Sanjuro

The improvised planning of the itinerant samurai much more fluid in the cerebral Sanjuro, after a group of younger emboldened citizens discover a plot to dispose of an elder.

The samurai meets them by chance on a world-weary voyage leading to their door, where they innocently plan their audacious activities with impulsive daring and simplistic fortitude. 

Little do they know, they're being surrounded by the very same scoundrels they hope to challenge, who have brought at least 100 men to unceremoniously ambush them.

The samurai uncovers the plot and quickly overcomes his habitual boredom, immediately employing his requisite cunning like a grand-chess-master to outmaneuver the danger.

He swiftly realizes the group is honourable and therefore decides to offer his protection, putting advanced logic and reason to work in the adventurous aid of the sublime do-gooders.

But his lacklustre bearing his indolent mood doesn't quickly win over their skeptical hearts, especially since he drinks too much saké and at crucial times seems distant and irritated. 

They find when they listen to his strategic counsel they usually outwit their foes nevertheless.

And after much heated arguing amongst themselves, eventually agree to suffer his temper.

Not as explosive as many a chaotic borderline reckless wild samurai movie, but still quite endearing to strategic minds who truly love spur-of-the-moment planning.

Truly like an active chess game where each single move must be delicately balanced, the hardboiled yet caring demonstrative leader entertaining his students while refuting their folly (like the opposite of Trump's daily antics).

It's fun to watch as they impudently quarrel with the wise honest master lending a hand, alas no matter how many times he saves them they still adamantly doubt his chill erudition. 

The samurai is thrilling to watch if you like free confident ingenious odd heroes, whose skills are so genuinely imposing they take spectacular risks as if they were simply gardening (with bears).

Like a formidable saviour guarding the just from bellicose foolishness in corrupt mortal lands, the warrior proceeds with ethical daring even though he could have kept wandering alone.

From village to village the unruly countryside curiously wondering who will suddenly show up.

And add some spice to bucolic life.

At times routine, yet never overdone. 

Transformers: The Movie

The famished malevolent Unicron proceeds uncontested throughout the Universe, devouring planets as he randomly travels destructively immersed within timeless space.

As he approaches Cybertron, the Decepticon leadership battles the Autobots, who have retreated to two of its moons and Autobot City upon planet Earth.

The battle is feverishly fought both sides taking heavy casualties, Megatron and Optimus Prime fearsomely opposing one another with embittered fortitude.

As the leaders tumultuously duel, they deal each other fatal blows, Optimus forced to give up the Matrix of Leadership, Starscream banishing Megatron thereafter.

Nevertheless, Unicron has foreseen that only one thing can possibly destroy him, the coveted heralded respected Matrix of honest and fair immaculate Leadership.

He finds Megatron drifting through space and begrudgingly transforms him into Galvatron, before tasking him with furtively retrieving the ancient Matrix foreverafter. 

Always crafty, Megatron decides that if he finds it he'll harness its powers, to defeat ye olde Unicron whom he rather dislikes for presuming omniscience.

But foolish Megatron ignorantly forgets that the divine Matrix only supports just leadership.

The Autobots also seeking to stop Unicron.

As their fight wages throughout the Galaxy.

If you happened to be born at the right time I doubt you'll ever tire of its soundtrack, Transformers: The Movie distilling a passionate craze of robotic rhythms and electro wavelengths. 

It abounds with versatile transformers as one product line replaces another, a trajectory perhaps not followed by other toy brand films after many audiences erupted in fury.

Noble proclamations exuding sublime paths of innocently-defined righteous leadership, embrace community or open-minded togetherness with characteristic sincere savvy. 

Age and youth within the continuum continue their wise and impulsive dialogues, as the reckless Hot Rod and the weathered Kup dispute various subjects throughout their travels.

As Optimus Prime graciously fades it's tough to imagine the Autobots without him, and somewhat frustrating that Megatron bounces back within the film while he does not.

Perhaps another feature that was widely criticized.

The animosity fading with age.

Love watching this film again and again.

Old school longevity, luminescent viscosity. 

The Cars that Ate Paris

It's tough to say what's bound to happen if you leave isolated communities on their own. 

Should representatives of a central government keep in consistent contact as they blossom?

If they had in The Cars that Ate Paris, the situation may have been different, and the thriving supplemental auto parts industry may not have flourished so devastatingly. 

The leader would have been proactively concerned.

He's attempting to facilitate familial community.

Local inhabitants can routinely depend on an uplifting speech to keep them motivated. 

He's not particularly adept at generating sincere enthusiasm, yet still attempts to absolutely encourage village-wide co-operation and understanding.

Inhabitants have grown to be somewhat restless due to a lack of sure and steady employment, and have taken to recklessly engage in spirited acts of hard-driven disjunction. 

One individual survives and isn't sent to the local hospital, where outsiders are usually lobotomized after their cars are blown off the road. 

He lacks vision and focus and usually seems quite friendly and unobtrusive, and is therefore permitted to live in the town assuming he doesn't cause any mischief.

Xenophobia is taken to ridiculous degrees as the murderous townsfolk routinely express themselves, alone and forgotten in the far distant Outback where rarely a traveller comes passing through.

