Crimes of the Future

As the ubiquitous commodified presence of pepped-up plastics and frenetic fossil fuels, begin to osmotically transform incumbent biological organisms, mutations matriculately metastasize and preponderantly promulgate across the land, the macabre growth of peculiar novelties transitionally emergent through stressed out synthesis.

Is it as farfetched as it sounds could we gradually adapt to consume plastic, to find sustaining fulfilling nourishment within the manifold products created thus?

I figured we wouldn't adapt and microplastics and forever chemicals would produce widespread woe, the former too tiny and omnipresent the latter too eternally carcinogenic. 

But life is consistently resilient as trees growing on outcrops reliably demonstrate, or the ways in which South American jungles have consumed ancient towns, the fact that fish continuously evolve. 

When I was young, and I considered pollution it seemed like waterways were under serious threat, especially considering how much sewage winds-up in rivers and oceans, it's a big time issue, sustainably speaking.

But even in those polluted waters we still find many resident fish, who somehow still live immersed in destructive chemicals, how do they do that?, how do they survive?

The perseverance of these fish lends credence to Crimes of the Future, and its endemic evolutionary theory that we'll one day live off plastic.

As we slowly mutate, new organs will spontaneously develop within our virulent bodies, to be registered by a curious government meticulously concerned with classified engagement.

Perhaps performance artists would indeed show off their newfound growths, in enigmatic underground showcases composédly cataloguing piecemeal evolution.

It's classic Cronenberg the reemergence of the Master still proving he can convincingly perplex 50 years later, many horror films have a short shelf life but his work from the '70s and '80s still seriously impresses.

Fittingly, it's difficult to know if the film's intended to be taken seriously, or exists solely to kerfuffle while provoking opaque comic registry.

Classic ambiguity conglomerately clasped in distinct dialogues convolutedly conversing, the characters consistently lying to one another, lucidly opposed unconcerned cross-purposes. 

Of course animosity manifests between old school humans and the emergent mutants, which makes for startling solemnities through eclectic interactive discomfort.

Kristan Stewart really impresses I had no idea she could perform that well, Cronenberg really brings out the best in her, the acting's good all around but she stands out.

Irrelevantly, I'll bear in mind this scenario as long as fish continue to swim.

Hope future generations don't adapt to eat plastic.

That sounds much worse than bugs.  

The Last Black Man in San Francisco

Two friends chillin', creative paths, the days go by.

One, a gentle artist, the other immersed in local history.

His old family home, in fact, built generations ago, in which a new family now resides, whom he visits all too frequently.

To do housework, to maintain its atemporal integrity, a bewildering skyline nurtured with tact, the confused owners not quite sure what to do.

'Til tragedy strikes and they have to move out, leaving the age old mansion empty, at which point Jimmie (Jimmie Fails) and Montgomery (Jonathan Majors) move in, and make plans for a not so certain future.

Livin' it up.

Integral crosshair chronicles.

Dreams and reality quizzically coincide within, as a harmless inability to let go nurtures tactile belief.

It may be absurd in terms of expectations, but it's poetic as a matter of fact, as romantic people seek solutions beyond the law, and loving sympathy promotes amiable construction.

There's enough reality to challenge accusations of the ludicrous, inasmuch as traditional criticisms gradually emerge, but it's an old school brand of spiritually enriching understanding, that builds warm communal bonds, and encourages compassion as opposed to conflict.

Perhaps it's somewhat naive or a little too innocent, but wouldn't more innocence and less condemnation develop a less violent world, a thoughtful embrace, a declaration of love, or one less prone to desensitized destructive carnage?

The film isn't solely concerned with a house and who happens to own it.

Lives living adorn its fantastic frames with inquisitive dynamic yields, which add multidimensional depth.

A group of struggling youth question if not heckle on a disputatious daily basis.

Atomic legend and environmental impacts validate feisty folklore, as conversations define the moment, and move beyond the strictly personal.

An impassioned preacher assails injustice with mesmerizing soulful beats.

Subtly attired pedestrians and other curious randoms shake things up with unorthodox flax and thought provoking comic contrariety.

Montgomery ties so much together in a remarkable performance held in Jimmie's home, attended by friends and family, perhaps cut much too short.

Captivating in the moment nevertheless, observant vivacious infinites.

Joe Talbot's directorial skills erupt in the opening moments as he roller coasters through the community, struggling to get by yet still overflowing with life.

If you're looking for law and order and a predictable clamp down on bizarre behaviour, this film may not suffice, who looks for that?, but if you enjoy non-violent alternatives flush with lively independence, you may thoroughly enjoy it, as much as I did.

Abounding with creative grace.

Damned impressive.

The Ballad of Buster Scruggs

Ebullient rapscallion itinerantly drawn serenades the horizon with erudite simplicity.

Appearances deceive a would be thief as a sage brush sure thing demonstratively bites back.

Age old sombre reflections resignedly ponder lonesome frontiers, emotion declaratively withdrawn, investment genuinely striking.

Disingenuous prospects confront honest labour as fortunes are struck grasped thrills excavated.

Marriage tempts thoughtful homesteaders as imagination riffs down the line.

A forlorn stagecoach elastic in bitters trudges wearily on towards stoked paradigms.

Nimble eclectic horseplay.

Erratic collected brawn.

Snug fits, misperceptions, testaments, shift and sway, the wild west conceptually exceeded, yet realistic, solemn, grey.

Invincible pretensions fade into soulful longings as diverse embellishments slowly manifest fear.

The writing's exceptional at times and it's a Coen Brothers film so I wondered why The Ballad of Buster Scruggs skipped theatres, and am still glibly wondering why? why? why?

Scruggs does excel when it's wildly boasting or forlornly lamenting or just simply reckoning, but then the lights suddenly dim, unfortunately, after awhile, although 4 out of 6 ain't bad.

That could explain it.

Harry Melling (The Artist) puts in a great performance as a solo act that's as versatile as its narrative's thought provoking.

Tim Blake Nelson (Buster Scruggs) also impresses, with an active style that wildly contrasts Mr. Melling's.

The film slips up when it considers civility, character, domestic matters, as if Western decorum has yet to transcend Hobbes's leviathan.

Not much screentime given to First Nations either, and they're only depicted as a stereotyped nuisance.

Nevertheless, it's still disturbing that a Coen Brothers film wasn't released in theatres, Barton Fink, Buster Scruggs is not, but they're still one of the best creative teams Hollywood's ever taken on.

I've annoyed many over the years and lost contacts and spoiled friendships by pointing out how good the Coen Brothers are, when they confidently state, "Hollywood only makes crap."

The creativity on Netflix is theoretically ideal because I can't think of any deadlines its creators have nor any timelines it'd be best to follow.

Just post it when it's finished.

It's kind of cool when something new shows up.

If it doesn't, I'll watch something else.

Still, a lot of the material I've seen that's been created by and for Netflix lacks the networked touch.

Remember, you're trying to find ways to make me like your show and tune in week after week, even if that logic doesn't apply.

I'm not just going to binge watch anything, even if the idea's really cool and it's starring actors I love (that's happened several times).

There are too many alternatives available.

In way too many other formats.

The Itunes store is incredible for movie renting for instance.

And it's the exception when they don't have what I'm looking for.