The Madness of King George

Foucauldian investigation pending, I still find it odd to see a film from the '90s heavily invested in the monarchy, even though its cherished king briefly loses his mind, and an upstart layabout may indefinitely displace him.

Here you have a critical problem relating to monarchy or autocracy laid bare, what if the king loses his mind and sill continues to fluidly take an active role in government?

I'm more familiar with narratives that take a much more severe look at such potentialities, in order to wisely advocate for democratic institutions, which usually saturate tyrannical ambitions.

The king in this film is adorable however with an encyclopedic knowledge of his domain, he likes animals and knows the details of the intimate lives of even his most theoretically insignificant subjects. 

He finds custom and formality irritating and openly wishes to be less strict, amidst an observant displeased retinue compulsively obsessed with monarchical routine.

Unfortunately, as he becomes more and more friendly and more becoming to democratic sensibilities, he's considered more and more insane and eventually locked up for his communal troubles.

The doctor hired to cure him contrasts his personality with democratic incongruity, he's never read Shakespeare and has no time for pomp but understands his work with utilitarian efficacy. 

Thus the king who is more like a commoner hires a commoner who is more like a king, to save his mind from withering away into petulant unrehearsed trivial lunacy.

The treatment indeed is much less fun than the childish mad king ruling his kingdom, but it does work he's able to return to the head of government without excessive comment.

But even if the king is loveable and wise and caring and erudite, does the potential for debased absolutism not reside inherently within?

How strong are the democratic forces collectively aligned to challenge such aberrations, as absolutist sentiment widely spreads and eventually subsides in cultural familiarity?

Familiarity is no doubt ingratiating but what if it starts illegal wars that ruin the global economy?

Does the familiar become say fruitless? 

To be challenged by the feverish unknown? 

Jubilee

Queen Elizabeth I seeks direct knowledge of the future, and an accommodating angel is summoned, divinely endowed with prophetic precision he graciously enables clairvoyant caricatures, as they travel to a post-apocalyptic future feverishly enamoured with punk rock.

Strange to provide ahistorical comparisons between the alternative social constructs, but whereas the Queen monopolises power way back when, a media mogul exercises similar authority over yonder.

His friends characterize the past with random inspired proclamations, like a series of disgruntled spirited diatribes diabolically manifested through armageddon. 

Puzzling to the astonished Queen who takes it in with modest whimsy, somewhat shocked by the blatant contrasts but otherwise scientifically disposed.

The police have taken to violence and no longer put up with the slightest objection, quickly firing should constructive criticisms ever dare to voice concerns.

People discovered with nothing to do must endure underground lectures on various topics, an audience desired found within the streets where millions remain unemployed.

What can the bewildered Queen then boldly administer amongst her subjects?

To imagine alternative global paths.

Prominently incorporating widespread leisure. 

Treading imaginatively throughout time multivariable presents chaotically mingle, to effectively generate kinetic shards exuberantly coruscating wild endeavours.

Had the Queen spent more time delicately observing the tribulations of her stately epoch, perhaps the sensational uproars may have seemed less grandiose as semantically situated within composite streams.

Thoroughly saturated embellished beacons enthusiastically disseminating jocose hypotheses, not as devoutly determined by chronological forecasts much more individualistically composed. 

Like ye olde Lite Brite or David Lynch's picture to be found in another room, Jarman bedazzlingly creates improvised disharmonies through substantial recourse to extant obscurity. 

With good times endearingly awaiting the shape-shifting collectives in balm and friendship, indeed forging lackadaisical teams to fortuitously treasure infinite subjectivity. 

Carefree and unfortunately at odds with so many disciplined lavish demeanours.

Still unafraid to ebulliently exist.

Brilliant breaching.

Nebulous nerve. 

*Criterion keyword: freight. 

Jalsaghar (The Music Room)

Traditional techno prestigious glamour entrenched nobility inalienable birthright, delicately maintaining vast ancient customs once thoroughly sought to uphold righteous honour.

The royal in question elaborately ensconced within his palatial discreet colossus, known for entertaining and leisure and horseplay as were his forefathers so much of his kin.

But times change, new ideas and philosophies begin to prosper throughout the land, and new markets new ways to earn money latently tempt inherent ambitions.

As the economy undergoes transformation and the nouveau riche seek respect and authority, the ocean encroaches upon his old lands and leaves him with no means to take in revenue.

