The Milagro Beanfield War

Competing interests divergently envision the possible future of a rural town, one striving to see the local populace flourish, the other secretly leaving them behind.

A family man hardworking and fed up decides to irrigate his land with forbidden water, suddenly changing the fortunes of the town as the impoverished people line up behind him.

The water had been reallocated for the lavish construction of a new land development, many residents having already sold out to the vested interests and swiftly left.

So many people don't want to leave though and dig in deep to defend their rights, seeking employment and inclusive strategies which sincerely enable lifelong habitation. 

They're old friends and newfound companions who have already found where they want to live, there's no desire to pick up and go to a different town and then start over.

Why not find steady jobs for them and dynamically include them in strategic plans, finding a place for schools and hospitals the next generation of crafty citizens?

Those kinds of leaders deserve respect the ones who genuinely care for the people of their town, and holistically look far ahead to a future that substantially includes them and their families.

The Milagro Beanfield War offers a crash course in multilateral civil conflict (there's even a sociologist), when the interests of struggling people are smugly dismissed with hard-hearted unconcern.

A former lawyer who became a journalist attempts to lead them even though he's jaded, a determined feisty knowledgeable mechanic consistently encouraging his strict resolve.

Imagine cutting off the water supply from impoverished farmers trying to feed their families, it's a bona fide human rights disaster so often ignored with lofty disgrace.

The well-financed powers-that-be are hoping they'll ignore the distressing changes, and won't exercise their democratic rights to firmly hold onto their courageous town.

Mutual respect for the townspeople and the developers can lead to sustainable economic interests, if people aren't trying to cheat one another and honestly agree to progressively work together.

Too bad so much of everything is inefficiently structured along distrustful lines, conversation, books, the cinema, religious differences, shopping, the news. 

There are times when things are less bitter and collective involvement leads to great change.

Like public schools and universal healthcare.

Democratic governments. 

Universal dynamism. 

Sing

I always marvel at how tolerant my parents were regarding my singing when I was younger.

Before I learned to just take it easy and productively chill out when performing, I used to take on elevated subject matter, and my poor father had to listen as I bellowed Life on Mars? on the family piano, yet he still never let loose his irate criticisms, and let things take their natural course.

Sing gathers the harmonically gifted from a modest lively urban centre, and fortuitously unites them in passionate song, the reputed prize worth $100,000.

Unfortunately, the prize was a typo that greatly exaggerated the MC's income, but the lofty sum still motivated many, and a solid crew was melodiously assembled.

It must be the case the far reaching talent obliviously chillin' in so many towns, just waiting for similar opportunities to feverishly break out with elaborate invention.

Obsessions with being the best or not simply as good as a friend or relative, prevent so many from pragmatically proceeding as if there ever was an artistic superlative.

If you don't think you're the greatest singer or you needlessly worry how your words will sound, note that the most consistent songwriter in legendary memory won the Nobel Prize and he couldn't even sing.

American Idol is no doubt well-known for giving a shot to inspired local talent, and creating a vast incredible network of aspiring singers across the land.

But are local garage bands still seeking to frenetically emerge ultra summa cum laude, or just exist in the embryonic ether everlastingly invigorating rhythmic liaison?

Dylan, Bowie, The Beatles, and The Rolling Stones seemed to me like they worked like it was their job to write song after song, and didn't just lounge about on the old trust fund seeking performative disruptive accolades. 

You get that rush outside of your comfort zone that effortlessly produces irresistible novelty, and as you constructively/bitterly/imaginatively/proactively/distractedly/vituperatively react there's no all-encompassing parallel for what you come up with.

Liked Sing's city of animals and the collective beasties intuitively enthralling.

Dreams effervescently accruing. 

Multivariable shapeshifting cascades.  

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. 

Highlander II: The Quickening

The ozone layer all but disappears and the sun's rays punish those still living, until the Highlander known as MacLeod (Christopher Lambert) constructs a massive shield to offer protection.

Years later he's robustly agéd and quietly withdrawn from the engaged life, immortality having faded away after he emerged victorious in instalment one.

He has the choice to peacefully pass or return in triumph to his home world, and since he's grown fond of his new home, he has no desire to solemnly depart.

But back on planet Zeist, the bitter general who once had him banished (Michael Ironside as Gen. Katana), fears his agile reemergence and sends his minions to ensure fatality. 

Meanwhile, the necessity of the shield has been called into commercial question, since environmentalists believe the 'zone has regenerated but still lack evidence to prove their theory.

The entire planet is indeed a customer of the corporation who owns the shield, and if it was proven to be non-essential the most lucrative business ever would swiftly fade.