Absurd no doubt but indubitably commensurate with low-budget frights from around the world, its innovative use of vehicular vocation demonstrating odd technoautomotive authenticity.

The ways in which they doctor up their cars with intricate designs and supplemental parts, reminded me of Fury Road and I wondered if The Cars that Ate Paris had been historically instructional. 

Then it occurred to me that the phenom's likely widespread across the sweltering resourceful Outback, and that these films are artistic examples of something I've never seen in North America. 

I would argue that the moment when the clueless lobotomized outsiders show up at the mandatory town dance, transports The Cars that Ate Paris to another level, that's as shocking as it is original.

A challenge if you like old school cult films the existence of which encourage disbelief.

Before heading out on the road.

Destination carefree and uncharted. 

Henry V

Was curious to see more of Laurence Olivier's celebrated work, and realized I had perhaps been somewhat hasty by overlooking his Shakespearian cult. 

Thus to return to the elegant bard whose gift for language surpasses so many, to once again bask in ingenious horseplay distilling eloquent novel reckonings.

I was impressed by Mr. Olivier in Henry V but not as blown away as I thought I would be, even if I struggled to think of who could best him, and only came up with a very short list.

The lack of mind-numbing esteem which I was unable to share with Olivier to be certain, is an unfortunate byproduct of his heroic method which he generously shares through rich humility.

That is, his Henry is modest and sincere much different from the vain boasting oft encountered these days, and although he still shines through with resonant fortitude, some of his genius may have been held back.

Not that I would have wanted him to brag or gloat or bluntly engage in übermasculinity, but had he found himself in Branagh's more hardboiled film he may have had more time for intrigue and mischief (not that Branagh wasn't impressive himself, I haven't seen the film for 30 years but loved it in my youth [his Frankenstein wasn't very good though]).

I did wonder considering the times if Marlon Brando had ever tried the role, having recently watched The Godfather again and been genuinely blown away by his performance.

My mind switched to Brando and Shakespeare and I have to admit I couldn't come up with anything, until Google reminded me he had played Mark Antony long ago in Julius Caesar.

But he shockingly turned down Hamlet which if I'm not mistaken is a sought after role, it could very well have been that he preferred America and wasn't as enamoured with the best of Britain.

Olivier took on the role however I haven't seen it yet but will watch it soon, is there more bravery for embracing theatrical superlatives or mesmerizingly inventing fresh characters anew?

To see them both at odds on the stage may have seemed incredible no doubt way back when, but Britain often steers clear of the Americas, unless they're reunited in fantasy and science-fiction.

To dream humbly nevertheless of a stately dialectic theatrically apotheosized. 

Yet the giants often respect each other's talent.

And professionally leave so much up to the imagination. 

The Alamo

The classic three colonel quandary this time defending ye olde Alamo, where a lot of good people lost their valiant lives courageously fighting reckless tyranny.

Plato's Republic can lend a hand giving a coherent account of their personalities, as convincingly theorized by James Edward Grant likely after having embraced agile study.

In The Republic there are 3 classes of people chillin' out then gettin' er' done, those known as producers providing goods and services, at times irrationally or superstitiously expressing themselves.

The second is labelled the auxiliaries and it defends the city from agression, its bravery valued and at times commended when they're promoted to the rank of guardian.

The guardians or philosopher kings are a strictly rational lot, driven by temperance, courage, wisdom, and emergent justice, they uniformly focus on reasonable good governance and can be prickly pears when encountering tomfoolery.

In The Alamo, Colonel William Barret Travis corresponds to such a character, in charge of defences and unwilling to leave or surrender even though the situation seems hopeless. Driven by principle and ideal he's quite severe in his language and commentaries, not many men willing to fight for him, although those that do admire his courage.

Jim Bowie is a classic producer he's rough and tumble and lacks regal eloquence, drinking too much at times - even far too often, his questionable discipline endearing to his men.

These two colonels wield lucid rancour and almost kill each other more than once, Bowie furious he wasn't given the command even if his chaotic conduct should have convinced him otherwise.

The third colonel is Davy Crockett played by John Wayne who also directed, his spirit wise his loyalty abounding his men thoroughly devoted to his command.

He admires Travis's wisdom even if he thinks he's a haughty stuffed shirt, who's difficult to get along with and too overbearing yet still a great soldier at the end of the day.

He likes the other's pluck and resilience but soon realizes he lacks knowledge and insight, building a bridge between them through friendship which makes for a somewhat rowdy yet fastidious accordance.

It's certainly entertaining at times and even gives the peaceful characters noble voices. 

Such voices prominently revelling at times.

Peaceful times.

With Kamala's grace.

Black Adam

D.C's Black Adam takes a turn for the ruthless as opposing extremists seek absolute victory, the feuding opponents having been unable to forgive for thousands of acrimonious rage-fuelled years.

The lack of concern for human life malevolently maintained by characters within, sets a maniacal distressing precedent not often seen in fantasy-adventures.

Of course they're countered by caring individuals definitively dedicated to preserving life, who don't calculate with vicious reckoning absolutely composed through righteous might.

When both sides in an age old conflict that sees no prospect of ending soon, view their adversaries with reckless contempt there's no way out of the malignant cycle.

