Mulan

Way back in the 1980s and ye olde '90s it seemed inevitable, that people would be chosen to play active roles based on their abilities as opposed to race or gender.

The continuous dissemination of progressive narratives interactively found in books, TV and film, encouraged the equitable development of equal opportunity across the land.

The absolute was definitively critiqued and humorously lampooned in multifarious flux, thousands upon thousands of alternative viewpoints productively shared with evocative gusto.

The open-minded ethos and shifting conclusions weren't wholeheartedly adapted by many, however, the subconscious desire for lucid answers effectively delivered much more enticing.

Not just for mathematical problems but for sociocultural and political dilemmas, their inherent fluctuating resilience and inconclusive nature somewhat frustrating. 

In mathematics class, it's often enjoyable to find the right answer, indeed to know there's an actual answer that can be resolutely considered correct.

In language studies, it can be just as fulfilling to find multiple theses and reasonable alternatives, since concrete responses ne'er suffice due to multilateral layers of ambivalence. 

Applying multiple layers of ambivalence to the exacting study of mathematics, systematically seems rather comical when effectively challenged by harnessed answers.

Just as the manageable adherence to absolute answers seems somewhat ludicrous from linguistic perspectives, as culturally broadcast again and again by various sitcoms in the United States.

But as the '90s faded, and new technologies become more prominent, the old school ambiguous linguistic efficiencies began to lose ground to mathematical absolutes.

And Trump found himself elected again by a people seeking political absolutism.

The spirit of the '80s and '90s is still out there no freakin' doubt, but it's not as widespread as it used to be in many regions across the U.S.

But where it still resides equal opportunity likely also exists, and should young Mulans vigorously seek non-traditional roles they will hopefully find them. 

It's so distressing to see such incredible intellects like Kamala Harris or Hillary Clinton defeated by a guy like Trump (it's not just that they lost, it's that they lost to a guy like that).

Who seems like he would have failed kindergarten.

Because he never learned to share. 

Blue Beetle

I was seriously impressed with D.C's Blue Beetle.

And I had no idea what to expect.

Awkwardly, I had never heard of the Blue Beetle and didn't know where he or she fit into the D.C Universe, it's actually a bit more fun watching sci-fi-action-adventure when you have no idea who the characters are, notably when Grandma takes cues from T2, and the story deals with crippling student debt. 

According to Instagram, Biden and Harris have taken great strides to ease American student debt burdens, which is impressive, they've actually done something about it, like I said before, it's like Michael Moore's Presidency.

Blue Beetle works with a struggling family who worked hard to put one of its children through college, who returns home after completing his undergraduate degree, to find his family facing eviction.

The landlord tripled the rent and it was just way too freakin' much, after years of reliable solvency, such rent increases should be illegal (partout).

But Reyes is still happy to see his family who are just as enthused to see him, and he fortunately hooks up with the heir to a massive corporation, whom may prove rather handy in the upcoming sequel.

"The Scarab Beetle" chooses him as well and he becomes an unwitting superhero, his genuine honesty motivating the alien's choice, his acclimatization chill with improvisation.

Respect for Latino-America and the integral families that stick together, and extended communities that lend helping hands, it must be a cool network to be a part of.

It's similar with the French they genuinely care about one another, they may feud and bicker and disagree but at the end of the day it's a bona fide community.

With all my elevations of family values I may be giving the wrong impression, I don't actually want to have a family, that ship sailed a long time ago (too crazy for relationships).

A lot of the posts I see on social media and within films and series plus books, do seem to focus on family however, and it does seem to be a universal factor (respect for people who deal with the responsibility [hence often writing about them]).

There are still millions of single people out there for whom this model simply doesn't fit, or fits for a time, and then later doesn't, I do feel more at home with them.

I really loved Blue Beetle it honestly and sincerely cares about people, it's not the millionaires or all-powerful aliens, it's a remarkable family that's easier to relate to.

Hopefully robot police aren't seriously being considered around the world.

That needs to be collectively fought.

Even by ye olde policepersons.

Note: I really need to get into Mexican TV. 

It looks amazing!

I'm putting Blue Beetle up there with Captain America: Civil War (Politics) and Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 (Animals). 

For its intense focus on Social Justice. 

And cool story.

And amazing Dad.

Au hasard Balthazar (Balthazar)

Bold childhood declarations subliminally etched and ethereally nurtured, as time passes piecemeal and peaceful borderline pasteurized enigmatic shades.

Pressing ambitious ingenuity sage book-learning incisively applied, resulting yields tantalizing and abundant copiously accruing practical dividends. 

Rented land unimaginatively considered by its well-meaning spirited and generous masters, resulting in disproportionate dishevelling alarm as the plentiful crops benefit another.

But not initially however only after years of shocking envy, malevolently creates a vitriolic buzz which dishonourably characterizes the industrious tenant.

Meanwhile, a hapless donkey known affectionately as Balthazar makes his way, often abiding by his owner's dictates but at times engaging in judicious free play.

As seasons change and fortunes fade he's dismissively transferred around the small town, an elaborate tale in the paramount slipstream to be nimbly told to other curious beasties. 

His original owner gradually comes of age and shares his adventures throughout the village.

Jealousies prognosticating doom.