The minions arrive and quickly find MacLeod and waste no time waiting for the perfect moment, but he resoundingly responds in style thereby regaining his cherished youth.

Having met the leader of the environmentalists (Virginia Madsen as Louise) he must now ethically decide, if he's to investigate their audacious claims with the help of age old friends such as Ramírez (Sean Connery).

But soon Katana arrives in full-on monumental fury.

Dire reckless chaotic reckoning.

Bizarre changes impenitent brood.

There's still a lighthearted touch to the imposing abyss presented in Highlander II: The Quickening, as attempts to seem serious are undercut by mischievous mayhem and lithe longevity.

The return of Ramírez is cheerfully welcome even if the rationale is somewhat ludicrous, and calls into question much of the first film's action, without justifying MacLeod's amnesia.

I suppose the animate sequel strives to diversify the original's plot, but sometimes initial features shouldn't be reimagined or incongruently altered.

The comic touch and Connery's unconcern challenge this point of view with certainty, but not with enough striking substance to leave one feeling unconditionally moved.

The original Highlander's such a cool film I highly recommend it if you haven't seen it.

The Quickening offers further salient material.

Without the original's thought provoking plausibility. 

*That's my last review from the deep pandemic.

La soupe aux choux (Cabbage Soup)

Two old school disputatious farmers resist postmodern technological developments, and live carefree as they always have down home and grouchy suspicious of change.

They maintain a fertile plot not too far away from the closest town, where they have somewhat of a reputation for bold naturalistic bucolic disarray.

One chill and typical evening they freely exchange rebellious thoughts, delicately guided by flatulent fervour as bold inspiration strikes, when the random generation of lightning suddenly shocks contemporaneously, followed by an alien shortly thereafter, hoping to make first contact.

Communication proves somewhat difficult due to interplanetary divergence, but the exotic scent of M. Ratinier's (Louis de Funès) cabbage soup soon grabs the alien's (Jacques Villeret) rapt attention.

Things return to normal the next day after his swift departure, although the police must patiently entertain many wild stories concerning bright lights.

But the visits continue in search of knowledge and those who cast off every nuance of contemporary life, must come to terms with radical advancements intricately engineered in space itself!

The result is generally heartwarming as absurd independence thrives through reward, and is provided with everything its neighbours seek without having done anything to succeed or prosper.

Although within their scant exaggerations they still comprehend sociocultural rootiments, which progressively facilitate intergalactic uproar, and newfound extraterrestrial resonance.

Who's to say what's to be shared with visiting aliens should they journey to Earth, with millions of potential imaginative cues it's difficult to say what's to be showcased?

I would probably mention craft beer to be appreciatively consumed in moderation, along with nutritious cheese accompanied by fruit and pieces of bread.

I may also recommend literature and film by promoting a well-balanced approach, the perusal of clever dramas and enticing science-fiction at times contradicted by not-so-serious comedies. 

Would my humble and generous gifts perhaps lead them to share the secrets of space travel, provided without much encumbering cost, along with a vast network of inhabited worlds?

I can't say for certain if that would come to pass, but why not dream of sundry potential outcomes?

Like Jean Girault did when he made La soupe aux choux (Cabbage Soup),

A lighthearted piece of endearing diplomacy.  

Finding 'Ohana

A trip to Hawaii, to settle in with the fam, who's been sorely missed for the past decade, yet is still just as feisty as ever.

Leilani (Kelly Hu) moved away to New York shortly after her second child was born, embracing hectic traversed transformation, and acculturated distinct juxtaposition. 

Not that bad of a situation albeit fraught with geographical discord, the best of both worlds occasionally accessible, even if her children have trouble adjusting.

They're used to an accelerated pace innately attuned to unexpected variability, and although the countryside offers accredited novelty, Pili (Kea Peahu) and Ioane (Alex Aiono) still crave extrapolation. 

Fortunately, Pili discovers an old journal chronicling the history of legendary treasure, and after effortlessly making a new friend (Owen Vaccaro as Casper), has soon borrowed a vehicle in headstrong pursuit.

Her brother soon learns of their plan and after acquiring the aid of a new acquaintance (Lindsay Watson as Hana), proceeds to follow them with grouchy intent, eventually finding them in the depths of a cave.

They must sleuth and search synergistically if they're to locate the vast booty however, while bearing in mind additional myths which may complicate tonal procedures.

Gramps (Branscombe Richmond) and mom worry at a bright local hospital after the children cannot be found.

As New York and Hawaii unite.

