Aguirre, der Zorn Gottes (Aguirre, the Wrath of God)

As colonialism expands in the jungles of South America, the Indigenous inhabitants engage in trickery, wholeheartedly convincing several of the invaders that a vast city of gold exists deep within, the tale too tantalizing to ignore, soon a diverse outfit departs in pursuit.

Unaccustomed to the haunting jungle with its sweltering heat and bugs and mud, the ensemble makes slow progress initially until confronting a hostile river.

Here the group splits up with many of the party remaining behind, as a courageous group virtuously led bravely sets out alone down its course.

Virtuous ideals clashing with blunt pragmatism such strained relations when people don't value life, ironically tormenting the high-minded colonialists who had already instigated so much Native carnage.

Conflict abounds as the lethal Aguirre soon disagrees with his captain, and plans a much less sympathetic voyage weak on heart and strong on ambition.

He's able to persuade most of the company to boldly adhere to his brutal methods, as they drift deeper into the jungle on their adventurous own without knowledge or know-how.

Their rafts are detected by Natives hoping not to suffer like their enslaved brethren. 

Arrows picking the Spanish off one by one.

As Aguirre's madness irascibly intensifies.

A remarkable feat of filmmaking which took considerable risks to accomplish its goals, hats off to the daring cast and crew (plus Herzog) who set out on the river expedition.

It mustn't be as dangerous as it looks or else I doubt anyone would have agreed to do it, and how did the camera crew get all those shots as the wild river raged with absolutist fervour?

A former prince even travels amongst them and bitterly complains about his newfound bearing, not much is made of the dynamic character but he does show up from time to time.

Adorable animals occasionally adorn the blood-soaked verse with contradictory tender, but at times they aren't treated humanely most notably the awkward rebellious horse scene.

Music also interrupts the flow of augmented acidic despondent mutiny, as mellifluous sounds generously erupt from an endemic pipe playfully attuned.

When you stare into Kinski's eyes it really is like you're sailing through an abyss, it's like he spent so much time furiously exclaiming when they weren't filming that he forgot to radicalize his lines on set.

A marvel of cinematic industry that likely never would have been made if the mechanics had been scrutinized, I can sincerely applaud its visceral fortitude assuming the cast and crew knew what they were getting into. 

📽🎞

Sense and Sensibility

Sufficient evidence gathered hereinafter cordially suggests a blesséd state, was indeed embraced by Mr. Ferrars (Hugh Grant) and Ms. Elinor Dashwood (Emma Thompson) vigorously engaged in holy matrimony. 

Misfortune and finicky finances egregiously attempted to discourteously repudiate, but chance attuned to ethereal endeavour providentially bequeathed ecstatic union.

Regarding Ms. Marianne Dashwood (Kate Winslet), who had been laid low due to flagrant ignominy, and left to harken despondent despair after having shockingly admitted scandal, her path gregariously recultivated through less self-centred earthen pertinence, has been noted as indirectly ebullient at festive times courting celebration.

Somewhat odd to see such import indubitably attached to conjugal digression, the tragic dialectic intermediately adjoining romantic longing and practical accords, the vicious reprobation denying their freeform mutually beneficial cathartic synthesis, morosely encouraging robotic remonstrance as opposed to nuptial nadir. 

Proust had alternative thoughts altogether and dramatically critiqued his sibling's marital fancies, somewhat less enamoured with Victorian reverie even if it ironically permeates his alternative narrative.

Uncanny to envision a stately world wherein which no one works or toils, where the infringing struggles and herculean cynosure are strictly levelled through estate and income.

Not that other social strata don't freely admit grey bumptious bias, perhaps humorous pretensions synthetically compared enigmatically emitting concentric harmonies.

How to delicately enliven such incommensurable audiences without rashly contradicting audacious accords, a close study of one Jack Layton perhaps amenable to a discussion of Foucauldian power relations. 

I must admit, I'm more accustomed to less superstructural arrangements, wherein which a noteworthy cast from sundry domiciles fluently agitate and preposterously proclaim, although I have in fact read this book and clearly understand why so many still read Ms. Austen, there's no doubt she's atemporally gifted, not my style really, but better than most. 

Certainly a world in which the Dashwoods find their Ferrars and Colonels doesn't intuitively provoke inclement entropy, or cosmically upset reverential taste, I wonder what's happening in contemporary literature, as the counter-postmodern reformation blindly struggles. 

I just made that up, I assume that's what's happening anyways.

Focusing on Wabi Sabi myself. 

And the upcoming adventurous summer.

Co-starring Imelda Staunton (Charlotte Palmer), Alan Rickman (The Colonel), and Tom Wilkinson (Mr. Dashwood).

Gravity

Trauma's debilitating cloaked severity haunts Gravity's heroine as destructive debris and interstellar circumstances threaten her very survival, necessitating the delivery of split-second correct decision making where the slightest miscue will accelerate her demise.

Her oxygen supply is running low.

George Clooney (Matt Kowalski) doesn't make it.

Perdition rests in the flames.

Of cherished, bygone, days.

The immediacy of her isolated predicament and its associated inanimate malevolence prevents her conscious reflexivity from being able to divert periodic onslaughts of asphyxiating plush, the situation requiring simultaneous internal and external synthesized orchestrations for her reliable future to independently portend.

The film's action reliably and boisterously builds as the bright and beautiful Ryan Stone (Sandra Bullock) approaches its climax.

Couldn't help but think of the ending of the first Alien film, and that Gravity is somewhat of a gem amongst science-fiction considering that it poignantly and thought provokingly stuns throughout, providing a brilliant exemplar of feminine strength, without introducing a bloodthirsty monster.

Science-fiction more concerned with the beauty of life than gruesome death?

That stands out.