Antoine et Colette

Having graduated from the sterile confines of his sentence to juvenile delinquency, Antoine Doinel moves back to Paris where he finds work and independence. 

Alertly dreaming of the wonderful day when he can no longer be hounded by institutions, he buckles down and digs in deep to keep his room while embracing the arts.

While at an intriguing performance with his old school friend René, he notices a stunning brunette to whom he takes a modest fancy.

Consistently seeing her at the same venues he cavalierly entertains, he eventually finds the courage to ask her out to see a film.

It isn't love at first sight though, from her objective point of view anyways, and although they spend a lot of time together, the relationship goes nowhere.

Forget her, M. Doinel, can't you see she'll never love you!

You've been collocated not collected.

The resultant frustration despondently shrill.

Difficult to imagine an otherworldly culture so serious so borderline obsessed, with rules and regulations it doesn't fit the France I'm more familiar with chill and peaceful (from books and films).

I suppose I grew up post-Antoine Doinel when his influence was more widespread, and you no longer had to tiptoe-through-the-meanies with nauseous cryptic jaded dread.

Hopefully this blasé revival of excessively devout austere mendacity, will fade without the dull recognition that any culture could have ever been so boring.

Antoine Doinel's still not the heartthrob more familiar in later films, but he still seeks lavish amorous illusion in this less accommodating fluid short feature.

Ironically getting along so well with any set of parents other than his own.

Nice to see him gathering his own vinyl collection.

Even working for a record company.

Vinyl still blows my mind.

*A couple cool scenes even present the mechanics of the old school vinyl industry. 

Mojave Moon

Bored and withdrawn yet colourfully animated, a middle-aged carsalesperson orbits his existence, neither dissatisfied nor sincerely content, he curiously acquiesces to life's tomfoolery. 

The unexpected then emerging and quaintly tantalizing as he considers a proposal, a long day a drive into the unknown the desert notwithstanding its sweltering synergies. 

He's been recruited, a gorgeous damsel has indeed been locked down with abject familiarity, as has her daughter the brute's ambition for eternal stasis insipidly solidified. 

He doesn't quite understand the details the grand misfortune accompanying the fam, nor why he's there nor what he's to do with no explanation forthcoming aloha. 

The brute sees his happiness ruined as the tradition he loves is threatened by others, and conceives a rotten and fiendish yet clever plan to simultaneously dispose of his oblivious rivals. 

The desert abandoned things haunting peculiar when the trusted saviour finds a dead body in his trunk.

After which people steal his car.

Not boring.

Still one of those days. 

*Best not to grow too attached to things, eh dad, like the psycho in this movie?

**It's okay to be attached to things son, but you also have to be open to structural change. 

*I guess that kind of makes sense. Sometimes I hate it when things change, but at others it's kind of fun. 

**It's a shame you can't manage the unknown factor like a science experiment or a 500 word essay.

*But wouldn't that bring about artistic ruin?

**I suppose that's correct son. I suppose that's correct. 

Chrysanthemumbles

Florial stigma calisthenic clutter

chatterbox chowda grimacing gruel,

discordant snag touchdowncast iron

tenacious troll bitesize embankment. 

Cheerio chisel postal precision

indented margins Kodiak foal,

dilapotato tumbledown thesp

neolithic narration sculpted foam.

Tame effervescence mild precipitation

meteor showerefore chocolate chips,

decadent fluke lithe charisma

gloatisserie gleam sugar shack shimmy. 

Sonarly squiggle sonorous swag

écoute les hiboux verdant pulse,

evergreen surroundings wild inculcation

incorrigible shuffle lay 'doctrination. 

Glade befuddle transfixed aura

solar elixir ceremonious glide,

edible berries serene implosion

subconscious subset manifest slumber.

Ludicrous luncheon anthropomorphized 

exacting impossibility convex shards,

mid-afternoon tea recuperative snack

animate alchemy wondrous conv'lution.

