Richelieu

I haven't read a Royal Commission on the current state of labour relations in Canada, but I do imagine there are businesses that treat their workers well.

People fought hard to create labour laws and continue to fight hard to strengthen them.

Such laws should apply to migrant workers as well.

Hiring labourers from foreign countries shouldn't equal brutal lawlessness. 

If your profit margins are so slim or the people you work for seek outrageous quotas, quotas that can't be legitimately reached without brutalizing your workforce, the management structure needs to be reorganized, with the well-being of you workers empathetically factored in.

The foreign labourers I worked with were hardcore they got the job amazingly well-done, going far beyond what was required of them, it was crazy impressive working with them.

To see them mistreated is an insult to their integrity.

They worked extremely hard and were entirely self-starting.

The job wasn't brutal and the expectations weren't unreasonable though, like they are on both accounts in Richelieu, an extremely difficult case.

The spirit of Québec that I've read about and experienced first hand steps in to help them, their translator going to great lengths to assist them while her mom patiently explains what to do.

There are some powerful scenes in the film passionately directed by Pier-Philippe Chevigny, notably the operating room sequence along with the heartwarming ending.

How could everyone involved be immersed in such hostile relations (the managers are brutalized by the people representing the shareholders as well [what the hell kind of environment do such hostilities cultivate])?

If this film is focused on industry standards, there's no doubt that things need to change.

If you run a legitimate business that gives workers a fair shake and treats them well, you're not only creating a safer work environment, you're also contributing to humanistic profit.

Humanistic profits lead to peaceful communities and much less stress for cultures in general.

Much less crime, much better books and films.

It's a win-win scenario.

That creates dreams and hope.

*Strong performance from Ariane Castellanos.

**People are people, no matter where they're from.   

Shin Zatôichi: Yabure! Tôjin-ken (Zatoichi and the One-Armed Swordsman)

Across the multivariable definitive lands of bellicose old school Japan, Zatoichi continues to awkwardly progress in search of honour and friendship and loyalty.

Unfortunately, his enduring prowess leads those who would traditionally salute his daring, to mistrust his holistic self-sacrifice as he haplessly seeks to help them.

Strict absolutes murderously upheld haunt his path in this instalment, as an adventurous family visiting from China runs afoul of ancient custom.

Indeed as the lauded clan leader austerely passes in procession along the road, those in front of him must free the way and humbly kneel and bow and worship.

But a Chinese child's long cherished kite suddenly takes off in front of them as they pass, the swordspeople immediately responding with rancour and consequently murdering strangers in their midst.

A one-armed swordsperson also visiting from China valiantly defends the un-armed innocents, only to be blamed for the resultant massacre and viciously hunted in the shocking aftermath.

Sometime after he flees he encounters Zatoichi with the aghast child, Zatoichi unable to understand his language, but as luck would have it, the boy can translate.

They stealthily stride and furtively fascinate until they find shelter amongst the survivors.

But after Zatoichi departs to gather supplies.

He's erroneously blamed for revealing their location. 

You see people who are interested in the same things curiously associating with one another online, without having to worry about nation or culture the similar interests promoting cohesive bonds.

Dispiritingly, the disseminators of widespread mistrust also prosper online, and miserably challenge the international forums within which global communities thrive and flourish.

Star Trek's universal translator certainly eases linguistic burdens, and makes cross-cultural convivial communication much more generally verbose and heartfelt.

We're not there yet but translating devices are consistently improving year after year, in twenty years I reasonably imagine a similar device may in fact exist.

Back in the day, such a miraculous enabling would have engendered dialogue between Zatoichi and the One-Armed Swordsman, and they would not have had to recklessly engage in a lethal death battle to settle the score.

Perhaps with ameliorated time and animate progressions we'll get there one day.

As the intuitive ideas of younger generations.

Make political headway worldwide. 

