Rio

I didn't think people wanted to keep birds as pets anymore, let alone exotic ones, or I at least figured the practise had remarkably decreased in recent years, but perhaps that was only in Canada and Québec, I admit I haven't read anything about it in quite some time, but ye old Rio brings it back into the forefront, meaning it must still be a problem, in different jurisdictions, around the world.

To reiterate the arguments that convinced me that keeping birds as pets was wrong, it boils down to the fact that they can fly, and it's therefore a horrible thing to keep them locked up in cages.

Even if some birds may be crappy at flying, they still cover thousands of kms in flight over the years, many habitually migrating as the seasons change, that must be a cool way to live.

If a lifeform is capable of flight and soaring from one tenacious treetop to the next, is it not extremely cruel to keep it in a cage, where it has nothing to do but lament its miserable situation?

Thoughts of soaring high above the magnificent clouds in search of food and friends and play, no doubt torment downcast birds in cages as they spend their entire lives excruciatingly jailed.

The horrors of the pandemic may serve as an example of what it's like for birds in cages (and other animals too), the extremely frustrating prolonged time when we were forced to spend so many hours at home.

It was for a good reason that is to stop the pestiferous spread of dispiriting plague, but what a horrible thing indeed to have to spend so much time locked down in isolation.

Caged birds routinely share this horror and understand where we're coming from accordingly, and pet owners should therefore think twice before locking a bird down in a cage.

Of course Rio's Blu can't fly and consequently becomes closely attached to his caring owner, the two forging a loving dynamic as she actively comes of age.

But she doesn't know that he's an endangered species until the day when an ornithologist from Brazil comes calling.

Having located a potential bird companion.

The two the last known representatives of their species.

Rio perhaps spends too much time making arguments which justify the possession of exotic birds, not to mention keeping them as pets, and not enough time focused on freedom, which seems like it should be the film's raison d'être.

Freedom is the focus in the end, nevertheless, when the poachers are thwarted and the beasties fall in love.

It's not worth the money to cage wild birds from the jungle.

The profits are limitless if you let them soar free. 

The Secret Life of Pets

The Secret Life of Pets hypothetically explores the vast intricate networks forged by animate beasties while their owners labour.

Indubitably multivariable, they elaborately maintain reflexive codes of conduct, outsiders improvisationally electing initiation, as they travel throughout different domains.

Take the two principal characters, loyal pets getting used to living with one another, one once revelling in solitary freedom until the day his gigantic counterpart arrived.

Seeking to rid himself of the burden soon after at a local park, he attempts to play a trick on his compatriot, which leaves them both suddenly headed for the pound, pestiferous prominence meets drastic indelicacy.

But on their way the industrious underground audaciously emerges and sets them free, engaging no less in innovative expediences as they feverishly search and rescue.

Nevertheless, in order to acclimatize they must lie about why they were caught, so they don't seem green on their trip through the maze imaginatively constructed at length below ground.

Meanwhile, a devoted admirer notices that her beloved beau has disappeared. 

And trusted friends head out in search of their cherished fellows throughout the city.

Taking Oliver & Company to the next level The Secret Life of Pets tumultuously delivers, by providing a dynamic interactive cross-section of lively versatile multicultural life.

Not entirely unlike the heralded Rudolph who also travelled the world after encountering vitriol, finding his way to the island of misfit toys/the underground complex, while his friends desperately sought to find his location.

I was surprised to see the underground depicted so intricately in a family friendly animated film, I thought the subject matter would be too riské and that the master narrative would whitewash such things.

But without much whitewash realistic conflict intuitively emerges with unorthodox decorum, and respect is granted to novel ingenuity with emboldened invention and disparate ruse.

Perhaps the reasons explaining how the animals wound up there could have been explored with greater detail, and the heroes could have promised to proactively enable widespread adoptive change upon reemergence. 

I suppose it wasn't a Christmas film but is not viscerally paramount?

To freely share such a message throughout the year.

In praise of open-minded compassionate humanity! 

Just a thought. 😌

Hoping for peace in the Middle-East.

⛄🎄🎁🎅

Au hasard Balthazar (Balthazar)

Bold childhood declarations subliminally etched and ethereally nurtured, as time passes piecemeal and peaceful borderline pasteurized enigmatic shades.