Crisp calabreeze dainty declamation

febrile compartment improvised custom,

embeelzebubbly uproarious hilt

glib variation fomenting blush. 

Trowel delegation indesjardins

potentate proxy Methuselah mettle,

indisposed quake irrelevant zounds

primordial spool waylaid tricoté.

Decathlon flummox insolvent decorum

itinerant craze barmy sombrew,

mellow expedient corrugated crib

impersonal jinx delicate moj'.

Cloven dispersal magnanimous herd 

ungulate gammon Venetian blinds,

coal collocation charming flamb

disorderly douse famished liaison. 

Stagnating roundabout coiled disposition

slithering sidewind donutter frill,

lucid illusion chomp chomp chomp chomp

acquisitive faction surmontivideo. 

Gallant excursion fluid residual

snowbelt contorsion bonhomme luge,

insatiable iris tasty cuisine

convivial vacay studious sliver. 

Celluloid

Exotic alternative featherwing fathom

gargoilic flight itinerant strand,

innocuous stride jaded carcajewel

evergreen bowrider enveloped song.

Candid seclusion orcaestral cloister

aesthetic shroud velveteen verse,

enlivening shrug joyous sashay

delicate warmth elusive jive. 

Florentine refresh expedient spine

carmellow marshel floral elegance,

latent liaison subconscious swarm

meteeyore mingle preposterous gala. 

Mulletiquette merge bourgeois rebellion

insincere duty jitterbug vibe,

inarticulate vicar amorphous swathe

imperceptible stave sheer instability. 

Corresponding bloom interactive jam

swaggregatorial watershed wriggle,

comatoastie hyphen weathervanguardian

exclamatartarso baleinear. 

Frivolous foray bootcamp blazer

acrylic scripture limestone blues,

emblazoned barnacle suffrage surge

flagship frugality lunar eclipse. 

Flantrepreneurial blithe cherubim 

chillaxed cupidity fletching flex, 

beeswax brethren strident hive

honeycombrackenrig elixir distilled.

Breathtaking ballast temperamental shrill

awkward improvisation serumdipitous salsa,

by the light of the moon quixotic tenure

fanciful frequencies chill affinity. 

Industrious vision resourceful acuity 

cynosure sideline molecular 'moji,

maneuvering magpie acritical crux

aloof quintessentials brittle substance. 

Wholesome weetabixby homely incandescence

cherished camaraderie curious fold,

coordinates clashing sly dissimulation 

mystical conjuring mercurial clips.

Visual inertia ballpoint pendulum

chime illusion rustic clay,

vehicular speed resilient caution

baroque flow swift currentbun. 

Scrutable swishnet legible squire 

victual varmint dormant chant,

taciturnabout clam androgynous boulang'

satchel neutrino gossamer globe. 

A special time of year.

Romantic. 

Chill. 

Blood Simple

Ligament liturgy ecstatic entropy impassioned unleashed covert clandestine captions, fledgling fervour innocuous oater newfound necessities cradle crunch.

Resigned shamanatee hesitant harbinger grotesque gumption supine shutterbug, despotic disclosure tragic forbearance reluctant ransom accurséd accounts.

Vigorous fury toxic engagement outcomes unexpected incipient fugue, disgruntled affection fusillade photoshop disclaimed deceptions demonstrative nerve.

Serendipitous enterprise curmudgeon cashew expedient itinerary audacious embrasure, scurrilous sand-wedge lugubrious sigma gossamer getaway gallantine grief.

Accidental discovery mynock misfortune despondent discomfiture hyena hysterics, improvised onrush maladroit excavation environs entombed disconsolate guava.

Awkward ubiquity psychotic stern renegade reanimation potentate pulse, egregious centigrade uncharacteristic bellicose burmeasles inspired feeling.

Reticent explanation hardboiled anxiety encrypted confusion illiterate torque, bewildered bombastic diagnostic distress unwitting algorhythmic detrital spunk. 

Spontaneous chase forensic foreknowledge oblique discretion carcinogen clambake, ambivalent aloha nebulous necromancy beguiling glenigma otiose oblivion.

