Raw inimitable frothing exuberant talent exasperated within deductive convention extemporaneously seething through.
Misunderstandings contraceptively disputing improvised codes maladroitly enfeebling eruptive creative scripture, diminutive tisane steeped in self-doubt ominous reckless outbursts wildly stricken angst.
No rules.
No mentor.
Consuming instinct cognizant of its gravity elementally composing ephemeral truths, the art of reflecting a god's experimental impulses editing in universal flux, objectives unrecognized ceaseless mismatched byproducts tempering environmental exfoliation; arboreal glimpses sowing conscious splash.
Climatology.
Raindrops.
She's phenomenal.
Constant motion excavating incorporeal archaeological feeling clasped in whisked conjecture verifiably asymmetrically drawn.
Random impulse subconsciously sleuthing bare recalcitrants embroiled revealed.
Ethereal alma mater intuitively grasped like love blindly struck with congenital nuisance empiric moisture foam.
Mama lynx still a kit feisty mews mystified matriculating.
Exotic overtures.
Prone discomfort.
Abstruse grammar attuned not specialized boldly stoked constrained gusts briskly pounced moans rosetta.
Obscene exhaustion retail shock.
Peace of mind on stage.
Constituent convalescence.
Emotional infinities planetary permutations feline fluctuation omniscient ceremony.
Bertha dans la zone.
It's like performance anxiety is strictly material as Madeline (Helena Howard) disconcertingly asserts stratos.
Duelling with classification.
Alternatives strictly conceived.
Showing posts with label Drive. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Drive. Show all posts
Friday, September 28, 2018
Friday, May 29, 2015
Mad Max: Fury Road
Accelerated omnipresent pressurized pulsation, strict violent fanatical allegiance, the strongest suffocating to prosper penultimately, commanding the collective will, autocratic anarchy, order established where there was only suffering, fierce frantic fallout, old world technologies mechanistically motivating, the power to recreate them exhausted in the flames, control what survives, post-apocalyptically yield and burn.
Tyrannically.
Immortan Joe (Hugh Keays-Byrne), ruler of his domain, is challenged by the free thinking Imperator Furiosa (Charlize Theron), who audaciously seeks escape, from his unleashed sands of thine.
The film irresistibly functions on a need-to-know basis.
Little is directly explained, it's a filmic theorist's broadbanded El Dorado, compelled to advocate and wager, within absolutism's clutches.
While enjoying a chaotic chase which minimalistically yet compellingly develops multiple marooned mindsets, simplicity functioning on a complex sociological level, artistic in its expansive brevity, enhanced by stunning complementary visuals.
The people, the elite, the executive, their competitors.
You get a sense of what the film will be like early on, when Max Rockatansky (Tom Hardy) attempts to flee his captors, boldly leaping to what would represent freedom in so many action films, only to fail in his attempt, and be overcome by the frenzied horde.
He could be the most unfocused upon heroic figure I've seen in a strong action film, he's not the main character, rarely says anything, his actions have beneficial repercussions for those claiming individuality, but so do those of others involved in the same blind maddening quest.
Direct absolutism, indirect social democracy, levelled out blunt mysterious jagged character development mired in an unending conflict which intuitively yet intellectually assaults tyrannical preconceptions.
I'm placing Mad Max: Fury Road on my list of favourite action films, with Aliens, Robocop(1987), and Terminator 2.
There's no need to impose rank.
It demands that you find the definitions.
Immersing you in its world thereby.
Providing clues.
Tyrannically.
Immortan Joe (Hugh Keays-Byrne), ruler of his domain, is challenged by the free thinking Imperator Furiosa (Charlize Theron), who audaciously seeks escape, from his unleashed sands of thine.
The film irresistibly functions on a need-to-know basis.
Little is directly explained, it's a filmic theorist's broadbanded El Dorado, compelled to advocate and wager, within absolutism's clutches.
While enjoying a chaotic chase which minimalistically yet compellingly develops multiple marooned mindsets, simplicity functioning on a complex sociological level, artistic in its expansive brevity, enhanced by stunning complementary visuals.
The people, the elite, the executive, their competitors.
You get a sense of what the film will be like early on, when Max Rockatansky (Tom Hardy) attempts to flee his captors, boldly leaping to what would represent freedom in so many action films, only to fail in his attempt, and be overcome by the frenzied horde.
He could be the most unfocused upon heroic figure I've seen in a strong action film, he's not the main character, rarely says anything, his actions have beneficial repercussions for those claiming individuality, but so do those of others involved in the same blind maddening quest.
Direct absolutism, indirect social democracy, levelled out blunt mysterious jagged character development mired in an unending conflict which intuitively yet intellectually assaults tyrannical preconceptions.
