Hidalgo

It never really made much difference to me what College or University you went to, or if you learned esoteric details about different branches of knowledge while on the job, what mattered was how enthusiastically you applied yourself to whatever hand you happened to have been dealt, and how you strove for improvement regardless of class or birth, which generally reflects the spirit of the times I grew up in.

Thus, it wouldn't surprise me if Community College students were also making breakthroughs in respective fields, as Frank Hopkins does in Hidalgo, in the competitive sport of horse racing. 

He didn't get his trusted steed from a well-off breeder publicizing coveted lineage, or even from a local stable offering beginners a tempting free ride, instead he chose his trusted mount from a herd of wild mustangs in Oklahoma, whose descendants still freely ride to this day, un jour j'espère les voir.

He gains a world renowned reputation for winning long distance races in the United States, indeed winning an incredible number throughout his lengthy career.

His reputation becomes so enviable that he attracts the attention of Middle-Eastern competitors, who challenge him to the toughest horse race on the planet, a 3,000 mile trek 'cross forbidding deserts.

He's a first class gamer, he courageously responds, with neither question nor concern for personal safety, even after it becomes apparent his life's at risk, and it's not only the elements who seek to hunt him.

He must face some of the finest stallions to have ever been bred in horse racing history, amongst opponents who doubt he will survive one day on his wild unsung beast who lacks proper pedigree.

But as so often happens in the world of sport which usually celebrates talent regardless of rank or birth, Hopkins and Hidalgo really are the best the world's ever seen, and tenaciously win the "Ocean of Fire".

Exceptionally difficult to do and requiring a genuine degree of hard work and sacrifice, but if raised in even a moderately honest political system, if you excel, you should modestly prosper.

Hopkins takes his prize money and doesn't spend it on lavish trinkets, but rather hears that a herd of mustangs is going to be shot, and pays handsomely for them to be released back into the wild (Go Broncos!) 💌

Born of two-cultures and horrified to have witnessed the scurrilous slaughter of unarmed Native peoples, he proceeds honourably as best he can and must be one of the most successful athletes ever.

It'd be cool to see Viggo Mortensen win the Best Actor Oscar some day.

He's had a lot of roles like this one.

Where it seems like he's holding so much back.

*Unlike Captain Fantastic.

The Mustang

Why people have to round up wild horses is something I don't understand?

Aren't they just chillin' in wide open unoccupied plains, doin' their own thing, not worryin' 'bout other people's business?

Does someone own the grass they eat?

Are they trespassing in the middle of nowhere?

Must they all be tamed and forced to work, to quietly perform without as much as a recalcitrant neigh, as they're rewarded for doing tricks they can't possibly comprehend, when they could have simply been roaming the forgotten wilderness, wild and unconcerned, harnessed to unbridled freedom?

I don't disapprove of The Mustang's horse rearing program, inasmuch as it exists after the fact.

It's actually a brilliant stroke of enlightened rehabilitation, that teaches hardened criminals genuine kindness, love, and compassionate understanding.

The remarkable benefits of animal therapy can easily be found online, which leads me to think that if prisoners were given stray cats and dogs to care for, things might lighten up in some tense environments.

Training a frisky rebellious stallion certainly helps The Mustang's Roman (Matthias Schoenaerts) to feel again, for after years of unmanageable self-imposed isolation, he suddenly opens up to his gentle daughter (Gideon Adlon as Martha).

Soon after he enters the program.

He doesn't take to it so well at first though.

He's so tightly wound he can't listen to anyone other than himself, even when people freely share valued helpful information.

But why is he so tightly wound?

Where does his obstinacy come from?

It could have perhaps been generated by an all-too-encompassing psychological focus on the individual, a shocking inability to calmly listen to an other.

Anyone else, it's as if he's adopted a god-like persona that fails to heed any alternative viewpoint that doesn't match his predetermined will.

His predetermined will alone.

He's likely encountered wicked tricks, people who claimed camaraderie but only sought to cheat him.

But that doesn't mean there aren't others out there providing judicious counsel, lively inspiring goodwill, or that everyone you meet is trying to screw you.

Just have to give a little.

Be willing to let others in.

The Mustang slips up at times and probably could have left out a lot of the violence, and Roman certainly convalesces rather quickly, but it still presents a caring heart that truly seeks honest redemption, after having given up on everything it loved, after having succumbed to total silence.

If the horses can't run free why not train them with similar initiatives?

But I don't see why they can't run free.

They aren't hurting anyone.

And they make nature all the more wild.

Indubitably.

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.

War Horse

Trudging through the war torn European countryside, using skills learned from a forgiving instructor to survive, a horse alertly struggles through World War I, making the most of his talents as he's haplessly acquired by different armies. Functioning as a valuable fortuitous representative of pluck, he resignedly forgoes his wild instincts until circumstances demand their acceleration. As a consequence, he becomes inextricably entangled with imperialist hostilities, an indelible illustration of apocalyptic freedom. External forces most then intervene to secure his release, employing logic and chance to facilitate its realization.

Steven Spielberg's War Horse successfully depicts the brutality of war without glorifying its retributive catharsis (without accenting the accompanying felicity that results from crushing jingoistic calamities). Simplified scenes exemplifying sincere trust or pastoral serenity (the French grandfather [Niels Arestrup] and granddaughter [Celine Buckens]) are juxtaposed with militaristic might to highlight the sharp distinction maintained between these domains. The concept of order is resultantly polarized as well since war represents an extreme form of total mobilization (organization) (you will be shot if you don't follow orders) while the trust built into an idyllic existence organizes necessity (you must work to continuously reproduce your quality of life) in relation to the imagination (it's still possible to enjoy yourself once the work is complete). One approach necessarily tethers fantasy to a definite specific goal while the other leaves it free to roam and discover/create concrete or abstract objects.

The discovery of these concrete or abstract objects may or may not relate directly to your work at hand but in War Horse's opening moments they certainly do. Ted Narracott (Peter Mullan) decides to outbid his landlord for a riding horse which he cannot afford. In order to make the payments, the horse must plow a rocky field that the village has dismissed as unmanageable. Ted's son Albert (Jeremy Irvine) teaches the horse to pull a plow and the land is thereby tilled. Thus, Ted's imagination allows him to believe that he can procure something which can then assist him in earning his living while also providing him with the means to pursue other interests (in his case, drinking, in his son's, horse riding). Unfortunately, a storm ruins his crops forcing him to sell his horse to the military.

And his son signs up for war.