Mulan

Way back in the 1980s and ye olde '90s it seemed inevitable, that people would be chosen to play active roles based on their abilities as opposed to race or gender.

The continuous dissemination of progressive narratives interactively found in books, TV and film, encouraged the equitable development of equal opportunity across the land.

The absolute was definitively critiqued and humorously lampooned in multifarious flux, thousands upon thousands of alternative viewpoints productively shared with evocative gusto.

The open-minded ethos and shifting conclusions weren't wholeheartedly adapted by many, however, the subconscious desire for lucid answers effectively delivered much more enticing.

Not just for mathematical problems but for sociocultural and political dilemmas, their inherent fluctuating resilience and inconclusive nature somewhat frustrating. 

In mathematics class, it's often enjoyable to find the right answer, indeed to know there's an actual answer that can be resolutely considered correct.

In language studies, it can be just as fulfilling to find multiple theses and reasonable alternatives, since concrete responses ne'er suffice due to multilateral layers of ambivalence. 

Applying multiple layers of ambivalence to the exacting study of mathematics, systematically seems rather comical when effectively challenged by harnessed answers.

Just as the manageable adherence to absolute answers seems somewhat ludicrous from linguistic perspectives, as culturally broadcast again and again by various sitcoms in the United States.

But as the '90s faded, and new technologies become more prominent, the old school ambiguous linguistic efficiencies began to lose ground to mathematical absolutes.

And Trump found himself elected again by a people seeking political absolutism.

The spirit of the '80s and '90s is still out there no freakin' doubt, but it's not as widespread as it used to be in many regions across the U.S.

But where it still resides equal opportunity likely also exists, and should young Mulans vigorously seek non-traditional roles they will hopefully find them. 

It's so distressing to see such incredible intellects like Kamala Harris or Hillary Clinton defeated by a guy like Trump (it's not just that they lost, it's that they lost to a guy like that).

Who seems like he would have failed kindergarten.

Because he never learned to share. 

The Glass Key

The Glass Key examines dependability from a grizzled volatile perspective, honest integrity effortlessly emerging through the proliferation of kindred spirits. 

Indeed, with praiseworthy pertinence it paradigmatically hails consistency, with foundations respectfully laid, long-lasting purpose integral commitment. 

Mr. Madvig (Brian Donlevy) has reached inspired heights and from his summit makes stern decisions, which at times irritate other higher-ups who have no wish to entertain options.

Correspondingly, a well-heeled challenger (Joesph Calleia as Mr. Varna) proceeds to kidnap his most trusted man (Alan Ladd as Mr. Beaumont), and offer him a lucrative deal that doesn't demand much extra work.

But loyal Ed unconditionally refuses and retains his credibility, friendship and values, virtue, integrity, much more important to his sense of self.

He's ruthlessly punished for his denial yet eventually rewarded for remaining true, the kind of generous modest confidante you don't often see adamantly succeeding.

But people used to dream of a world wherein which safe communities would flourish and prosper. 

Solid work their vital backbone.

As businesses excelled in sociosublimity. 

It's too bad the economy remains mysterious and whatever happens produces lateral results, wouldn't it be nice if prosperous good times could last much longer for more and more people.

Is the enigma that utterly baffling that little can be done to create lasting solutions, which produce exceptional value through the vigorous application of industrious labour?

But don't idyllic dreams of ubiquitous prosperity lead to chaos when things go sour, and the joyful robust euphoria suddenly transforms into bitter discomfiture?

But don't others resiliently prosper no matter what the 5-year plan, having resigned themselves to modest mobility through the artful cultivation of resonant spirit?

Aren't others miserable throughout the mutations and can't ever clearly detect varying degrees, their general dismissal of every manifestation a blind dismal crude animate forfeiture? 

These categories pervasively persist and still remain applicable this postmodern day.

Cool to view how often they materialize with rugged elegance and futile skepticism. 

The Old Man and the Sea

At times the bounty seems neverending as if lavish munificence resonates incarnate, while at others it all dries up and leaves you prone to grievous frustration. 

