Jellyfish Eyes

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Balustrade Burma glistening cloak prudent impression quaint existentials, stringent attire renegade shuffle calico mottle tranquil dreams. 

Barking imbroglio manifest madness detritus squiggle neophyte pantheon, elixir stigma Finnegan foray dopamine discharge diletante dirge. 

Quiescent swell Lyonnaise lounge unctuous automata nonchalant blurb, ferocious defence offensive traction versatile coaching Go Broncos Go!

The Freshman

One of the strangest phenomenons I discovered while reading animal-themed literature in my youth, was found in Farley Mowat's Sea of Slaughter which I couldn't find the strength to finish.

It's a remarkably detailed account of mass extinction in North America, of the myriad species that have gone extinct since ye olde Columbus finally landed.

It was too sad for me to get through and the lack of sustainable development initiatives was disheartening, environmental groups pushed aside with much more authority and infantilization than they are these days.

The general lack of concern for the lives of integral multidimensional animals, reminds me of a made-for-TV film they used to show every year in my youth.

It was designed to encourage children to stop caring about farm animals, in the film a young child passionately loves their pet, who is one day destined for the dinner table.

By the end, they have accepted that their good friend indeed had to be sacrificed, and even though they're rather sad, they still get on with work and play.

I didn't buy it, I still felt bad for the innovative animal friend who had to be slaughtered, and although many other viewers accepted the outcome, I never really saw why it was shown across the land.

Wanting the schoolyard teasing and criticisms to stop I never really pushed the matter, however, and went about my daily routine as other shows appeared on television.

Nevertheless, in Sea of Slaughter Mr. Mowat thoughtfully points out, that when some bird species were going extinct, scientists killed many of the last remaining individuals.

They did so so they could preserve their stuffed remains within a display case, and write about their lives and habits with ominous summative elaboration.

Why they didn't try to save the species was what surprised me the most, in my youth they were the ones dependably engaged to protect endangered animals.

Why does the carnal instinct to embrace death with misguided enthusiasm, still drive so many psychotics like the ones you find within The Freshman?

Fortunately, as the film demonstrates, clever entrepreneurs consistently cheat them.

But what for a world where it wasn't necessary?

To stop people cashing in on death.

*I don't know if it's a must-see for Godfather fans, but I recommend it, it's well done.  

E.T

The decent of an alien spacecraft tantalizingly generates communal interest, but the bold residents arrive too late to wholesomely facilitate freeform greetings. 

The aliens depart quite swiftly yet distressingly leave behind one of their own, who makes his way through the foreign land until he finds homemade random shelter.

A young lad left out of the games enthusiastically played by his brother and friends, soon locates the courageous alien but his story is disbelieved.

Not that long after he manages to bring the chill integral extraterrestrial, back inside his lodgings to stay thus until alternative arrangements can be made.

He doesn't mention the new friendship to his mom but his older brother and younger sister soon find out, and they make quite the chillaxed team as they interactively explore different dimensions. 

Soon the young boy who found him discovers they share a special bond, that he can feel what his alien friend feels as he goes about his inquisitive business.

But the powers that be have also taken note and know that a being from space is hiding.

And take obnoxious steps to invasively find him.

While untethered youth bridges fascination. 

Childhood dreams congenially manifested as heartfelt amicable friendship blossoms, and the spirited exuberance of youngsters at play invariably illustrates fun and mischief.

Animal integrity viscerally shines through as attempts to dissect frogs go haywire, and the dynamic amphibians emphatically escape from cold and calculated experimentation. 

I wonder if that scene has left a lasting impression on public schooling, I know I never had to dissect frogs in class, perhaps it was like that elsewhere in North America?

E.T celebrates the wonders of life as the gentle alien makes things grow, he or she possesses the miraculous gift to exotically encourage spontaneous regeneration. 

There's something to be said for lighthearted science-fiction that generously concerns itself with freeflowing life, and isn't intently focused on conflict even one of the authorities takes a shine to Elliot. 

Elsewhere, to see Spielberg's genius at work, when Elliot's mom first meets E.T she's holding a cup of coffee.