Pressing ambitious ingenuity sage book-learning incisively applied, resulting yields tantalizing and abundant copiously accruing practical dividends. 

Rented land unimaginatively considered by its well-meaning spirited and generous masters, resulting in disproportionate dishevelling alarm as the plentiful crops benefit another.

But not initially however only after years of shocking envy, malevolently creates a vitriolic buzz which dishonourably characterizes the industrious tenant.

Meanwhile, a hapless donkey known affectionately as Balthazar makes his way, often abiding by his owner's dictates but at times engaging in judicious free play.

As seasons change and fortunes fade he's dismissively transferred around the small town, an elaborate tale in the paramount slipstream to be nimbly told to other curious beasties. 

His original owner gradually comes of age and shares his adventures throughout the village.

Jealousies prognosticating doom.

Pervasive detritus malignantly engendered. 

I thought this film may be more upbeat upon reading the synopsis championing Balthazar, not that I mind ye olde hardboiled bucolics, I just wasn't expecting the gloom.

There are ways of thinking I don't quite comprehend because they seem ignominiously counterproductive, for instance is it not preferable to applaud hard work and effort should an old or new friend find themselves succeeding?

Perhaps I took the Vulcan message wisely wishing prosperity for others too seriously, but if logic is customarily applied, is it not more fortuitous to encourage goodwill?

Do the Jedi not function commensurately as they mind the galaxy's crafty well-being, do ninjas not also perform the same function, why then are they so often disregarded?

Perhaps 'lil Balthazar knows an age old secret that he's not telling, that would help us move past inanimate grief to a more generally prosperous Star Trekkian dynasty.

It's sad to watch when he's suddenly mistreated although he sometimes does do well, and I was reminded once again of I, Claudius as I viewed another Robert Bresson film.

The emperor Claudius apparently in adulthood generously let his animals retire after years of service.

And let them relax in his fields without burden.

Having adopted the soulful life.

*Imagine a law like that!

**I bet there would be one on Star Trek.

La planète sauvage (Fantastic Planet)

Far off on a hectic planet humans (oms) are treated as undesirables, the dominant haughty traag species rather intolerant of different lifeforms.

They possess much greater height and ancient meditative traditions, along with cryptic advanced writing which the oms can't readily decipher.

They manage the om population with paternalistic uptight disdain, their children allowed to keep oms as pets, the free wild peoples treated like vermin.

One rather observant om is introduced to traag learning however, lessons transmitted through an omniscient horseshoe which traag children use to develop and grow.

Many om years pass and young Terr (Barry Bostwick/Eric Baugin/Jean Valmont) acquires much sought after knowledge, his owner aging at a much slower pace, losing interest with her pet as a teenager.

He takes his opportunity to escape and brings the encyclopaedic technology with him, abruptly adjusting to life in the wilderness, with peeps wary yet impressed by his learning.

Thanks to the didactic device many oms begin to acquire an education, and prove just as adept as they reflexively do here upon our own bountiful Earth.

But the traags decide their numbers have grown much too large to be safely managed.

Presenting an ambitious and wicked plan.

To engage in full-on extermination.

Rather unsettling to casually watch as humans fall prey to strategic whims, carelessly launched by unsympathetic derisive dominant domineering giants.

Their diminutive size and lack of resources leaves them vulnerable to various beasts, as do their scattered proud distrustful clans who bravely subsist in scant isolation.

But the survivors bond in an abandoned rocket field and earnestly learn from Terr's technology, hoping to escape to a clandestine moon upon which they will be free from vile traag tyranny.

Education proves vital indeed and soon a less dependent state of affairs emerges.

As ingenious pedagogical applications redefine ancient endemic balances.

The parallels with our cherished home planet should not be dismissed or even overlooked, as billions of animals spend their entire lives in cages awaiting to be served up as food.

The industry could be much more humane and if meat consumption decreases we could stop global warming.

Unfortunately, pigs and cows can't read.

But there are still millions of humanoids who support them. 

Penguin Bloom

Tragedy strikes a loving family on an adventurous trip to foreign lands, as a wooden railing suddenly breaks and then leads to partial paralysis.

Mrs. Bloom (Naomi Watts) is none too impressed and struggles to adjust to immobile life, her husband and children also uncertain as to how to convalescently proceed.

