Ford v Ferrari

I could never get into car racing.

No matter what the track.

I watched a car race once one afternoon when I was 10 years old or so, while two brothers started brawling for some reason, and after 5 minutes or so it generally lost its appeal, I'm afraid I never had the desire to watch one again, cold storage, dusted away.

I like films however, so if a film about car racing is nominated for best picture at the Oscars I figured there must be something to it, something that transcends the actual racing itself, and perhaps highlights a point or two I never would have taken into account if I hadn't seen it, although I did respect car racing meanwhile, it's just something I could never get into.

Into watching.

It sounds fun, like it'd be something fun to do, not watch.

The film does a great job of demonstrating how much thought goes into winning such races, the coveted expertise possessed by precious few aficionados, who take the time to actively pursue their passion without thinking much about reward, the love of the game drives them, and it's impressive how much they know.

Honestly, seeing a company that was as big as Ford at the time take on a much smaller company that was going out of business (Ferrari) didn't appeal to me much, it's like the company that already has everything backed up by unlimited resources competing against a devout artist, who's passionately spent everything in the pursuit of something breathtaking and unique.

It's super American.

I didn't care for that aspect of the story much, but since Ford had the reputation for making less specialized cars and wanted to prove they could do something unique, I appreciated the improbability of the challenge, which would have seemed more profound without the wealth.

The incredible wealth.

But the team Ford assembles isn't rich, it's composed of hands on struggling independent artists who thoroughly understand their craft, and the film excels as they bat heads with bland executives, whose knowledge is much more concerned with spectacle (they think more about what to do if they've won as opposed to how to actually go about winning).

For some domains, a large bureaucracy functions well, ensuring the delivery of various services for vastly different markets, the inherent intricacies and size of which require multiple levels of thought, positions occupied by workers familiar with the terrain, and the flexibility to calmly deal with manifold contingencies.

If you're trying to win a race, however, if you're doing something highly specific for an individualistic set of circumstances, and there aren't multiple levels of thought, there are just a couple of highly skilled professionals who have the knowledge to get the job done, who in fact know what they're doing, and are making the most relevant observations, like Carroll Shelby (Matt Damon) and Ken Miles (Christian Bale) in Ford v Ferrari, then, as Carroll and Ken mention in the film, the bureaucracy can get in the way, and make simple decisions that need to be made absurdly complex, the absurd complexities making the practical goal unachievable, keep it simple, keep it practical and hands on.

If you want to do something bureaucracy can be frustrating because you have to wait so long for approval to do the simplest things.

Not so much in politics where it's important to think about the impacts of what you're doing.

But if you like the bureaucratic ebb and flow, I suppose the argument itself is somewhat compelling.

The film is somewhat direct and easy to follow, no nonsense is the phrase writers employ in writing such a narrative I imagine, everything has a traditional relevant point, and it presents a thoughtful situation full of risk, trial, error, reward.

It's the kind of light film pretending to be tough that makes a positive impact, if you don't think about it too much, if you just sit back and take it in.

It would have been cool if the impact the experimental nature of race car driving makes on domestic automobile manufacture had been briefly explored.

And it hadn't been so massive, so Goliath.

A generalized examination of a complex phenomenon.

Nice to see Jon Bernthal (Lee Iacocca) with a larger role.

Logan

Fascist forces of dull simplicity have driven mutants to the brink of extinction in James Mangold's Logan, but a few remain, carving out a meagre living while doing everything they can to conceal the beauty that defines their superlative difference.

Rather than cultivating an inclusive public sphere wherein which difference is free to flourish, that difference has been isolated and weaponized by monstrous geneticists intent on rearing invincible super soldiers to achieve militaristic objectives.

But these gifted children fight back, escape, avoid capture, one of them eventually finding Wolverine (Hugh Jackman) and Professor X (Patrick Stewart) who have been living off the grid in severe destitution.

She's (Dafne Keen as Laura) hunted of course, intense battles erupting everywhere she goes, the death count extremely high as the trio travels from Mexico to North Dakota in search of a secretive promised land.

And a family.

There's a very tender scene where they all sit down to dinner on a farm and warmly discuss different topics, a rare moment in superhero films that briefly and humbly exemplifies everything they've been fighting for.

They're reminded shortly thereafter that for some insane reason their idle happiness enrages conformist obscurities.

Suffocatingly.

Patrick Stewart delivers a remarkable performance.

He often has a leadership role that doesn't display much vulnerability, but in Logan he's quite helpless and therefore given the opportunity to heartbreakingly act beyond the borders his characters often rivetingly apply themselves within.

An outstanding supporting role.

Logan's like no other X-Men film.

It's much more stylistically concerned with the human factor than special effects or introducing a wild array of compelling new characters.

Identity, community, belonging, loneliness, rage, and bigotry still drive the narrative, but they're examined less explosively, with more realistically tender tenacity (when the fighting stops), as if X-Men films truly are applicable to global sociopolitical debates, debates within which their characters dynamically distinguish themselves.

A fitting salute to Hugh Jackman who has thankfully been bringing Wolverine to life for the past 17 years.