Dispiritingly, his wife and only son travel by water to rendez-vous with her family, tragically suffering a moribund fate when caught in a hurricane on their way home.

Left with no rightful heir and too uptight and proud to start over again, he settles into a depressed routine which sees no income or family or friend.

The world erupting in kitschy novelty borderline insouciant bewitching pandemonium. 

He embraces the passing of the years.

Rarely emerging from his elegant den.

There must be an arthouse tradition imaginatively awaiting curious enthusiasts, who aren't as interested in Bollywood's sensation but still directly crave tactile Indian genius. 

Jalsaghar (The Music Room) seductively showcasing the despondent struggle of a political system, as those who can't adapt to the newfound democracy suffer in silence while their wealth slowly fades.

But more than that, if ever there was a relevant film to challenge boredom and decay, Satyajit Ray's cataclysmic masterpiece indirectly applauds diversification.

The industrious Dutch have held back the sea for such a long time their techniques transmissible, had the aging royal simply adopted them he may have kept his people on the land.

Perhaps due to obsessive bearings he never became aware of such maritime difference, but had he focused intently on generating an income, and hired innovative people accordingly, he likely would have continued to profit from his holdings, and never would have had to sell his sacred possessions.

Thus, beware the sedentary life should you find yourself enamoured with rest and relaxation.

As the saying goes, don't rest on your laurels.

Notably if so many rely on your industry.

Kaguya-hime no monogatari (The Tale of the Princess Kaguya)

A childless family holistically subsists within the fertile abundant countryside, utilizing enriching multifaceted bamboo to productively nourish and equip their household.

One bamboo shoot proves more elaborate than the other versatile exemplars within the forest, revealing a miniature person no less in need of love and warmth and shelter and guidance.

Her new parents are unsure of what to do but know she grows quickly and flourishes in nature, as she swiftly befriends the local children who generously teach her about plants and animals.

Other discoveries within the forest lead her father to believe she's destined for royalty, fine silk robes and a huge pile of gold lead him to seek stately honours sequentially.

They move away from the cherished country to the imposing capital where they've built a mansion, and hired a discerning professional nanny to strictly teach her the rules of etiquette. 

She responds with traditional transgressions and febrile fits of fervent fury, but eventually settles into her chosen role out of dutiful love for her mother and father.

Bold noblepeople from across the land soon come a'-calling in pursuit of marriage.

But she responds with impossibility.

To which they counter in roguish fashion.

The dependable roots of a heartwarming Ghibli magically take hold of one's heart within, and enchantingly propagate independent merrymaking with soul-searching skill and tender echoes.

The sought after attention to naturalistic detail and focus on animals of all shapes and sizes, can be wondrously found once again throughout what's come to be known as Kaguya-hime no monogatari (The Tale of the Princess Kaguya).

Crafts are also concentrated on as the Princess moves from station to station, animated accounts of diligent artists distinctively engaged in woodworking wonder. 

The eternal struggle between the carefree ways of a bucolic youth clashing with urban responsibility, permeates the bewildered action as the coveted Princess takes centre stage.

Would it have been better to introduce the Moon People at the beginning of the film instead of much later?, the lack of foreknowledge briefly generating confusion as the shocking revelations augment the end.

But the intricate detail, the copious love for thriving nature to be found within.

And the ways in which it appeals to the fortunate throughout life.

Seductively soothes.

Any critical sensation. 

Neko no ongaeshi (The Cat Returns)

Simple acts of genuine kindness at times cultivate appreciation and respect, the unsuspecting recipients flush with reciprocity should time's passage munificently flow.

Thus, in Neko no ongaeshi (The Cat Returns), the Kingdom of Cats regards Haru with admiration, for having generously gone out of her way while altruistically assuming death-defying risks.

She's rather mild-mannered yet inquisitive and enjoys sleeping in with no time for breakfast, teachers critical of her habitual tardiness yet still sympathetic to the studious cause.

Having naturally developed an intuitive love for animals she notices one legendary day, that a cat may be run over by a fearsome passing truck, which encourages genuine distress.

She quickly scoots into traffic and boldly saves the unobservant feline, who, as fate would have ceremoniously have it, happens to be the Prince of Cats.

Cat kind responds in turn with abundant gifts freely delivered, and even if Haru doesn't know what to do with the mice, she's still taken aback from all the attention.

But soon she's taken away to the exotic otherworldly mythological chillaxed cat kingdom.