Gruesome unsettling ominous scenarios borderline barking mendacious maestros, frigid and frozen fugacious fumigation albeit squishy traumatic high tide.

To stay so dismally determined calabrese calculation pervasive ghouls, hemorrhaged matrimony unyielding formulae enervating exotic tollgate truncheon.

To go so wild and spirited jocose rejuvenation on the road, rekindled rebirth exuberant partner uncertain finances chillaxed extolled. 

Obsessive disabled bleak bland envy power-mad meticulous critical observation, lascivious lifestyle no curious family routine remonstrance dull disquietude. 

Darkly comic embalmed compulsion exhaled disillusion cadaverous consignments, concrete contusions objective misalignments worthwhile macabre mordant malaise.

Inchoate gambit excessively beloved calibrated careers acclaimed and distinguished, varicose variety perpetual motion delirious decades homegrown Americana.

*This is the Coen Brothers's first film.

**Noiresque. Worth checking out. 

Pokolenie (A Generation)

In occupied Poland in 1942, a group of courageous citizens unite, and bravely fight back against Nazi oppression, while looking towards a much brighter future.

Youthful Stach has never worked before and spends his time stealing from trains as they pass, but after his friend is shot by a lone watchful guard he hesitantly decides to try something new.

He's fortunately introduced to strong nimble workers serendipitously in search of a bold new apprentice, who take him in and teach him the basics through focused yet awkward diligent trial and error.

A conversation with one of the older hardworking determined reliable journeypeople, leads to a meeting of likeminded souls unilaterally eager to end Nazi rule.

In their company, he fortuitously finds he has requisite skills he never knew he possessed, his innate resiliency of substantial benefit as he recruits and carries out missions for the resistance.

He's able to assemble a discreet active unite who efficiently engages in covert operations. 

Their latent daring and inherent resolve dynamically leading to lauded camaraderie. 

Difficult days, inordinately tempered by effective spirited active teamwork, smoothly co-ordinated by conscientious compassionate caring ethical individuals.

The overwhelming authority the imposing restrictions far far far too much for any citizen to bear, especially while living within your homeland beneath the hardhearted heals of another nation.

I've often wondered how they organized different resistance movements in Europe during World War II, and how they ran with such fluid dependability and consistently thwarted Nazi ambitions. 

Multilateral interpretive skills imaginatively create multivariable conditions. 

Thrilling to plan something concrete and definitive. 

While constantly engaged in fluctuating experiment. 

Moonshot

You know, if I had my own spaceship and I was heading to Mars, you could have a ride with me. 

If you spend a lot your time rolling bagels and your arm hurts from time to time, there'd be a special masseuse onboard, and you could have a ride with me.

If you wash métro stations at night with those giant industrial floor cleaning machines, your cabin would be idyllically polished, and you could have a ride with me.

If you bust out ye olde weed whacker and cover at least 10k a day, trimming grass with agile endurance, while transitioning to mow and plant and clip and prune, you could have a ride with me.

If you wash dishes with categorical moxie and efficiently keep the supply chain moving, there'll be plates for your cake on board, and you could have a ride with me.

If you enjoy playing the keys as a rhythmic specialist or even a frenzied soloist, we could put the band back together, and you could have a ride with me.

If you can keep the orders in your head and delicately time all the dishes in turn, we can feast on freakin' whatever, and you could have a ride with me.

If you love sundry different films and appreciate vast international diversity, perhaps taking in Fantasia while searching for Criterions, you could have a ride with me.

Pretty much anyone could have a ride with me, but why the hell would we go to Mars, which is basically a barren hostile rock, and live in an oppressive small town settlement, that we could never leave? 

When we could go to Colorado, Tadoussac, Montréal, Hamilton or downtown Muskoka?

There are still billions of years of life left on this here planet.

Give or take a challenging millennia. 

