Ferris Bueller's Day Off

The incorrigible urge the inexhaustible dilemmas audaciously fuelling insurmountable daring, as reflexively situated albeit within imaginative unorthodox compelling gambits.

A day off school intuitively organized with intricate planning and demonstrative skill, mom and dad effectively falling for the ornate scheme with adorable generous loving compassion.

What to do with a full day off while others work and study and research, it's no doubt time to hit the town with creative friends and a wild agenda?!

Word spreads of the distressing illness and communal sympathy encouragingly erupts, as the sights and sounds of versatile Chicago fill a day's fortunes with laidback exception.

But the administration adamantly refuses to obligingly believe the open-minded story, and sets out on a mad concentrated obsessed unyielding quest to locate the lad.

His sister also remains furious after their admiring parents react empathetically.

Emancipated vision.

Holistic embrace.

Freeform lackadaisics. 

Festive revelry.

This was my favourite of the John Hughes films so widely popular in my youth, the nutso envisioning of rebellious fluency exceedingly inclined to diligently chill.

The first 30 minutes are an imaginative treat as Hughes skilfully plays with different narrative styles, and commandingly showcases alternative techniques which are highly advanced and correspondingly influential.

Critics of the time were rather dismissive and I didn't figure out why until I hit my late thirties, but my youthful admiration won out in the end as I dismissed my uptight less-mesmerized evaluations (Rooney goes way too far, it's tough to believe an academic would behave that way).

Matthew Broderick delivers the performance of a lifetime and charismatically shines in the title role, Alan Ruck also memorably concocting they both still show up in movies 40 years later.

Mia Sara, Jennifer Grey, Edie McClurg, and Jeffrey Jones impress as well. 

Much more than just kids skipping school.

A unique exhilarating celebration of life!

Matango

The well-to-do imaginatively escape the bustling activity of mainland Japan, and relaxingly enjoy a tranquil voyage on the sultry seas within their yacht. 

Sequestered and tasked with nothing in particular they chill and lounge throughout the day, the resplendent sun and nourishing waters everlastingly inspiring creative song.

Little known to them however an invasive storm inauspiciously rises, suddenly taking them unawares as they desperately attempt to thwart its ambition.

Soon they awake, their vessel dispirited, in cognizant wonder and humbled pride, fortunately next to an isolated island perhaps upon which they can find rest and food.

But it's soon detected that many a bird refuses to land upon its branches, even though it's far out at sea and flight-weary-creatures could no doubt flock there.

A number of other sea-faring ships are also discovered beneath the waves, their captains and crews having long since vanished although where and when remains indeterminate.

The only food wildly growing in abundance is an ominous mushroom which coaxes temptation. 

The starving travellers exceedingly oblivious. 

To its rich mutative transformative properties.

Travelling the world by boat must have been incredibly dangerous in so many ways, notably trying to find fresh foods to eat when daringly embarking on newfound lands.

Each ship perhaps vigilantly carried remarkable science-officers like they do on Star Trek, who could experimentally determine or cleverly guess which new foods to eat within the interior.

Some ships many have not been so farsighted and may have rather relied on trial and error, dependable precedent invariably leading to nutritious success and prolonged mortality. 

In this instance, they may have applied themselves in harrowing error upon the island, as the edible mushrooms proved sedately intoxicating a reliance upon them quickly ended their voyage.

But alone in Tokyo having somehow managed to set a boat adrift back upon the Pacific, the lone survivor madly wishes he was safe and secure back upon the haunting island.

Missing his friends he wildly engages in uncharacteristic frenzied outbursts, the doctors watching with studious eyes as his body bears witness to mushroom consumption.

Thus, when travelling through space make sure to bring a food expert along, or suffer the same fate as these foolish plutocrats who once held the highest political offices.

It seems like a no-brainer but budgetary efficiencies often cut corners when planning expeditions. 

Unconcerned for the lives of their crews.

They set out with frugal inexactitude. 

Black Orpheus

Rio de Janeiro festively prepares for the upcoming enigmatic illusory Carnaval, floats decorated and costumes tailored an immersive atmosphere of harmless mischief.

Nimble Orpheus chauffeurs his trolly through the busy streets with reservéd gusto, thoroughly at ease with lithe maximum occupancy as it swiftly travels throughout the city.

Young Eurydice arrives from the countryside to stay with her invigorating distant relatives, having been chased by a masked quasi-demon rigorously hellbent on her destruction.

Orpheus's fiancé habitually erupts with romantic exposition when they're together, and definitively craves his ubiquitous attention each and every day exceedingly composed.

They even spiritedly head out to meaningfully procure a marriage license, Mira focused and passionately determined to resonantly claim the celebrated singer.