Arrival

Time shifts encoded rifts temporal gifts communication, a brilliant linguist (Amy Adams as Louise Banks) practically applying her knowledge to freelance first contact with an alien race, 12 mysterious ships having suddenly appeared across the globe, but no one knows why they've arrived and even though they haven't attacked or encouraged hostilities many fear the worst, for which they hysterically prepare.

The aliens write using extraordinarily complex symbols the deciphering of which requires the coordinated efforts of worldwide ingenious minds.

But as paranoid tensions continue to increase and the aliens share a sign which appears to mean weapon, the universal olive branch is sensationally shaken.

Fortunately Dr. Banks has the last word, her caring friendly curiosity refusing to abandon peaceful interstellar objectives.

In overdrive.

Another outstanding film from Denis Villeneuve, who's competently directing in different genres, Arrival rationally manages chaotic instincts to surgically fictionalize scientific translation.

Palindromic comprehension.

It flips typical sci-fi by placing understanding in the forefront and violence beneath the surface while still generating an exciting story with multiple ethicopolitical elements.

Bejewelled.

It also questions the nature of time and space to ontologically shiver epistemological certainties.

In relation to origins, to meaning, to the interrelations between the myriad signs presented to a subject every day and their potential interpretations, like an abstract grid infinitely connecting everything within existence with flexible stability, instinct, awareness, knowledge, corrections, detecting harmonies and juxtapositions with piquant patterns or unique exposés, messages, revelations, guides, the artist/mathematician/scientist/politician/welder/ . . . generating imaginative conditionals from such material to cure a disease or make an audience laugh, blending seemingly immiscible particulars to create something uniform, a node, a whorl, a beacon, something distinct, eventually subsiding into overwhelming euphorias fractionally reduced to the pristinely primal, at ease with one's environment, in conflict or judicial correspondence.

I got in trouble when I was young for thinking reincarnation was real, it just seemed obvious to me, which eventually transformed into the idea that perhaps there was no beginning, no ending, there was just being, which doesn't make much sense but there it is, foolishly matriculating.

I also saw the Star Trek: Voyager episode where Q claims the Q have always been years later.

He didn't explain whether or not human consciousness lives after physical death.

I also really loved swamp water when I was young. Once I discovered you were free to mix all the sodas together when fast food restaurants gave you your own cup to fill, it was straight to the swamp water.

Lol.

Sometimes it was rather tasty.

Delicious even.

Exponentially sound.

Like a library.

Aloha

Aloha deals with complex contemporary capitalistic and sociological issues in a seriously relaxed manner, smoothly stylizing an hectic chill work/life balance, while focusing on the big picture through a romantic lens.

Set in Hawaii.

The film follows Brian Gilcrest (Bradley Cooper), who's down on his luck, has taken a new job, is quasi-interviewing for another, runs into the love of his life who's now married with children, and has to entertain the plucky go-gettedness of a conscientious captain, Emma Stone as Allison Ng, while trying to overcome his ennui.

It's about land rights and the weaponization of space, Indigenous Hawaiians not wishing to permit the launch of a new potentially war mongering satellite, Gilcrest having to convince them that it's safe, Ng having to convince him to live up to his word.

Indigenous and American Hawaiian culture fuels several of Gilcrest and Ng's exploratory exchanges, and there's a great extended festive scene where everyone lets loose, Cameron Crowe fluidly capturing the fever.

Oddball billionaire Carson Welch (Bill Murray) blames the American government for the country's troubled economic times, but I suspect it was companies who didn't care about the environmental integrity of their communities, American communities, that problematized things, preferring to rapidly expand without considering the costs to social infrastructures, looking for the green light to pollute freely, revelling in their blatant disregard for the sustainability of local health.

Spoiler.

He ends up in jail.

You wonder if the script is just a clever examination of the disasters of weaponizing space, or a subtle re/introduction of something lobbyists have been promoting behind the scenes for decades.

I'm thinking it's just a clever examination.

Odd that the military benefits from private funding within however.

Isn't that grossly irresponsible?

Corporate armies?