One day at a time piecemeal slowly developing compensating characteristics, the shocking disheartening unknown tumultuously traversed resiliently reconciled.

But there's a long natural stasis throughout which catalyzed incentives fail to materialize, ineffable qualms maddening frustrations routine resignation nihilistic necessity.

Until one day little Noah (Griffin Murray-Johnston/Essi Murray-Johnston) brings home an injured bird, who was in the sights of a hungry lizard before he was miraculously saved.

The magpie is criticized at first due to its wild habitual shenanigans, but as time passes his industrious resonance endearingly charters soulful serenity.

Mrs. Bloom grows less weary and even takes on kayaking, and as her children joyously revel in her recrudescence, the magpie gradually learns to take flight.

It's a charming heartfelt enlightened illustration of resurgent life, a family coming to terms with calamity as newfound hope rapturously reckons.

It doesn't whitewash the depression nor overlook the corresponding despondency, the resultant gritty reanimate life all the more compelling in its vital complexity.

The fam is patient and understanding and they progress as a supportive team, friends stopping by to altruistically aid through the art of cohesive community.

Penguin Bloom also excels at heuristically highlighting the tender benefits of resplendent pets, who spiritually heal downtrodden fortunes as they effortlessly bark, mew, and wag.

Or chirp in this airborne instance in Penguin's caring awkward stride, how did they accumulate so many cute scenes?, at times I thought Penguin was a robot (say "no" to pet robots!).

Cool to see Naomi Watts back at it she shows up in so many cool films, an impressive diverse array of characters snuggly embowered in eclectic environs. 

I think she deserves more recognition, she's performed so well in so many films, unless she's happy doing the independent thing, throw in Hawke and Dern imagine the Criterion!

Penguin Bloom's pretty cool too, Netflix is rockin' it, so good to see.

Nice to see hopeful family films sometimes, especially when they integrate animal friends. 

Neko to Shôzô to futari no onna (Shozo, A Cat and Two Women)

Lazy Shôzô (Hisaya Morishige) catches a break when his lacklustre relationship suddenly dissolves, much to his mother's (Yuko Minami) delight, and perhaps also that of his cat.

He's seeing someone else who's not adverse to domestic subversion, but she's somewhat younger than he is, and prone to fits of righteous outrage (Kyôko Kagawa).

She's quite rich however so Shôzô's mom adores the match, and counsels thoughtful feeling as opposed to obtuse thatch.

But Shôzô's wife (Isuzu Yamada) soon strives aggrieved to reverse the situation, for her sister isn't too enthused with providing accommodation. 

Another seeks to rent the room and will pay three times as much, so she needs swift clever calculation manipulatively clutched.

She knows of one thing Shôzô loves more than anything at that, his distant furtive purcolating agile nimble cat.

Even more than escapading, even more than sleeping in, he loves his tactile independent erudite unhinged.

Cat. 

He loves his cat and his ex-wife knows it and wants to live somewhere less packed, so she tempts her newfound rival to consider devote paths.

She declares to lazy Shôzô that he must freely chose, betwixt his age old loving feline and his cherished muse.

Mother pleads and even begs he listen to her sweetly, the rent is due their business through she explains quite discreetly.

But he's determined unabashed to abide by no one's will, other than that which surmises lackadaisic chill.

It's an odd sort of comedy that boldly theorizes what life would be like for someone who's never sought to do anything at all, whom the opposite sex still finds irresistible.

His shop doesn't make money, he doesn't even know what to charge for the items he sells, he sleeps half the day and loves to spend time at the beach, and his mother's stuck coming up with the rent, yet he's still sought after and even fought for due perhaps to bucolic notoriety. 

Shôzô, even though he has lived as an adult for quite some time, still knows nothing of worldly affairs that don't facilitate relaxation.

Yet he still loves, he loves spending time with his cat: should this loyal devotion be criticized?

Should he be reprimanded or even assailed for living an honest life?

Never feeling lash nor censure?

Boldly sought after.

Loved?

Can You Ever Forgive Me?

A struggling writer (Melissa McCarthy) finds herself burdened with debt and stuck in the unmarketable fringe.

The rent's three months overdue, her cat's sick, her agent insults her, and she's just lost her job.

Somewhat of a recluse, a misfit, a misanthrope, a prickly pear, she sticks to her preferred hard liquor and settles down to stiffly agitate.