The Smiling Lieutenant

A bored yet daring idle officer (Maurice Chevalier as Lt. Niki) is begrudgingly convinced to assist a friend, who's fallen for a violinist (Claudette Colbert as Franzi) who swiftly plays at a nearby nightclub.

He heeds the fraternal call but during the performance finds himself smitten, his sudden infatuation generously rewarded with a spur of the moment late evening call.

It doesn't pass in jest something long-lasting seems to materialize, but as his exuberant feelings manifest, a sensitive Princess (Miriam Hopkins) happens to notice him.

She thinks he's smiling at her and indeed ridiculing her august manner, her father the King (George Barbier) soon bringing him forth so that he can clearly explain his strange facial expressions.

The King's country isn't a large one yet he still seeks routine pomp and circumstance, and is somewhat annoyed when his Austrian relatives don't provide an elaborate reception.

He's rather habitually ill-tempered but easily placated as well, thus while furious with the confused lieutenant, he doesn't outrageously break down.

Unfortunately for Niki, who has no interest in moving to Flausenthurm, he's soon betrothed to the aggrieved Princess, and festively married shortly thereafter.

But he longs for his highly strung belle who genuinely reciprocates with amorous duty.

The Princess lacking worldly orchestrations. 

Trusted to find versatile improvised harmonies.

It's an awkwardly scandalous vision playfully subverting regal pretensions, wherein which cosmopolitan mischief overwhelms age old ostentation. 

A role likely coveted by many disingenuously finds itself bitterly upheld, the bewildered disconsolate provincials at a lugubrious loss to restore wholesome decorum. 

With their honest and sincere trust I found myself somewhat taken by these royals, having fallen into the romantic trap, accidentally set through hardboiled declamation.

I don't really follow the British Royal Family, I have to admit I've never been that interested, not that I didn't respect the age old Queen who seemed to genuinely care about her subjects.

But considering what Harry's given up and the risks he's taken to defend Duchess Markle, there's no doubt in my mind she's a bonafide Princess, even if she's not playing the role.

An American Princess I suppose imaginatively fusing the grand juxtaposition.

I don't pay much attention to them either.

But I do admire their courage. 

A Woman of Paris

A curious belle habitually considers the manifold opportunities awaiting in Paris, should she be able to cleverly break free from the dismal prison her father's constructed.

A local lad to whom she's betrothed ventures forth one evening in aid, and after her father discovers she's fallen in love he locks his door to her forever.

The lad's own father is also unimpressed and refuses to provide his heartfelt blessing, but as she buys their dependable train tickets, he suffers a fatal collapse.

She doesn't wait around however and years later she's settled à Paris, dating the richest man in town and rather taken with the luxury.

He's quite the cad notwithstanding and even though he does enjoy her company, he's too much of a carefree schmoozer to seek her hand in objective commitment.

Her former belovéd arrives in town and hasn't forgotten how things once were, hoping to secure a rapprochement yet somewhat crestfallen by how much things have changed.

The plutocrat finds it rather comic until he discovers he's quite distraught.

Tragedy awkwardly ensuing.

Remarkably different how things might have been.

I suppose if you're born into a family that takes particular guidelines seriously, and you mature respecting various categories that may have been established regarding oblivion, the earliest ones encountered being somewhat less scandalous, that when you consider historical narrative conventions, one naturally concludes that in the past they must have been stricter.

Since the past indeed took place at an earlier stage and your earliest stages were indeed quite wholesome, the emergence of contemporary scandal a hundred years ago seems out of touch with spiritual computation.

I've heard from time to time that comedic actors hope for dramatic roles, and want to break through in serious films from a desire to develop increasing clout.

But should contemporary comedians consider Charlie Chaplin's genius, what a great thought I had the other day, just watch Chaplin's films for weeks, and the ways in which his comedic films far outweigh his dramatic endeavours, and, to add further emphasis, remain more appealing than so many contemporary dramas, perhaps such comedians shouldn't feel quite so downtrodden, should they rarely abandon humour.

Although comedy has changed remarkably what would Chaplin be creating this postmodern day?

That's a question that should be asked.