A love story?

Adieu au langage (Goodbye to Language)

Blessed burnished cinematic, obscurities, stylizing in/coherent poetic exemplars, compartments, of, of symbols fletched with ornamental reliance condoning visualized adherence to vague linguistic polarizers, of; of authoritative intrusions into burgeoning contentments inquisitively dictated like frozen morning dew; of frost and dusty book jackets intertextually precipitating sundry points of view, condensed and ephemeralized with aloof poignancy, crafted in jaded thematic miniature.

Concerned nonetheless.

With the capacity of purpose to historically deflect imaginative horrors subjugating the passions of one's youth.

With engendered protests libidinally interacting to stretch beyond predetermined boundaries and sustain notions of limitless conjugal impunity.

Of joy.

With animalistic contemplative assured responsive discipline, attempts to harangue, roll over, sit, fetch.

For cinema.

For history.

For classics.

If I were to canonize films many of Godard's would be considered.

I do prefer them when their narratives at least attempt to focus on a plot, however, more like narrative critical inquiry than philosophic filmic treatises.

Abstractly entertaining.

Fènix 11-23

A young child's fascination with Harry Potter leads him to create The Army of the Phoenix online, dedicated to promoting Catalonian language rights, and defending the culture of Catalan.

Due to recent terrorist bombings, however, his activism runs afoul of Spain's anti-terrorism laws, and he's soon absurdly disciplined and punished.

Recalling Jason Buxton's Blackbird, Èric Bertran (Nil Cardoner) makes the mistake of responding to a threat with threatening language, hostilely mentioning a controversial underground organization in his reply, naively behaving as youngsters often do, unaware of the legal ramifications of his rapid fire inflammatory comment.

Both films examine the resulting social consequences but in Fènix 11-23 a support network develops which eases the tension.

Èric's life undergoes monumental changes as his family, friends, teacher, surrounding community members, and love interest come to terms with their fears regarding the penalties, directors Joel Joan and Sergi Lara rationally unreeling these fears, slowly moving from the callous to the understanding, as concepts such as democracy become more tangible.

Fènix 11-23 doesn't maudlinly express its examination of free speech (it's a true story), nor engage in sensationalist practices.

Rather, it shows how sensationalism can be a political byproduct that can ruin the lives of the people politicians are supposed to protect.

You can't write about controversial issues without expecting the police to take note and place you on a list of some kind. They are concerned with fighting terrorism.

You can expect them not to harass children, or anyone, exercising their democratic rights, turning playful miscalculations into seditious intents, winning a few votes and/or budget increases thereby, while sacrificing the ideals they're supposed to uphold.

Èric's unyielding courage is an inspiration.

Talk about bold.

Chinese Take-Away (Un cuento chino)

A random gravitational incongruity crushes a soaring romance after which one partner haplessly finds himself mired in a self-inflicted mimesis.

Thus Jun (Ignacio Huang) travels from China to Argentina in search of his uncle where he meets a frigid loner (Ricardo Darín as Roberto) by chance who is firmly set in his ways.

Jun doesn't speak any Spanish and Roberto dislikes house guests but the good samaritan Roberto keeps locked within persuades his finicky craftsmanship.

But as those with whom he must interact to find Jun's uncle ironically do not posses the same level of social reflexivity, things take a lightheartedly combative turn, until fate forecasts its fortuitous frequency.  

Decisions made, gut garnished, ethos, codified.

But it's really not that cheesy, I mean, Sebastián Borensztein's Chinese Take-Away (Un cuento chino) does press the curds but if you're interested in seeing a heartwarmingly blunt piece of extroverted reticence, primarily focused on an eccentric small business owner's stubbornly withdrawn principled hardboiled tact, wherein fascists and communists alike take their comeuppances, it's fun to watch.

Sensitive, enumerative, obdurate, and tender, assuredly a go-to-option if dating and seeking to sneak in an alternative cross-cultural b/romantic comedy.