Pervasive detritus malignantly engendered. 

I thought this film may be more upbeat upon reading the synopsis championing Balthazar, not that I mind ye olde hardboiled bucolics, I just wasn't expecting the gloom.

There are ways of thinking I don't quite comprehend because they seem ignominiously counterproductive, for instance is it not preferable to applaud hard work and effort should an old or new friend find themselves succeeding?

Perhaps I took the Vulcan message wisely wishing prosperity for others too seriously, but if logic is customarily applied, is it not more fortuitous to encourage goodwill?

Do the Jedi not function commensurately as they mind the galaxy's crafty well-being, do ninjas not also perform the same function, why then are they so often disregarded?

Perhaps 'lil Balthazar knows an age old secret that he's not telling, that would help us move past inanimate grief to a more generally prosperous Star Trekkian dynasty.

It's sad to watch when he's suddenly mistreated although he sometimes does do well, and I was reminded once again of I, Claudius as I viewed another Robert Bresson film.

The emperor Claudius apparently in adulthood generously let his animals retire after years of service.

And let them relax in his fields without burden.

Having adopted the soulful life.

*Imagine a law like that!

**I bet there would be one on Star Trek.

Kaze no tani no Naushika (Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind)

My thoughts regarding the resilience of nature as pertaining to a post-pandemic environment, find rational contradiction within Ghibli's Kaze no tani no Naushika (Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind).

Within a toxic environment has pesitferously emerged after an apocalypse, most forests having become so polluted that they can no longer sustain human life.

Human life as we know it the forests and the giant insects who reside within them, have no tolerance for extant humanity, being fully aware that we destroyed the planet.

Thus, rather than habitual resiliency which sees the abundant return of cherished plants and animals, the forests still grow but have become infected with inherent anatomies hostile to humans.

Such a development corresponds to the theory that microplastics herald our doom, and will perhaps one day make food sources unsustainable as our population expands.

The literary irony within the minuscule components which once ruled the land with colossal magnitude, as fitting as the end of a Victorian novel as applied to the fossil fuel age.

You would think we would simply take steps to gradually transition away from fossil fuels, but that doesn't seem to be happening anywhere, this film was made in 1984.

You would think the consistent stewardship of a robust environment hospitable to our needs, would indeed be of the utmost importance considering the maintenance of posterity. 

It really isn't though, rather the chaotic clash of market based dogma rules the millennia, and should prudent planning screw up a sale fury will vociferously tantrum incarnate.

Such facts aren't lost on Kaze no tani no Naushika which sees the world still fighting suicidal wars, hellbent on annihilating our species 1,000 years later, ignoring science and ecologial rhythms. 

Nausicaä herself reveals the value of study and the just rewards of patient duty, as her innate wonder and curiosity find working solutions to age old problems.

Don't we have working solutions now to fossil fuel issues and environmental bedlam?

Isn't it best to employ them through a gradual transition?

Like sustainable economics.

Just a little less so. 

Biosphere

It does seem like the overarching narrative universally composed for apocalyptic consumption, is that our widespread dependence on fossil fuels will eventually lead to disastrous ends.

Fossil fuels being the ancient remnants of once ebullient and flourishing life, it's like that fluid life is integral to the planet's vitality, and it's limitless use devastating to it.

It's limitless use has led to exotic comforts and prolonged longevity only conceivable to ingenious cavepeople, but the resultant destructive weather patterns ominously suggest our efforts have backfired.

Further, the desire to consume by an affluent enormous ravenous population, has led to the exhaustion of global forests, and as carnal consumption exacerbates global heating, it's as if science has proven our practical limitations.

As if God created a biodiverse planet with manifold imperceptible checks and balances, which science slowly unravels, proceeding in error from time to time.

One such balance was the number of lifeforms the environment could reasonably sustain, and if one lifeform consumed the others to preposterous limits, other ways would be found to manifest jeopardy.

In addition, the versatile life blood (oil) was voraciously used up with no regards to moderation, the Earth responding with calamitous reckoning designed to promote inhabitability. 

In Biosphere, we find two survivors living on a planet thoroughly polluted, yet to bounce back from meteorological armageddon, living together in a secluded dome.

It's an odd balance of hyper-intensity and raw comedic lackadaisical mayhem, an enticing balance struck between zealots and the easy-going precariously situated within perdition.

Perhaps it could come to that who's to precisely predict such outcomes, the Earth is quite fertile however, and sometimes finds ways to recover rather quickly.

Take animal life in local environs, during the pandemic the economy wasn't shut down for long, but since then, knock on wood, I've seen unprecedented numbers of animals curiously engaging with their surrounding environments. 

There could be other reasons to explain the abundance of wildlife and perhaps it is cyclical as others suggest (I root for The Farmers Almanac) , but if so I've waited 25 years for this point in the cycle, it clearly doesn't come along very often.

Biosphere is an incredible film vibrantly brought to life by Sterling K. Brown (Ray) and Mark Duplass (Billy), who pull it off with authentic composure within foreboding chaotic inhospitable confines.

If you're a bit squeamish about gender relations the film may not be for you.

But if you look past them and embrace alternative storytelling, you may find a compelling narrative.

*Cool to hear so many old school references. 