Without leadership willing to withstand the bitter force of paralyzing prejudice, on both sides, the peaceful populace just trying to live has no laidback recourse to cultural stability.

Most people that I've met aren't irate belligerent militaristic madmen, they'd rather live a productive life in prosperous peace with their friends and families.

A stable economy, routine work, a dependable living to support domestic endeavours, aren't these things much more valuable than obsessed hatred and compulsive chaos?

You only have to momentarily consider something as wholesome as a community park, and the far-sighted caring commendable people who preferred such an idea to sequestered solace. 

Is the park not freely available to everyone, regardless of race or religion?

It would be cool if far-sighted knowledgeable politicians kept track of radical war mongers, the people advocating for the spread of war, using words like "natural" and "inevitable".

They could keep a list of these people and should a horrendous day come when war actually broke out, ensure that they're sent to the front lines for the entire conflict, where they'd be given plenty of opportunity to prove their mettle. 

Life's the most valuable asset we have after the choice is made to have a family, and real men and women opposed to wars and conflicts know the value of peace and stability.

They know it's a much more divine conception of honour to peacefully and compassionately love friends and family, to uphold traditions and seek continuity within playful reason generation after generation.

The love of good food, a glass of wine, the reliable networks that cultivate consistency.

Why listen to politicians who would challenge that?

To profit people who have nothing but contempt for you?

Superman shows up during the credits so there may be hope for the sequel.

But the Rock is too influential a star.

And I didn't like his character's contempt for life.

Lean on Me

I must admit to knowing little about the daily operations of American schools, I've seen various films and read books presenting snapshots, but I remain largely unfamiliar with concrete details.

Thus when focused on a school like Eastside High as depicted in John G. Avildsen's Lean On Me, at first I'm tempted to trust to exaggeration through interests in presenting irate shock.

But perhaps my lack of knowledge is tending to obscure manifest realism, and there are indeed schools comparable to this one down South, even if they're tough for Canadians to envision, I could never imagine things getting that out of hand.

The school's discipline has deteriorated so profoundly that extreme measures are suddenly called for, as a new principal is effectively hired with the hopes of increasing its state average (Morgan Freeman as Principal Joe Clark).

If its state average does not improve the state itself will take objective control, and personal flair and individual reckoning may fade into bureaucratic oblivion. 

Naturally their personal flair has lacked efficient recourse to strength in recent decades, and manifold undesirable elements have arisen to challenge rational rule.

It can be heartbreakingly tragic when genuinely concerned individuals are rashly ignored, and a lack of upheld respect for authority leads to wild insecure degeneration.

Mr. Clark's methods aren't widely appreciated and he's honestly difficult to deal with, as he takes absolute control and refuses to listen to anyone else's opinion.

He fights the unruly head on and makes great strides in encouraging learning, unconcerned with image or friendship or reputation he authoritatively expresses himself.

Within the extremist example the case is made for sharp edged discipline, if things degrade to such a level a hug and a bandaid may not solve things.

The question is what happens the next year after the situation has evolved, and newfound pride in educational advancement establishes roots within the school?

Then does the headstrong leader gracefully adapt to the less volatile circumstances, and once again encourage democracy amongst students and staff alike?

If so, the unfortunate necessary embrace of hard-hearted methods finds justification, if such a situation existed (massive drug dealing etc., not something as harmless as gender identity), and couldn't be remedied otherwise.

If the leader doesn't relax power or refuses to acknowledge his fellow staff, then disconsolate dismal camaraderie may lead to the loss of highly valued personnel. 

The next school year isn't the focus so the overarching jury provides no verdict.

However the school resists being taken over.

And becomes a safe place to learn again. 

Bagdad Café

A marriage suddenly breaks up while the couple travels through the Mojave Desert, the wife taking a suitcase and venturing forth to the closest accommodating hotel (Marianne Sägebrecht as Jasmin Münchgstettner). 

The hotel's seen better days and lacks commercial intuition, a delirious rut having settled in which drives away most potential customers.

But Jasmin sees lucrative possibility virtually isolated in the Mojave, and whereas the owners (CCH Pounder as Brenda) have abandoned ship, she strives to keep the craft afloat.

Fortunately, her versatile industry and its accompanying foresight and vision, aren't lost on the cafe's staff, and soon metamorphoses materialize to bring paying clients back again. 

Further, sloth and anger slowly fade into bitter oblivion, gradually replaced by ingenuity not to mention bold showpersonship.

Ms. Münchgstettner isn't a demanding taskmaster sternly managing the forlorn crew, she rather leads by efficient example to avoid unproductive arguments with her co-workers.

Her example proves effective and her lack of ego inspires change.

But she doesn't have the necessary documents. 

To hold off deportation. 

Having spent some time North of 60 I have a latent fascination with the desert, from alternative meteorological extremes, regarding the perseverance of active life.

If people and animals can find a way to live in distressing ubiquitous cold, why not the heat as well, swelteringly abounding with solar energy?

I'd have to keep sunscreen close at hand and resourcefully find shade wherever possible, my myriad freckles indubitably intensifying within the unforgiving heat!