Adventurous forays unbound.

Energetically disseminating bold exposition and grievous error, Finding 'Ohana ebullionly excavates inquisitive confident reverent equipoise. 

Character intergenerationally flourishes upon ancestral lands, disputes familially interlocking ignored free-spirited commands.

The family within is a striking example of innovative postmodern Indigenous peoples, many of whom work within the dominant discourse without having sacrificed code or tradition.

The film's generally light of heart even if its subject matter could have been much more solemn, several disheartening economic and spiritual realities endemically generating enlivened enterprise.

The voyage interrogates ecstatic endeavour in order to emphasize austere imposition, without losing sight of the playful innocence naturally embraced by active minds.

A campy blend of enlightened spirits temporally tempered and passionately gaged, Finding 'Ohana revels in multidisciplinary archaeologies at wondrous impacting play.

Genealogical. 

______ wishes.  

Sorry We Missed You

I definitely prefer a cultural situation wherein which a strong middle-class encourages economic diversity abounding with difference and opportunity, to one where a small group of narrow-minded zealots attach binding negative moral judgments to everything that doesn't suit their personal beliefs, but I also don't mean to suggest that a culture with a strong middle-class is in itself problem free, Ken Loach's Sorry We Missed You providing striking examples of such stifling demotivating issues.

I don't recall another film that captures the struggles of a working family more poignantly, one that's more well-rounded or depth prone, as Ricky (Kris Hitchen) starts working his new job, and the long hours keep him far from home.

He's been steadily working hard at different jobs throughout his adult life, but none of them have generated much wealth, and even though his family is reasonably provided for, their debts have mounted over the years.

His new job offers a really high income (1200 pounds a week) even after subtracting the cost of the van, and if things work out would give his family a sought after leg up, the job he's been waiting for for many a year.

But it's 14 hour days sometimes 7 days a week, and mistakes will not be tolerated, there's no time off to deal with unexpected troubles and financial penalties if you make an exception.

He's a loving family man who sincerely misses his wife (Debbie Honeywood as Abbie) and children (Rhys Stone as Seb and Katie Proctor as Liza Jae), and his son Seb's been acting up and missing school, things becoming much worse after he takes the new job, and is no longer around to hang out and be there.

It becomes clear that he needs to be there after Seb's suspended from school and caught shoplifting, but his boss (Ross Brewster as Maloney) has zero tolerance for anything besides "yes, sir," and Ricky won't consider finding an alternative.

He's not even technically a boss, Ricky is supposed to have his own franchise, but he needs to find someone to work for him if he can't, and can't find anyone to sub for him unfortunately.

The fact that he won't quit even though he should heartbreakingly highlights his financial desperation, the enormous bounty of his culture's goods and services outside his economic grasp.

His family doesn't even seem like they want that much but they're still immersed in commercial ideals, and he wants them to have access to everything they desire, even if it means he has to work non-stop all the time.

First rate hardboiled realism.

A stunning critique of conflicting priorities.

I usually think it's better to live off credit than to live somewhere where credit isn't available and you have nothing, but I don't know what it's like to owe credit card companies tens of thousands and I'm not supporting a hungry family.

I've been in situations long long ago where I've dreamed about the job Ricky finds though, the financial stability, the extra cash, more or less managing your own working day, a crazy high income that will pay every bill.

If I had kids I would want to spend time with them though, especially on Saturday night, and for them to have all the things that they want, even if it meant racking up huge debts I'd do it, but I'd still be driven to pay those debts off.

That's perhaps the state Ricky finds himself within in Sorry We Missed You's hard-hitting final moments (it ends at the perfect time).

He's completely torn between work and family.

And at a loss to know what to do.

It's a wonderful family too, he's helped build something special after work.

And they totally miss having him around.

And are super worried about his health and safety.

If wages aren't going to keep up with inflation, or if wages stagnate while prices keep going up, and good jobs don't have sick days or sympathy anymore, isn't that a no win situation all around?, shouldn't prices stay the same or decrease if wages don't go up?

Doesn't the system collapse if there's too much general credit card debt?

Shouldn't goods and services and rent and cars be more affordable if wages aren't increasing?

How can there be a financial collapse after which prices stay the same?

Isn't capitalism supposed to adjust itself accordingly?

To take the burden off working families and the next generation?

So they don't have to work quite so much.

And there isn't another financial crisis?

Knock

Having escaped the clutches of ne'er-do-wells who seek to vengefully discipline and punish, a resourceful medically inclined entrepreneur finds work in an isolated village.