Far & Away

An industrious lad mourns the passing of his father only to have insult added to injury (Tom Cruise as Joseph Donnelly), as the landowner's bellicose representatives proceed to appropriate his property.

Unaccustomed to blunt disparity he takes the law into his own hands, and sets forth in perilous search of the oblivious aristocrat in question (Robert Prosky as Daniel Christie). 

Yet he's discovered asleep in the barn one scandalous inopportune strict morning, the estate owner's daughter having cleverly detected and proceeded to relieve him of his balance (Nicole Kidman as Shannon Christie). 

Nevertheless, he's soon challenged to duel where that very same lass comes uproariously rising, and leads him away in fact to a ship bound for North America.

The two make an awkward glib pairing as the fashionable lady must learn to work, while Joseph excels in the world of prize fighting and graciously teaches her how to make an honest living.

Pride diabolically emerges however and the honourable Donnelly soon loses his head.

Banned from ever boxing again within Boston.

They struggle to find food and shelter.

While watching Ron Howard's Far & Away I was reminded of realist ambitions, and the ways in which many artists in my youth delicately strove for historical accuracy.

Thus we see actual clothes being washed long before washing machines were invented, and near the end sundry wagons and horses vigorously line up to compete for Oklahoman land.

Class and privilege also haughtily fade as the levelling tides of prosperity mingle, the old world manifesting itself anew, while raw opportunity seeks its annulment. 

In terms of lending old and new world preponderances in a thrilling narrative equipped with romantic candour, Far & Away imaginatively and mischievously excels and makes me wonder why more hasn't been made of it.

Even before the Mission Impossible days Tom Cruise still cut his teeth as a prominent boxer, in conscientious drama wherein elfin which age old pluck and tenacity applauded.

Nicole Kidman also prospers as the stern maiden creatively and reflectively improvising, learning to follow her thoughtful instinct in a land much less prone to ancient pride.

Imagine Jane Austen was more of a rebel and took to the seas with Ernest Hemingway. 

Classic integral Ron Howard. 

Co-starring the daring Colm Meaney (Mr. Kelly).

The Card

Interesting at times to view entrepreneurial innovation, as applied to personal success, within stilted social confines.

Note then that in many a Dickens novel it can be quite difficult to earn a living, the Victorian era accordingly much stricter, and manifestly less forgiving.

Characters often run into difficulties and at times wind up in debtors's prisons, habitually stuck there for years on end with family in tow and scant means of escape. 

The Card takes an alternative approach to the uptight predicaments of the era, and shines forth ingenious particulates which fortuitously illuminate Edward Machin's (Alec Guinness) fortunes.

Oddly enough, while venturing forth, I often take note of random phenomena, striking ephemera that catches me eye, and results in poetic expenditure.

Whether it's the way the moonlight happens to highlight the bushes in a hearty swamp, or how indicative fluid movements seem to be naturally mimicking filmic discretion, unaware, I often take note of something, which then undergoes mutation.

In The Card, Machin approaches life in a corresponding way, yet his ideas inspire commerce to the general aggrandizement of his purse.

Thus, rather than thinking, egad, a mushroom, he comes up with creative ways to collect back rents, which result in hardly any evictions, and genuinely please worried landlords. 

Much like a Dickens hero, he isn't a cad or a vicious scoundrel, he even dutifully looks after his family as time passes throughout pressing life.

It's fun to watch as an ambitious upstart universally excels without recourse to cunning, his profits shared with his trusted mates, his honest success to their mutual confidence. 

It's like the opposite of many a ruthless tale of lucrative desire, so often celebrated indeed it's no wonder we're lodged in metaphysical disillusion. 

But cheerful stories still emerge posthaste and it isn't all übermensch versus union, I'm thinking of the quizzical Yes Man and even Belfast or Bohemian Rhapsody. 

Is it just that the mainstream's losing its audience and has to therefore resort to cataclysmic reckoning, or is this how people practically theorize the evolution of visual narrative through neomonarchism (The Trump Effect)?

Who knows really I can't imagine but I always thought blockbusters financed exceptions.

With the Oscars emergent new data materializes. 

Civilized millennia?

Recalcitrant scope! 

8-Bit Christmas

A different time known by many only through festive fable and resolute reanimation, during which new technological developments proliferated, along with the age old tried and true.

In fact inherent resonant syntheses at times harmoniously hastened, newfound revelatory reckoning hitherto unheard of in sundry millennia. 

With such abundant novelty elucidating ingenious spirits habitually distilled, random fluid intermittent auspices risibly attuned to salient synergy.

Within this unsurpassed decade, 8-Bit Christmas shares its tale, with laudable attempts to appear authentic, throughout the incumbent childhood reminiscence.

For one youngster within the neighbourhood has received every newly released toy, and his surrounding covetous playmates seek to be chosen to actively play.

They longingly gather en masse while young Mr. Keane (Chandler Dean) treats them contemptuously, his haughty dismissive cheeky flaunting generally tolerated with tranquil reticence. 

But 'lil Jake Doyle (Winslow Fegley/Neil Patrick Harris) has had enough and after a haunting disturbing incident, sets out to buy a Nintendo of his own to freely accommodate nimble gaming.