With shade acquired and a general lack of alarming nauseating sunstroke however, it would be fun to work somewhere like the Bagdad Café for an indeterminate period of time.

If you ever visit the countryside and go with the flow at work and play, you may discover a world of wonder at novel peace home on the range.

It's not always like that of course but I was lucky in my youth.

I don't regret having had to leave.

But sometimes I wish I'd stayed. 

Top Gun: Maverick

In terms of successful careers, of maintaining an enviable cool for 35 to 40 years, Tom Cruise is practically in a class of his own, only Tom Hanks perhaps as comparable, it's incredible how many solid films they've made in my lifetime.

As far as I know, Cruise has never starred alongside a dog, nor engaged in nonsensical shenanigans, he's been sure and steady throughout most of my life, and in terms of action-adventure, in a league of his own.

Regarding consistency, his films are usually cool with numerous elaborate death-defying sequences, to make so many over such a long span of time is a definitive salute to finesse and professionalism. 

Take Top Gun: Maverick, within there's a new generation of actors one of whom may have a career that rivals his own, and it's his responsibility to guide them on a dangerous highly-specialized mission.

His character's idyllic cool he's been playing by his own rules for impressive decades, in the armed forces no less, that's an outstanding feat.

But can he trust these younger pilots to execute their mission with impeccable precision, as he teaches them what no one else can efficiently transmit through heroic calm and legendary expenditure? 

In the end, no, a way is found for him to take part in the mission itself, an indefatigable challenge to the youth of today to have a Hollywood run as successful as his own (that is just an interpretation and by no means reflects what Tom Cruise actually intended).

I suppose when engaging in extremely precise and resoundingly requisite covert missions, the first run should be trusted to the most gifted personnel, who have passed the unrelenting onslaught of multivariable tests designed to flexibly discover the most loyal and battle worthy.

But there's still what I (and probably many others) call game time instincts, the skills that can only be developed in the field against intense opposition, and a well-rounded spectrum of diverse soldiers and pilots can perhaps ensure greater success under such conditions.

I'm thinking of Saint-Loup's admiration for the bakers and other less aristocratic soldiers in World War I (In Search of Lost Time), and the British pilots who extemporaneously arose during the Battle of Britain to outmaneuver Nazi scum.

Had a wide spectrum of diverse capability not been trusted to exceptionally command (isn't this why the American economy has traditionally functioned so well?), would the haughty Nazis or even Putin's Russians have had greater success on the field of battle?

You can no doubt simulate similar conditions but there's no substitute for direct engagement.

Will anyone ever perform as well for such a long period of time as Mr. Cruise?

I doubt I'll see it again in my lifetime. 

Perennially committed to entertaining through cinema. 

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.

The Long Good Friday

It's generally a trick, a feint, a grand complex scheme disingenuously designed, but if you've often experienced that kind of thing, you develop a sixth sense for the tell tale signs.

Harold (Bob Hoskins), on the other endowed hand, creatively blends with intuitive agency, his prosperous organization having smoothly flourished and kept the peace for 10 solid years.

Thus, when he comes home from a trip to outrageously find his peeps under attack, he needs to improvise with eclectic fortitude to expediently reveal the clandestine culprit.

You wonder how Obama did it, how he governed so smoothly for 8 steady years, remember back to a time much more peaceful when radical initiatives didn't rule the day. 

It wasn't that long ago, just somewhere around 6 volatile years, during which there's been an unpredictable focus, not to mention war, and a horrific pandemic.

The last 6 years have felt like 16 there's been so much tactical upheaval, so many mad disillusioning developments that challenge one's engrained trusting instincts. 

I don't want to be suspicious since it's much less pleasant and generally agreeable, but when so many things just don't add up, you inevitably create theoretical explanations. 

But if the current state of affairs seem reckless and your theoretical explanations even more so, cultural productivity may indeed be jeopardized if suddenly embraced, induced, disseminated.

But the bizarre and the hijinx-haywire seem to reemerge in the news every day, uncanny wild multidimensional mayhem recodifying mainstream matrices.

But it was only 6 years ago that you never would have thought we'd have worldwide carnage, or a viral plague destroying the middle class, or millions of people distrusting the world's leading electoral system.

I remember reading about radical tactics designed to make people stop paying attention (probably Chomsky), so it's important to stay in the loop even if it becomes increasingly distasteful. 

While remembering ye olde Obama.

And a peaceful world respectfully strung.

So much desire for the bland sensational.

Sweeping equivalencies, overlooked, effaced. 

Rumble Fish

Consistently struggling tantamount turmoil uncertain identity freewheelin' flux, hardboiled impulsive volatile rep discursively challenged voltaically scarred.

No guidance no mentor no quarter just headstrong courageous cataclysmic shock, hoping to find something to firmly adhere to, without showing signs of genuine interest.

He's never known his unconcerned mother and his father's (Dennis Hopper) gave everything up just to drink, his brother once leader of a neighbourhood gang but since disappeared for life on the road.

He suddenly returns (Mickey Rourke as the Motorcycle Boy) enigmatic and imposing but lacking concrete objective charisma, overflowing with versatile potential yet unwilling to choose one path over another. 

Rusty James (Matt Dillon) tries to relate but finds the mystery too confusing, the resultant vague indeterminate ambivalence too otherworldly for group dynamics. 