Referred to locally as the doctor, his remarkable skill and charm soon has everyone salubriously enamoured, renowned beauties cherishing his companionship, established families appreciative of his foresight.

Even if a fussy priest remains suspicious.

Yet although Dr. Knock (Omar Sy) is sought after and desired, being of a romantic disposition, he spiritually manages his appetites, with the hopes of cultivating a platonic friendship in bloom.

Plus sérieusement.

But will desperate old acquaintances suddenly appear, intent on ruining his newfound communal engagements?

And will those who passionately resist the excitement generated through change blindly vilify its cheerful plaudits, focusing too strictly upon precise definitions, as discursive alternatives prosper fluidly and amuse?

Magnanimous mountaineering?

Perhaps not.

Lorraine Lévy's Knock playfully asks if imaginative innovations are more substantial than concrete calculations?, as bounding life in action flowers with postured prestige.

If the diagnoses exist yet specific corollaries are lacking, is motivational sustainable spirit preferable to austere vitality?

In politics, childhood and fiction, yes, in medicine, Knock presents a strong controversial localized case.

It celebrates the positive impacts alternative initiatives can have on environments grown static over time while championing the ways in which outsiders can fruitfully benefit the new places they come to call home.

Should they choose to call it home one day.

The secular is depicted fantastically while the religious coldly straddles the real, their fictional dialectic not as profound as it could have been, but Knock is a lighthearted comedy whose rigorous emotion naively contemplates creatively exalted difference.

Like having an ice cream instead of boxing.

Preconceptions slowly melting away.

The Rider

A rider, a force, a whirlwind.

A contendor.

In possession of very select skills applicable to one dangerous sport specifically, the wild lure of the bedlam, the thrill of each imprecise buck, exhilarating unpredictability loosely tamed and codified, potent threat Brady Blackburn (Brady Jandreau) deals with a formidable head wound, which cruelly jeopardizes his bright future, yet opens up worlds previously nailed shut.

Quietly withdraw?

Unwillingly walk away?

One more ride could kill him.

But what's life without one more ride?

The Rider sharply examines the mid-West's razor's edge.

People let people be to make there own decisions, and even if casual advice is offered, they remain their decisions to make, alone.

Respectfully so.

Carefully crafted tight scenes reservedly using every meaningful syllable to generate patient thought, the act of riding functioning like a release from the maturity, like a tumultuous counterbalance to the engrained composure, innocent, blunt, affected, and observant characters discuss life and their unique approach to living, gathered together in wide open terrain, soul searching without judgment or pretence.

Tough lives lived by tough people making tough decisions accepting harsh consequences.

Authority challenged with respect hence the challenge to authority is respected.

A decision to be made that's not like buying new jeans or signing a mortgage, one that calls into question Brady's raison d'ȇtre without presenting transformative solutions, less appealing responsibilities beckoning meanwhile, while troubling precedents set make known dire convictions.

The Rider rustles up existence without bearing its soul, friends and family supportive yet concerned, a rewarding way of life boldly tempting a gifted steed, while responsibility contends with resolve, and retirement dreams haunt and hustle.

There's nothing easy about this film, nothing fluffy, no lullabies.

Harbingers of mortality crushing the carefree.

As resilience reflects upon life.

Immersed in restrained adoration.

La Bolduc

During tough economic times, a soulful voice emerges, writing hit pop singles like butter on toast, performing with a voice that streams as it schmoozes, transforming birch and bustle into jive and pith and pluck, abreast with no time to think about it, writin' it all down, exhaling rhythm with raw crisp feeling, instinctually creating carefree nimble blooms.

A different time characterized by traditional roles and religious sentiment, the resourceful Mary Travers-Bolduc (Debbie Lynch-White) didn't set out to become a musician.

She stayed home to raise a family while her husband worked, nurturing several children with scant means at her disposal, the strength of their bonds helping them through tough times, love flourishing amidst economic hardship as a result of unnerving trials.

They tried moving to the States, had to get groceries on credit, there wasn't much/any time for rest, and laws prevented women from voting or working.

Yet Mme. Travers-Bolduc suddenly found herself with a huge disposable income after her songs caught fire and she turned into a star.

Her sympathetic producer clarified a loophole which enabled her to hold on to her earnings, and her foolish husband, overcome by his reduced position in their household, and a lack of work, unfortunately turned to drink instead of celebrating their good fortune.

Their example highlights a peculiar feature of religion.

If God is monitoring the world (doubtful), and a woman suddenly finds herself enriched within a patriarchal cultural construction, isn't it God's will that that woman should be enriched, and isn't he or she saying that women should be able to work and support themselves just as reliably as men?