But later in the day as time slowly passes beautiful Eurydice also catches his eye.

The dynamic artist following instinctual elements. 

As everyone embraces ye olde Carnaval.

A lively retelling of an ancient myth energetically situated within modern cities, with creative new features and an inspiring setting transformatively exclaiming romantic awe.

It's not even Orpheus/Breno Mello or Eurydice/Marpessa Dawn who steal the show they're somewhat subdued when objectively compared, to sprightly Mira/Lourdes de Oliveira and vehement Serafina/Léa Garcia who add so much in the brief time they're allotted.

Serafina could have been left out entirely her tempting character by no means essential, but Garcia took the less prominent role and seductively etherealized cinematic history.

It's not just the imaginative retelling of the ancient myth that generates so much credit, its compelling presentation of the market and Carnaval bring its animate emergence to acrobatic life.

Gymnastically adorning so many precious scenes with blithe orchestration and reverberating pith, it fluidly exemplifies perpetual motion with lighthearted irresistible ebullient spirits.

Indeed relationships problematize so much harmless fun when ownership's claimed.

A sincere tragedy no matter the epoch.

Carefree endeavours.

Limitless fun.

Piccadilly

A popular night club routinely offers exceptional dynamic crowd pleasing performances, its dancers showcasing sundry coveted moves and flourishing finesse with fluid elegance.

The spice freely flows the rhythms distill freeflowing upbeat pleasant fun merrymaking, half their tables zealously reserved (by noon) intense sprightly jocose reliable industry.

But as so often happens, the urge to change one's steadfast surroundings bluntly coaxes, and one of the famous sought after dancers decides he'd rather entertain North America.

The blow is indeed distressing as dependable revenue streams quickly dry up, his equally flexible former partner remaining but not enough of a draw to firmly bring hundreds in.

Then one night an ornery client vehemently complains about a stain on his plate, which prompts the owner to visit the kitchen the scullery in fact where he finds a new spectacle. 

Soon the act is passionately displayed for the curious public who responds with praise, the newfound sensation turning critical heads and swiftly redefining the business's mantra.

But the old act once incredibly loved isn't as willing to be warm and pleasantly accommodating. 

The owner caught between the stubborn lithe rivals.

Following his heart, wherever it leads.

Several decades before the Civil Rights Movement emerged with formidable vigour, Piccadilly sought to break down race barriers with a bold and courageous daring silent film.

Released in England not the United States and in British cinemas not on American television, it still predates William Shatner and Nichelle Nichols's kiss by almost a dashing and carefree 30 years.

I don't know enough about silent films so I'm not sure if such stories were often told at the time, I just know from my own observations that I've rarely seen interracial tales pre-1960.

Pioneering no less and also cool to watch it's still a captivating film, I was interested to see something starring Anna May Wong after she appeared on the American quarter.

She was tired of being typecast in early Hollywood and moved to Europe to find more diverse roles so I'm told, bravery rewarded in this instance at least she clearly steals the show in Dupont's Piccadilly.

If curious about silent film and alternative ways to tell compelling tales, it's worth checking out for sure with many of its themes still resonating today.  

Abigail's Party

There's more to the appreciation of art than the ready-made exemplars designated famous, personal choice and inspirational lounging eclectically factoring in novel unpredictability. 

It's therefore important to make your own choices based upon what you specifically enjoy, not simply a work that's been historically lauded, but rather something you genuinely love.

There is the cocktail party game where you're supposed to recall celebrated painters and writers, and correspondingly list their famous works while modestly reciting what's been written about them.

It's not such a bad thing to be well-informed and aware of the critical continuum, but if you start to gather a collection of your own, are you doing so because you like it, or someone else does?

I admit to having more respect for the kitschy aficionado than the literate snob, even if I disagree with many of their choices, I still highly value their unabashed individuality.

If you can learn the categorical distinctions while also cultivating your own subtle voice, you may develop enviable taste that for a time may clearly fascinate.

It's not about being right or wrong you see it's more like romance or falling in love, it's difficult to find cherished longing in a textbook when you could be globetrotting with a Nickelback fan. 

When you start to read all the conflicting accounts that defiantly challenge the encyclopedic status quo, and become immersed in the critical maelstrom thoughtfully keeping things fresh and active, it becomes apparent that there really aren't any foundations although manifold traditions joyfully emerge, but with the lack of organic resonance, why do your own preferences not also matter?

Thus, there is vitriolic criticism passionately unleashed in Abigail's Party, regarding the elevation of paintings exuberantly categorized through aggrieved sincere textbook learning.

I feel bad because he's trying to educate himself and I widely support such scholarly ambitions, but he loves and brags about things simply because he's rather quite certain that he's supposed to.