Not that the stories and the tales and the testaments don't heartwarmingly make for good conversation, there's just no pattern no general direction that leads to a construct, tradition, balance.

Some people (many people) like that kind of thing and eagerly respond to level-headed practicality. 

Corresponding occupational rhythms. 

Sure and steady indelible facts. 

Could mean a lot more at times if chaotic situations could find rational solutions, ubiquitous dissonance recklessly sustained difficult to patiently and reasonably negotiate. 

How to develop a lucid network of reliable intertwined energetic enterprises, judiciously incorporating rest and relaxation in a federation of craft, procession, and livelihood? 

Not to leave behind able capable citizens transforming angst into raw productivity.

You can clearly cover the basics to provide a general equitable start, with education and healthcare freely available there's much less tension a fairer shake more opportunity.

When you pool resources together to achieve things like safer schools and communities, there may be some people who take advantage, but don't statistics prove the majority act otherwise?

Times change, flux & fashion, independent trends, age old resolve.

The kids in Rumble Fish deserved a better chance.

Not like they ever would have said anything otherwise.

Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas

Two friends choose a different path upon the raging seven seas, one upholding peace and spellbound honour, the other engaged in piracy.

They meet one fateful day when a mythical beast attacks one of their ships, as the other tries to rob it, he's after the seminal Book of Peace.

As is the covetous Goddess of Chaos (Michelle Pfeiffer as Eris) who has to admit she finds Sinbad (Brad Pitt) attractive, so adorable she maddeningly establishes a series of treacherous tests for him and his crew.

But first she disguises herself as Sinbad and lets herself be seen stealing the Book from Syracuse, where nobles have gathered from across the land(?) to take in its ethereal wisdom.

Sinbad swears, "'twas not I", but the royalty stubbornly refuse to believe him, and sentence him to a violent death, from which there's no escape.

Unless his childhood friend (Joseph Fiennes as Proteus) should agree to take his forlorn place, and triumphantly await his valiant return from the Realm of Chaos with the Book.

Accompanying him on the journey is Proteus's illustrious betrothéd (Catherine Zeta-Jones as Marina), whom Sinbad's loved since the moment he first saw her, so many years ago.

Thus should one consider honour he or she will find it on display, in this bold and virtuous undertaking known as Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas.

Purists may critique the interpretive flair presumed to adjust the recourse to legend, but who's to say with authentic pluck what really took place so long ago?

If perhaps concerned with specific volumes canonically upheld as verifiable postage, a difference of opinion may sapiently simmer, but the film was made when the '90s still held sway (2003), and there were so many multitudinous creative ruptures. 

I can't say I kept in touch with currents and trends for the past 20 years, as their vicissitudes mutated into newfound critical and philosophical voyages.

It seems that relativity no longer holds sway however as an advisor may have mentioned, even though ethically and experientially it makes more sense than other less inclusive strategies. 

It was always generally heartwarming to think historical figures were being lightheartedly re-imagined, but it seems like perhaps the purists are still intent on re-establishing a more rigid code.

With Putin on the warpath there's no mistaking absolutist pretensions. 

Trump, the Plague, Putin.

Why ever leave the island of Montréal?

Daylight

Always loved driving through tunnels as a child, and I have to admit, I still do, they're remarkable feats of submerged engineering, and it's fun to drive through them because you're travelling underwater.

But of course, at times, while leisurely passing through them, I consider the possibility of collapse, along with grim forecasts regarding lacking potential escape routes, accompanied by variable prognostications, predicting cumbersome water flows.

Just how my brain works, as I've mentioned before, I'm single for life, it's okay though, so much time has passed and I've yet to hear of a tunnel collapsing, apart from the frenzied fictional fetters, fantasized in Rob Cohen's chaotic Daylight.

Within, a variety of families and individuals suddenly find themselves trapped beneath the Hudson River, with little hope of ever escaping, to the multidimensional world above.

A high-speed chase encouraging an explosion led to their exasperated incarceration, city officials unsure how to pristinely proceed, amidst the conflicting demands of the impetuous rush hour. 

But one person keeps a level-head and refuses to let the survivors drown, taking great risks just to reach their location, where he encounters vehement criticism (Sylvester Stallone as Kit Latura).

For he was once in charge of New York's rescue efforts until one day a unique situation overwhelmed him, after which he was relieved of his command, the story hitting the local newspapers.

But having learned of the enormous disaster while driving around in his daring cab, he heard the call and showed up immediately, like so many brave Ukrainians. 

Given the go ahead rapidly proceeding he strives to save the isolated crew.

They eventually forge a united team.

In the heart of the 1990s.

I imagine improvised united teams are being forged by the resistance across Ukraine, in defiance of fascist imperialism, to save both a country and a way of life.

Hopefully the sanctions the West is imposing make a difference sooner than later.

Although I imagine Putin's hellbent on victory. And won't hesitate to starve and bankrupt his own people to achieve it.

If things had proceeded differently, if Russia hadn't chosen an autocratic path, it might be currently up for admission to the European Union, and enjoying various cultural exchanges with friends in North America.

Too late to focus on conditionals, but not too late to stifle despotism at home.