I'm placing Mad Max: Fury Road on my list of favourite action films, with Aliens, Robocop(1987), and Terminator 2.
There's no need to impose rank.
It demands that you find the definitions.
Immersing you in its world thereby.
Providing clues.
Saturday, December 28, 2013
Anchorman 2: The Legend Continues
Ron Burgundy lead an extraordinary extracurricular promotional campaign leading up to the release of Anchorman 2: The Legend Continues, thereby suggesting that it must be an exceptional film, surpassing its comedic predecessor in varying degrees of hilarity, while stretching the boundaries of both ridiculousness and applicability, a voluminous viscosity, asinine yet chaste.
I'm used to seeing American comedies that are around 90 minutes in length but Anchorman 2 comes in at 119 according to its IMDB surrogate.
An out of the ordinary promotional campaign.
An extra 29 minutes.
Released a week before Christmas.
And Anchorman 2 delivers.
Ron Burgundy proves himself to be a sturdy bumbling honest easily upset independent intellectually discordant emotionally secure visceral champion for the everyperson, continuously and undauntedly moving forward, apart from when he decides to hang himself after a randy exhibition at Seaworld (see Blackfish).
He has his own polite style and definition of appropriateness which lead to conflicts when expressing himself within unknown vectors, yet he confidently bounces back and keeps focusing on the positive, action, reaction, proactivation, thereby inspiring his loyal news team.
Some team members function as reps for some somewhat revolting tendencies towards violence, but these tendencies are made to appear ludicrous, kind of, as Burgundy consistently outwits them.
The bats were a brilliant idea. The scorpions, the bowling balls, the bra covered in cats, the details, it's like every line and every scene were eruditely vetted by comedic veterans dedicated to making the best American comedy in years, many of the scenes appearing as if they were haphazardly thrown together, but you don't achieve this level of rowdy unconcerned reckless jocularity without patiently reviewing and editing every aspect of the production, while keeping in mind the havoc of the finished masterpiece simultaneously.
Film editing by Melissa Bretherton and Brent White.
Should I mention the battle?
The greatest most unexpected battle I've ever seen in an American film, with the Minotaur and a werehyena, that's right, a werehyena, plus a Canadian news team, introducing a fantastic sporty religious scientific historical mélange of postmodern acrobatic intensity, Alterius, Maiden of the Clouds (Kirsten Dunst) commencing the romp with her exclamatory horn, Vince Vaughn (Wes Mantooth), arriving at a pivotal, game changing moment.
Or Dolby? His song?
The figure skating?
The parenting?
Never really liked car chases but I do love animal stories.
Even better than Machete Kills.
Written by Will Ferrell and Adam McKay.
I'm used to seeing American comedies that are around 90 minutes in length but Anchorman 2 comes in at 119 according to its IMDB surrogate.
An out of the ordinary promotional campaign.
An extra 29 minutes.
Released a week before Christmas.
And Anchorman 2 delivers.
Ron Burgundy proves himself to be a sturdy bumbling honest easily upset independent intellectually discordant emotionally secure visceral champion for the everyperson, continuously and undauntedly moving forward, apart from when he decides to hang himself after a randy exhibition at Seaworld (see Blackfish).
He has his own polite style and definition of appropriateness which lead to conflicts when expressing himself within unknown vectors, yet he confidently bounces back and keeps focusing on the positive, action, reaction, proactivation, thereby inspiring his loyal news team.
Some team members function as reps for some somewhat revolting tendencies towards violence, but these tendencies are made to appear ludicrous, kind of, as Burgundy consistently outwits them.
The bats were a brilliant idea. The scorpions, the bowling balls, the bra covered in cats, the details, it's like every line and every scene were eruditely vetted by comedic veterans dedicated to making the best American comedy in years, many of the scenes appearing as if they were haphazardly thrown together, but you don't achieve this level of rowdy unconcerned reckless jocularity without patiently reviewing and editing every aspect of the production, while keeping in mind the havoc of the finished masterpiece simultaneously.
Film editing by Melissa Bretherton and Brent White.
Should I mention the battle?
The greatest most unexpected battle I've ever seen in an American film, with the Minotaur and a werehyena, that's right, a werehyena, plus a Canadian news team, introducing a fantastic sporty religious scientific historical mélange of postmodern acrobatic intensity, Alterius, Maiden of the Clouds (Kirsten Dunst) commencing the romp with her exclamatory horn, Vince Vaughn (Wes Mantooth), arriving at a pivotal, game changing moment.
Or Dolby? His song?
The figure skating?
The parenting?
Never really liked car chases but I do love animal stories.
Even better than Machete Kills.
Written by Will Ferrell and Adam McKay.
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