His wife's more into the modern and couldn't care less what anyone thinks.

She's still rather cruel to him however.

So hard to hold it together.

If you're ever critiquing your personal decision to indeed never marry perhaps watch this film, and chant decisively with the blessed thereafter since really thank god that isn't your life.

Not that married life doesn't certainly have discerning benefits bachelors miss out on.

But you eventually reach a certain age.

Where it no longer holds much mischievous meaning. 

*Criterion keyword: beaver 🦫 

Chez les beaux parents

The tender affection delicately shared between the loving members of a heartfelt couple, routinely generating awestruck accolades through the nimble art of jocose spontaneity. 

Living together in New York Sophie cooks and Gordon teaches, their sturdy union a fluid cascade bearing versatile witness to collective enchantments. 

She's an exceptional chef and one day her ex appears out of the ethereal blue, to offer her a coveted position managing food services at the Château Frontenac.

She has to compete for the job but since her family lives close by, she'll be able to re-establish contact and spend cherished hours ensconced à la ferme.

Gordon is up for the challenge and generally supportive of his partner's endeavours, although when he discovers that Sophie and her potential new boss were once lovers, he responds with critical animation.

The challenge goes well it crucially seems like the brilliant chef may land the position.

The family farm still in financial jeopardy. 

Gordon increasingly unable to stay cool.

I never spent much time reading great romantic works of fiction, or even paperback melodramas effectively disseminating romantic visions.

Romance does immaterially blossom in many classic science-fiction films however, technologically endowed on interplanetary scales intergalactically inclined to diplomatically blossom.

Chez les beaux parents presents an alternative style of Québecois filmmaking, an international collaboration no less with prominent filmmakers from the United States.

It's not Babysitter or Mommy or Tom à la ferme or Quand l'amour se creuse un trou, it's something much more tame more zoological more glad-handing more mainstream.

It's not that it doesn't mean well or that it doesn't try to incorporate more rugged scenarios.

Which probably worked for many people who saw the film.

Who most likely loved it.

Don't listen to me.

The filmmakers still love Québec and that's plainly evident throughout the film.

And I can't critique such ingenious preferences. 

Especially on an international scale. 

Beau Travail

A group of dedicated soldiers is professionally assembled in Eastern Africa, and taught to efficiently train in the time honoured art of balanced routine.

The locals curiously regard them as they exercise within their lands, the Legion's regimented solemnity a modern spectacle deriving pathos. 

It seems somewhat innocent and harmless as they freely stick to their upbeat selves, and build a harmonious continuity within their sombre intense ranks. 

With no wars to occupy their time and a general desire to remain aloof, the offbeat focused isolated unit peacefully co-exists with the world around them.

Unfortunately, where many find peace there are still those who cultivate conflict, and the uptight fastidious sergeant finds himself bitterly consumed by jealousy.

A new recruit proves quite remarkable and effectively demonstrates natural talent, in the eyes of their commanding officer he has great potential for a soldiering future.

The sergeant can't rationally stand it and desperately seeks to halt his progress. 

Unable to mediate his contempt.

Or accept the calm endearing tranquility. 

Once again, the evocative Claire Denis crafts a multilayered sensual tale, with a small budget in a foreign land while dealing with potentially volatile subject matter (not often you see thought-provoking low budget independent army films).

Startling to see such a tender take on formidable concrete durable masculinity, emphasizing brotherhood and camaraderie from a mutually self-sacrificing reliable vision.

The consistent observations of the inquisitive locals add so much humanistic depth, as you lightheartedly think along with them, what are they doing there?, while peace envelopes the land.

It starts off with intermittent savvy and congenially blends several different scenes, realistically invigorating the tragic tale with inherent foreign spiralling multiplicity.

Details of the plot are cleverly interwoven to the point where it seems secondary like a distant vision, the conducive galvanizing merry imagery awe-strikingly dismissing imperial entanglements.

I was hoping the entire film would continue to progress in this dreamlike fashion, not that the principal narrative is dull or uneventful, 90 plus minutes of the former would have just been incredible.

Too bad so much grief has to pass before the concluding moments fashionably exemplify, a welcoming world not so timorous or severe presenting alternative manners of masculine expression.

Stentorian peace exotically exclaimed with celebratory festive inhibition.

Rare to see anyone make this point.

Especially with such ingenious visceral exhibition. 

Pather Panchali

A loving mother wants the best for her children but is desperately obsessed with her remorseless poverty, her dreamer husband slow to provide or clearly understand her protracted woe.

There's no thought of her working herself or finding a way to help make ends meet, the ancient code governing village life definitively maintaining strict gender roles.

Her children enjoy playing in the countryside and modestly excel through recourse to laughter, education not prominent in that part of the country, the children relying on friends and family.