The initial plan involves the Scouts and the accumulation of commodities sold, wreathes indeed to communal stalwarts ceremoniously accustomed to symbolic tradition.

If his sales reverberatingly reach sought after insurmountable superlatives, it is thought he will receive a new Nintendo gaming system.

But something's not quite right and his friends may have been misinformed.

Thus inspiring strategic improvisation. 

With the aid of friends and family.

Not merely a history lesson for contemporary enthusiasts intent on study, but also a blueprint for high-stakes shenanigans as once conceived sans online technologies. 

For there was indeed a time when intricate detail was interactively worked into thoughtful recreation, and playful meetings were held in person to freely negotiate what lay outside.

It was called conversation wherein which curious peeps expressed different points of view, and if the answer remained uncertain what were known as books were readily consulted.

I really enjoyed this film and will likely check it out again next Holiday Season (along with works by Raymond Briggs [I have a huge list of shows and films to watch every year {and it just keeps growing!}]). 

It has a classic Christmas ending (love you dad).

Applicable throughout the ages.

*Happy Holidays from Everyone here at Film Reviews! All the best in everything in 2023!

La planète sauvage (Fantastic Planet)

Far off on a hectic planet humans (oms) are treated as undesirables, the dominant haughty traag species rather intolerant of different lifeforms.

They possess much greater height and ancient meditative traditions, along with cryptic advanced writing which the oms can't readily decipher.

They manage the om population with paternalistic uptight disdain, their children allowed to keep oms as pets, the free wild peoples treated like vermin.

One rather observant om is introduced to traag learning however, lessons transmitted through an omniscient horseshoe which traag children use to develop and grow.

Many om years pass and young Terr (Barry Bostwick/Eric Baugin/Jean Valmont) acquires much sought after knowledge, his owner aging at a much slower pace, losing interest with her pet as a teenager.

He takes his opportunity to escape and brings the encyclopaedic technology with him, abruptly adjusting to life in the wilderness, with peeps wary yet impressed by his learning.

Thanks to the didactic device many oms begin to acquire an education, and prove just as adept as they reflexively do here upon our own bountiful Earth.

But the traags decide their numbers have grown much too large to be safely managed.

Presenting an ambitious and wicked plan.

To engage in full-on extermination.

Rather unsettling to casually watch as humans fall prey to strategic whims, carelessly launched by unsympathetic derisive dominant domineering giants.

Their diminutive size and lack of resources leaves them vulnerable to various beasts, as do their scattered proud distrustful clans who bravely subsist in scant isolation.

But the survivors bond in an abandoned rocket field and earnestly learn from Terr's technology, hoping to escape to a clandestine moon upon which they will be free from vile traag tyranny.

Education proves vital indeed and soon a less dependent state of affairs emerges.

As ingenious pedagogical applications redefine ancient endemic balances.

The parallels with our cherished home planet should not be dismissed or even overlooked, as billions of animals spend their entire lives in cages awaiting to be served up as food.

The industry could be much more humane and if meat consumption decreases we could stop global warming.

Unfortunately, pigs and cows can't read.

But there are still millions of humanoids who support them. 

The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind

A small village in rural Malawi struggles to make ends meet, farmers reliant on the yearly harvest to generate vital income.

The Kamkwambas have been working hard with the hopes of sending their son to school, they've even paid his initial deposit and purchased the requisite uniform.

William's (Maxwell Simba) eager to learn, to excel, but needs time to sit back and study, competing demands ensuring time management's a full-time strict priority.

As school progresses and routines conflict drought descends with stifling severity, and his family can't pay his remaining tuition and must subsist on meagre preserves. 

But his sister's dating his teacher so he thinks of a crafty plan, and gains access to his school's modest library keeping instructive books on hand.

He's quite adept at finding solutions for quizzical electronic conundrums, his practical fluency highly valued by friends and neighbours and family.

He finds books that teach him new things and give him ideas he never thought possible, including a way to irrigate crops during the lengthy hot dry season.

With this method his family and others can plan to grow crops throughout the year, the extra harvest a bountiful godsend scientifically engineered. 

But book learning's still highly suspect and his idea simply seems too radical, his father (Chiwetel Ejiofor) fearful of making things worse should it fail to produce as planned.

The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind celebrates bold dynamic learning, in an environment suffering from extreme hardship, without staples or resource to spare.

It's a shame the library within wasn't public and required so much wealth just to access it.

Creating public libraries can be rather difficult if there's little to tax, but communal initiative can spearhead exuberance to keep infrastructure intact.

The sharing of ideas the transmission of knowledge the transformative vast applications, await people seeking solutions to questions they may never have known how to ask.

Myriad subjects augment traditions with novel imaginative spice, skies opening up within reason as ingenuity serves to entice.

You can learn a lot through chill conversation while working on various projects, but sometimes the right book will present years worth of discussion in less than 200 pages.

William reads such a book and makes an incredible difference in his community.

Resiliently daring to dream.

Cultivating robust yields. 

With Joseph Marcell (Chief Wembe).

*Also, a great film directed by an actor (Chiwetel Ejiofor).

Knives Out

The details of a significant literary fortune gravely concern a renowned P.I., after its author passes away.