The dialectics of oceanic endeavours inevitably provoke chaotic equilibrium, the wild tumultuous overcast bearing as furtively belittling as it is advantageous.

What would it be like to make a living aboard a sturdy seafaring vessel, as the weather habitually transforms form one mighty distillation to the next?

The process of change invigoratingly clear as one boldly navigates infinite waters, tried and true dependable depths give way to currents ne'er indefatigable. 

Animate conjecture indubitably delineates creative indisposed spry spectrums, endemic mystics imaginatively endowed with fervid spirits indelicately alighting.

But to actually head out and search when nothing was truly known or proven, before taxonomies within classifications ubiquitously catalogued geographic universals.

I imagine there were whales everywhere frequently emerging to breathe in jest, a trip across the bustling Atlantic producing perhaps as many as 200 sightings.

Not to mention what must have seemed like indeterminate frisky billions, casually adorning limitless shores with unconcernéd and innocent dalliance. 

The Old Man and the Sea picks up some years later and follows a humble fisherperson, who calmly goes with the ebb and flow to earn some bread and lighthearted meals.

He has a chill modest pad unassumingly situated off the beaten track, and a boat and the requisite skill to coast the ocean in search of booty.

But he's been rather unlucky as of late and hasn't managed to catch a thing, his perseverance remaining strong through the potentially enervating drastic drought.

Nature however in its eminence has saved him a colossal agile catch. He just has to haul it in.

After finding himself lost at sea.

Not to take away from its legend, the story was widely popular in my youth, but the film and narrative seemed outdated to me, it's hatred of sharks much too overbearing.

Sharks indeed frighten many but it's certainly rare that they take a human life, in fact for every human life a bloodthirsty shark takes we probably kill around 10 million (ball parkin' based upon stats I've seen on TV of around 250 million sharks being killed a year).

I can't imagine a shark fin making anything taste good.

Sharks maintain the ocean's delicate ecobalance.

And they're being treated with sincere disrespect. 

Thus, I appreciated the tale for it encouraged romantic wonder, but I could never kill so many sharks if they tried to eat my catch.

I'd probably just give my catch to the sharks and would be happy for making them happy.

Sigh. Couldn't cut it as a fisherperson methinks. 

Although I would absolutely love working at sea.

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? 

The Impossible

A family travels to Thailand for some much needed rest and relaxation, having barely sat down by the pool when a massive tsunami strikes.

Imagine one second you're seductively chillin' laidback at ease upon dry land, the next you're submerged underwater then gasping for breath as a wild river rages.

With no idea what happened to your family you frenetically cling to life, and try to orient your disillusioned vision with impassioned intense concentration.

Maria (Naomi Watts) suddenly hears a son close by (Tom Holland as Lucas), the two wildly braving the current to warmly embrace, the aftermath grim the once concrete environment aqueously scoured by peeps searching for loved ones.

Maria's husband (Ewan McGregor) has managed to find their other two growing boys, and even though all signs point to futility, he keeps searching for the rest of his family.

Maria's leg's been badly injured but she's found a bed in a local hospital, lil Lucas struggling to deal with the tidal wave of anxious depressing emotions.

As expediency raves and triage torments a family refuses to give up hope.

Cosmic forces of conciliatory daring encouraging bold rectified good fortune.

There seems to be a universal instinct that compassionately unites people when disaster strikes, the sudden emphasis on mutual survival electrifying prominent communal initiatives. 

Facilitating specifics within the chaos may prove generally disenchanting, but with patience and hearty reserve working solutions slowly materialize. 

A lot of hospital staff was thoroughly overwhelmed by the pandemic over two years ago, and they're still holding the stern front lines with resilient pluck and coherent balance.

In the face of the dispiriting fifth wave they've had to dig deep and reflexively accommodate, another round of logistic mayhem rapidly proceeding with disproportionate stress.

Since unvaccinated people are more likely to end up in hospitals should omicron unfortunately infect them, doesn't it make sense that they should seek vaccination in order to prevent chaos in our hospitals again?