Do you see what happens when you ignore democracy, and place too much power in individual hands?

When you take complex decision-making procedures away from groups seeking to productively participate? 

Dune

The Indigenous inhabitants (the Fremen) of a barren world (Arrakis aka Dune) once flourished unobstructed, until its only resource became the most coveted in the galaxy.

This spice mélange allows gifted navigators to alter the fabric of space and time, while others use it to mutate consciousness, attaining heightened spiritual states.

Different planets within the interplanetary union are governed by an Emperor, who is obsessed with maintaining control, and possesses a massive formidable army.

The rights to mine the spice engender astronomical profits, and House Harkonnen of planet Giedi Prime has obscenely enjoyed them for quite some time.

But House Atreides of planet Caladan has become remarkably popular in the union, as led by its level-headed Duke (Oscar Isaac), and the Emperor has grown jealous of its meteoric rise, and seeks to dishonourably annihilate them.

Thus, he takes Dune's mining rights away for the barbarous self-obsessed Harkonnens, and gives them to House Atreides, who can't refuse the magnificent honour, even if they suspect a trap.

The Harkonnens who hate the Atreides seek to attack them after the transition, supported by several legions of Sardaukar, the Emperor's ferocious spartan troops. 

But the Fremen hold a prophecy that a messiah will lead them out of darkness, and will come from the outer world, and know his ways as if [he's] born to them.

Duke Leto's son Paul (Timothée Chalamet) possesses extraordinary abilities and the Bene Gesserit Sisterhood admires them.

Could he survive the Harknonnen's sneak attack?

And find discreet refuge amongst the Fremen?

That's a working general snapshot of Frank Herbert's complex plot, which is difficult to simplify in a film, so this one' stretched into two instalments.

Denis Villeneuve cultivates isolation as a matter of intergovernmental intricacy, so many fierce independent characters collegially united through distinct cause.

Dignified solemnity is no laughing matter as the Atreides accept monumental responsibility, in a fluctuating volatile stern vortex, augustly magnified through intrigue.

The imposing offer freely shared sombrely cloaked in grand deception, the refusal of which would lead to acknowledgement of a rival's mean-spirited intent.

A love so great it leads to trust in the most duplicitous of foes, whose autocratic snide contempt is thoroughly condemned throughout the galaxy.

The belief in prophecy spiritual import patient intergenerational stratagems, producing widespread derelict skepticism as highly invested as it is dismissive.

An oppressed people tired of colonialism and their exploitation by another.

Prone to passionate belief.

Projected reified agility.

The Atreides and the Fremen still find compassion amidst the gloom.

With staple simple pleasures.

The sustainability of life.

*Love the changes Villeneuve made with Duncan Idaho (Jason Momoa) and Dr. Kynes (Sharon Duncan-Brewster).

**Loved the palm tree scene as well.

***It's very respectful of David Lynch's Dune and there are many similarities between the two films.

****Loved the dragonfly ornithopters. I was reaching for a cigarette last Summer and a dragonfly landed on my finger, obviously suggesting I should stop smoking, which I'm going to try to do next week, many thanks to dragonfly kind. 

First Knight

Back to Camelot, prosperous legendary city of age old daring and just reasonability, led by the whimsically enlightened boisterous King Arthur, who fell in love with kind Guinevere, and befriended one Sir Lancelot. 

This time round insurrection plagues the land as a rogue knight seeks absolute power, his minions bellicosely spreading discontent, as everyday peeps simply try to get by.

He believes Arthur and his knights are too tolerant since they've wisely embraced fair play, and prefer to see people peacefully cohabitating to baleful pernicious destructive autocracy.

Arthur's brotherhood freely expresses ideas round the table in open discussion, and although he has the final say, he's open to counsel and fresh perspectives. 

But his convictions are sternly tested after he earnestly rewards young Lancelot, for risking his life to save noble Guinevere, who had fallen into the rogue knight's clutches. 

Lancelot wants Guinevere to leave with him and build a new life far away together, and she can't deny her feelings, after he's boldly come to her rescue.

Arthur catches them together and sees a look upon Guinevere's face which his prowess has never inspired, the genuine gaze of devout passion, it drives him to bitter madness. 

He charges them with treason and lavishly decrees to hold their trial in the public eye, and hundreds gather to keenly watch the unexpected unprecedented spectacle.

But the trial bears the familiar stench of unsympathetic destitute absolutism, for he could have been more understanding had he embraced sublime forgiveness.

His descent into absolutism paves the way for the rogue knight's return.

And he cleverly almost takes Camelot.

Before Arthur makes the ultimate sacrifice. 

Lancelot still avenges him and might does not assert tyrannical rights, the lighthearted unassuming romantic emerging at the forefront of the ethical imbroglio. 

Thus age gives way to perspicacious youth and a new day dawns for the compassionate kingdom, but how the knights regrouped in the aftermath unfortunately remains unknown.

At least further data isn't provided within Jerry Zucker's amorous First Knight.

Perhaps love and romance in fact endured.

Not such a bad thing when they govern at play. 

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.

Pacific Rim: Uprising

The mighty Jaegers have slain their Kaiju foes.