Where she's betrothed to the very same Prince.

As she starts to transform into a cat!

Imagine a less self-obsessed world where sincere kindness and warmth played a role, and people looked out for one another like the Québecois while structuring their cultural and communal relations.

I don't hear it mentioned often anymore but the Pay it Forward movement was a very cool thing, I don't know what it transformed into but hopefully the thought behind it's the same. 

The movement as I recall sought to reward acts of kindness, self-sacrificingly shared between conscious individuals, conscientiously aware of the tender exchange.

If someone was kind enough to do someone a favour or help someone out without having been called upon, then the person who received the aid would then help someone else in the near future, or Pay it Forward.

Marrying the King of Cat's son and transforming into a cat may have taken things too far, but had there been a courtship ritual involved, perhaps the results would have been somewhat different.

An appealing idea nonetheless which effortlessly radiates cohesive collegiality. 

It exists in so many forms.

Constructively mutating across the land.  

The Smiling Lieutenant

A bored yet daring idle officer (Maurice Chevalier as Lt. Niki) is begrudgingly convinced to assist a friend, who's fallen for a violinist (Claudette Colbert as Franzi) who swiftly plays at a nearby nightclub.

He heeds the fraternal call but during the performance finds himself smitten, his sudden infatuation generously rewarded with a spur of the moment late evening call.

It doesn't pass in jest something long-lasting seems to materialize, but as his exuberant feelings manifest, a sensitive Princess (Miriam Hopkins) happens to notice him.

She thinks he's smiling at her and indeed ridiculing her august manner, her father the King (George Barbier) soon bringing him forth so that he can clearly explain his strange facial expressions.

The King's country isn't a large one yet he still seeks routine pomp and circumstance, and is somewhat annoyed when his Austrian relatives don't provide an elaborate reception.

He's rather habitually ill-tempered but easily placated as well, thus while furious with the confused lieutenant, he doesn't outrageously break down.

Unfortunately for Niki, who has no interest in moving to Flausenthurm, he's soon betrothed to the aggrieved Princess, and festively married shortly thereafter.

But he longs for his highly strung belle who genuinely reciprocates with amorous duty.

The Princess lacking worldly orchestrations. 

Trusted to find versatile improvised harmonies.

It's an awkwardly scandalous vision playfully subverting regal pretensions, wherein which cosmopolitan mischief overwhelms age old ostentation. 

A role likely coveted by many disingenuously finds itself bitterly upheld, the bewildered disconsolate provincials at a lugubrious loss to restore wholesome decorum. 

With their honest and sincere trust I found myself somewhat taken by these royals, having fallen into the romantic trap, accidentally set through hardboiled declamation.

I don't really follow the British Royal Family, I have to admit I've never been that interested, not that I didn't respect the age old Queen who seemed to genuinely care about her subjects.

But considering what Harry's given up and the risks he's taken to defend Duchess Markle, there's no doubt in my mind she's a bonafide Princess, even if she's not playing the role.

An American Princess I suppose imaginatively fusing the grand juxtaposition.

I don't pay much attention to them either.

But I do admire their courage. 

A King in New York

The freedom to think whatever remains universally appealing, assuming you aren't infringing upon the rights of others to freely work and actively play.

It makes for a robust globe overflowing with novel ideas, abounding with compelling variety as productively showcased at bookstores and libraries.

It's the inherent multivariability that makes democracies so enriching, eclectically attuned to collective vigour through individualistic endeavour.

The groups demographically ebb and flow as constructive fluidity naturally composes, stability and routine still widely cherished the reliable economic expenditures.

It's easy to write about the benefits of inclusive sociocultural initiatives, you just have to entertain heartfelt vitality as judiciously applied to peaceful life.

It's a shame such tolerant impulses have lost public ground in recent years, as childish imprudent brash extremists have refused to embrace versatile community.

Or even frustratingly bewildered it with sundry ineffective rules, stilting suffocating melodious free verse by rashly promoting social regulation.

I'm not as familiar with the era as I should be, but from what I've heard Chaplin once ruled incarnate, artistically evidencing his cultivated resonance with practical imaginative enticing foresight. 

But as times changed and new trends and fashions provocatively prospered in old school cinema, a revolution rigorously challenged his exceptionality with fluent discord.

Thus, in the opening moments of A King in New York the King of Estonia (Charlie Chaplin) is forced to flee, and take up residence in the Big Apple where he eventually has to work in advertising.

