to be working for NASA (or have a stable professional position) and you're immersed in a reasonably wild competition with the Soviet Union to do all kinds of crazy space stuff, suppose that competition would be with China these days, and the Soviets are winning, as they are in Hidden Figures, I suppose spending some extra unpaid time at work wouldn't be that bad, if there are no available public funds to pay for the overtime, and you are capable of taking part in something vital.

In space.

Not necessarily in space, but Hidden Figures uses ye olde space race to cleverly promote congenial race relations as a matter of national integrity.

It's too bad a member from a minority group has to be Einstein-smart to break down racial barriers.

You would think common democratic decency would have done that centuries ago.

The film's solid, a feel good family friendly examination of three highly intelligent African American women that's neither too sentimental, nor too fluffy.

I love Octavia Spencer (Dorothy Vaughan).

The women boldly yet humbly challenge institutional bigotry through hard work and determination as opposed to violence to make changes in their stilted dismissive working environment.

Some cool features.

Rage and passive resistance are matrimonially engendered as Mary (Janelle Monáe) and Levi Jackson (Aldis Hodge) discuss inflammatory political subjects.

She loves expressing herself yet also loves Levi so she intelligently lets him know when her boiling point has been reached before passionately pontificating with resolute clarification.

He works with his hands but is impressed with her desire to become an engineer and buys her some new pencils out of respect for her mind and the difficulties associated with her approaching studies (she becomes the first African American woman to study at a white school in Virginia).

Dorothy creatively borrows a book from the white section of her local library which she uses to remain employed as computers show up on the scene.

She learns so much that she's able to save 30 odd jobs after teaching the people working for her how to adapt, thereby making their contributions operationally essential.

She doesn't just take the money and run.

She gives back to her community.

Katherine G. Johnson (Taraji P. Henson), whose mathematical gifts intergalactically defy limitations, demonstrates why it's so important to never dismiss pieces of information that seem out of date (thereby promoting technical libraries), by using ancient knowledge to solve a contemporary puzzle, proving that sometimes inventing the new means discovering something that was contemplated thousands of years ago.

And Kevin Costner (Al Harrison) kicks ass throughout.

What a great role to play.

I'm going to watch Waterworld again.

I tried that with Alexander last winter (although I had never seen it before).

Double whoops!

I bet Waterworld's better.

Hidden Figures is a wonderful film.

Daddy's Home

The other guy, better looking and stronger than you, father of the two children you are rearing, covetous of your stable ambient domesticity, questioning your every decision, flouting the love his children exhilarate, doing everything you can't do, outperforming you at work, giving advice that contradicts your tutelage, suddenly living in your once cozy home, awake bright and early, to reclaim that which he discarded.

Carelessly.

Since the time of cave people rivalries such as these have endured, but in the contemporary absence of sabre-toothed tigers and woolly mammoths, the biggest challenge for the reckless alpha, is patiently following smoothly polished bourgeois rules.

Being polite.

Complimenting others.

Nurturing through support.

Restraining violent impulses.

Never thinking, "this sucks."

Dusty Mayron's (Mark Wahlberg) suburban shadow Brad Whitaker (Will Ferrell) must also exercise caution by not attempting to court the exceptional, which he no doubt nevertheless tries to do, kneading knee-jerks as his outputs flounce and flail.

The A+ wild man versus A+ dependability, the disharmonious blend struggling within the uncertainty, great ideas not producing the laughs one might expect, although the virile exchanges offer constructive lessons learned.

Sara (Linda Cardellini) caught in-between.

Panda Smooth Jazz.

Griff (Hannibal Buress) adds solid ridiculous structure as his character functions as unnecessary referee, but Leo Holt (Thomas Haden Church) could have been more inappropriate in his consul.

Consul such as his could have provided even more completely unnecessary distractions from the narrative and refined raunchy and/or gluttonously verbose observations.

The kids are funny and cute, used to exaggerate the conflict as much as possible, the best part of the film.

Which struggles.

Unfinished Business

Undervalued.

Underappreciated.