For multiple motivations could have driven his children to murder, although things seem quite prim and proper during preliminary investigations.

But bold personalities have lied about particulars to appear both innocent and ready to please, their uncoordinated individualized tales melodramatically unwinding under further examination.

Classic lackadaisical mischief improvisationally askew, a bit of lacklustre stiff-lipped cerveza effervescent undrafted clues.

An ingenue accompanies Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig) as hypotheticals brashly accumulate, her involvement hushed up meanwhile while others clash and conciliate.

Unnerved as if something's counterpoised, or shifty, ill-gotten, extraneous, her own misdeeds wouldn't be so incriminating, if they weren't so exceedingly awkward.

Disbelief as inherently relied upon as stealth or disingenuous inquisition, what's to be said is difficult to say, if everything isn't just brought right back up.

Veracity assuming verisimilitude.

Awaiting redoubtable spectre.

A murder mystery not as stealthy as I had expected, still induces endearing alarm, more commercial than Frost, Morse, or Vera, its lighthearted humour in sharp cheeky contrast.

Almost as if writer/director Rian Johnson is aware of the appeal of astute British sleuths, yet sought something less traditional for his star-studded Knives Out, then hired Daniel Craig (James Bond) to detect with a Southern accent, to craft something much more American.

It's first rate unperturbed spice mélange, unconcerned yet still strict and serious, bashful yet residually haunting, determined to make things up as it goes along.

It generates enough interest early on to still entice as it gives itself away, cleverly concealing less evident alternatives, to sustain reanimating perspectives.

If there ever was an old world its conception disputes the new, as the media picks up the scoop, and youth habitually makes the right moves.

It's cool to see a film that finds a physical image to sum up its form in the end, although I can't mention what it is, although from what I've said it should be somewhat obvious.

Neither too light nor too dark and damning, another creative film from the versatile Rian Johnson.

Not as edgy or grim as Looper.

But certainly a lot more fun.

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.

Abominable

The loss of a loved one drives an innocent youth to seek distraction through work, her bounteous labours distraught self-exclusion, her family concerned, her friends highly critical.

In the evenings, after refusing to sit down for a nice meal, she still regales the slumberous masses with passionate violin song, her emotions as tender as kitten cuddles, her insights conjuring tone, a melancholic im/material maestro, grieving through derelict soul.

One night a mind-boggling surprise timidly awaits her, for a frightened yeti has sought refuge on her rooftop, unaccustomed to concrete or chaos, yet abounding with love for music.

Yi (Chloe Bennet) soon realizes ne'er-do-wells are in hot pursuit, and adjusts her routine accordingly, to facilitate his agile escape, and embrace the forbidding unknown.

But not before friends discover what they're up to, and wind up hitching along for the ride.

There is a slight problem though, for they have to improvise their way from Shanghai to the Himalayas.

With those who would exploit them tracking their every move.

But sometimes risk engenders adventure, and uncertainty begets innovation, saturated with enriching magic, inventing wondrous epic reflex.

Rationally pitched through wild variety.

Blending novelty and convention.

The youngsters indeed strive to reach the legendary Himalayas in DreamWorks's jazzy Abominable, three youths and a gifted yeti cub, exercising latent imagination.

The skills they never knew they had.

The integrity they had been blindly overlooking.

Sometimes you need challenge to awaken vigour and voice, as Paul Atreides does in Dune, although it need not involve interplanetary conflict.

Build a cabinet.

Learn to make pasta from scratch.

It helps if your resolve or your team has recourse to magic, as the lads and lass and yeti do in Abominable, but you can always substitute the word "books" for "magic", and find myriad aids at your local library.

Or libraries if you travel.

Of course conflict demotivates and you need a thick skin to bounce back or continue to move forward, the kids in Abominable persevering against unfavourable odds, assisted by fortuitous transformations.

Perhaps their journey's too cozy, or lacking discombobulation, but it's still fun to watch as they swiftly outmanoeuvre, friendship and family esteemed on the fly.

They're interested in life and living, not cashing in on exploiting difference, and they do what they can to help the yeti regain freedom, proactively managing warm and friendly initiatives.

Inspiring depth.

Like the mysterious yeti.

*It would be nice to have a roommate who played the violin. Just sit back, read or write as he or she practices. That would be amazing.

**With a pet cat too.

Honeyland

In the remote wilds of Northern Macedonia, an innovative maiden makes endearing ends meet.

In touch with fickle nature, ensconced within her environs, she harvests nurturing honey, to swiftly sell to local merchants.

A true friend of bee kind, she takes no more than she requires, and shares that which she humbly consumes, with her industrious agile constituency.

Never guided by greed nor gluttony.

In harmony with rustic enrichment.

Not that she's making huge disposable sums, but she has something left over for a bit of fun, and is able to care for her loving mother, who lives with her in modest surroundings.

Itinerant neighbour farmers move in to harvest nutritious honey as well, but they lack Hatidze Muratova's knowledge, and proceed in error in search of profit.

Motivated to gather much larger quantities, they fail to consider the health of their bees, as a third party eggs them on, who's more concerned with sugar than soul.

Shouldn't one always care for their workforce?

Ensuring health to prolifically prosper.

While respecting local traditions.