I enjoy his dramatic films, but his comedies usurp reason. 

Confidential Report

Spoiler alert.

A man of humble origins obtains astounding wealth, and lives the ostentatious lifestyle well-attuned to extravaganza (Orson Welles as Mr. Arkadin). 

But he has trouble living in the present for some self-obsessed depressing reason, free to do whatever he pleases, he decides to track down old associates.

With ill-intent.

He hires a somewhat clueless blunt do-gooding would-be detective, to discover where they've wound up and any additional information he can find (Robert Arden as Guy Van Stratten). 

He had hoped to blackmail Arkadin with his knowledge of an old school name, and managed to fortunately meet him after getting to know his carefree daughter (Paola Mori as Raina). 

He travels far and wide in search of crucial extant intel, leaving a well-trodden path to follow should one scrutinize his investigation.

He encounters several oddballs enigmatically versed in levity, who supply ample scandalous details of Mr. Arkadin's criminal past.

But he realizes too late that he's been followed and they've been murdered.

And he's been framed for a murder himself.

And there's nowhere left to hide.

Leave things be I say in terms of controversial fascinations, there's peace of mind in a steady job and a potentially loving fulfilling relationship.

After work, there are art museums and a fluid stream of homegrown spectacles at Place des arts, delicately blended with international intrigue the seductive synthesis viscerally reeling.

Plus sports.

A sudden inspired idea can generate piquant multilateral harmonies, ephemerally akin to serendipitous spectrums as genuinely concerned as they are suspicious. 

Perhaps the accumulation of wealth does beget a desire for public recognition, it seems to happen often enough in film and literature, even if the riches were acquired somewhat scandalously. 

Does nominal philanthropy exculpate suspect acquisitive propulsion, like secular sociopolitical tithing written off with a lack of pretence?

It seems like social media would lead to a less ambiguous historical take.

But there are so many competing narratives.

Who tells the most gripping story?

Confidential Report presents a cool cast of characters comically united through witless candour.

Live in the present I say.

Augmented tradition.

Novel change. 

Ansiktet (The Magician)

A different time, a feudal age, wherein which independent theatre was severely scrutinized, authoritative sadists ridiculing mystery applying cold-hearted principles to magical daring, inspired performance requiring sanction to entertain through fascination, the hard work sarcastically ignored the illusions castigated.

A tortured artist once proud of his talents travels from town to town, awaiting dismissive observations and outright refusals from obtuse officials. 

Happiness has been transformed into resigned melancholia, for even though he possesses great talent he's governed by austerity. 

Audiences wish to be amused by his tricks as he conjures and casts and calibrates, the integrity of seamless illusion widely sought after from age to age.

Star Trek may have never prospered.

There's no telling what would have become of vampires and werewolves.

The horrors of absolute control.

Far too concerned with practical reason.

It's not that practical reason is in itself a bad thing in fact it's obviously essential to daily life, the smooth flowing of robust commerce dependent upon its logical reckoning.

Practical film and reasonable books also generate compelling ideas, which fruitfully encourage thought and invention leading to progress and even more comfort.

But there's only so much rationality a person can take after working all week and taking care of a family, and if everything has a utilitarian purpose it may seem like work never ends.

Efficacious totalitarianism has no doubt spoiled many a relaxing weekend.

Comedy and the genres presenting absurd breaks.

Which congenially deconstruct obsession. 

Best if they don't get the upper hand either of course, surrealism best reserved for relaxed play, after work when there's nothing left to do but chill out sit back and dream.

Albert Emanuel Vogler cheats his haughty oppressors through an exceptional act of improvised dissimulation, their resultant angst increased ten-fold by the sudden news that they've been outdriven.

And a brilliant smile adorns Vogler's face as he prepares to perform once again.

The melancholia temporarily subsiding. 

As the middle-class emerges. 

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.  

L'amour en fuite (Love on the Run)

The lighter side of romantic inhibition comically elaborates (through flashback) in Truffaut's L'amour en fuite (Love on the Run).

