The Highwaymen

Two old school lawpersons are tasked with tracking Bonnie & Clyde, who have unleashed a rampant crime spree on unsuspecting middle-America.

They've been on the road for most their lives but had recently been enjoying retirement, until the stakes became too high and Ma Ferguson (Kathy Bates) came a' callin'.

Their knowledge gives them a shrewd leg up as they set out in search of madness, the couple already having shot 6 professionals, and evaded capture amidst spurned ubiquity.

The outlaws are loved and cherished which makes acquiring information difficult, and they're familiar with multiple jurisdictions and have widespread contacts along the way.

But Frank Hamer (Kevin Costner) and Maney Gault (Woody Harrelson) are familiar with drastic protocol, and confident in their sleuthing, even if they've aged since yesteryear.

They vigorously hit the road in search of moribund crisis.

Casting roll call aside.

The limits of their territory presenting non-negotiable constraints, they engage like wild frontierpersons, inviolable stalwart contingencies. 

Difficult to say if it's a matter of luck or swift determination that lithely guides them. 

But they do proceed unerring.

Omniscient, as it's written.

Perhaps written a bit too directly, as if Frank and Maney possessed divine instinct, and were therefore justified in taking reckless steps, to put an end to the wanton bloodshed.

I suppose Bonnie & Clyde were exceptional inasmuch as they gunned down so many policepersons, and seemed like they were getting away with it, across so many state lines.

But so many others are shot down by the police in routine circumstances having done no wrong (so many of them African Americans), The Highwaymen's more of a character study of grim fatalistic rangers, than a multidimensional perplexity replete with cultural intrigue.

It's cool to see so much Costner and Harrison, but a closer examination of the abstruse terrain would have been clever.

Not that the film isn't intelligent it just employs a less intricate style, like the honest controversial scenarios you find in a derelict western.

It's not that it isn't well done with several thoughtful memorable scenes, it's just so bluntly good vs. evil that so much is lost in between.

If it's remembered that the circumstances are exceptional and Bonnie & Clyde need to be hunted down that's one thing, but its one-dimensional promotion of the evil criminal implicitly suggests so many are absolutely guilty.

And that's simply not the case, circumstance and upbringing should be considered, prejudicial shackles and hopeless impoverishment often resulting in misguided crime.

Not that people should get away with it or victims shouldn't have their say, but the reasons explaining why someone chooses a life of crime go far beyond cookie cut polarities.

Good jobs, a foreseeable future, can lead to much less poverty.

An emphasis on racial equality can fight against internalized prejudice. 

The Founder

The idea was to make a lot of money.

A lot of money.

He'd been at it for decades and had secured a modest living but still sought that vast immaculate neverending revenue stream, a potentially permanent enriching strike to help him bask in abundance and stretch-out bemused, selling milkshake machines meanwhile as he drifted thoughtfully from state to state, never ceasing even in decade number 6, nimble and agile, eyes open wide.

Catatonics.

Suddenly it was right there in front of him, the idea, the market, a tantalizing prospect replete with multidimensional opportunities for everyone involved, but his shortsighted eventual partners lacked his commercially expansionist vision, clutching their original take too tightly with static dismissive unshakeable vanilla.

Dubious discrediting. 

If Ray Kroc (Michael Keaton) was about to go national and create wealth for sundry individuals seeking greener pastures it made sense that he couldn't be shackled by ideas which crushed his bottom line.

Turmoil.

John Lee Hancock's The Founder asks whether or not he was a warm generous individual intent on seeing others prosper or a cold calculating self-obsessed insatiable prick.

I would argue that he tried to work within the codes established by partners Dick (Nick Offerman) and Mac MacDonald (John Carroll Lynch) but as his impact on the business gradually transformed it from burger joint into national sensation, he slowly gained more clout, which enabled him to wisely challenge the principles of his hastily signed contract.

Dick and Mac did nothing to expand the business and consistently blocked reasonable attempts to increase revenues not just for themselves, but for the hundreds of people who worked for Kroc's franchises.

According to the film, Kroc was finding jobs for earnest people looking for a break and as McDonald's expanded from one location to dozens nationwide new ideas were bound to challenge the design of the original concept.

But Dick and Mac didn't support Kroc, at all, they couldn't grasp this aspect of the business, and he in fact chose the good of the many as opposed to the few, and therefore wasn't being monstrous when he hostilely took over.

Still, always take the 1%.

His analysis of the name McDonald's within the film adds a cerebral characteristic to a chain whose intellectual merits are not often highly regarded.

Ensuring that the animals who are eventually sold at McDonald's restaurants live comfortable lives beforehand and that hard-working employees are capable of earning enough income to support themselves does make a big difference to me as an occasional client, however, even if it means less profits.