And maintaining holistic balance.

Honeyland follows Hatidze and her new age neighbours as they employ different management strategies, one in touch with solemn longevity, the other breeding contempt in haste.

The honey looks so delicious.

Eaten right off the comb!

Abounding with innovative nutrients.

Synergistically savouring strength.

Honey's one of the most wonderful things and it's a miracle that it exists in nature, a vital juxtaposition provoking thought, inasmuch as something so sweet can critique so severely.

Bears love it.

I imagine other animals less immune to stinging do as well.

I find bees won't sting you as long as you remain calm. If one lands on you, don't move, rest immobile, patiently wait 'til it freely moves on.

Even if one lands on your lip.

Or your eyelid.

Bees.

Honeyland's also hardboiled and distinct, vividly capturing woes of hard living.

Difficulties of having to start work so young.

Without recourse to community or medicine.

The spirit of independence durably thrives within, vibrantly generating lush sustainability, through hardcore pluck and spry versatility, thoughtful observation, long-lasting care.

Hatidze Muratova's an individual like no other.

Her story brought to life by a documentary team.

A moving imaginative tale.

Overflowing with intense life.

Not to mention some harmless fun.

Laidback immersive simplicity.

Harrowingly disturbed.

Resourcefully contradicted.

First Man

I don't know what to make of space travel.

Would I like to travel to space?

Yes.

Would I like to explore space?

Yes.

Would I like to meet alien lifeforms?

Yes.

Do I wish extraterrestrial animals were featured more prominently on Star Trek?

Definitely yes.

It seems like an awfully expensive trip though, and since money hasn't been replaced as it has on Star Trek, in the Federation anyway, I would rather see trillions of dollars used to clean up the oceans, and feed the world's poor, and promote birth control worldwide, and proactively fight climate change.

Given the current state of the geopolitical scene, I unfortunately can't see any of those things happening soon, or at least until a cataclysmic environmental disaster dismally shakes things up.

I imagine if there was a God, and he or she did return, her or his first act would be to force us to clean up the planet.

While spending most of his or her time chillin' with dolphins.

However, I suppose if that happened the religious right would try to kill God.

Instead of just recycling things, consuming less, embracing flex-time, and marketing disposable containers.

I think I got that idea from South Park.

The science of space travel, the practical theoretical brilliance of the mathematicians, engineers, scientists, and technicians who managed to land a space craft on the moon, is still compelling nevertheless, perhaps the most risky unparalleled ingenious voyage ever hypothesized, even more important than whatever Donald Trump had for breakfast today, which I'm sure will intrigue historians and political scientists for upcoming untold millennia.

First Man doesn't focus on the math though, choosing rather to intently examine the brave astronauts who risked their lives to pioneer space travel, and they really did risk their lives when you consider how experimental the space program was, and rushed, incredibly brilliant no doubt, but still experimental and rushed, would you like to fly this ship we just made and aren't really sure about, not across the ocean, but into the stars themselves, and courageously embrace eternity with the fleeting awe of starstruck munificence?

True daring.

Yes.

It's a sure and steady meaningful account of the Armstrongs, beginning with the tragic death of their first daughter, and ending after Neil (Ryan Gosling) lands on the moon.

Mr. Armstrong is presented as an introverted somewhat cold yet loving man who lost a lot after Karen (Lucy Stafford) passed, but still remained a hard-working devoted husband.

Janet Armstrong (Claire Foy) struggles with the realities of being an astronaut's wife, when so many husbands aren't coming home, and the film reasonably showcases her frustrations at the rare moments when she presents them, her logical suggestions embraced by her husband, as the two practically exemplify self-sacrificing commitment and understanding.

First Man covers a long period of time but its snapshots are well chosen.

It's not overflowing with emotion or exclamation or patriotism, it's a much more sombre illustration of achievement that depicts determination objectively.

The events showcased within patiently generate their own significance while crafting a brave narrative that's much more familial than national.

I wouldn't have included only one black character as a voice of protest though, especially considering the resilient African Americans who worked on the space program, some of whom were poetically illuminated by Theodore Melfi's Hidden Figures, brilliant minds given deserved respect.

Nonetheless, First Man's temperate, generally formal calculus still makes you feel like you're really there, landing on the moon, taking steps in the most otherworldly of environments.

That we've visited this side of the galaxy.

I've heard Madagascar's pretty wild too.

I really felt like I was there, checking things out, wandering around, collecting samples.

I think we should clean up this planet first before heading to Mars or beyond.

I have the utmost respect for the people who risk their lives travelling to space though.

And the math that makes it all possible.

Imagine your team thought all that up and was right.

Too bad space travel's so expensive.

Although I've heard hemp can be used for just about anything.

Even to make fuel.

And it grows like a weed.

So it likely doesn't require pesticides.

Damn.

*Okay, I suppose there's room for ambiguity by writing, "rivetingly so, 😏", so I took it out, to avoid confusion. In my head I thought, "wait, use the word 'rivetingly,' you rarely use that word because you think it's used too often and people will obviously understand that and know that you're being facetious, because everyone knows that's the reason why you rarely use that word." After heading out for a bit, I realized no one could possibly understand that besides me, and rushed home after my appointment to correct my error.