And the world is at peace once again.

Jaeger legends still equip Earth's global master narrative with sublime exemplars of self-sacrifice and heroism, nevertheless, a technological behemoth has found a way to automate their gallantry.

Yet co-creator Liwen Shao (Tian Jing) doesn't know that a former global saviour, one Dr. Newton Geiszler (Charlie Day), has fallen for the Kaiju brain he infiltrated 10 years ago, and keeps in his apartment, and as a result of their secretive romantic mind-melding, has betrayed humankind, and placed homegrown Kaiju brains within each and every hard-driven robot.

Jake Pentecost (John Boyega), son of warrior Stacker Pentecost, and Nate Lambert (Scott Eastwood), son of Clint Eastwood, are unaware of this development as they drift once more, their friendship still persisting, even if conflict once dealt it a crippling blow, world security having brought them together again, to save the planet from Kaiju attacks, round 2.

The Kaiju-brain-led-Jaeger-automatons (sort of like Krang in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) maliciously situate themselves at strategic points round the Pacific Ocean, and thunderously begin generating new breaches.

Before loyal Dr. Hermann Gottlieb (Burn Gorman) can shut them down, 3 Kaiju ascend from interplanetary oceanic depths, eventually merging to form, a monstrous ÜberKaiju.

The fate of the world may rest in the hands of one orphaned girl (Cailee Spaeny as Amara Namani), who builds her own Jaegers, and may find herself kicked out of the Jaeger training program.

For actions prohibited.

One cataclysmic day.

Pacific Rim: Uprising may lack the jaw dropping ridiculous blend of kitsch and sophistication that frankly yet elegantly adorned the original unheralded masterpiece, yet if you loved number 1 it's certainly a must see, for its characters battle Kaiju once more, and the stakes are just as high, if not even more catastrophic.

Disappointments, second chances, ingenuity, treachery, motivational speeches, teamwork, rivalry, love.

Positive attributes abound within, yet it's still quite rushed, rather impatient, like its crafters wanted a finished product as soon as humanly possible, and didn't take the time to add the refinements that made the first instalment so appealing.

Still fun though.

Much better than Independence Day 2.

Immediacy can generate a lot of compelling narratives, but it shouldn't be used to rashly justify wildly improbable scenarios, unless they're delicately timed and patiently brewed.

Another thirty minutes may have helped.

Looking forward to round 3.

Rich with inherent intergalactic instabilities.

Black Panther

A hidden civilization, majestically secluded in death-defying mountainous impeccability, technologically adept environmental symbiosis relying on ancient traditions to guide contemporary initiatives, a brilliantly constructed unparalleled postmodern wonder, Africa's colonial history having left it reasonably wary of the unknown, yet a new Wakandan leader has wisely arisen who is concerned with his community's global reputation, and may break with the past to encourage sustainable growth, generously nurtured, and cultivated worldwide.

His community at large.

Leaders, I should say.

One was abandoned and left to fend for himself in the U.S, the other grew up amongst his culture's elite within which he occupied a leading position.

Not to say the latter's life wasn't also filled with demanding challenges, challenges of a different kind, but finding food was likely less of a struggle, and the world's most advanced technological resources were readily available to be used at his discretion.

Yet to become King he must combat those who oppose him with raw brute strength alone, and when his streetwise exceptionally skilled cousin controversially lays down the gauntlet he's been running his entire life, T'Challa's (Chadwick Boseman) imposing prowess can't endure.

He's callously tossed.

Into the healing waters below.

As King, Erik Killmonger (Michael B. Jordan) seeks to move Wakanda in new directions.

Bitterly aware of how his culture has been marginalized in many domains, he's ready to fight his way to respectability, and use Wakandan technology to achieve vengeful ends.

Once again differing conceptions of how best to pursue communal objectives conflict, as civility is cast aside, and tradition is torn asunder.

Indubitably so.

Age old political stresses.

Wakanda may be a fictional creation, but its realistic metaphorical value can be seen in strong African communities across the globe, communities that continuously prove their cultural worth when often surrounded by savage persecution.

Wakandan seeds are globally developing and flourishing amidst sustained idiotic cultural devaluations, ignorantly born of jealousy and fear, and raised by systematic institutionalized stupidity.

Live well.

Ignore the hate fuelled poison and use wealth acquired to promote and facilitate education and commerce (Boyz n the Hood).

I don't know what to do if outsiders are flooding communities with hard drugs to destroy them.

I don't know what to do if bigots continue to hate even though they watch films like Hidden Figures and love the game of football.

I do know that studying, working hard, and respecting other respectful people is a rewarding way to live, especially if you share what you've l(e)arned with your community.

And if communities do this worldwide you've got a pretty chill and cool planet to live on, raise families on, flourish on.

Thrive on.

It's like Marvel's becoming a global conscience of sorts.

With all that cash, there's no telling how much cool they can do.

Loved Black Panther.

Star Wars: The Last Jedi

I'd wager that when George Lucas set out to write Star Wars Episodes I-III he imagined himself creating sophisticated scripts which would politically and ethically diversify his intergalactic creation through a tragic appeal to universal social justice.

Tragic inasmuch as the Jedi would be betrayed and the Emperor would inevitably reign supreme.