By seeking vaccination, you're helping your community smoothly move through mournful wave after wave, and decreasing the stress on tens of thousands of workers who have been going above and beyond for years now.

Who knows how many boosters it will take before the virus disappears?

But without vaccination you're making things worse when new contagious variants suddenly arise.    

Wo he wo de zu guo (My People, My Country)

Wo he wo de zu guo (My People, My Country) celebrates significant events that have taken place in China in recent years.

7 events in fact, each brought to life by different directors and writers, courageous stories elevating community and teamwork, the ways in which people forge the backbone of any nation, and how every story, no matter how small, has a role to play in refining plot and character.

As I was watching these gifted filmmakers tell their compelling tales, I couldn't help but wonder about significant Canadian and Québecois events that have helped me to define my personal fluctuating conception of the Canadian and Québecois identity?

Here's a look at the top 7.

Presented in no particular order.

Except the first one.

The last spike: must have been strange way back when in Canada and Québec when there weren't many roads and certainly no cars or airplanes. A bunch of super tough hombres cleared a path from coast to coast over the years, however, and created Canada and Québec's first railway. I doubt many people took the train to B.C back then, it's still prohibitively expensive to travel there, but the colonies were nevertheless linked, which helped generate imagination, travel was at least possible if not probable, and various goods could be interprovincially exchanged. Not bad.

Hydro-Québec: I love living in a nation province that has no nuclear reactors, the radioactive waste generated by such means a health hazard for millennia to come. Québec had the rivers and the will to dam them up and they now provide vital clean power and energy to millions. The sale of Québecois power to neighbouring jurisdictions is quite the cash cow as well. I understand there are environmental impacts. But they're nothing compared to nuclear fallout.

Universal Healthcare: having learned about how horrible it can be to live in a country that doesn't provide universal healthcare, I'll always cherish the fact that everyone has access to medicine in Canada and Québec (brought about by a Liberal/NDP coalition I've heard!). Could you imagine working hard and saving throughout your entire life while raising a family only to find you lost everything and still couldn't afford to pay your medical bills because you got sick? It often happens in the United States. Thank God it rarely happens here.

The Charter of Rights and Freedoms: whole lotta freedom worked into this document. A brilliant stroke of ethical thought, masterfully illuminating post-World War II reckonings.

The Nature of Things: I loved watching The Nature of Things as a kid and was borderline ecstatic when I realized it was still on 15 years later, and had become even more diverse and relevant. You never really know what the next episode's going to be about; it's constantly updating its playbook. Solid, hard-hitting, impacting informative journalism, freely broadcast on the CBC, as incredible in middle-age as it is during childhood, a national treasure often overlooked.

The CFL: my favourite sport's football and I love our version of the game. Only having three downs makes every first all the more precious, the wider field invigorates special teams, the 20 yard end zone adds to the excitement, and who knows when someone will win by a rouge. It would be cool to see the league expand in upcoming years as our population continues to increase. Québec City could use a team. I'm also thinking about ye olde Brampton.

The French Canadian Essay: write what you will but don't expect big things. Appreciate what you've got. Don't be afraid to share an opinion.

The Winters may be long but it's a paradise in Summer.

A wonderful country we've collectively created.

This old school Northern Canada and Québec.

Not so bad when you think about it.

Could use speed trains like the ones in Europe.

😌

The Biggest Little Farm

The light shines brightly in this humble holistic documentary.

There's a lot of well-researched well-documented logical doom and gloom out there, to which The Biggest Little Farm resiliently responds.

The situation's bleak and new terms are being created to discuss climate change, but individuals are still tilling new ground, and finding innovative ways to persevere.

Protests are paramount.

They're important to raise awareness and demonstrate active criticisms.

Purchasing decisions effectively sustain them too, inasmuch as what you buy directly effects climate change.

I'm not perfect, I don't make 100% environmentally conscious decisions all the time, but I have cut most of the meat out of my diet, recycle everything I can, usually purchase green, and currently snack on fruit rather than chips much more frequently.