But they're also jealous of their friend's possessions especially when the sweet purveyor walks by, at times leading to their mother's embarrassment as they naturally seek the good things in life.

I really felt for their mom as she despondently waits for her husband to get paid, and he dreams and he dreams and he dreams while his house falls apart and there's nothing to eat.

It's ok to sit back and dream but it's much more convenient when your wife also works, and isn't stuck sitting at home all day with nothing to do while her neighbours deride her.

Could you imagine having no recourse and having to wait months to have money to spend, while your children ran wild in the jungle and the neighbourhood lampooned your lack of wealth?

Open up the inclusive workforce and maximize opportunity for everyone willing.

Her husband's no doubt a cool guy.

But fails to empathize with her situation.

Pather Panchali isn't all doom and gloom it's also full of innocent pluck and tenacity, complete with multiple extended scenes celebrating the joys of childhood and playtime.

I would recommend leaving Disney behind for a weekend and giving this film a try, along with El espíritu de la colmena (The Spirit of the Beehive), El Sur, and E.T, that would make for an exceptional film day.

Dickens also seems to be creatively influencing the compassionate film and perhaps Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay's novel, the close focus on delicious food for instance (it's fun to pig out after he describes food), or the inclusion of chill and offbeat characters like Auntie (who reminded me of Mr. Dick in David Copperfield).

Its moderate pace also captures village life as it gradually progresses from season to season.

Moments like how cool it is when you see your first train.

An intense sudden rainfall. 

An improvised chase.

*Criterion keyword - resplendent. 

Ragtime

Sigh.

Ragtime's ambitious no doubt indubitably it proceeds with grandiose lofty intentions, most likely seeking academy award nominations with the sets and the period and the subject matter.

It's one of those films that examines freedom from a despondent viewpoint however, and a sympathetic character resorts to violence to achieve just dividends.

What he's asking for isn't outrageous he just wants his car cleaned, fixed, and an apology, from the scandalous band of misfits who themselves behaved outrageously.

He had done nothing to them his only fault was to have been successful, and then to have lived as other successful people do, even though his skin was black.

What does it matter, why do such petty jealousies motivate so many people, do your best, apply yourself vigorously, have a laugh, what else can you do?

Coalhouse could have just taken his car and cleaned up the mess and eventually forgot about it, extremely frustrating to have to do that but a better outcome than what happened in the long run.

He would have returned to his successful life and left the goons behind to rot, he certainly complained to everyone he could and naturally became more angry when they couldn't help him.

Now, they recked his car and abusively humiliated him there's no question he deserved satisfaction, but turning to acts of terror goes far beyond the initial crime and riles up collective prejudicial misgivings.

And he doesn't get satisfaction in the end, rather the police wind up shooting him after he threatens to blow up a museum, they gun him down when he eventually gives up even though he's unarmed and helpless.

Depressing is the word for such a film it's extremely depressing and sad and hopeless, it makes you feel ill and sick after it's over and by no means encourages another viewing.

I know this is what is recommended by many searching to expand minds and cultivate consciousness, but the revolting way you feel when the film finally ends also makes its shelf-life and influence less long-lasting.

Take a film like Dances with Wolves which tells a tragic tale of honour and friendship on the other hand.

The statistics presented at the end are grim.

But the fight against racism isn't tragically lurid.

The Adults

A close family constructively enjoys a creative childhood dynamically engaged, during which characters and acts and plays are imaginatively shared with receptive audiences. 

The two older siblings have an unspoken rivalry but the youngest generously co-exists, angelically posturing with unselfish sincerity she forges a bridge between the feuding duo. 

As time moves on, and their parents pass, the brother packs his things and leaves one day, their tightened bonds tritely cast aside as he travels the country playing poker and working.

Unable to process his hard-pounding grief he stays away for many a year, hardly calling and showing little interest in the resourceful sisters who made up his home.

But one remorseful soul-searching day he decides to return with undetermined intention, certainly to play poker with ye old school friends, still genuinely curious about his family's goings on.

The older sister who had to embrace responsibility after their mother's passing to save the house, isn't exactly pleased to see him when he suddenly shows up having never lent a hand.

To make things worse he strictly divides his precious free time between family and poker, heading out to intense games in the evenings, sleeping late, and vouchsafing afternoons. 

A habitually logical man attempting to abide by rational guidelines, who once embraced artistic endeavours, must consciously manifest spirit. 

Or suffer cataclysmic austere dissonance.

The Adults perhaps adding a hands-on French touch.

It seems to respect Band à part anyways with random inspired improvised dancing, not sure if that was just a coincidence or an intertextual shout out to independent hommage. 