If a patriarchal conception dominates sociopolitical life and derives its authority from earthly conceptions of God, when a woman is successful within such a system isn't God trying to say that there's something wrong with strict patriarchal religious conceptions?

Does God's will only apply to men?

Rubbish.

Québec isn't like that anymore, and its current composition functions as an example for jurisdictions looking to redefine themselves after periods of restrictive patriarchal obsessions.

Mary Travers represents a strong female voice excelling within a male dominated society, even if she succumbed later in life to the logic she had been bombarded with since birth, and prevented her talented daughter (Laurence Deschênes and Rose-Marie Perreault as Denise Bolduc) from following her dreams.

After having experienced massive head trauma.

Limbo

A struggling small town, as conscious of its historical economic uncertainties as it is of its naturalistic providence, its identity surfing Northwest waves with surges of prosperity before suddenly crashing with hawkish speed, introduces a newcomer to its local pantheon, her voice mellifluously diagnosing with gritty surgical precision, a tavern effervescently supplying tales and testaments and intrigue and romance, while a local canning factory shuts down, a mayor envisions the benefits of ecotourism, a couple grow tired of meagre cashflows, and winter incrementally and hauntingly approaches.

As all of these plots threads stitch together and breakaway, like preparations being made for a regional mini-series replete with bucolic melodrama, a wayward son shows back up in town in desperate search of liquid capital, his by-the-book sibling unaware of his shady dealings, the two reunited for a trip by sea enriched by artistic accompaniments, which indiscreetly departs with adventurous cheer, glibly unaware of the creditors who pursue them.

Some films chart a different course halfway through, and courageously alter their narrative visions, such as Full Metal Jacket or Lost Highway, with more success than John Sayles's Limbo.

Theoretically speaking, or inasmuch as one is to apply thought to speculate regarding its cryptic prophetic ending, the second half of Limbo works, after three of its characters find themselves lost on Pacific shores without much hope of rescue.

The rest of its characters disappear though, after having been creatively developed, and I have to admit that they had been developed to the point that I was somewhat irked to see them largely absent from the rest of the film.

However, during the second half young Noelle (Vanessa Martinez) does demonstrate remarkable storytelling skills as she pretends to read from a diary found sitting in an abandoned cabin which doesn't contain many entries.

The film was released in 1999.

By isolating an imaginative youth and then celebrating her literary agility, minutes before her rescue arrives, and then ending the film before we find out whether or not she's been rescued or murdered, Sayles may have been expressing his concerns regarding the future of American cinema, her death representing one wherein which friends sell each other out to make a quick buck, or original storytelling fades as commercial interests place more of an emphasis on calculating revenues than cultivating independence, her life allegorically symbolizing the flourishing of American small town communal solidarity, with its corresponding continuing focus on original ideas, which would inevitably find themselves hailed in the nation's cinemas.

It looked like her feisty mom (Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio) had finally found a stable nice partner (David Strathairn as Joe Gastineau) as well, a relationship that may have prospered within diverse creative cultures.

The depth of Sayles's prophecy can't be explored here unfortunately, but I can confidently claim there are still many excellent independent films being made in the U.S., and many that are still out there to make a quick buck.

Did the 2000s engender a paradigm shift or cleverly dissemble artistic realities which never stop agitating?

How would I know?

May make a cool book however.

The Saver

Prudent economic planning immediately embraced by a determined struggling youth after the sudden death of a loved one, guides Wiebke von Carolsfeld's The Saver through grizzled and gruff gesticulations, problematic pestilence prescribed and perturbing, as young Fern (Imajyn Cardinal) resiliently comes of age.

It's classic hands-on do-it-yourself trial-by-fire pluck.

She's a fighter, doesn't back down from a challenge, instantaneously asserts herself, ruffles feathers while eventually getting-around-to-it, fights off lusty assailants, reflexively dodges youth protection, hoping one day to have saved up a cool million.

Her attitude and inchoate time management skills do cause trouble however, and adjustments must be made, but her uncle Jack (Brandon Oakes) and a forgiving chef (Hamidou Savadogo as Hamidou) help her deconstruct her rigidity, adding a freespirited friendliness to the film which nurtures sympathy and understanding.

The Saver's an odd synthesis of the hardboiled and the heartwarming that directly narrativizes elastic tenacity.

It does combat too swiftly at times, the attempted rape for instance, which is glossed over without much afterthought, but, nevertheless, that is what it's like when you're working two jobs with survival at risk, when something awful happens you don't have much time to consider your feelings before you're back at work focusing on the task at hand, the horror slowly fading into the deluge.