Dan Trunkman (Vince Vaughn) reacts harshly after his boss announces budget cuts that decrease his well-deserved salary, his hard work not seeming to count for much, which leads him to decide to start his own company, prorated with specialized exactitude.

He immediately hires a 67 year old ex-employee of the same company who was forced to retire, plus a youthful space cadet eagerly seeking his first job.

A strong team they forge.

One feature from the film that could have been developed differently was the dynamic (almost) established between Timothy McWinters (Tom Wilkinson) and Mike Pancake (Dave Franco).

You see it early on, Pancake knows next to nothing, and McWinters is an experienced bitter vet, Trunkman lying somewhere in between, and when Pancake asks McWinters for clarification, he steps in with seasoned awkward advice.

I was hoping Pancake's questions would become increasingly ridiculous and McWinters's answers increasingly inappropriate as Unfinished Business progressed, Trunkman offering chill intermediary comments, but this didn't really happen.

They're hoping to close a big deal and find themselves competing against Trunkman and McWinters's former company, in Germany, and their former boss is ahead of the game, and revelling in self-satisfied obnoxiousness.

Trunkman must child rear while negotiating the deal and this is where the film steps up, Vaughn adding a new dimension to his persona, or at least one which I've never seen him develop so well before, believably portraying a caring, loving, dad, loved the motionless fake screen freeze technique.

It doesn't detract from his parenting.

It also steps up with American Businessman 42, a work of living art, seriously comedic, informatively pranked.

There are also some exploits, the aforementioned team.

Not the strongest film I've seen starring Vaughn, but the traditional sublime underdog functioning playfully yet competently is present, providing cultural insights that make sense in terms of community development, sidewinding and succeeding, workin' it, pushin' it, livin' it.

Wilkinson and Franco round things out.

Could have been diggin' a bit deeper.

Chappie

Violent aggravating hierarchical threats competitively embark in Neill Blomkamp's volatile Chappie, as a success story attempts to enhance his marketability through the creation of something beautiful, through the rearing, of robotic young.

It's not happenin'.

His child is quickly hijacked and then alternatively reared by desperate criminals intent on paying off 20 million in debt.

Instead of delicately nurturing his nascent creativity, Ninja (Ninja) prefers to ignite a trial-by-fire, consequently introducing him to a band of troubled youths, who then proceed to throw rocks at him and actually light him on fire.

The youth think he's a police robot, because his creator, Deon Wilson (Dev Patel), uploaded a humanesque consciousness into a broken down police robot, a part of a robotic police force he also created, young Chappie (Sharlto Copley), who remains unaware of these facts, and defencelessly terrified.

He does learn from his experiences though.

Which leads to a memorable science-fiction comedy.

The script's multifaceted (written by Blomkamp and Terri Tatchell), consisting of criminal and professional diversifications which populate the film with myriad characters at different socioeconomic levels, each of them given plenty of screen time to develop, as they pursue various goals before meeting for a ludicrous showdown in the end.

Solid science-fiction/action series are intertextually woven in, Robocop being the most obvious, but Chappie also acknowledges Die Hard, The Terminator, Predator, Alien, and Transcendence to name a few.

Ninja says, "Yippee ki-yay, motherfucker!," at one point.

Chappie fires at the Moose in the same way Sarah Connor fires at the T-1000 in the final moments of Terminator 2.

When the hunt is on, movements are robotically tracked as if a Predator is stalking prey.

It's co-starring Sigourney Weaver (Michelle Bradley).

And human consciousnesses are uploaded to computers like in Transcendence. 

Transcendence wasn't so solid.

As Chappie comes of age in less than a week, a naive innocent caregiving sense of blossoming chaotic youth awkwardly contrasts the social horror show, the dynamics of which are simultaneously shocking and instructive.

The script has all of these elements but it still fails to impress on some fronts.

There are several characters given the chance to develop but they never really move past their first impressions, apart from Ninja, Chappie, and Yolandi (Yolandi Visser), who do change a bit.

And Deon buys a gun.