Antoine (Jean-Pierre Léaud) once again finds himself pursuing the irresistible shortly following his divorce after love interest Sabine (Dororthée) punishes him. 

Driven by genuine liberated invention, his expositions know no bounds, and proceed posthaste wholeheartedly, zephyristic zounds. 

I suppose this goes without saying if you're familiar with the narrative thread, which becomes much more endearing with each instalment frisked and fled.

Indomitable infatuation regal flush disposed curiosity, multivariable assumed inconstant freeform precious jocose romance.

In L'amour en fuite so prone to accident he rediscovers love lost forgotten, who's just purchased the sultry novel he's been writing from film to film.

He takes inquisitive note and seeks rapprochement upon a train, where the details of his book encounter critical acclaim.

He generates appeal beholden flourishes notwithstanding, but can't escape the legal shrewd exotic reprimanding.

Even though he's just incapable of remaining honest, loyal, and true, his partners still adore him unabrasive through and through.

Not to the point where they'll let him get away with it but they still can't deny their feelings, and the lack of boredom he freely generates as he ascertains impulsively.

There's no doubt that creative explanations are his supple imaginative forte, nor that if one enjoys a passionate argument he graciously accommodates.

If so much of life's caught up with routine I suppose there's excitement in experimentation, although it's by no means a general rule but how else to explain the reality?

I'm uncertain as to how feminists or Me Too would respond to the charming Antoine, is he to be condemned for his indiscretions or upheld through honest light?

His inexhaustible enthusiasm demonstrates a thorough love of women, and he isn't forceful or mean or brutal, he's rather quite innocent, inquisitive, enamoured. 

Rascally. 

Is such genuine affection preferable at times to duty and is this why feminists don't condemn him (in fiction), or has Truffaut simply gotten away with it scandalous film after scandalous film?

Antoine certainly means well as he honestly follows his instinct, and doesn't lack ideal sincerity in his explorations of l'amour.

Perhaps just a childish fantasy exaggerating infidelity, to lighten the austere mood that proliferates at times?

Either way it's a funny ending to a story that went way too far.

Not as much depth as Domicile conjugal.

But still traditionally entertaining.  

Cold Dog Soup

An uptight sheltered individual (Frank Whaley as Michael Latchmer) unaccustomed to the underground flow finds himself suddenly embracing l'amour in Alan Metter's Cold Dog Soup.

His flirting skills clock timidity and uncertainty regarding self-worth, yet an act of daring assertion generates shocking relational mirth.

He's soon out for dinner at a love interest's (Christine Harnos as Sarah Hughes) with residing inquisitive mom (Sheree North as Mrs. Hughes), but as they begin to pass around victuals the family dog acrobatically passes.

He's tasked with the objective of burial and sets forth to find a chill park, but the cab in which he accelerates suggests alternative dispositions.

It's piloted by affirmation inclusively metering knowledge freewheeling (Randy Quaid as Jack Cloud), the chauffeur believing a commercial exchange may be more apt than confidential interment. 

Latchmer is ill-at-ease with the proposed moribund scenario, yet lacks the backbone required to refuse and soon attempts to fetch a fair price.

He does briefly escape then swiftly return to Sarah's apartment, but Cloud frenetically follows and enthusiastically enlists her.

They travel together far and wide in search of an appealing price, even contacting the frisky afterlife, learning lessons along the way.

Cold Dog Soup presents a voyage of discovery improvisationally attired, pursuing unorthodox financial goals through the heart of robust intrigue.

Worry and courage conflict throughout as it critiques austere pretensions, or vast categorical dismissals in relation to free-flowing life.

(I recommend taking it easy on the free-flowing these days. The virus isn't disappearing. I'm masking up and remaining cautious).

You could easily replace "worry" with "prudence" and "courage" with "recklessness" at times, but to do so would spoil the fun, which celebrates jazzy absurdist meaning.

It does so well, you'll be surprised by the budget, there's so much going on in this film, the trick is to acknowledge the latent realism without being fully subsumed.