It's possible that Star Wars: The Last Jedi writer and director Rian Johnson respected this aspect of Lucas's vision (he did achieve that aspect of his vision) but wanted to tone it down a bit, or to make Episode VIII easier to follow anyways.

If that's the case, well done.

In fact, The Last Jedi's a masterpiece of unpretentious chill ethicopolitical sci-fi activism, not to mention an explosive Star Wars film, way done to the nitty-gritty.

Best since Jedi.

Possibly better than Jedi.

Conflict.

As the last remnants of the resistance run out of fuel, star destroyers who can track them through hyperspace pick them off one by one, and after most of their senior leadership is suddenly wiped out by Kylo Ren (Adam Driver), passionate headstrong and defensive rebels bitterly dispute their remaining options.

Lacking the requisite rank to command, Poe Dameron (Oscar Isaac) improvises plan B, which an embarrassed Finn (John Boyega) puts into action, along with the aid of dedicated worker Rose Tico (Kelly Marie Tran).

Meanwhile, Rey (Daisy Ridley) and Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill) become better acquainted as her innocent forceful magnetism awakens hope in his forlorn Jedi consciousness.

Kylo Ren and Supreme Leader Snoke (Andy Serkis) seek to drive them apart however, to further delay the resurgence of the Jedi, and strengthen their sadistic stranglehold on the galaxy.

That's the bare bones, but I don't want to give too much away, nothing too out of the ordinary, I'd say, it's more of a matter of how it's held together.

Comedically.

Astronomically.

General Hux (Domhnall Gleeson) of all characters, looking much more pale and sickly, taking the brunt of the insults, he battles wits early on with Dameron, but if you think of their dialogue extranarratively, it's as if Johnson is brilliantly laying down his gambit, his new direction, his original take on Star Wars, his embrace of lighthearted extreme space tragedy.

Muck like Captain America: Civil War's bold mention of The Empire Strikes Back, The Last Jedi's uncharacteristic unprecedented Star Warsian ridiculousness pays off as nimble youthful energy, and Hamill, and Chewbacca (Joonas Suotamo), Chewbacca doesn't show up in spellcheck, and Leia Organa (Carrie Fisher), and Laura Dern (Vice Admiral Holdo)(Dern is super impressive), spontaneously and playfully redefine rebellious agency.

Apart from Rey and Finn, I wasn't that impressed with the new cast in The Force Awakens, but as Johnson's lighthearted humanistic fallible yet decisive characters joyfully play their roles with competent agile abandon, in situations wherein which there is no clear and precise plan of action, it's as if his direction creates a loving caring nurturing self-sacrificing bold aesthetic that's lucidly transmitted through every innocent yet volatile melodic aspect.

It's a risk, embracing the lighthearted so firmly in such a solemn franchise, but it works well, incredibly well, no doubt a byproduct of having the legendary Mark Hamill so close at hand, and, possibly, red bull, could this be the crowning achievement of today's youth's sober obsession with red bull?

It's like they know when to be funny, when to be furious, when to be desperate, grateful, condemnatory, sad, ruthless, gracious, assertive, feeble.

Abused animals are set free.

Plutocratic weapons dealers castigated.

Vegetarianism presented as a conscientious choice.

Loving kindness shown towards animals leads survivors towards light.

Without being preachy or sanctimonious.

Just short random bursts well-threaded into the action.

It's not all cute and cuddly, the mischievous substance is backed by unyielding pressure, the entire film apart from the interactions on Luke's far away island is one massive extended fight scene, coming in at 152 chaotic minutes, a sustained accelerated orgasmic orchestration, that seems like it was just takin' a walk in the woods, or considering what to do on a long weekend.

New character DJ's (Benicio Del Toro) embrace of moralistic relativism left me puzzled.

You'd have to be a huge piece of shit to betray the resistance like that.

He's right that both sides purchase weapons from arms dealers and use them to pursue alternative ethicopolitical visions.

But he's wrong to have not chosen a side during a real conflict with physical casualties mounting by the minute, one group notably less oppressive than the other.

When shit hits the fan, when a Hitler decides he wants to conquer Europe, or the president of the United States starts directly supporting misogynists and white supremacists, or the right to unionize is threatened politically, when extremes govern, then moralistic relativism takes a back seat to action, and you fight them, with mind, body, and spirit, plain and simple.

Don't know what to make of Maz Kanata's (Lupita Nyong'o) labour dispute. If her employees are comin' at her that hard, she must be utilizing antiquated labour policies.

Too much praise perhaps, but I haven't really loved a new Star Wars film since I was 7.

It worked for me.

Big time.

Spoiler: I was glad they recognized there could never be a last Jedi.

The Jedi might take on a new name if future Jedi don't understand that the powers they possess were once referred to as Jedi powers.

They'd still be Jedi, however, or at least gifted individuals in tune with whatever word they use to characterize the force.

The universe would never stop producing them.

Although alarming build-ups of plastics could prevent people from breeding which could lead to even less Jedi, which would be a very small number indeed.

Kylo Ren the death eater, Rey, born of non-magical parents.

There's a Harry Potteresque magic to The Last Jedi.

Culturally conjuring.