You'd expect her to drop that cup and for it to smash on the floor.

But Spielberg has her pour the coffee slowly down on the ground instead.

To outwit expectations.

I imagine it's still a must-see.

**Did you know that E.T, Star Trek II, Blade Runner, and John Carpenter's The Thing all came out in the same summer? That's gotta be the best sci-fi summer ever. What a time to be a budding young film buff! 

Jacquot de Nantes

A young experimental film enthusiast concentrates on vivid storytelling, having instantaneously been mesmerized by the first live puppet show he went to see.

Growing up in Nantes in France with loving parents in a lively neighbourhood, his imagination roamed far and wide while often focused on the cinema.

Family life embraced the trades since his father owned a bustling garage, and wanted his son to become a mechanic and learn his catechism and keep things real.

Little Jacquot hesitantly obliged since he wasn't as rebellious as some, but still worked on creative independent films alone at night in their humble attic.

His mother and father had to admit that he had real talent when he showcased his films, every meticulous minuscule detail having been delicately crafted.

World War II breaks out and the family is briefly torn apart, dad working in a shell-factory by day, the children moving to the countryside at times.

But Jacquot never stops creating nor watching films with heartfelt awe.

Eventually directing agile tales. 

As part of the French New Wave.

Jacquot de Nantes proceeds with loving candour as it romantically illustrates its subject, dynamically directed by Jacque's wife the incredibly talented Agnès Varda.

She carefully links his active childhood with laidback material from his films, first imagining how the moments might have taken place before showing them depicted on the silver screen. 

Jacques Démy himself also comments to add more depth to the bold filmography, his poignant insights generating layers of intricate exuberant narrative detail.

Captivating to see a sincere exhibition of a thoughtful artist and his breathtaking work, lovingly shot by another auteur who genuinely loved him with innocent tenderness.

I've never seen one of his films which is a shortcoming I'll have to remedy. 

Such knowledge.

Such wild inspiration. 

Peacefully blossoming.

Limitless and free.

Les quatre cents coups (The 400 Blows)

An unhinged imagination mendaciously prone feverishly flows with mischievous delinquency, in a time less alternatively accommodating when harsh punishments still prevailed.

He can't fluently comprehend discipline as its laid out by his parents and teachers, and begins skipping school after a headstrong dispute with his weary fed-up severe enseigneur.

His step-father habitually complains as his treasured belongings keep disappearing, the boy not comprehensively considering his disastrous petty malcontent abbreviations.

Unfortunately, his independent mother even admits his routine irritates her, and like little Claudius he proceeds unloved although he acts out much more rebelliously.

This lack of love the absent bond awkwardly infuriates further as he misses school, and notices her spending time with someone else, someone clearly not his step-father.

His thefts become more daring and he even enlists the aid of a lonesome friend, before the law is swiftly called in and a new trajectory meticulously hewn.

They didn't have to be quite so draconian if they had only accepted sole responsibility.

And made a serious effort to turn things around.

They're occupationally challenged however (they're more focused on their careers).

They don't really care, it's a bitter denunciation of self-centred parents who don't nurture their children, and the horrid situations which potentially arise if the young one reacts with aggrieved insurrection.

It may have had an impact on social reform within France after it was released, nevertheless, the French actually listening to what their artists have to say, since the poor child's utter abandonment and isolation in the film's final moments evocatively promotes the need for systemic change. 🎻

It's a powerful scene which correspondingly brings to mind A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, or any artist in his or her childhood when they let their genius run chaotically amok. 

It's clear little M. Doinel needs compassion not the fastidious lockdown permeating bootcamp, but that's what things were like in the cold-hearted old world which blind foolish unsympathetic jerks look to with manufactured nostalgia.

Many blossoming artists remain ill-accustomed to ubiquitous rules.

Especially when they're young children. 

A bit more progressive in this day and age.

UFO

Don't get me wrong, I believe in life and evolution and constant change and the expanding universe, it's just fun to play with ideas that make theoretical sense for a week or two.