It's sort of like The Warriors but instead of a gang fighting its way back to Coney Island throughout the night, you have a trio attempting to conduct business with different clients till the wee hours.

It's much more clever than it initially seems, the overt ridiculousness cloaks sly observation, beyond predictable commercial conceptions, at wild interactive free play.

A must see if you like independent filmmaking and the joys of why-did-they-make-this? cinema.

So many hilarious scenes.

Lampooning traditional discourse.

License to Drive

The unyielding desire to get out and drive, to head out on the road, to deck out your ride.

It motivates Les Anderson (Corey Haim) in Greg Beeman's License to Drive, who has yet to obtain his driver's license, yet boldly seeks to apply himself vehicularly, and then drive his eager friends around town.

A car is available should he pass the crucial test, and Mercedes Lane (Heather Graham) has agreed to date him, having just broken up with her conceited boyfriend (M.A Nickles as Paolo), whose chauvinism was rather enraging.

There's just one problem.

Perhaps several problems.

Les falls asleep during driver's ed class and fails to acquire vital tidbits of information, which leads to him failing the written portion of his exam, since he's unable to guess the right answers.

But as fate would have it, the computers suddenly break down, his results remaining unknown, and since his twin sister (Nina Siemaszko as Natalie Anderson) passed beforehand, he's given encouraging motivation.

He passes the in-car portion of the exam under unorthodox forbidding circumstances, and returns to the examination centre full of upbeat pluck and resolve.

But his written results have been retrieved, his newfound prosperity instantly nullified.

Yet he still has a date that evening.

And friends who rely upon him.

Trouble abounds after he steals his grandfather's (Parley Baer) Caddy and Mercedes drinks way too much.

But Corey Feldman and Charles (Michael Manasseri) show no hesitation: they're still up for a bombastic drive.

Ah well.

I was hoping for so much more from License to Drive. It didn't have much of a buzz when I was growing up, but there's so much from way back when that I'm sure I must have missed out on.

It's cool to see Corey Haim and Corey Feldman engaged in shenanigans again, and Heather Graham, Carol Kane (Mrs. Anderson), Richard Masur (Mr. Anderson), and James Avery (Les's DMV Examiner) make the most of it; there's no slouching in the face of spasticity.

It promotes driving and the urge to drive with driven adolescent wonder, and sets up a variety of traditional incidents which perhaps still widely resonate.

But protestors and activists are vilified, as are the minority boyfriends of its lasses, and drinking and driving is whitewashed, and I couldn't find a classic '80s moment.

Too high of an elevation of slacking, not enough respect for book smarts, it tries to take things to uninhibited extremes, without ever really kicking into gear.

The Lady from Shanghai

Trouble awaits a foolish hands-on dreamer after taking note of aesthetic charm while strollin' about one fateful evening.

From the way he speaks it's as if he's well-versed in hardboiled tactile role play, and his actions enliven romanticism recreation wit democracy.

But he's easily lured by the appeal of elegant things and dismissive of signs of betrayal, far too trusting for someone so seasoned, too caught up with enchanting ceremony.

The sharks rely on his innate good nature to proceed with nefarious intent, without even much of an effort, much persuasion, insistence, goading.

It's often fun to play games I suppose even if you're unsure of the rules, it's much less boring if they're harmless anyways, a bit of innocent light indiscretion.

Much more meaningful if they aren't too serious.

Non-threatening off hand amusement.

Like gambling, gambling's not so bad if you bet small sums and aren't upset if you eventually lose them, but if you're betting your entire pay cheque and your rent's due the instinctual thrill may be incapacitating.

Michael O'Hara's (Orson Welles) shark anecdote indicates he's a worldly man, but trips to the aquarium and the amusement park suggest he's not a serious gambler.

The destinations weren't self-generated but their applicability's by no means remote, yachting too suddenly comes to mind, sharp diversions from his not-so-steady routine.