The film excels at patiently observing the unpleasant difficulties associated with maturity, and the inherent frustrating cold calculated reckoning attributed to derivatives and distant dividends. 

As he slowly comes to realize he's somewhat of an artist playing real world at times, the film warms up and becomes more cute and cuddly, not without pressure and argument and confrontation.

Brought together through soulful reminiscence times creatively conjuring collective cohesion.

Adulthood having presented a lasting challenge.

Stronger united.

To non-traditionally age. 

Oppenheimer

Nuclear weapons are a horrible thing.

They're easily the most reckless anything anyone has ever created, and it's an international miracle the secrets of their creation have been kept under lock and key to this present day.

For a while it seemed like their manufacture would become a thing of the past, as Russia and the United States struck accord after accord, and seemed ready to cultivate lasting peace throughout a united interactive world, wherein which difference wasn't something to be feared, and absolutes were nothing more than sewage.

But this historical epoch is partially defining itself in opposition to the last 30 years, as Trump has arisen to challenge them, so instead of a brilliant film like Planet of the Apes (1968), which effectively obliterated arguments in their defence, we have Christopher Nolan's Oppenheimer, which revels and glorifies in their creation, overlooking the ill-fated Planet of the Apes sequel, Beneath the Planet of the Apes. 

Paying disingenuous lip service to the ways in which madmen can use them to coordinate mass destruction on a planetary scale, it instead introduces several powerful independent scientists, and examines various controversies as they jockey for position.

Thus, two prominent individuals see their reputations slowly ruined as the film bureaucratically concerns itself with bilateral character assassination, without really generating much character along the way, besides that associated with blind innocence and petty grievances. 

It's more like an academic paper with no sense of objectivity than a convincing film.

Prometheus taught the people to make fire so they could cook their own food and have warmth and entertainment.

Anyone who would have denied them such knowledge is certainly not worthy of divinity. 

Oppenheimer coordinated a team that built a nuclear weapon with the power to kill hundreds of thousands that select military officials can use hopefully only as a deterrent. 

Do you see how Prometheus is not like Oppenheimer? How the comparison is ridiculous?

It does seem more and more like Christopher Nolan is the military industrial complex's darling, as they note in Barbie, the patriarchy just hides its hegemony more effectively these days, and whereas Oliver Stone actually made an incredible film looking at the ways in which JFK's murder was covered up, Nolan's Oppenheimer creates a Republican rib roast to be saluted for years to come, while presumably catering to democratic sympathies (JFK didn't win best picture when it should have [Oliver Stone also made a film that lauded Edward Snowden, it didn't make the case for the mass institutional invasion of privacy through cellphones like Nolan did at the end of The Dark Knight]).

I used to have a friend who was nice to talk to but sometimes didn't take her meds, and thought she heard voices in the walls of people discussing this and that.

I tried to ease her mind when these thoughts would overwhelm her late at night, and even though nothing could convince her that the voices weren't real, the conversation helped lighten the anxious mood.

In turn, it was nice to have someone to talk to, to know someone who didn't quickly change their tune, to have a sympathetic yet mischievous outlook to clarify trajectories and nothing in particular.

She tolerated my French too and even taught me a couple of words. 

I like being nobody in Québec.

And I'll always love working and living there. 

The Secret Life of Pets

The Secret Life of Pets hypothetically explores the vast intricate networks forged by animate beasties while their owners labour.

Indubitably multivariable, they elaborately maintain reflexive codes of conduct, outsiders improvisationally electing initiation, as they travel throughout different domains.

Take the two principal characters, loyal pets getting used to living with one another, one once revelling in solitary freedom until the day his gigantic counterpart arrived.

Seeking to rid himself of the burden soon after at a local park, he attempts to play a trick on his compatriot, which leaves them both suddenly headed for the pound, pestiferous prominence meets drastic indelicacy.

But on their way the industrious underground audaciously emerges and sets them free, engaging no less in innovative expediences as they feverishly search and rescue.

Nevertheless, in order to acclimatize they must lie about why they were caught, so they don't seem green on their trip through the maze imaginatively constructed at length below ground.

Meanwhile, a devoted admirer notices that her beloved beau has disappeared. 

And trusted friends head out in search of their cherished fellows throughout the city.

Taking Oliver & Company to the next level The Secret Life of Pets tumultuously delivers, by providing a dynamic interactive cross-section of lively versatile multicultural life.

Not entirely unlike the heralded Rudolph who also travelled the world after encountering vitriol, finding his way to the island of misfit toys/the underground complex, while his friends desperately sought to find his location.

I was surprised to see the underground depicted so intricately in a family friendly animated film, I thought the subject matter would be too riské and that the master narrative would whitewash such things.

But without much whitewash realistic conflict intuitively emerges with unorthodox decorum, and respect is granted to novel ingenuity with emboldened invention and disparate ruse.

