The Lonely Wife

Nestled in an imposing residence quietly adrift along literary shores, a humble wife beseechingly awaits the anxious return of her daring husband.

He's exceedingly disposed to constant work and distracted attention, his habitual return inexhaustibly encouraging thoughts of duty and custom and privilege. 

A life of the mind imaginatively begets a fluid multifaceted dynamism, gently overflowing with tempestuous whimsy adamantly delineating mutated reverie.

A playful cousin less prone to diligence mischievously arrives to help run the paper, and is soon secretively and aloofly tasked with finding ways to eclipse the tedium.

Epic discussions temperately clad munificently hale cerebral senses, uncertain abilities actively invested with novel synergy and declaration. 

Both interlocutors timidly convinced they could one day publish their bold material, creative acts of embowered fertility interactively sew once barren plains.

The compelling dialogues swiftly improvised offer more than comments on l'écriture, the unforeseen discovery of a kindred spirit mellifluously manifesting infatuation.

Her sure and steady distant husband unaware of the nimble blossom.

Which emerges unrequited. 

For the bland despondent eternal dawn.

Exciting to see a thoughtful film which eagerly concerns itself with writing, from conception to publication to reception various stages un/resolved.

Rare to see universal expenditure vehemently crafting books and poems, extended insights into vast repositories of distinct discerning alternative accents.

Wholeheartedly enriched much more encompassing than a brief and limited character count, less enamoured with glib encapsulation and more akin to multilayered exhibition.

The liberal editor is distressingly bewildered when his trusted assistant suddenly robs him, and he discovers his wife's shocking desire for someone else who leaves for another.

For the new country, the post-colonial birth, which he has tirelessly been cultivating, he soldiers on with open-minded comprehension of stoic trust and humanistic confidence.

A feverish account of idle dreams.

Lost and scouring the refined wilderness.

Emboldened feeling exotically dismayed.

Sly temptation lithe and blaring. 

Yearning

 *Spolier Alert

A dedicated daughter-in-law spends her life managing her new family's business, her intricate savvy and reflexive know-how having saved it from ruin during World War II.

Her husband passed in the war though and she sadly never married again, although she honourably cherishes his memory with devout respect and wholesome dignity. 

A new supermarket opens in town and starts undercutting their trusted prices, leaving her in-laws in a difficult spot which they need to manage with nimble moxy. 

It's decided to expand the business and boldly open a much larger store, but the loyal intuitive multifaceted manager is initially denied a leading role. 

It's thought that she should remarry and a suitable candidate is wisely chosen, 17.5 years having gone by since her husband passed, the idea perhaps not that socially awkward.

But she refuses out of heartfelt devotion and eventually decides to return to her home.

But not before she distressingly discovers.

That her deceased husband's younger brother is madly in love with her.

The ending's a brilliant illustration of the conflicting post-war attitudes in volatile Japan, the younger less rigid experimental viewpoints and the older more orthodox sociocultural rules. 

Reiko has to admit that she has feelings for Koji and that she's felt amazing since she learned of his passion, yet still feels determinably duty bound to her old husband's stately ultimate sacrifice. 

She's also much older than Koji and it's a bit weird marrying two brothers from the same family, but that doesn't mean she isn't tempted to continue living in the world she's created.

Unfortunately, while travelling home Koji follows her upon the train, and in their confusion they depart somewhat early and get a hotel just to think for the night.

Koji goes for a walk after another heated argument morosely breaks down, and gets too close to a haunting cliff's edge and earth-shatteringly falls to his unrequited end.

But is the film condemning Koji for having tried to break with the old conservative ways?

Or modest Reiko for not having embraced the newfound less severe liberal ideology?

It's classic obscured ambiguity which likely still generates debate amongst film fans.

A genuine tragedy embroiled in conflict.

Much too serious or excessively light. 

Toy Story 4

Toy Story 4 takes a less menacing look at life beyond suburbia, as Woody (Tom Hanks) and the gang make friends with a new toy (Tony Hale as Forky) before heading out on an ill-defined road trip.

The new toy was created by Bonnie (Madeleine McGraw) during kindergarten orientation, and even though he now breathes life, he still seeks wide-eyed independence, with neither code-bound duty nor congregational chore, and one night he escapes, rashly jumping from a speedy camper's window, leaving loyal Woody no choice but to follow, to bring Bonnie back her most beloved possession.

But after locating Forky and encouraging him to return, he notices signs of a lost love in a local shop.

Hopeful to see how she's doing, and overwhelmed with feelings of good luck, he carefreely and quickly enters, only to discover envious misfortune.

For a doll whose voice box has never worked lies covetously waiting within, a doll who's never known the thrill of companionship, nor the love of enraptured being.

Woody's voice box still functions, and it's indeed a miraculous match, altercations maladroitly ensuing, Forky laid-back and none the wiser.

But Toy Story 4 isn't as traditional as its predecessor, there's room for change and compromise.

Bo (Annie Potts) shows Woody that life can flourish in the wild unknown, if one's attuned to wit and invention.

Times are tough for Woody, even if he's turned a blind eye.

He's not as popular as he was once was, and is sometimes left behind in the closet during playtime.

He's still as determined as ever, nevertheless, and does everything he can to delight little Bonnie, honourably exemplifying unyielding fidelity, in the pursuit of irrefutable happiness.

But there's also Bo, with whom he intuitively prospers, with a different kind of love he's never explored, in realms that could nurture alternative thought, where his exceeding talent could find new meaning.

Plus he's been loved throughout his entire existence, he's known the comforts of well-defined responsibility.

And understands that Gabby Gabby (Christina Hendricks) never has, even though she's ever so adorable.

Toy Story 4 considers identity in flux perhaps as its original youthful audience comes of age.

The film's still innocent enough for the next generation of youngsters, but also introduces mature thought for ye olde old school devotees.

I suppose if they saw the first Toy Story when they were 5 they'd be 29 now, so no. 4 may have been released a bit too late.

But so many young adults are living at home for so much longer these days, many who perhaps have never considered moving out.

With rents soaring sky high in many places, I can see why they've chosen to stay.

It's alright living at home a lot of the time too, if your lifestyle isn't too disruptive.

There's no clear path, no precisely defined pattern, just extremely confidant justifications for whatever path you've chosen.

Just gotta choose one and give 'er.

'Til something else comes along down the way.

*Loved Toy Story 4's Canadiana.

**And Buzz Lightyear's (Tim Allen) commanding inner voice.