I'm assuming that's what people who date are trying to do. 

Regardless of gender.

2 frogs dans l'ouest

Leaving behind her structured life in Montréal, Marie Deschamps (Mirianne Brulé) travels to Whistler in pursuit of adventure and the acquisition of the English language. Things don't progress smoothly in the beginning until the angelic Jean-François Laforest (Dany Papineau) steps in to save the day. With a job and a place to stay, Marie's transition steadfastly accelerates and good previously unimagined times present themselves. But the predetermined all encompassing capitalist master narrative is still seductively ready to pounce, just as bohemian alternatives become all the more tantalizing.

Dany Papineau's 2 frogs dans l'ouest salutes the pursuit of non-traditional lifestyles while highlighting corresponding difficulties as well as those associated with learning a new language. The scene where Marie attempts to order something to eat in English near the beginning of her journey reminded me of similar personal outings in Québec, where you can't help but feel prostrate due to the fact that you can't communicate or don't understand the simple linguistic distinctions that you need to be able to comprehend in order to function, although the percentage of Québecors who speak English is much higher than that of English Canadians who speak French, a fact that many English Canadians should take into consideration. Sport is central to 2 frogs dans l'ouest's vision and the cathartic affects of activities such as snowboarding play a central metaphoric role. Is living in a beautiful place like Whistler or Canmore in order to pursue the artistic life while consistently engaging in exhilarating activities amidst the continuous inspirational presence of breathtaking scenery a good decision?

Yes, yes it is, although I suppose everyone can't live in such places, only the committed few.

Some of the coming of age reflections in 2 frogs dans l'ouest are a little tough to take at times. Papineau develops a lot of sympathy for Marie's father (Germain Houde) who made many sacrifices so that she could go to school as well. But he also didn't make those sacrifices so that she would give up her dreams.

And she doesn't.

Sympathy for the Devil

Showcasing The Rolling Stones (1968) as they record different versions of "Sympathy for the Devil," Jean-Luc Godard's Sympathy for the Devil tamely presents the to-be-legendary band while interspersing footage of the Black Panthers, a verdant interview, and an idealistic book shop. Political verse read from different texts is interjected throughout as graffiti artists championing the left take to the streets. Rich with ambiguous irony and multidimensional interpretive layers, Godard phantasmagorically makes several points which, as far as I can tell, seek to establish, amongst other things, a Marxist film industry in the West and a legion of intellectuals who pursue their activity by abandoning traditional paradigms, creating new compelling forms to provocatively distribute their countercultural content, i.e., The Rolling Stones's "Sympathy for the Devil," communism being demonic in Western eyes precisely because it attempts to politicize the teachings of Jesus Christ while giving birth to monsters like Stalin. Are artists using the internet to create a politico-economic infrastructure that can effectively sustain Marxism in order to promote a more peaceful egalitarian culture that doesn't pervert its altruistic ideals while specific outlets continue to foster a divisive mainstream capitalist agenda? In Sympathy for the Devil, Godard sets up culture and art in opposition so the aforementioned could lead to a material synthesis of some kind (a Dharma Punx video game?). The verdant interview depicts a woman named Eve Democracy (Anne Wiazemsky) being asked wide ranging questions in a forest to which she only answers "yes" or "no," which, according to my interpretation, states that 1960s women were politically situated within a wild uncultivated box that limited their productivity to monosyllabic replies which men preferred and ignored because they possessed no elaboration but still provided the illusion of a voice. The Black Panthers make sharp points concerning language and communication etc., notably in regards to semantics and the ways in which different groups can speak the same language and have no idea what the other is trying to say. A lot more could have been illustrated in the film if The Rolling Stones weren't consistently brought back to the forefront, although, since they're one of my favourite bands and their consistent return represents form working hand in hand with content, it's not such a bad thing. Whether or not they forged and continue to forge a countercultural realm in line with Godard's vision could be the anti-intellectual subject of a poetic montage worked into the chorus of a new podcast.