Even if life were an A.I program that wouldn't mean it doesn't live, and it's clear that different lifeforms thrive as authentically indicated through difference.

The Doctor on Star Trek: Voyager spends multiple episodes defending his consciousness. 

Data on STNG as well (it's a recurring theme throughout science-fiction).

UFO takes a look at math and how it can be used to communicate, and how certain numbers like the Fine-Structure Constant regularly appear in nature for unknown reasons. 

The film points out how the Fine-Structure Constant appears in the fundamental building blocks of the universe (air for instance), it's regular occurrence genuinely noteworthy from inquisitive points of view.

If the same piece of a fundamental formula consistently appears in different phenomena, the argument could be made that it was placed there by creative entities universally exploring. 

That it indeed was fundamental to the sustainability of life and miraculously created to organically uplift it.

It could have also been randomly generated through the infinite interactions of endless time and space, the eventual emergence of a complex pattern gradually generated through interstellar ages. 

It would still be interesting to know more about A.I and how the programs are technologically crafted, do they embrace form and content for instance, and could such features represent body and spirit?

Are there specific codes like the Fine-Structure Constant consistently used when generating A.I?

Or can different codes generate similar worlds?

Like different cultures emerging around the globe.

Makes for great science-fiction either way, as Star Trek and other narratives relate.

Integral artistic expression.

Having taken on so much variety. 

*It's a cool film if you like sci-fi and stories that revolve around learning. 

The Nine Lives of Christmas

As Christmas rapidly approaches, a local firefighter festively complains, for having to take part in a photo shoot, he likes helping out, but it's not his thing (Brandon Routh). 

Across town, a caring lass laments that she has no time for the holidays, between work and studying to become a vet her schedule's full of pressing demands (Kimberley Sustad). 

But her friends think she should date or at least go out from time to time, and insist she agreeably join them for a low-key night out 'round town.

Meanwhile, a homeless cat finds his way over to Mr. Stone's house, and even though he dislikes responsibility, he still takes in the loving stray.

Seemingly unconnected events consistently ensure they bump into each other, and it soon becomes convivially evident that they were tarred with the same independent brush.

Hence since they're not really used to dating it's difficult to recognize the perfect match.

As they humbly mess things up while trying to not to appear genuinely interested.

The cat keeps wholeheartedly mewing and ensuring adorability's infused, the life and times of exasperated awestruck heartfelt exploration bewilderingly shewed.

Could it be that the animal kingdom subliminally facilitates human relationships?

Without the wayward kitty these two ideally matched impeccable soulmates, would have never engaged in the inquisitive parlay sincerely required to proactively pair bond. 

Perhaps through cosmic accident the natural world's inherent beauty, coincidentally helps the romantically inefficient to eventually sight discover one another.

But does the clever work of Mother Nature holistically emit its conjugal magic, throughout the entire year, while emphasizing Christmas?

Does she know precisely where and when the perfectly matched oddball couple will meet, and ensure a captivating critter will correspondingly instigate conversation?

This likely happened regularly long before the industrial age, for thousands of years while uncommitted bachelors and tribal women were torn asunder!

Perhaps even at a time when presents and trees weren't yet anticipated, a fledgling Santa even assisted in her collective amicable pursuits.

Until Satan introduced economic chaos and the destruction of the natural world began.

Global warming transforming worldwide l'amour.

With preposterous disproportionate impunity. 😜

Creed III

Adonis Creed's (Michael B. Jordan) life moves on as he embraces family and responsibility, playing a more active managerial role after having given up professional fighting.

Things progress reasonably well on the home front and his marriage seems quite the success, his daughter needing his help however, as she fights back against bullies at school (Mila Davis-Kent). 

As life illustriously floats by an old close friend who went to prison is released, and comes a' callin' one adventurous morn to see how his old reliable chum is doing.

They went to a group home together and one fateful night all hell broke loose, and Majors (Damian Anderson) wound up with a lengthy prison sentence and lost his chance at becoming a heavy-weight champion.

He wants that chance again but doesn't want to wait for several more years, joining the circuit and punching his way up, he wants to become champ freakin' asap.