After having been banned himself from the United States where he had entertained millions for decades, extremist thugs having coercively arisen to stifle the chill cooperative left.

To think that someone so genuinely concerned with innocent goodwill and characteristic savvy, couldn't return to the American heartland fills one with loathing for McCarthyism. 

Chaplin got them back in this film with a funny scene near the lively end, where he douses the brigands down with extensive literal saturated import.

He was just exercising his rights to pursue non-violent modes of communication.

A bold statement by cinematic royalty.

No doubt a friend.

To athletic accords.

Orlando

What one gains to live forever without aging amongst the royals, while perennially persisting in novel light of heart heuristics. 

Through non-determinate trail and error Orlando (Tilda Swinton) learns of love and politics, like a youngster dabbling in frisk and fancy with everlasting inhibition. 

Not that everyone's at play the social lab invokes decorum, but as time passes new tasks emerge mischievously befitting a young immortal.

Orlando the film generates true innocence ironically immersed in frayed executive, eager to dally forlorn forever while at times taking part commissioned commanding.

The typical tropes you find in narratives concerned with living forever can't be found, as Orlando frolics through the centuries with jocose beam and slight expenditure.

Thus, concerns with true romance and personal loss don't fit within, not that there aren't moments of genuine displeasure along with strong desires fawned unrequited.

Perhaps it's supposed to be much more serious I'm afraid I just can't view it that way, Swinton's simply just too adorable and seems at home at rest at play.

I've had this problem with les adorables who as a metaphysical rule loathe as I admire, thus I've had to abandon the practise altogether in terms of circumspect affection.

It was the same way with pets when I was a kid, I would try to hug them and they'd bite me.

Relationships must be easy since so many people have them.

It'd be nice to have more money.

But other people have the worst taste in everything! 😜

It's cool to see Orlando isn't fraught with studious indelicacy, and her immortality isn't feared or hated as she travels throughout the centuries. 

Why she doesn't travel to the northern forests of Canada and Québec to make a home remains a mystery, she could have watched the wildlife for 100 years and still have spent another 1,000 shopping.

But she loves her gloomy homeland with all its rain and absent bears, are there any major forests left in Britain?, I heard they recently brought back beavers.

A cool companion piece for Highlander, Orlando proceeds with judicious humour, like an earnest library patron who spends their life enjoying stories.

S/he's living them however which does seem like quite the nuisance.

Role playing, expectations.

Disproportionately fashionable.

Downtown Abbey

I suppose I may have once had harsher words for a film about servants desperate to humour British royalty, inasmuch as they don't seem to have much leisure time, and there's no mention of rights or unions.

In fact they don't seem to have any time off at all, and serve altruistically day and night, the demanding nature of their age old situation less amenable to ye olde 9 to 5, any questions of an alternative lifestyle, absent from the master narrative.

I'm unfamiliar with the series so I don't know if they receive adequate wages, and if you're ever thinking about forming a union it's always best to consider whether or not it will bankrupt your employers, but if the idle rich can't afford to pay a decent salary, who can?, and Downtown's nobles don't seem to be working that hard.

Of course they have their own dainty way of labouring, comparatively, which has more to do with socializing and planning events than sweeping or dishwashing, and since a significant proportion of the population expects them to play these roles, handed down through the centuries, who I am to criticize them for doing so?

It's the democratic element you see which ironically uplifts the monarchy insofar as such traditions have just as much right to persevere as any other.

Their workers can still quit at any time should they find something lacking, or a better situation, although in many cases I imagine they strictly soldier on.

Due to the prestige they associate with their position, a bizarro rank and file reflection of aristocratic privilege, a phenomenon where one's proud to be of service to a duke or earl even if their quality of life's somewhat bland, for they imagine that others envy them, oddly enough, but then again, others actually do.

Covetously so.

I imagine serving the nobility must seem idyllic if you're serving the nouveau riche, if that's how you want to live your life (gaining status by association with a snotty clique), although I may be incorrect indeed, depending on how hip newfound wealth finds flex-time.

All I'm trying to say is that when you don't have many options you may settle for something snotty, who am I to judge?, and may even find it quite rewarding, depending on the character of your team.

The film does present a solid team equipped with full-time work by employers who don't hold them in contempt and do honestly listen to what they have to say.

Of course the idle rich don't have to sustain these networks, they could live much more modestly to be sure, but then thousands of people would be out of work, and the people who care about elite social activities would have to find other forms of media to entertain them.

