The Fate of the Furious

A mad evil genius, hellbent on disabling geopolitical individuality, captures Dom (Vin Diesel) in The Fate of the Furious, in a loathsome attempt to make his honourable good nature her own.

Having recently proven to the Cuban people that he can indeed be trusted, aligning repute with action in victory aflame, his team can't understand why he's betrayed them, as the clandestine Mr. Nobody (Kurt Russell) greenlights their cold pursuit.

The independence of so many reliable furiousae imminently threatened by sheer nuclear arithmetic, it's imperative that high octane risk potential variably triggers alarm.

The team still excels without its leader, while said maestro recalibrates slipstream, Cipher (Charlize Theron) exposing them to coerced extreme disorder, fraught with maniacal familial leverage.

They must assemble in accordance with the abilities that have enabled them to defy the blasé and the mediocre, a baker's half dozen all-pro renegades, continuously eclipsing radially refined exuberance, caught up in arch-villainous bluster, acrobatically shifting gears thermoclined.

Masterminds.

Bringin' it.

Expounding.

The ill-tempered quickly regain their composure to regally embrace destiny punch maximum overdrive within.

Searching for new ways to exhaustively entertain, they battle a submarine no less, and a legion of remotely controlled ghost cars.

If practically everything is technologically outfitted, in the future, even raking, will every upcoming detective film and television show revolve around how a seemingly secure system was hacked, driverless cars being potentially used to commit murder, every crime solved thereafter by a neuromantic cybersleuth, potentially named, Chevron Wikireseau?

Nanosyntheses.

Enjoyed The Fate of the Furious and definitely preferred it to part 7.

Dom's compelling blend of tenacity and tenderness is reconstituted au début, and the massive accompanying cast has an intricate role to play, minor and major denizens alike, notably the subplot involving Deckard (Jason Statham) and his mom (Helen Mirren)(if Judi Dench can rock Philomena, Helen Mirren bejewels Magdalene Shaw), new fast learning by-the-book toehead (initially) Little Nobody (Scott Eastwood), and a frustrated Roman (Tyrese Gibson) who's been disrespectfully seven/elevened.

There are so many characters to take into consideration when writing these scripts.

Plus an incarcerated Dwayne Johnson (Hobbs) of course.

Tej Parker (Ludacris) could have had a bigger moment.

Risky to play freebird with Interpol?

Fast, furious, frenetic, freewheeling.

If you don't like these films, why do you go see them?

Tough to top the submarine, the torpedo.

Can't wait to see what happens next.

I don't even drive. I ride the bus.

The entire world's after them but they sort of work for the government.

Is that 21st century?

High stakes heuristics.

Barrellin' on down.

Straight Outta Compton

I may have just focused on N.W.A if I had written this script.

The group interactions are strong.

Characters enigmatically blossom and come together as a cohesive whole, an act, risks are taken then rewarded, popularity brings the pain, along with the elements, with honest explicit expressions, dynamically forging new artistic ground.

It works, but as the band breaks up and Straight Outta Compton begins to follow Eazy-E (Jason Mitchell), Ice Cube (O'Shea Jackson Jr.) and Dr. Dre (Corey Hawkins) separately, we're provided with more of a brief general overview than an exacting intricate thesis, celebrated historical events from their lives understandably ingratiating, still sacrificing substance for sentimentality, the incisive for the broad.

It works like well researched entries for Who's Who, not as a magnetic work of hard-hitting brazen fiction.

Due to the rapid pace, a lot of facets that could have built more cultural depth carefreely float away, such as the death of Dr. Dre's brother, the artistic paradigm shifting exhilaration of N.W.A's work, Ice Cube's method, a closer examination of the pressures they faced from the F.B.I, and a more intricate look at the politics of the groundbreaking.

These facets could all function as separate films, turning Straight Outta Compton into a fountainhead of sorts, perhaps.

It covers police brutality well, which would seem exaggerated if it weren't based on fact and backed up by myriad contemporary examples.

I support free artistic expression in most forms, it's only those that eagerly promote hate speech that I question, just remember, racism, violence and misogyny are often more closely aligned with America's Republican Party, with candidates like Donald Trump anyways, the Party who generally squashes minorities and caters to an oligarchic elite.

If you're speaking out against police violence in your music to make a point about how corrupt and unfair it is, that's one thing.

If you're writing songs that glorify misogyny and violence for fun, you're doing the work of the Republican Party for them, saving and making them millions.

You have a choice not to express yourselves in such ways.

And you're free to make that choice.

Law Abiding Citizen

Taking the law into your own hands, frustrated by the deals and dilemmas necessitated by the nature of the legal system: it's pay back time. In F. Gary Gray's Law Abiding Citizen, Clyde Shelton (Gerard Butler) refuses to accept the compromise which frees one of his wife (Brooke Mills) and daughter's (Ksenia Hulayev) killers (Christian Stolte as Clarence Darby) after only 5 years and strikes back with a full on blitzkrieg. His object of vengeance is principally lawyer Nick Rice (Jamie Foxx) but his methods seek to "incarcerate" anyone associated with the original trial. His goal: teach Rice that you don't make deals with murderers. His methodology: take out anyone and everyone responsible. As a work of fiction, Law Abiding Citizen works well insofar as the ending champions an either/or legal system where the ambiguous dimension structuring day to day judicial decision making is severely criticized (and the either/or mentality is fictionalized). However, if it is stating that this either/or mentality should be adopted, then, from a more practical point of view, the ending becomes problematic. One way out of this predicament is to firmly interpret the ending as a situation where Shelton represents the subjective rogue, Rice, the objective standard. Rice can apply his objective standards generally aside from situations where he encounters the subjective rogue, situations wherein there is no compromise due to the designs of the rogue's ambitions. But if this dimension is being fictionalized then Gray supports a system where Rice can only apply his objective standards to situations where there is no compromise, thereby making the exception the universal and leading us back to the high and low imbroglio. Whether or not Shelton wanted Rice to kill him in the end is ambivalent as well: did Rice truly outsmart Shelton or was Shelton expecting Rice to outsmart him? Was he simply prepared for both options? Does this layer of ambivalence suggest that Gray is fictionalizing the ambiguous dimension of legal proceedings in order to applaud an objective either/or system which is subtly yet directly presented? Either it's an ambiguous ending or it's not, or perhaps the ending is both ambiguous and polar. You decide.