When suddenly an old acquaintance emerges (Richard E. Grant), a holds-nothing-back consume-whatever rough-and-tumble maelstrom, the two cultivating hospitable least resistance as they begin revelling in blunt parched mischief, a literary filmic modus operandi insouciantly scarifying thereafter, like a perky hangover maladroitly banished, or a banana split covered in red wine gravy.

Boldly.

She begins forging letters from deceased prominent authors and he helps her sell them after the FBI catches wind.

She likely would have written something noteworthy of her own beforehand had she just sat back and written something.

Setting her own limits then challenging them.

Like Captain Jean-Luc Picard.

Read other books though, enjoy them, devour them, don't worry if people criticize you.

Proust even wrote, "mediocre people generally believe that to let oneself be guided by books one admires takes away some of one's independence of judgment, [whereas the best people] feel that their power to understand and feel is infinitely increased [by contact with greatness]"(from "On Reading" as quoted in Benjamin Taylor's Proust: The Search).

Proust has an ingenious quote for so many demotivating doubts artists face.

And the judgments they encounter.

Peppered throughout his writings like garlic infused bannock.

Impoverished enrichment.

Incandescent flow.

Marielle Heller's Can You Ever Forgive Me? comedically enriches sloth to parasitically bewilder recrudescence.

Its poetic good times inflate the freewheeling to emancipate hope and thwart desperation.

Melissa McCarthy finally has a companion piece for Bridesmaids and Richard E. Grant keeps things spry.

I disagree with Lee's methods but can't deny her talent, a lazy way to imaginatively conjure, which revitalized dull conversations nonetheless, even if their contents were strictly anathema.

Worth seeing.

Francine

Diagnosing a particular psychodemocratic symptom by following the release of a shy free-spirited loner from prison, Brian M. Cassidy and Melanie Shatzky's Francine correlates a general disenfranchised flair for self-imposed isolation with a personal tendency to spontaneously combust in a tight examination of a private experimental individual.

Francine (Melissa Leo) has no trouble finding work after her release and has the confidence and strength to go so far as to pick and choose among jobs (all of which relate to animals).

She does lose one due to her unique approach to customer relations, but she quickly bounces back, doesn't seem phased, and finds another position.

(After stealing a puppy).

She feels more at home with the animal world and as the film unreels the number of pets within her apartment steadily increases.

She meets people within her new community and loves to go out, whether its head-banging by the roadside or a visit to a local church; but after years of not fitting in (I'm assuming) doesn't encourage the growth of either friendships or relationships.

Or maybe she never liked spending extended periods of time with others; there isn't much backstory to go on so this is just speculation.

But she loves her pets and there's a great scene which festively superimposes a frenetic degree of freeform felicity upon a dysfunctionally operative domestic diorama, which looks like so much fun.

But she eventually goes too far publicly, and her actions, although relatively slight, when aligned with her criminal history, (likely) engender harsh penalties.

Chill film considering.

Beginners

Percolating a playful, creative, laid back, inquisitive aesthetic, wherein a son convalesces after his father's death thanks to the assistance of a gentle, curious partner, friendly and caring, challenging and supportive, Mike Mills's Beginners evocatively examines freedom through a palliative lens and a spontaneous framework.

Oliver (Ewan MacGregor) didn't know his father was gay until he came out in his seventies after his wife's death. Hal (Christopher Plummer) had enjoyed being married but with his wife's passing decided to openly explore other sides of his personality. Oliver responds with surprise and confusion but due to his open-mind isn't bogged down by bigoted preconceptions. Hal's terminal cancer complicates matters as he refuses to acquiesce to his doctor's corresponding prescriptions.

Oliver remembers these moments along with many from his childhood as he comes to terms with his father's death and falls in love with partner Anna (Mélanie Laurent). The story mimics the thought patterns of a melancholic mind as it searches for an indecipherable stratagem from which to rediscover joy.

As refreshing as Ghost World, Beginners lacks the predetermined bells and whistles that accompany so many polarized narratives and comfortably occupies the middle ground. It doesn't definitively judge, it doesn't segregate, unless the character in question happens to have been consistently segregated and has trouble not definitively judging as a consequence.

Its relaxed pace and sympathetic deliveries mask an unfaltering ingenuity disguised as a lackadaisical reflection.