Perhaps the reasons explaining how the animals wound up there could have been explored with greater detail, and the heroes could have promised to proactively enable widespread adoptive change upon reemergence. 

I suppose it wasn't a Christmas film but is not viscerally paramount?

To freely share such a message throughout the year.

In praise of open-minded compassionate humanity! 

Just a thought. 😌

Hoping for peace in the Middle-East.

⛄🎄🎁🎅

Creed III

Adonis Creed's (Michael B. Jordan) life moves on as he embraces family and responsibility, playing a more active managerial role after having given up professional fighting.

Things progress reasonably well on the home front and his marriage seems quite the success, his daughter needing his help however, as she fights back against bullies at school (Mila Davis-Kent). 

As life illustriously floats by an old close friend who went to prison is released, and comes a' callin' one adventurous morn to see how his old reliable chum is doing.

They went to a group home together and one fateful night all hell broke loose, and Majors (Damian Anderson) wound up with a lengthy prison sentence and lost his chance at becoming a heavy-weight champion.

He wants that chance again but doesn't want to wait for several more years, joining the circuit and punching his way up, he wants to become champ freakin' asap.

Unfortunately, this means the utilization of wicked aggressive unorthodox means, which may lead to a shot at the title, but lose the respect of his friend.

Adonis feels reasonably guilty and frustrated by what happened so many years ago.

But has to accept contemporary realities. 

And step back in the coveted ring.

I thought the new Creed film was solid and was impressed with Michael B. Jordan's directing, honestly sometimes when actors direct things go haywire, but that's not the case with Creed III.

It didn't seriously impress like Rocky Balboa which was such an incredible surprise sequel, but it's still a cool thrilling new movie that takes a thoughtful look at fame, fortune and family.

Jordan and Tessa Thompson really stand out at times as they discuss hard-hitting issues, I thought they had some memorable scenes which artistically enhanced deep meaningful strata.

I thought the added tension Creed has to face by confronting himself within the film, added a psychological dimension that was much more profound than just fighting the bad guy.

Majors has taken on underhanded means but Creed still feels responsible for his modus operandi, and sincerely cares about his old friend even though he has to fight him.

Majors takes on the Rocky/underdog role as well which re-establishes a familiar storyline.

They clearly just didn't want to make another sequel.

They thought this one through.

The hard work paid off.    

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.

Meshi (Repast)

The rigid structure once naturalized since time immemorial so it seemed, the man diligently thriving at work, the wife taking care of the home.

It now appears rather out of touch with fluid non-specific schematics, which see both partners animately working while sharing household chores at the end of the day.

I'm not entirely sure how it works, but I imagine contemporary partners function multilaterally, perhaps cooking on alternate nights, and cleaning together on the weekend.

As time passes, I reckon the division of labour organically corresponds to habitual preference, within relevant temporal constraints, incorporating time and variability.

Do couples indeed function this way as time progresses and patterns emerge?

Or is it only read about in books and newspapers?

Has corresponding data been reasonably compiled?

In Meshi (Repast), there isn't much of an alternative for Michiyo (Setsuko Hara) besides the life of a traditional housewife, the socioeconomic style of the times having yet to embrace gender equality. 

She finds her life rather dull and becomes frightened by her future prospects (they live in suburbia), especially after her husband's (Uehara as Hatsunosuke) pretty cousin (Yukiko Shimazaki as Satoko) comes to visit, and he engages her in conversation.

Michiyo leaves to stay with family and her husband is left to monotonously deal, he's actually not such a bad guy though, and patiently accepts his solitary predicament.

He certainly has the more active role empirically equipped with inherent mobility, but he isn't cruel and dismissive either, he loves his wife and doesn't flaunt his advantage.

She eventually realizes he's a catch even though he's dependable and trustworthy, and the two reestablish their conjugal trajectory, director Mikio Naruse presenting their union idyllically. 

Her husband's rather chill and accepting and would likely have played a role in instigating change (Meshi's from 1951). 

And perhaps would have learned to be more spontaneous as well.

To take Michiyo out to dinner more often. 

Junebug

A couple basks in enriching romance their union potentially a success, effervescent wondrous innocence characterizing their lithe shenanigans. 

The wife (Embeth Davidtz as Madeleine) runs a caring gallery which genuinely looks after its unsung artists, discovering unknown local talent then helping to find an adoring audience.

Her work takes her to the down-home town where her agile husband (Alessandro Nivola as George) was curiously raised, which means it's time to meet the fam while engaging in bucolic expenditure.

George's brother's (Ben McKenzie as Johnny) become somewhat nasty having grown tired of his steady routine, even though his chill wife's (Amy Adams as Ashley) pregnant and looking forward to starting a family.