Ninja easily goes about acquiring the 20 million he needs to pay off Hippo (Brandon Auret), there's no sense that something could go wrong.

The thugs escape the police near the beginning even though it seems obvious they'll be captured.

Catch 'em. Let 'em break out. Make their escape seem plausible.

Cars are easily stolen and it seems like there's no possibility the thieves could be caught.

All this with a robotic police force patrolling the streets.

It's like hardwired explosive emancipated desperate largesse, highly structured to joyously refute the logical, with a thin layer of predictable rationality sensationally stitching things together.

It's campy.

So campy.

Sort of awful.

But still a must see.

You get the sense that there aren't a lot of public funds available to level things out a bit in Johannesburg, from Chappie.

The people on the bottom have no institutional means of moving up and earning a respectable living.

And the people on top have no means of preventing them from excelling at crime.

And are just as ruthless at pursuing their own respectable livings.

Nice to see fallible robot cops. I for one would prefer not to see robots in uniform.

It's possible that the lack of character development in the film directly relates to Blomkamp's brutal depiction of life in Johannesburg, meaning that there's only one dominating personality available, and if you don't embrace it, you won't survive.

Dog eat dog.

Unless you're brilliant like Deon.

Who ends up becoming a robot.

Because he disobeyed his weapons manufacturing boss.

Social safety net people. Public funds.

It's also possible that they partied way too hard while making this film.

Who knows!

Neighbours

The questions of how loud one can party is tempered by bourgeois infiltrations as a rowdy fraternity moves in next door to a married couple in Nicholas Stoller's Neighbours.

The fraternity is well versed in the Dionysian arts.

Their goal is to throw a brazen bash nutso enough to ensure their enshrinement on their wall of fame.

Their neighbours, the Radners, are not impressed.

Engaged in the practice of child-rearing, and hoping to maximize what they can of a good night's sleep, they utilize logic and persuasion in an attempt to famish the insatiability.

Their plan backfires however, leading them to employ alternative methods to achieve their sought after repose.

What follows is a diabolical exchange of quintessential quid pro quo, devious in its conceptual understatements, wherein the past congenitally confronts history.

Robust and adroitly wound.

This isn't a typical frat-boy romp.

Residing in its reels are unexpected lessons regarding the cultivation of one's career and the absurdity of dipsomanic progressions.

Teams frat and bourgeois are therefore divided into the successful and the stumbling, as the mayhem imbues.

Neighbours is somewhat tame in its gambits, but these tame gambits lay a reasonably ecstatic foundation, upon which multiple avenues of inquiry merge, to simultaneously question while enabling.

Embligmatic clues.

It's difficult to say who's having more fun.

Bad Words

Goals.

Objectives.

Means.

The will to live.

Guy Trilby (Jason Bateman) must be crowned national spelling bee champion at age 40 in order for his unerring orthographical prowess to be forthrightly recognized, his youthful competitors and their parents somewhat infuriated by his choice, the drive to accelerate concocting regardless, asinine assiduity acrimoniously idealized, congruent considering, the rules of the game.

Friendship and romance are cumbersomely nuanced with playful degrees of sharp insouciant admissibility, jaded alcoholic weariness slowly transforming into infinitesimal merriment, as trashy transgressions legitimate their inclusivity.

Bad Words is a solid mix of pejorative eccentricity and misanthropic mirth.

The friendship between Guy and young Chaitanya Chopra (Rohan Chand) tenderly transitions the tempered tailspin.

Was going to use some of the challenging words from the film in this review but they're simply too much.

It's subtly hilarious when some of the irate parents can't hide how impressed they are with Guy.

Rollin' with the punches.

Spelt infinitesimal wrong while writing this out.

Loved the spelling bee antics.

Wonder if writer Andrew Dodge (great script), who at least justifies his use of the stubborn ass, ever saw the episode of Get a Life where Chris Peterson (Chris Elliott) discovers he's a genius after consuming toxic waste and then decides to win as many spelling bees as he can, episode 9, season 2, Chris' Brain Starts Working.