Bergman Island

Dad often liked to talk about how he loved arthouse cinema when he was at University, and the director he remembered watching most frequently was the internationally celebrated Ingmar Bergman.

It was difficult to get dad to watch independent cinema as the years passed by, but he did start to enjoy traditional science-fiction which was a big most welcome surprise.

I admit to never having grown tired of either and to still enjoying the inordinate synthesis, I still find blending the arthouse and the mainstream makes for a more diverse constructive dialogue.

You have the individualistic rebellious insights independently crafted with subjective certainty, mischievously juxtaposed with august objective stately ponderous risk based analysis.

I don't recommend proceeding in this fashion if you want to occasionally communicate with others (about film), my humble experience at least has led me to believe that most people prefer one to the other.

I still find the blend much more intriguing, a wider spectrum, more robust confluence.

I'm too old to worry about categorical superlatives. 

In fact I find them most distasteful.

Ingmar Bergman's films are still fun to watch, as melancholically instructive as they are light and playful, at times showcasing eccentric enigmatic enlightenment somewhat lost with the ways of the world.

Bergman Island is a fascinating treat for curious fans of the prolific director, an extended interview patiently presented at his cherished home on Fårö Island.

His thoughts are still clear and descriptive as he discusses life with vivid detail, courageously holding nothing back, wholeheartedly concerned with unfiltered honesty.

There's a funny moment near the end where he mentions a lie he once made to the press, something spontaneous he said when he had no answer to a question that was suddenly asked and caught him off guard.

He was annoyed because the spur of the moment random response came to be taken as irrefutable fact.

I wonder how often that happens.

A somewhat comic reflection on truth (how often have I thought, "it's just something they said!").

If you're a fan of Bergman or auteurs in general Bergman Island is essential viewing.

Raw insights into sublime genius.

A passionate life.

Not without controversy.

Postcards from the Edge

Constant motion, exceptional circumstances, wild indulgence, disorienting repercussions.

A blossoming actress well-versed in cinematic intrigue takes things multiple steps too far, and is sentenced to move back home.

She can therefore continue working after her overdose, even if incumbent oversight bewilders her resolve.

Things remain relatively calm, in Ms. Vale's (Meryl Streep) case anyways, but jealousy and deception neither flounder nor subside, as her mom (Shirley MacLaine) and newfound beau Jack Faulkner (Dennis Quaid) contend and philander respectively.

Explanations or reasons why disputatiously illuminate, as the struggling actress carries on.

Her strength is most impressive.

Her talent, undeniable.

Postcards from the Edge honestly presents a cerebral state of affairs.

Even though the situation's quite serious, lighthearted charm reveals resilient subtle character.

Blending in both sympathy and censure.

It resists impulses to sound too preachy and consequently doesn't infantalize.

It doesn't let anyone off the hook, but doesn't overflow with guilt or blame either.

I didn't know Carrie Fisher was such a good writer.

Postcards excels at offering versatile soul searching conversations between parent and young, examining the thought provoking envy that aggrandized their lives in show business.

But it's not simply envy, the envy's mixed with support and compassion, these beacons emitting clever conversational poise that tries not to offend as it resists temptation.

If it's blunt, it isn't overstated.

The conversations become more and more genuine as the film progresses, and director Mike Nichols gives them plenty of time to bloom as they patiently generate their own lifeforce.

Vale and Faulkner have some good arguments as well.

Some people who overdose don't get to return to work so shortly thereafter, so Postcards is a bit hands-on fairy tale.

But if forgiveness and mercy are to constructively abound, who's to critique such remarkable developments?

Cool film.

Wasn't on me radar way back when.

Rules Don't Apply

Sure and steady representatives of 1960s youth find themselves fetchingly employed in Warren Beatty's Rules Don't Apply, wherein an angelic songwriter with purist heart (Lily Collins as Marla Mabrey) and a loyal driver possessing patient ambition (Alden Ehrenreich as Frank Forbes) are caught between careers and courtships in the employment of Howard Hughes (Warren Beatty).

They're ever so cute.

Yet their employer, however so cunning in the face of adversity, however so adorable in his wild eccentricities, however so unpredictable in his unwavering caprice, however so devoted to reifying his dreams (eccentricity does not imply caprice!), even if he spends every waking nanosecond taking care of his responsibilities (wherein lies the eccentricity [when you work all the time suddenly an undeniable desire hits and you immediately must have that thing /often Denver Broncos related {this works better when you have employees who will bring you that thing |shopping online is changing this|}\]), can't be relied upon to simply do what's right, like a/n h/airline fracture, at critical moments, with destinies in overdrive, with futures notwithstanding.

That doesn't mean he doesn't remain endearing, as he's depicted in the film anyways, since he possesses an inextinguishable fancy free flame, which has come to be idealized in American cinema, with refined audacious tenacity.

Rules Don't Apply.

Young at heart, always.

I'm thinking about renting Cool Hand Luke.

Collins and Forbes romantically drill their way through Rules Don't Apply, frustrated in frenzy, synergistic straight shooters.

I can't say if the film's reminiscent of a cinematic golden age (I'm assuming many people associate such a phrase with the films of their youth and seeing it redefined is a matter of another generation reaching a specific age having made the right arguments), or trying to recapture the magic of watching movies (surprised this wasn't a Disney film), some ethics thrown in, a political struggle, a charismatic tycoon, Matthew Broderick (Levar Mathis), principles plucked im/pertinently, an appreciation for simple pleasures (burgers and fries), a story that could have seemed trite if left in less capable hands, with filmmakers who don't know how to both provoke and entertain, but it pulled me into its dazzling sashay with raw sincere wondrous precision, the split-second editing keeping things lively in the early going (Robin Gonsalves, Leslie Jones, F. Brian Scofield, Billy Weber), and even if it may not be one of my favourite films of the year, it still revitalized my love of going to the movies and writing about them more than any other.

There's a great sequence where the main characters are depicted doing something individually which simultaneously highlights their doubtful loneliness (content) as well as their sense of communal belonging (form), on the job, I suppose I'm a sucker for that kind of thing; poutine once a week you know; and the occasional root beer.