It's handy that many grocery stores are selling sliced fruit in small containers (which will hopefully become biodegradable) in Montréal for 2 to 3 dollars a piece.

If the choice is between a helping of pineapple or a bag of chips for $2.50 when I don't have much time and need a quick snack, the decision's a no-brainer, I'm buying pineapple every time.

Businesses do respond when they start losing money, and if there's people powered momentum to make significant impacts, plastic can be replaced by green alternatives, and our reliance on oil can become much less overwhelming.

When I see how many young people attend climate change protests I'm encouraged.

They clearly care about their future and the future of our planet as well.

If even a figure as low as 60% of them grew up to start environmentally friendly businesses and/or farms, selling environmentally friendly products for competitive prices, products perhaps generated by a hemp revolution like the one mentioned in the film Grass and others, while making environmentally friendly purchasing decisions themselves, greenhouse gas emissions would certainly decrease, and biodegradable containers could seriously reduce plastic waste.

We live within a capitalist system and it's through capitalism that we can fight global warming.

Big money tracks how people spend and if it anticipates mass profits in green markets it will lucratively respond.

If North Americans boycotted McDonald's for a month mouth watering vegetarian and vegan options would definitely appear on its menu, as they have on A & W's without a boycott.

Scrumptiously so.

The Biggest Little Farm's about biodiversity, about farming symbiotically with nature.

The Chester's don't just plant one crop, they plant dozens, and cultivate an awe-inspiring abundance of different foods.

They encounter serious setbacks as they embrace sustainable farming, hiring farm whisperer Alan York to guide them along the way.

They wait it out.

They find solutions.

Symbiotic solutions.

Evergreen solutions.

When snails threaten their fruit trees, their ducks devour the snails. When birds threaten their crops, birds of prey move in to challenge them. When gophers threaten their produce, every animal from miles around shows up to chase them. When torrential rains threaten their farm, its bountiful greens prevent catastrophic run off.

They work with nature in an inspiring way that must make David Suzuki and David Attenborough proud.

It's like they've planted a farm in the forest without harming the animals and are still making a steady profit.

The forest animals are even encouraged to live there, with resident owls numbering close to 100.

It's game changing inclusive brilliant revolutionary farming that radiates distinct harmonies through its patient biodiverse strengths.

And it works, at least it's working for them, although they don't shy away from presenting hardships endured.

Our Planet passionately argues that maintaining biodiversity is integral to fighting climate change and preventing species from going extinct.

If more people farmed like the Chester's in The Biggest Little Farm, if more disposable containers and other products were made with hemp, if more green businesses started popping up, and more people made regular greener purchases while out and about, we would significantly reduce greenhouse gasses, and live more enriching lives.

A definite must see.

You can visit Apricot Lane Farms in California too.

They've expanded into ecotourism.

Mind-blowing game changing impacts.

One of my favourite films.

Don't Worry, He Won't Get Far on Foot

I suppose I write about pastis, or red wine, or craft beer, from time to time.

This may give the wrong impression.

Do I enjoy drinking the exceptional craft beer brewed in Québec and elsewhere?

Yes, many of them are quite good.

Red wine and pastis, also quite good.

But, after one too many parties 15-20 years ago, I found ways to generally limit my drinking that enabled me to actually enjoy what I drink, instead of just drinking whatever.

Moving to a city where English isn't the primary means of communication and having to find work helped, as does having to start work between 5 and 6:30am most of the time.

The most important rule: stay away from the hard stuff.

Just one if there's a brand you particularly like, and enjoy it slowly after a hard week of dedicated work.

Plus never drink if you're sad or you feel like you have to, and take your time while you have a drink, take it easy, orinoco flow.

If you feel like you really have to have a drink try drinking something non-alcoholic like soda or orange juice or something with pineapple. Drink 4 or 5 of them. Keep your thirst occupied.

It's way less expensive than alcohol.

And can be healthy in some instances.

There's also non-alcoholic beer.

But come on.

That's disgusting.

