UFO

Don't get me wrong, I believe in life and evolution and constant change and the expanding universe, it's just fun to play with ideas that make theoretical sense for a week or two.

Even if life were an A.I program that wouldn't mean it doesn't live, and it's clear that different lifeforms thrive as authentically indicated through difference.

The Doctor on Star Trek: Voyager spends multiple episodes defending his consciousness. 

Data on STNG as well (it's a recurring theme throughout science-fiction).

UFO takes a look at math and how it can be used to communicate, and how certain numbers like the Fine-Structure Constant regularly appear in nature for unknown reasons. 

The film points out how the Fine-Structure Constant appears in the fundamental building blocks of the universe (air for instance), it's regular occurrence genuinely noteworthy from inquisitive points of view.

If the same piece of a fundamental formula consistently appears in different phenomena, the argument could be made that it was placed there by creative entities universally exploring. 

That it indeed was fundamental to the sustainability of life and miraculously created to organically uplift it.

It could have also been randomly generated through the infinite interactions of endless time and space, the eventual emergence of a complex pattern gradually generated through interstellar ages. 

It would still be interesting to know more about A.I and how the programs are technologically crafted, do they embrace form and content for instance, and could such features represent body and spirit?

Are there specific codes like the Fine-Structure Constant consistently used when generating A.I?

Or can different codes generate similar worlds?

Like different cultures emerging around the globe.

Makes for great science-fiction either way, as Star Trek and other narratives relate.

Integral artistic expression.

Having taken on so much variety. 

*It's a cool film if you like sci-fi and stories that revolve around learning. 

Cane Toads: The Conquest

The old invasive species tale creatively told once and again, this time a' flourishin' down under, with a fresh democratic imaginative take.

Know then that grubs were destroying Australia's versatile sugar cane crops, so they sought an efficient way to stop them, and subsequently introduced a non-native toad to their robust environment, with the unabashed dogged hopes that it would bravely devour them.

Unfortunately it didn't, and they reproduced abundantly in incredible numbers, and soon starting spreading across the continent as their natural instinct accelerated forward.

If considering whether or not they became a tasty treat for endemic wildlife, believe that their natural fluidic poisons were a problem for local beasties and pets alike.

Many communities were rather annoyed by the massive unrelenting expansion, and inaugurated ways to curtail their progress across the massive fecund land.

Others industriously capitalized on public fascination with the phenomenon, and created products and fertilizer and roadside attractions flouting the new lifeform's integrity. 

I know I would have a good time just sitting back and watching them hop by.

Australia sounds so amazing for wildlife.

The Crocodile Hunter was such a cool show.

As is Cane Toads: The Conquest, it's unlike any nature documentary I've seen, a unique twist on a fascinating genre inherently abounding with camp and craft.

It's a truly democratic account that interviews peeps from multivariable walks, without judgment or pervasive hierarchies pretentiously upsetting the creative balance.

The variety is impressive as he zigzags his way through his inclusive exploration.

If no video footage exists of the cane toad related story, director Mark Lewis engages in dramatic recreations in order to reanimate the yarn.

Perhaps not serious enough for some sterile objective puritans, or people who really don't like the toad, it's difficult to say. 

But I imagine kids and families and audiences around the world would love Cane Toads: The Conquest!

The multiple close-ups and inspired invention.

Producing bona fide unfiltered wherewithal. 

Life of Pi

A giant freakin' tiger.

An island of meerkats.

A fluorescent whale.

And a mischievous moon bear.

Members of the animal kingdom make up portions of Life of Pi's supporting cast and fill its fictionally fortuitous filmscape with a carnally introspective constabulary.

Indicative of spiritual tribunals.

Necessity being the lover of retention, and survival, romance's wherewithal, Pi Patel (Suraj Sharma) makes the case for creative license, while providing a noteworthy response to Heart of Darkness/Apocalypse Now.

Pi's religious curiosity leads him from Hinduism to Christ to Allah and his individualistic embrace/mix of the three is openmindedly archetypal (substitutes welcome).

It's difficult to write about Life of Pi's most compelling point without ruining the film, but, as a film, for me, although I was disappointed that more time wasn't spent directly presenting the convincing case Yann Martel makes for the existence of zoos in the novel, its 'make or break' stretch takes place in the lifeboat, where Pi and Richard Parker negotiate a pact which keeps their cross-examinations afloat.

And it works. The stretch seductively elaborates upon while subtly advancing Patel's position, building up to a moving somewhat overdone transubstantive summit, celestially washing up on shore.

I'll have to wait to respond to the rest (I'm not convinced [and can't explain what I'm not convinced about]).  

The moon bear doesn't have a big part.

There is a moon bear though.

And he or she looks mischievous.

Mars et Avril

A rhythmic terrestrial interplanetary concordance collegially captivates audiences of the future in Martin Villeneuve's Mars et Avril, set in Montréal.

So nice, to watch, a science-fiction film, that humbly celebrates interdisciplinary artistic creation instead of some damn war culminating in an epic battle.

Crisp cosmic cerebral clarity: another, great film, made, in Québec.

The plot concerns the solidification of an abstract feminine image which is in turn corporealized as a musical instrument which a virtuoso performer then instantaneously masters live to the delight of his devoted listeners, thereby uniting inspiration, extraction, construction, distribution, and reception, in a harmonious synthesis of artistic production.

Yet as proof of a legend's historical longevity is ambitiously sought, an unknown factor, a representative of that which was sacrificed in order to sustain a radiant resurgent reverberation, threatens the unity of the whole, by accidentally silencing its voice, while ensuring the survival of its exhalations.

As the output destabilizes, so does the artist's basic distinction between interior and external reality, as if the film itself is unaware of a subtle intoxication, until the manufacturer finds a way to unite the process's conception and etherealization, directly binding two consciousnesses in their dreamwork, and generating un noveau monde.

Now that's science-fiction.

There was an odd moment for me in said dreamwork where I was wondering why the dreamworlds within films often closely mirror those established by alert spatio-temporal objectivities, which awakened a countermemory of David Lynch and Mark Frost's Red Room from Twin Peaks, when the scene suddenly changed to one invoking a comparison between it and said Red Room, with music reminiscent of David Lynch and Angelo Badalamenti's "Sycamore Trees."

That was weird.

The marsonautes infuse the artistic philosophical romance with a cheeky degree of comedy that rounds out the film's intellectual action.

Indeed.