He has no time to reminisce but his better half's still warm and friendly, Madeleine sincerely responding to her lack of conceit and freeform enthusiastic reckoning.

There could be more cutting tension arising from prejudicial misconceptions, but thankfully observations aren't frequently shared within the offbeat household's public sphere.

In fact Junebug creatively presents endearing heartfelt loving characters, thoroughly interested in the lives of others as they go about their interactive quibbling.

The arts devoid of stout pretension and destructive distasteful foul snobbery, search freely far and wide for newfound novel uncanny yens.

At the same time homegrown peeps hold back none of their natural spirits, a husband certainly most distressing, his wife like an ebullient summer's bloom.

The buzz around Amy Adams's performance is bang on like nothing else I've seen, her facial movements and inherent fascination far beyond what's oft described as memorable.

It's like there's a range of depth within which multidimension nimbly materializes, and her zags and cascading zigs ethereally flow towards its striking zenith.

Davidtz shouldn't be overlooked either I hope her character has persuasive fluency.

They're an incredible combination.

In a film that promotes compassion and understanding.

Rambling Rose

A traditional bourgeois family reservédly ensconced in solemn routine, welcomes a new less particular nanny who emphatically declares with upbeat candour.

Indeed Rose (Laura Dern) lives in the moment and hasn't been raised to sidestep and sublimate, preferring a much more animate approach to life's chill steady wondrous stream.

The children don't know what to expect as they innocently regard and evaluate difference, Rose's behaviour much more lively than others, but mom (Diane Ladd) and dad (Robert Duvall) aren't noticeably upset.

Dad must even tame his boisterous unassuming bold habitual proclivities, while mom honestly proclaims forgiveness and showcases genuine compassionate forbearing. 

The men keep on arriving however, seemingly to test the young family's mettle, a cavalcade of imaginative dreamers thoroughly pursuing amorous soirées. 

Young Buddy (Lukas Haas) isn't objectively immune as fledgling contemplation ruminates attentively, a unique otherwise forbidden friendship delicately blossoming wholesome anew.

Such versatile carefree freedom suddenly emerging with urgent radiance, characteristically challenging pride and propriety through natural honest intuitive acclimation.

It's as if spellbinding concepts like orthodox mutual attachment, hold no sway in its wild articulate whirlwind romantic resounding arbour.

I've noted that many proceed this way and that there's an intricate network of corresponding customs, with which many people are generally familiar and even quite distinguished in erudite variety.

The difference in Rambling Rose seems to be a matter of frank exposure, the modest community in manifest shock yet still generally appreciative of the exotic literature.

Ships are launched and daydreams delineated as spirited love socioculturally embarks, as to the resulting societal effects I'm afraid I can't lucidly elevate or denounce them.

Is it supposed to be lighthearted and playful or quizzically uncanny or simply absurd, or is there a sincere yet humorous investment on potentially game changing display?

It's a fun if not controversial illustration of enamoured import indubitably worth noting, with fluid debate perhaps freely generated after the first mesmerizing viewing.

Patience and charity, ethical endeavour, concepts defined in so many ways. 

Itinerant artistic accolades. 

Would likely also make a good read. 

Stardust

A nondescript wall divides two lands both of which have little knowledge of the other, but on occasion people pass through to curiously see what rests on the other side.

One path resembles an old school version of what's often referred to as material reality, wherein which science painstakingly unravels concealed secrets through vigorous study.

The other's indeed much more magical where stars and witches contemporaneously reside, different life forms taking on supernatural proportions as fervid fantasy frenetically sculpts.

An adventurous temperate lad crosses the border one fateful evening, and strikes up an amorous association before swiftly returning home.

Months later, a newborn babe suddenly appears on his modest doorstep, with a note attached and explicit instructions that it's not to be opened till he comes of age.

The babe is reared by romantic blueprints cohesively intuited and adoringly suckled, and even though he lacks corporeal agency, his enriched spirit jocosely thrives.

In the land of fantasy, a brilliant star cavernously crash lands rather unexpectedly, after a none too heartwarming decree attunes unwitting rivals to stellar constellation.

But covetous witches soon learn of its misfortune and one sets out to acquire its light, for if she's able to eat her heart her youthful endeavours will then regenerate.

The former babe learns of his fantastic origins and is transported to the star to fulfill a promise.

Unaccustomed to the land of magic.

His enchanted spirit guides him.

Romantically adorned and everlastingly arrayed, Matthew Vaughn's Stardust rambunctiously radiates, as haphazard improvised declamation serendipitously seeks out love.

A shame to see the two worlds cut off from constructive dialogues akin to outstanding, pejorative prejudice presumed by both sides leading to mutually dissonant contention.