Still, the pace makes it seem like there's nothing wrong, makes it seem like she will persevere no-matter-what at-all-costs, it never seems like her house of cards might tumble, although it's wonderful that it never does, with the accidental curation of a family of rogues.

It's about a strong First Nations young adult frenetically prospering but race is never an issue.

I like how Carolsfeld's script considers race through action and deed as opposed to conflict and persecution.

Films which do examine race in terms of conflict and persecution often work obviously, but perhaps presenting race without politicizing it has considerable merit too.

You can't do this all the time because it does overlook systemic racism and gives the systemic racists cultural leverage, i.e., they continue to prevent people from specific racial groups from working while saying there's nothing wrong, they just aren't working hard enough.

NeverEnding.

Worth seeing.

Joy

Discipline.

Punishment.

The hurricane, crushing, displacing, infuriating, exasperating, draining her reserves with unsettling elasticity, voracious steady plutocratic hunger, petty indignant somnambulistic plunder, she coasts astride, reacting, strategizing, acclimatizing, placating, diplomatically attuned to brokering consensus, to enabling equanimity, fomented franticon, whirlwinds harnessed agon, risking everything she has while enriching her familial bower, through the art of sympathetically nurturing comprehensible inclusive trusts.

She leaves no one behind, her spirit breeding virtue in resplendent fertile abundance, someone you can count on, entrenched hardwired reliability, David O. Russell's Joy (Jennifer Lawrence), an odd synthesis of the exceptional and the mundane.

It's almost there.

The film wavers between the plucky and the humdrum with casual indiscreet dexterity, never seeming too shocking or distant, while enlivening situations you would think might not be so.

In conversation.

By cautiously yet cleverly elevating the tedious, Joy coaxes the extraordinary with undeniable hokey charm, notably when Trudy (Isabella Rossellini) asks her 4 questions.

Still missing something however, its aesthetic resonance asymptotically flirting with the quaintly ethereal, girls on farms, caressing and tantalizing with each exhaled breath, otherwise fun and endearing, well-acted convincing versatility.

Guibord s'en va-t-en guerre

It comes down to one man, his independence in jeopardy, democracy in motion, the deciding vote, will Canada or will Canada not go to war?, the Conservatives pro, the Liberals contra, local economic interests seeing opportunities both lush and lucrative, employment, outsiders, vehemently upholding ethical curricula, the pressure intensifying, he seems unconcerned.

Steve Guibord (Patrick Huard) that is, independent MP for a federal riding in Northern Québec, suddenly thrust into the limelight, suddenly given supreme authority.

It's a lighthearted comedy, Guibord s'en va-t-en guerre, heartwarmingly dealing with extraordinarily complex political issues with down home country charm, issues such as Aboriginal Rights, workers rights, big d Democracy, intergovernmental relations, ethical reporting, international sensations, war, and protesting, to name a few.

Haitian born Souverain (Irdens Exantus) endearingly humanizes these factors in an erudite salute to political philosophy.

Seriously contrasting Ego Trip's Sammy.

Obviously many of these issues are quite touchy, and they're momentarily resolved somewhat achingly, but the film does skilfully keep things local, perhaps accidentally addressing predetermined criticisms, by remaining blissfully aware.

Politically aware.

The geopolitics of the proposed war aren't really discussed, the in-depth analysis of war's impact out maneuvered by the prospects of economic growth, unfairly depicted protesters from Winnipeg failing to outwit, until Guibord's daughter's (Clémence Dufresne-Deslières as Lune) frustrated pleas begin to register.

I do find that many people I know are politically aware, but politics is a multidimensional continuum, especially in Québec where the dynamic is much more intense, and when you have a plethora of parties each advocating to specifically yet generally define political awareness, the concept sort of dematerializes, even if it's highly abstract to begin with.

Focus. Remain focused.

It's not that you can't expect an awareness of geopolitical agitations to be found in the North, but you can expect such realities to hold less weight than putting food on the table, on occasion, especially if a mine closes, government subsidies dry up, or tensions increase due to conflicting resource management agendas.

Guibord recognizes this, and playfully uses it to its advantage.

It's not just like that in the North.

But apart from its schmaltzy meandering, I really loved watching Guibord, being a part of the audience.

I didn't get some of the jokes, and didn't really like it, but, and the same thing happened while I was watching Ego Trip, the audience loved it and did get the jokes, and from their friendly laughter I found proof, more proof, that Québec really does have its own vibrant film industry, where citizens do really take their home-on-the-range domestic films seriously, a living breathing cultural conviviality, something that's missing from English Canada.