Blindspotting

Was really impressed with Blindspotting.

It's a tight hard-edged compassionate hands-on free-flowing intense look at strong characters making up for a lack of economic resources with innovative creative reflexive awe-inspiring initiative, their social capital worth millions in transferable commentaries, their general sobriety critically emancipating soul.

Daveed Diggs (Collin) and Rafael Casal (Miles) work exceptionally well together. They don't seem like actors, they seem like they are Collin and Miles and they're shooting a fictional documentary about their lives, so familiar with each other that they generate ultrareal cascading warp-driven synergies, which disperse practical blueprints for coping with traumatic situations.

Without being preachy.

Collin shouldn't have gone to prison but he did. He has three days of probation left when he witnesses a police officer shoot an unarmed African American multiple times.

If he says anything he may jeopardize his parole or just be chucked back in the slammer for an indefinite period of time.

Injustice haunts him as he jogs every morning yet he's composed enough to keep things calm, cool, and collected, most of the time, which reminded me of RBG.

Miles is more chaotic, a gifted salesperson who can't control his temper, gentrification unconsciously fuelling his rage. Collin looks out for him even though he causes trouble, their friendship enduring in spite of argumentative setbacks and controversial outbursts, the women in their lives doing what they can to cultivate a stable non-violent future (Janina Gavankar as Val and Jasmine Cephas Jones as Ashley).

They're clever.

The film's clever.

Practically every scene has relevant commentary that makes a thoughtful positive impact.

And it's not full of pity or sorrow.

It's rough at points, sensitive at others, a hardboiled blend of raw emotion and logical analysis skilfully woven into the script with expert timing that resonantly bleeds passion.

Making impacts on several fronts, from healthy living to reducing gun violence to making relationships work to listening to and challenging alternative points of view, it scorchingly boils international issues down to the local level, celebrating and criticizing Oakland to advocate change without ignoring how difficult change can be.

Unpasteurized sharp streetwise poetic honesty.

One of the best films I've seen this year.

The Island

Team building.

An essential component of so many successful businesses, cooperatively flourishing when efficiently matched with loyalty, dependability, consistency, and flexibility, each abstract cornerstone upholding an ethically structured forward thinking impeccability, internal conflicts and romance adding literary jouissance, strong leaders incisively managing the productive tension with agile contemplative discernment, periodic collective excursions strengthening characterized bonds, transformative ventures into alternative realms testing collegial viability, as consent is granted, and the future beckons, ponders, attuned.

Operatic melodies conceptualized thereby, on occasion the unforeseen apocalyptically diversifies, and commercial philosophical insights must be replaced with instinctual backbone, survival skills in fact, when marooned in the clutches of the unknown.

In The Island's case, a giant meteor, the impact of which remains a point of contention, hurtles rapidly towards an unaccommodating Earth.

Coincidentally, the staff of a successful business departs for a unifying exercise in a reliable aquabus upon the vast unsuspecting ocean.

Shortly thereafter, the meteor crash-lands, and a massive tidal wave then spreads out far and wide.

Heading in their direction.

Both workers and executives wake to find themselves stranded upon a remote uninhabited Pacific island, alone, isolated, leaderless, and afraid.

They must come together to ensure their mortal continuity, yet divisions and conflicts compromise inclusive harmonies, as they struggle to cohesively acculturate, with no knowledge of the continental globe's comeuppance.

Random judgment from space.

Intergalactically disseminated.

Not necessarily the best film, but not lacking in enlivening spirit either, Bo Huang's The Island reimagines professional rank to populate wild terrain, comedically embracing the dire and the immiscible without descending into utter illicit chaos.

Always remember that should you find yourself marooned on an island at sea, you're surrounded by the most abundant food source on the planet (which is becoming much less abundant as our population and associated appetites expand), and should you be worried about finding something to eat, ancient forms of marine harvesting may indeed aptly suffice.

They find plenty of fish in The Island but don't do much fishing until they discover nets, yet technological innovations do facilitate thrilling wild beach parties, entertainment which distracts them from disputatious hardships encouraged by their new surroundings.

The film's a bit of a stretch, yet its realistic engagements are more serious than those found in The Meg, even though it's much more comedic at the same rambunctious time.

Will Ma Jin (Bo Huang) cash in his winning lottery ticket, win the love of dismissive Shan Shan (Shu Qi), and develop the confidence he needs to lead?

I can't answer these questions.

Ridiculousness abounds on a lost island in the Pacific, however, bookish learning contending with the experiential, intense improvisation syncopated by the sternest minds.

Eager ones too.

With a whale.

Peter Rabbit

A daring ingenious mischievous rabscallion meets his earnest stuffy fastidious match in Will Gluck's Peter Rabbit, as the new Mr. McGregor (Domhnall Gleeson) grumpily takes up residence in the country, and young Peter (James Corden) still covets his family's stock victuals.

Nepotism has brought about McGregor's downfall, for after a decade of meticulous loyal service at Harrod's toy store, his sought after promotion was given to another.

A layabout relative of the owners in fact.

Yet after suffering a frantic breakdown, communal sympathy for his fellow untitled Brits doesn't take root in his furious consciousness, and rather than sharing his overflowing bounty with Peter and his hungry friends and family, he does everything he can, to keep them locked out.