Should the elevated art of persuasion ardently lay down its feverish flourishes, to articulate waylaid concrete indubitably practical schemes and strategies?

Should the blunt and direct fatalistic alarmed wisecracking determinate brigade, allow for scandalous spiritual syndications regenerative uplifting abstract accords?

Do Marvel films in fact represent working syntheses of the aforementioned?

Perhaps at times they do.

As does the crafty Stardust.

L'Atalante

A lonesome ship captain (Jean Dasté as Jean) finds himself a daring bride (Dita Parlo as Juliette), who courageously agrees to move onboard without a confusing hassle. 

Wedded bliss initially abounds as they travel from port to port, stopping in different cities and towns to embrace the local culture.

The first mate's a gentle eccentric who's found a niche to creatively conjure (Michel Simon as Le père Jules), the chill and abiding distracted captain having no problem with all of his cats.

When at sea he playfully finds various ways to amuse and entertain, while instructing the other members of the crew, at times even causing mischief. 

Unless otherwise afflicted he freely engages with wondrous vigour, curious to see what tradespeople showcase in their different shops when browsing ashore.

His carefree life is abruptly unhinged, however, when the captain erupts in a jealous fury, after his wife goes shopping alone without having told him where she's going.

The ship departs without belovéd focus in a callous reckless rage, the bride confused and emphatically crestfallen when unsuspectingly remerging.

It's up to le père Jules to reunite them (and save their jobs) if tidings be.

His merriment thrust afoul.

He departs for search and rescue.

At times your diligence is rewarded with an unexpected brilliant trajectory, overflowing with convivial abundance thoroughly enriched by awestruck tremors.

Le père Jules is one such exemplar and Jean Vigo's L'Atalante one such film, with innate incomparable gravitational intensity delicately nurturing improvisation.

It's always a  mistake to imagine the present as holding an unparalleled take on originality, not that novel films and books don't reside within, but other epochs also flourished creatively.

Perhaps Jules was inspired by one of Dickens's many compelling eccentrics, I really can't say, but he's the earliest example of a virtuous rogue I think I've ever encountered in cinema (1934).

It would be cool to work on a boat but what's even more, a boat full of cats, on top of that, a room full of oddities randomly acquired from around the globe.

Fully capable in times of trouble at others much too agéd to take things seriously, Jules has become one of my favourite fictional characters, in his travelling home upon the sea.

Well deserving of a remake in different languages in different countries, I wholeheartedly recommend the joyous L'Atalante to celebrate chill ideas and endearing personality. 

The Misfits

Oddly enough, last week I was listening to the Beatles and my mind once again turned to Ringo, who I still think gets a bad rap when you think about the solid backbone he provided the band.

He also cleverly worked his funny personality into the media sensation being built at the time, and refined unique adorable pop character as a matter of reflexive intuitive fact.

Not to mention Octopus's Garden which I was yelled at for liking as a kid (no joke). Love that song to this day (I don't understand the yelling, it made 1967-1970). I'm not saying this blog is like an octopus's garden. I just wish I'd never been yelled at for liking the song.

I mention this because Ringo's legend is brought to life in Renny Harlin's The Misfits with dazzling flair, as the principal Robin Hoodesque phenom assembles a daring altruistic team (Nick Cannon as Ringo).

The intricate individuals started out do-gooding on their own without project or inquiry, yet found things much easier to accomplish when rambunctiously gathered as a stalwart team.

Plus, they could purse loftier objectives like freedom fighting or in this case a prison full of gold, used to buy weapons and finance autocracy around the globe without catch or hindrance.

The prison was built by a man (Tim Roth as Schultz) prone to catching a remarkable thief, who in turn escapes from prison after prison much to his shocked astonishment (Pierce Brosnan as _______ Pace). 

The do-gooding band seeks the escape artist's help to steal the gold from his latest prison.

But they're not sure if he'll freely accommodate. 

So they come up with a multi-point plan.

It's first rate low budget action comedically generating thoughtful ambition, as an agile acrobatic team tumultuously agrees to search and discover.

I've got a lot of respect for low or lower budget action films because it's so hard to take on the behemoths. Not to mention how difficult it is to make a convincing action film to begin with. I appreciate the resonant daring.

I like how The Misfits doesn't blow as much stuff up, it's better for the environment not to destroy so many things.

Computer graphics come pretty close to reality.

Save money, protect the environment.

I've come to terms with my own misfit status although for a while I thought I'd fit in, I thought there must be somewhere I didn't feel odd but it never worked out, plenty of books and films in the meantime.

If you feel like a misfit however swiftly note most assurédly so do I.

Although it generally seems like so many others are strange.

It can make for quite the afternoon outing.