I haven't said that for years.

Did the Liberal party fund this film behind the scenes?

Questions.

*Who came up with the English title? Lame.

Félvilág (Demimonde)

Fair weather thickets, robust tumbledown, opulent rickety flush strings resound.

Erotic.

Instrumental.

Respect and fascination, a subject of the film, one diligently striving to detect an aesthetic hidden within musical provenance, thought allied with action distilling muses to kindle pluck, historical serenity, vixens and vertices, the other manifesting sensation in a shroud, aware of its immaculate presence, seizing and securing the moment's acceleration, ostentatious in its longevity, commanding, assured.

Time slowly transfiguring each one.

Elza Mágnás (Patricia Kovács).

Achievement and success, unconcerned with scandal or perplexity, like Odette de Crécy, she mesmerizes in swoon.

Kató (Laura Döbrösi) escapes life on the streets and is caught between the ethical and the spectacle, rigorously learning what she can to survive.

Quickly.

Visceral film, Félvilág (Demimonde), examining morality through an economic lens, poverty and poignancy luxuriously dissected, picturesque propriety, enabling restrictive plights.

A romantic poet, jealous servant, and coddling magnate complete the script, their attention devoted to Elza, who consequently revels in her agency.

Carefree leisure and desperate servitude liaise within, desire harmonizing their ambitions, dedication sterilizing their chagrin.

Poltergeist

I know I saw the original Poltergeist film, starring coach Craig T. Nelson, a bunch of times when I was a kid, and I'm not a kid now, so comparing my youthful impressions to those I currently prescribe isn't a viable option, but there was one scene from the original that still sticks out, near the end, when a hallway is featured and then its length hauntingly extends to augment the sense of desperation, there's nothing like that in the new film, nothing that memorable, although if I had been 8 while watching it I might have found it more shocking, more real.

I may have also found it not so shocking.

There seems to be a formula that's being followed here, which is adhered to too strictly, like they have i's to dot and t's to cross rather than innovations to disseminate and paradigms to shift.

They just seemed to spend more time building up tension in the original, it's patiently disorienting, which explains the switch from otherworldly supernatural investigator Tangina (Zelda Rubinstein) to rough and tumble Carrigan Burke (Jared Harris), the best feature of the film, due to his comic exchanges with glasses wearing ex-wife Dr. Brooke Powell (Jane Adams), and charismatic audacity, like he's running for 1,500 yards a season, which suggests that contemporary horror is more immediate than that dispensed in the 1980s, although I don't watch enough mass produced contemporary horror films to be able to make that claim with legitimate certainty.

It's a tough claim to make with legitimate certainty no matter how many horror films you watch.

That's what makes making such claims so much fun.

The other aspect of the film that I liked was its focus on the struggles of middle-class American families, represented by the Bowens, credit card debts without regret, no other choice, the poltergeists functioning like manufactured socioeconomic pressures, subconsciously harrowing burdensome manifestations.

They also wrapped up this Poltergeist film too quickly, which fits with what I'm saying, one of the strengths of the original being the shattered sense of calm explosively annihilated in the end.

Perhaps it was a warning that bourgeois economic prosperity was about to start facing tough times in America?

A precursor to the first Terminator film.

It probably wasn't that.

I like that the new Poltergeist film didn't duplicate the original's ending, but would have liked to have seen it replaced with something different.

They just abruptly end it.

Bivouacs.

Although it has some solid characters and themes, I remain loyal to the original.

The original sequels weren't that great though.

The new Poltergeist 2 could exponentially improve on The Other Side.

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.

Birdman: or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance)