McDonald's has taken steps to clean-up its supply chain in recent years, a potential reality which is quite impressive.

During a crazy 60 hour work week two years ago, I even stopped in for lunch and spent 20 dollars. 

That's a lot of McDonald's.

It may have been awesome.

Apart from all this, the film's good too, an accessible thought-provoking examination of a phenomenon I loved in my youth, which held my attention the whole way through thanks to its strong argumentative character driven paralysis. 

McSolid.

Driven, direct, frank, and bold, it never rests on its laurels, cleverly introduces new characters, and breaks things down with energetic distinction.

Make those burgers more healthy.

And it's crazy win win. 

Saving Mr. Banks

Artistic visions begrudgingly meet, in a story whose timelines derail the discreet, innocent childlike paternal love, textually flexed, romantically shoved into glittery glistening bedazzled shapes, affably born through divergent tastes, differing cultural curtailed conceptions, tenacious tempests, animate tensions, the question of ownership reputedly trusts the picture's polarity's pulsating thrush to sustains which wisely and playfully stray into micro and macro cosmetic brays, the genuine article exists in flashbacks, tragic addiction, familial shellacs, heartbreaking integrity guides P. L. Travers (Emma Thompson), a commitment unwavering forthrightly flatters, a confident stubborn unyielding resolve which Disney (Tom Hanks) respects, having been there installed, yet he's also a father taking care of the kids, a promise was made, indentured votives, but trifles and mercantile paraphernalia, can't loosen the grip of Ms. Travers's regalias, her steady inflexible inspiring song, betwixt the mercurial commercial throng.

Saving Mr. Banks presents a fun lively look at creative expression, uniting two revered works from different domains while managing to apply its own historical take on the narrative's competing geneses.

A poignant picturesque blush of the abrasive, empathetic yet covetous, principled, and cherished.

The Blind Side

The Blind Side is Republican and therefore problematic. John Lee Hancock's film concerns an extremely rich caucasian Republican family who adopts a traumatized African American youth. Thus, it immediately sets itself up as another narrative where condescending white people are the only saviours of down and out black people who would have amounted to nothing had they been left to the resources of their own community. This dimension functions throughout and cannot be ignored. But at the same time, it is the true story of a remarkably generous big-C Christian family who adopted a troubled youth in order to give them a chance at a better life. The Tuohy's are incredibly hospitable, not condescending, and bend over backwards to accommodate Michael Oher (Quinton Aaron). His past is full of tragedy, his demeanour excessively aloof, and his grades are lacking credibility. But he's really good at football (yeah, I know) and if given the right opportunity might just make the big time.

It's in the bible people!

But seriously, the film's self-reflexive nature is commendable and I truly enjoyed the ways in which John Lee Hancock and Michael Lewis's script poked fun at Republican stereotypes. To make the film acceptable to hard-line Republicans, a woman is given the most prominent role: Leigh Anne Tuohy (Sandra Bullock). This is the same device used by progressive thinkers to break down racial barriers on shows like Star Trek: The Original Series, where it might be okay for a caucasian man to kiss an African American woman, but it's not okay for a black man to kiss a white woman. Bullock gives the performance of a life time and truly shines in humanitarian splendour. Three stand out scenarios: after hiring a Democrat to tutor Michael (Kathy Bates), Sean Tuohy (Tim McGraw) states something like: "who'd have thought we'd have a black son before meeting a Democrat." I found this to be hilarious. It was intelligently situated, perfectly timed, and culturally disruptive, insofar as it points out that Christian Republicans who demonize Democrats without ever having met one (living their lives in isolated communities) (if such persons exist) are perhaps not living up to their open-minded Christian ideals. The Tuohy's assume Michael wants to play football at a university due to his success and support him full-heartedly. But when it occurs to them that perhaps he never wanted to play football period, they apologize and state that they will support him if he decides to pursue another career. Thirdly, the intertextual domain falls apart when Leigh Anne overtly explains the ways in which Munro Leaf's The Story of Ferdinand relates explicitly to Michael. But at the same time, the traumatic moment from Michael's past which continually resurfaces is not elucidated explicitly, an interesting twist of events where the somewhat insignificant detail is pronounced, while the more relevant motif is subdued, Hancock's subtle formal complement to his film's progressive dimension (by reversing the order of things formally, he complements his film's deconstruction of Republican normalities on a subconscious level).

It's difficult to effectively work within stereotyped traditional domains where there is a right and wrong and find ways to progressively and cross-culturally point out potential ideological shortcomings that seem as if they've been generated from within that ideology itself. This is what John Lee Hancock's The Blind Side has done, playfully pointing out the Republican blind side if you will, and for that reason, I found it to be an exceptional film.