So many irresistible moments.

Only the death of Captain James T. Kirk effected me similarly.

Who knows, maybe huge assholes with tons of power will stop militaristically expressing themselves while crushing other people who aren't like them some day.

That kind of bullshit doesn't seem to fly in the EU much thankfully.

Currently.

Difference really is a wonderful thing.

When it thrives, the scientific, artistic, and religious benefits are extraordinary.

It's why we have cars, electricity.

The internet.

Refrigerators.

If the people who invented or discovered these things had been callously excluded and beaten down throughout their lives we'd still be living in the dark ages.

And those assholes would still be in charge.

Nurturing contempt.

Ruling with imperialist ambitions.

Recklessly waging war.

To satisfy capricious whims.

The Wolverine

A critical plastic treatise on indestructibility, wherein the mighty Wolverine's (Hugh Jackman) regenerative distinction is resolutely compromised, a family's billions intergenerationally contend with their honour, a seductive viper embodies intransitive antidotes, and an adopted perspicuity prognostically makes dire predictions, James Mangold's The Wolverine sentimentalizes Logan's recrudescence, as he reluctantly travels to Japan, to visit, a man whose life he once saved.

Not the best of X-Men films but full of intense scenes which decoratively dilate their doctrine.

Including a wicked-cool high-speed train workout.

For me, it wasn't the trip to the veterinary student that caused Wolverine to begin questioning his mortality, the look on his face as Shingen's (Hiroyuki Sanada) sword punctures his chest lacerating a more penetrating ageless lesion, combatively materializing his countless confrontations with death.

Which strengthens his own conception of honour, reminding him that if he is to die he should die honourably, his encounter with the grizzly earlier on, Wolverine, friend of the bear, laying the foundations of this theme, returned to often enough throughout.

While pointing out how cruel it is to hunt with poison.

But, don't read this if you haven't seen the film, how is it that Professor X (Patrick Stewart) lives again?

He blew up in X-Men: The Last Stand, blew up.

I'm happy to see him back, preferring his approach to Magneto's (Ian McKellen), and am wondering if he transferred his consciousness to Magneto's before his body shattered, and now has the power to create a projection of himself for those by whom he wants to be seen, only after he has stopped the passage of time, which provides a bilateral explanation for how Magneto was able to partially move the chess pieces at the end of X-Men 3, and a rather tight resolution to the Professor X/Magneto conflict, the powers of both leaders adhesively united as one.

Wondering how Mystique will fit into this one.

Her powers must have returned somehow.

Considering watching All of Me again.

Awesome bear scene.

3:10 to Yuma

James Mangold's retooling of Delmer Daves' 3:10 to Yuma is but another silly western. And considering the lack of Westerns being produced within Hollywood at the moment, it’s just in time. Enter one Ben Wade (Russell Crowe), the poetic leader of a gang of thugs who make their living robbing stage coaches and trains. When Wade isn't preaching from the bible, philosophizing about the nature of good and evil, or taking care of his brutal business, he calmly sits back and draws pictures, leaving his designs carefully positioned throughout the country, sinister signatures upon a lounging landscape. Dan Evans (Christian Bale) is chief amongst the 'lawpersons' devoted to delivering Wade to a train in Bisbee, Arizona, after his capture. Evans is a poor farmer whose about to be thrown off his land since his landlord plans to sell his property to the incoming railroad. That same railroad offers Evans the small fortune of 200 dollars to assist in transporting Wade to the 3:10 to Yuma, and with no other economic prospects in sight, he begrudgingly complies.

Wade takes a liking to gentle Dan and the dialogue between the two, the classic good vs. evil, hero vs. villain Western dialogue, ties together the various action sequences. The style of Mangold's film is foreshadowed in the opening credits, the words "3:10 to Yuma" appearing explosively, one by one, before disappearing quickly. What follows is a gunslingin' shoot 'em up Western where numerous battle scenes mingle with stretches of deadpan dialogue.

Wade's character is strong enough to drive 3:10 to Yuma to its conclusion, even if the film staggers along the way. For instance, Wade and Pinkerton Byron McIlroy (Henry Fonda) have been injured, therefore, the modest veterinarian Doc Potter (Alan Tudyk) must accompany them for their ride through the desert. He provides some great comic relief, notably the fact that his character doesn't remain at home or argue about going on a treacherous desert trip while being pursued by a gang of thugs. And why does the gang of thugs pursue their leader? They've just robbed a stagecoach and made off with a fortune, why do they feel compelled to rescue their frontman, even after he shot one of them during the robbery? Wade graciously reminds them that there's no honour amongst thieves, but not until we've benefitted from this notoriously noble, albeit problematic plot-twist. At the same time, 3:10 to Yuma displays some surprising subtlety throughout, as a young Chinese labourer glares down equally young William Evans (Logan Lerman), a glare designed to remind him that his seemingly destitute situation could be much worse. And the ways in which the traditional caricatures of the hero and villain are deconstructed throughout are provocative, if not somewhat peculiar during the film's climax.