Spiralling prosaic haunting indecision, contraction instigated, distraction, procured, a play must be performed, negative emotion dominating, that voice, that voice which collegially condemns, internally and externally, belittling, haunting, there are specific time limits, the exceptional exceptionally parades, tender loving affairs, perpetual motion, angst rehabilitated, worst case after worst case, coming together, working, in unison, taking things too far, hold tight, flip, perform, do what you have always done, resolve strengthens, misgivings matriculate, swoop, soar, Silencio, glide on the currents like a nuthatched pin cushion, Birdman, Michael Keaton, what happened to Michael Keaton?, he disappeared, I thought, it's bound to be sold out, it's starring Michael Keaton, just like the '90s, purchase advanced tickets, line-up like Batman, she makes out like she did in Mulholland Drive, the soundtrack's embedded, bejewelled, it can't be extracted, necrophonic needlework, the lines, the perfectly delivered palatial lines, discursive krypton, in motion, in constant motion, assert, lose it, discuss, advocate, temporally sketched to last a lifetime, impotency notwithstanding, harness the haunting perpetual motion, aloofly pepper with speeches and scenes all of which are capable of standing alone, united to etherealize commercial artistic bedlam, for applause, for fortune, if I were Tennessee Williams I'd orgasm, Birdman, Birdman, Birdman, syntheses within syntheses, a kind word, still a movie, it's still a movie, it never loses sight of the fact that it's still a movie for entertaining, mesmerizing, a kind of charming magical cinematic awareness simultaneously celebrating and criticizing the medium, without appearing sentimental or confectionary, I shouldn't have used the word magical, a failure, I fail, flotsam flickering and flailing, taking note, sprawling to capture this ingenious tenure, this incomparable sight, this modest, coy, Birdman: or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance), in the act of creation, it reacts anew.

Fire in the Blood

It's hard to believe that medicine is available to alleviate the suffering of millions of impoverished global citizens, and, that due to associated prohibitive costs, they're left to die because they can't afford treatment.

According to Dylan Mohan Gray's Fire in the Blood, pharmaceutical companies are the most profitable in the world, but their obsession with increasing their profits primarily and treating the sick as an afterthought is disturbing; always thought curing illness was the primary function of discovering cures for illness, mistaken was I, holding on to a drug's patent so that you can monopolize its sale to people who have no alternative and then jack-up the price is the primary function, recently formalized by the WTO's adoption of TRIPS.

It's revolting.

The film is about the struggle of many African countries to receive access to antivirals which combat but don't cure AIDS, allowing people who contracted it to live a relatively normal life.

A brilliant doctor from India,Yusuf Hamied, created a generic alternative, produced and sold it for a fraction of his American competitor's price, but the sale of his drug was initially not permitted in many countries due to their governments acquiescence to the demands of patent holding pharmaceutical giants, whose stranglehold on the free market was more voraciously tightened by TRIPS.

Apparently these companies don't even spend much on research and development, the majority of R & D for new drugs being funded by the public sector. Why governments don't patent the drugs discovered through such research and then sell them at affordable prices is bizarre, such sales prolonging the lives of their tax payers, thereby increasing tax revenues.

In my opinion, religious organizations should be passionately defending the rights of poor people to have access to affordable medicine.

Isn't this issue profoundly more important than whether or not gay people can get married?

They're gay. They love each other. They want to get married. Who cares? Love doesn't know the difference.

Fire in the Blood mentions how the costs of potentially life saving drugs are becoming prohibitive for many Americans as well.

Prices keep going up, wages keep staying the same.

Another serious problem.

Transformers: Age of Extinction

Humanity has forsaken and betrayed the Autobots in the latest Transformers sequel, forcing them to strategically dissimulate in order to avoid detection.

An intergalactic jailer by the name of Lockdown (Mark Ryan) seeks to imprison Optimus Prime (Peter Cullen), punishing him for disobeying his creators, uniformly inhibiting his hard-fought freedom fighting.

Megatron's brain has been harvested and the technological secrets residing within have led brilliant scientist Joshua Joyce (Stanley Tucci) to believe that the power of the Transformer can be governed by Homo sapiens.

A new generation of Transformer is therefore created, to be used as military drones, the Autobots having become obsolete.

Fortunately a feisty independent struggling inventor has discovered the whereabouts of Mr. Prime, and he remembers the sacrifices he made, improvisationally fighting by his side.

Scolding his young daughter all the while.

The resulting combat, wherein the American individual boldly teams up with the abandoned to challenge the forces of oppression, is ingeniously summed up in the film's best scene, which sees Mr. Joyce cowering in a Hong Kong elevator, a momentary respite, from the cataclysmic confrontations.

Anyone notice the apartment complexes in Hong Kong?

Wow.

The act of creation unites the converging storylines, along with issues of operational control, to thematically cap the series's 4th instalment.

Convincingly hypothesizing a new set of sociotechnological indicators, while economically aligning them for the film's terrestrial inhabitants, earning a living subconsciously contends with manufacturing a soul, to experimentally produce a sensationally revelled playing field.

Because Age of Extinction is so long, the introduction of the Dinobots seems somewhat tacked-on.

However, the introduction of the Dinobots, is, awesome.

The President doesn't make an appearance and I'm betting when he or she does it turns out to be one of the members of Dark of the Moon's most disputatious romantic couplings.

Their presence was missing from Age of Extinction.

But the anticipation is something to look forward to.