So distressing, the items that trend on AppleNews.

As unimaginative as such pastimes may seem, a democratic conscience should try to tolerate them, assuming they don't imperialistically express themselves, or attempt to squash integral freedoms.

The world of Downtown Abbey is both resourceful and respectful.

Model worker/management relations.

Perhaps too prim and polished.

Remarkably cohesive bonds.

Jupiter Ascending

Jupiter Ascending could have been better.

It's like they're trying to condense three to four hours worth of material into a 127 minute film, and the resulting action suffers from athletic overexposure.

Everything happens too quickly.

Because they cover so much ground, they're constantly placing characters in new hyper-reactive scenarios, and rather than taking the time to calmly build-up tension while diversifying character, bam, another battle begins, whether it's physical, bureaucratic, or conjugal, and it's like the fighting never stops, yet there's no sense that something could go wrong.

Spoilers.

Okay, the film points out how millions of people, in this case entire planets, can be exploited to increase the riches of a few, in this case a plan is in place to harvest humans to create an expensive highly coveted youth serum that prolongs life indefinitely, but the film also naturalizes royalty, which indirectly suggests that royals should have access to benefits denied to their subjects, like a youth serum for instance, even if the royal in question doesn't want to have anything to do with them/it.

The bee scene is one of Jupiter Ascending's coolest moments, but it doesn't fit well with the film's ethics.

And in the end Jupiter Jones (Mila Kunis) doesn't try to use her new position to break up the intergalactic obsession with the serum, she just goes back to her old life, chillin' with the fam and new partner Caine Wise (Channing Tatum).

Who are also both cool.

It's fun watching Caine fly around on his jet boots, like he's figure skating through time and space, but he does it so often there's a cloying affect, which significantly decreases the cool factor.

The fights he's in are usually full of people hired to do things which involve firing weapons, who obviously never learned how to shoot them.

Also, when Jupiter confronts arch-rival Balem Abrasax (Eddie Redmayne) in the end, his dominion disintegrates far too quickly.

Here's one of the wealthiest people in the universe, and his defence grid seems like it's made out of lego.

A lot of corny dialogue.

Love the Wachowskis, but not Jupiter Ascending.

En kongelig affære (A Royal Affair)

A gifted enlightened town doctor (Mads Mikkelsen as Johann Friedrich Struensee) fortuitously finds himself suddenly reshaping his country's (Denmark) feudal character in Nikolaj Arcel's En kongelig affære (A Royal Affair), relying heavily upon his lucid acumen to enact social democratic reforms. 

But a misguided sense of permanency and an affectionate indiscretion result in his ignominious downfall.

King Christian VII (Mikkel Følsgaard) wants little to do with ruling and prefers to revel in unconditioned debauchery.

Doctor Struensee does little to disuade his ambition and the two strike up an amiable friendship, prominently acting for the good of the people.

As opportunity strikes, freedom materializes, yet its nascent state fails to consider history's quotidien counterbalance.

As dinner is served, a competitive course of cultural compositions is collusively seared, and the foundations of a revolving polemic picturesquely present themselves.

Too picturesquely perhaps.

One of En kongelig affære's principal problems is that there aren't any proactive plebeian representatives. A film boldly illustrating a crucial moment in Danish social democratic development should have likely included characters to whom said developments directly apply.

Instead they're stereotypically depicted as a mob.

It may have been too maudlin to include proactive plebeian reps but it also lacks a healthy contingent of subtle continuous economically disadvantaged background personnages which could have diversified its filmscape.

Obviously doing this continuously throughout a film is expensive and time consuming, and since En kongelig affære highlights the dangers of proceeding too quickly with social democratic reforms, perhaps this is an example of form working hand-in-hand with content.

The economic dangers are obviously real but so are the dangers of a right wing government that constantly pleads poverty (or creates an inexhaustible debt) when there is in fact of abundance of wealth, and the film examines a period which inaugurated social democratic reforms, not one where they already hold partial institutional prominence in some countries.

The King is at least cognizant of his faults and logically prefers friendship to fidelity considering his own predilections.

The film also concerns a love affair.

Don't know if I've ever seen a better example of the ridiculousness of the absolute application of ideology than when the Queen (Alicia Vikander [Denmark's Keira Knightley or Natalie Portman?]) is told to be more ladylike while giving birth.

Outstanding.