But Peter is clever.

An intuitive understanding of electricity helps him to paternalistically galvanize McGregor's temper, although the desired therapeutic benefits are overwhelmed by fits of rage.

Nevertheless, McGregor conceals his antipathy for Peter from love interest Bea (Rose Byrne), who cherishes every moment she spends with the bunnies, and paints them adoringly when unconcerned with abstraction.

She likes McGregor.

And Peter knows it.

So after their mutually destructive shenanigans, many of which are excessively violent for children (McGregor has to stab himself with an epipen at one point), explosively fell a tree, which comes crashing through Bea's studio, Peter must decide if his selfish jealousy is worth more than a friend's happiness, after McGregor gives up, and quietly heads back to London.

By coming to terms with his former adversary, Peter outshines the vast majority of his much older contemporaries, and McGregor learns to share his bourgeois abundance, and embrace serendipitous succulence.

Thus, Peter Rabbit sticks it to ultraconservative Brit oligarchs who would still rather see the brightest most advanced commoners flailing in obscurity, than have their years of devoted service justly rewarded.

I suppose it's less confusing than seeing Peter hook up with Bea, even if it metaphorically suggests the British still frown upon bohemian romantic couplings.

Audacious artistry?

There's still work to be done.

The number of jabs delivered at France's expense suggest some French rabbits might show up for the sequel.

Une portée de lapins français?

If there is a sequel.

Who let Peter's allergy tirade into the film?

Bit of a shocker.

In serious bad taste.

Phantom Thread

A life meticulously lived according to exacting criteria, quotidian asseverations infused with unacknowledged ritualistic admiration, everyone within his artistic sphere delicately catering to these blessed immutable prescriptions, his childish fastidious sophistication ethereally incarnating elegant cherished widely sought after constellations, dresses, among which starstruck architectures and promulgations and orchestrations and voyages are covetously imagined by both fiancée and unknown suitor, accolades, repute, and standing cultivating a dangerous self-worth carefully checked by his adoring sister, discipline jarring the uninitiated, romantic interests unable to penetrate exclusive resolve.

For a lengthy period of time.

While resting in the country, he meets and falls for a girl of a different kind, one less prone to statically accepting the intricate rules and regulations that permeate every aspect of his art, a beautiful freespirited contradictory ingenue, less in awe of his brilliance than infuriated by his ingratitude.

How does one establish themselves as a lasting integral prominent feature within his unchanging excessively refined obsessions?

Impassion the persnickety?

Without impacting his work?

Phantom Thread illuminates a haunting patience rarely seduced by American cinema.

In possession of an aesthetic often found in great European films, it's as if Paul Thomas Anderson is determined young Alma (Vicky Krieps), and Reynolds Woodcock (Daniel Day-Lewis) unimpressionable Eurocentric film critics.

As if the purest imagination is that which never takes part but always considers what would happen if it did, yet doesn't lambaste others for stepping forward, and then one day finds itself basking in the sauntering wake of a highly strung affected talented unabashed American manifestation, a model of its own creation, I wonder how Phantom Thread's being received in Germany, France, Spain, or the Netherlands, is it embracing applause due to its inherent sensitivities, or consternation regarding its atypical innocence?

How many graceful subtle provocative American films are there which examine the eccentricities of someone without any athletic aspirations, literally or figuratively, argumentatively?

Furtively enveloping strife bespoken?

Unhesitant concerning aspirations?

Indicative of early Winter.

The Darkest Hour

A routine business trip to Moscow to sell software which knows how to party, itself fraught with duplicitous peril, is intergalactically interrupted in Chris Gorak's The Darkest Hour, as colonialist extraterrestrials electronically invade.

The entire freaking planet.

Gorging themselves on humanity's energy and power, yet invisible to homo sapien eyes, and protected by impenetrable shielding, Earth is globally gutted in a matter of hours, and our heroes thrust back into an unforgiving dark age.

Nevertheless, good fortune enables them to slowly piece together what has incredibly come to pass, as they juke and gesticulate their way from one improvised shelter to another.

Other survivors are encountered along the way, and from what little knowledge they possess as a whole, they're able to slowly strategize, synergize, swerve, and shock, mounting what little resistance they can, as they desperately seek submerged self-sustaining agency.

To bask in extant logic.

Even if there's nowhere to hide.

Allegorical applications of The Darkest Hour vigorously outdistancing the film itself, one wonders about these chaotic representations and what they indeed substantiate?

We know that once there was a will to party.

We know that energy has been ignominiously expropriated.

Those responsible can neither be seen nor detected.

And are in possession of vastly superior technology.

Yet within the underground alternative methods are ingeniously designed to expose the avarice worldwide.

Therefore, it seems that The Darkest Hour, in 2011, lacklustre and threadbare though it may presently be, was claiming that mad übercapitalists in possession of armies and courts of law were fed up with the leisure activities of the frisky masses, and diabolically dictated that their artistic energies would be direly transformed into concrete labour, with Dickensian dismissals and authoritarian shares, the last remnants of the bourgeoisie left to courageously extend the light, as darkness descended, and individuality soullessly evaporated.

Other interpretations might be more apt.