Gus Van Sant's Don't Worry, He Won't Get Far on Foot looks at several lives destroyed by alcoholism, focusing primarily on a quadriplegic cartoonist named John Callahan (Joaquin Phoenix).

He hit the hard stuff full-speed-ahead one night and wound up immobilized for life.

He's super mischievous though, he doesn't let the misfortune get him too down, zipping through town on his motorized wheelchair like it's a Lamborghini, finding artistic ways to express himself and a corresponding job at a local paper.

It helps that he finds a cool partner (Rooney Mara as Annu), and an Alcoholics Anonymous group whose grizzly empathy helps him tone it down a notch or two.

Strange film

Tough fucker.

It defies expectations inasmuch as you'd expect it to depict John suffering intensely, despair pervading throughout in order to function as a solemn indictment.

It's still gloomy, Callahan's confined to a wheelchair and can hardly move, and he does break down at times, but Van Sant showcases his inspiring resilience as well, like an odd blend of the Le scaphandre et le papillon and Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, with hints of Almodóvar.

Well-acted, directed, perhaps too light considering the gravity of the situation, but there are some heartfelt moments of acknowledged bitter regret too.

And teams.

Teamwork.

The cartoons are funny but remember making light of the intense suffering of others can have horrendous consequences if it's applied politically.

If you can't come up with something else that's funny, it's possible that, you suck.

Or are extremely lazy.

A glass of wine and then bed for me.

I swear cultural osmosis has taught me a French secret.

I also spend more freely than I used to.

And still like going out from time to time.

Papillon

Entrenched plutocrats, none too pleased with having been fooled, frame a specialized romantic thief with most scandalous murder.

As lucrative sums casually discern culpability, a bright future slowly fades into unimaginative oblivion.

Banished from France and sent to live in an isolated penal colony, Henri 'Papillon' Charrière (Charlie Hunnam) sets his aggrieved broken heart on escaping.

Fellow less pugilistic prisoner Louis Dega (Rami Malek) provides financial backing in exchange for loyal security, having been rightfully convicted for counterfeiting, the proceeds of which he's partially brought along.

But careless plans, foolish declarations, inclement weather, and treacherous saviours incrementally spoil their impromptu soliloquies, extended time in solitary confinement awaiting, for as long as an excruciating non-negotiable 5 years.

Many spent in total darkness.

Yet Papillon will not forget his cherished homeland (or Québec perhaps [it doesn't come up {would it have been that hard to include a scene where he considers settling in Montréal?}]) nor curtail his efforts to one day return.

As stubborn and incorrigible as he is death-defying, he embraces the unknown with devout frenzied reverence.

If only a love of nature had been inculcated at a young age, the jungles of French Guiana no doubt would have overflowed with tropical sustenance.

But as things would have it, or rather as this somewhat bland account would present them, Papillon continues to trust the small closely-knit members of his colonialist enclave's upper echelons, rather than the bounty of the forbidden wild, only to see severe punishments increase as time lugubriously passes by.

Papillon's somewhat too light for such grave subject matter, too bare, too superficial.

I wanted to learn more about its fascinating characters and listen as they plotted while getting to know one another, but the film only develops one individual diminutively, and it's not even Papillon, the resultant blunt dialogues leaving little room to manoeuvre, even though for decades they must have had nothing but conversation to console themselves.

The crafty Rami Malek effortlessly steals every scene he's in, adding multifaceted flourishes throughout which prove his voice would extoll first rate animation.

But he's like the gold particles in a dull textbook slab of cinematic ore, brilliantly shining through before fading as it's lit up explicitly.

With possibly the least surreal dream sequence I've ever seen.

Hardened inmates innocently greeting one another like they're at Summer camp.

Hardly any time spent actually planning their escapes.

Even less considering the outside world.

Papillon's much more like a caterpillar, covering far too long a period without managing to produce much depth.

Lots of fighting though, nobility of spirit versus basic instinct and such, and even if they dependably relied on one another, it still seems as if they were simply chugging along.

Shizam.

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.