Full-on agency he's certainly feisty and more than ready to share his opinion, but that doesn't change the fact that he's broke or single or trusting or hopeful.

I'm supposed to question whether or not it's a genre, but I think there's no doubt there's a film noir style, that filmmakers are aware of its loose narrative conventions, way more so far back in the day.

If Welles possessed such an awareness perhaps The Lady from Shanghai was a cheeky lampoon, much too subtle to emerge strictly comic, much too blunt to assume grand tragedy.

The aquarium and the fun-house suggest it's not taking itself seriously, unorthodox courtroom theatrics, an extended altercation, too many pills and it's off to Chinatown, just before the verdict descends.

If hapless film noir chumps notoriously can't piece things together, O'Hara is particularly obtuse considering his personal history.

The final shoot out's a bit far-fetched.

George Grisby's (Glenn Anders) character's ridiculous.

A wake up call perhaps that also laments such traditional dispositions, too good to be true and what have you, but who would have blamed him for trying?

Well worth it regardless of intrigue if not simply to dismiss what I'm saying, there are many great lines and scenarios, and I'd argue a love for the absurd.

The drifting labourer takes on men of means and falls for one of their wives.

Who's bashful enough to encourage him.

Distill blueprints ad infinitum.

The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension

Do the spaces found within seemingly docile solid materials in fact house inordinate extraterrestrials imprisoned forlorn and ever after?

And have they been transported there by advanced alien beings who curiously monitor life on Earth to ensure the galaxy is not imperilled?

The answers to these questions, like so many others, remain uncertain, for who's to say what inhabits the imperceptible if it indeed cannot be perceived?

Yet science, perennially sleuthing, is undaunted by such perplexities, bold Buckaroo Banzai (Peter Weller) deciphering clues to what may in fact lathe mathematical convention, as he applies piquant planetary particulars to unheard of galactic synergies, his momentum unconsciously driven, by repute, cogito ergo sum.

In so doing he travels across the 8th dimension, within which evil restrictively resides, returning with proof of biological protocol, and visual records of alternative life.

He still makes it to a gig with his supporting band later that evening, where a despondent lovelorn fan (Ellen Barkin as Penny Priddy) makes known her sincere distress.

As rival Emilio Lizardo (John Lithgow) madly reemerges, to join forces with despotic largesse, another group of aliens who seek to free their incarcerated brethren, who lack the knowledge to penetrate the realm themselves, who desperately covet Buckaroo's secret formula, not to mention his chill sporty ride.

But if they get the formula, the friendly aliens will destroy planet Earth to prevent the forces of tyranny from escaping, a high price to pay for unbound innovation, as unsettling as it is battle-scarred.

1984 was a different time, and I can't speak to how well Buckaroo was received then, if it was known for bold hilarity or hapless head shakes, if it prospered, or just slipped aside.

It has a great cast including Weller, Lithgow, Barkin, Christopher Lloyd (John Bigbooté), Jeff Goldblum (New Jersey), Dan Hedaya (John Gomez), Vincent Schiavelli (John O'Connor), Clancy Brown (Rawhide), Matt Clark (The Secretary of Defense), and Jonathan Banks (Lizardo Hospital Guard), but it doesn't do much with their chaotic expertise.

It spoofs how seriously sci-fi takes itself at times and the ludicrous plot is wildly nuanced with brains, but there's too much thought worked into the interstellar shenanigans to let the laughs lackadaisically let loose.

It's like Buckaroo spent more time calculating what it means to be funny rather than just simply telling jokes or presenting foolish situations.

New Jersey is a good example of what I mean here, the cowboy's totally out of place and seems like he should be funny, but he really isn't at all because he doesn't have solid material to work with.

Buckaroo makes science-fiction seem ridiculous, its succeeds at achieving this goal, but it forgets to do so with disarming levity, as Spaceballs did so remarkably well.

But I may be missing comedic points that were more versatile at the time, and I imagine what I didn't find funny was once well-received.

Sometimes cool casts like this wind up in a stinker too.

That still happens.

Not all the time though.