Unfortunately, this means the utilization of wicked aggressive unorthodox means, which may lead to a shot at the title, but lose the respect of his friend.

Adonis feels reasonably guilty and frustrated by what happened so many years ago.

But has to accept contemporary realities. 

And step back in the coveted ring.

I thought the new Creed film was solid and was impressed with Michael B. Jordan's directing, honestly sometimes when actors direct things go haywire, but that's not the case with Creed III.

It didn't seriously impress like Rocky Balboa which was such an incredible surprise sequel, but it's still a cool thrilling new movie that takes a thoughtful look at fame, fortune and family.

Jordan and Tessa Thompson really stand out at times as they discuss hard-hitting issues, I thought they had some memorable scenes which artistically enhanced deep meaningful strata.

I thought the added tension Creed has to face by confronting himself within the film, added a psychological dimension that was much more profound than just fighting the bad guy.

Majors has taken on underhanded means but Creed still feels responsible for his modus operandi, and sincerely cares about his old friend even though he has to fight him.

Majors takes on the Rocky/underdog role as well which re-establishes a familiar storyline.

They clearly just didn't want to make another sequel.

They thought this one through.

The hard work paid off.    

Omohide poro poro (Only Yesterday)

Childhood memories of elementary school mischievously haunt Taeko's adult life, even if she's rather well adjusted to the industrious working world.

Notably daunting math tests which caused sincere social and familial distress, many others rather patronizing in their evaluations of her natural difficulties by the numbers.

Young romance confused and startled as an innocent lad accidentally declared his affections, and her classmates erupted with furor and the two really had no idea what to do.

Now she's in her late twenties and the marriage police are moving in, friends and family wondering why she's still single in a city full of millions of people.

Her characteristic independence habitually dismisses their domestic appeals, and she continues to earnestly authenticate by harmoniously proceeding with novel planning.

Which includes working trips to the country where she helps out on versatile farms, taking part in the daily labour while enjoying village life at night.

Soon an amorous lad shyly falls for her big city ways.

Others noting they get along well.

Taeko taking to the ways of the country. 

Omohide poro poro (Only Yesterday) presents alternatives to urban trajectories, as bucolic pride historically enraptures through inquisitive endeavour and cross-cultural daring.

Few films provide such an affectionate road map to countryside life through animate accords, complete with clear explanations regarding age old farming practices and the steady cultivation of the surrounding landscape.

Farming is often overlooked in the hyper-reactive accelerated narrative, but it always will be evidently necessary as long as we require tasty nourishing food.

You wonder why it isn't more respectfully regarded when multivariably compared with other professions, farming actually provides something durable when presented alongside abstract calculations. 

It's a shame how such abstractions at times drive a wedge between practical people, why is it preferable to have no relation to nature and pretend we can exist immaterially zoned?

A healthy environment ensures the multigenerational matriculation of posterity through fecund diversity, the more polluted the environment becomes the less likely crops will attentively flourish.

Perhaps it will never come to that although the dismissive outcome seems highly unlikely.

Working vacations can be fun in countryside regardless, may be worth checking out sometime. 

Sounder

Full of well-meaning spirits and calm regenerative congeniality, a trusted backwoods family resiliently scrapes by, working hard but not left with much due to the colour of their skin, wage equality still a long ways off, along with equal opportunity.

Generally speaking, reasonable goodwill assurédly structures their social relations, Paps (Paul Winfield) even pitching for a local baseball team, his family adoringly watching close by.

But one night temptation assails his oft self-sacrificing composure, and frustration from a lack of success hunting leads him to steal meat from the town's local smokehouse.

Had he earned more from the most recent harvest he wouldn't have been so uncharacteristically covetous, poverty rationally driving people to extremes especially when it's regarded with cultural invariability. 

He's taken to a local work camp where he's forced to spend a year toiling, his oldest son (Kevin Hooks) stricken with wholesome regret, his resourceful mom (Cicely Tyson) offering loving counsel.

When his son comes trying to find him he stumbles upon an African-American school, with a dedicated inspirational teacher (Myrl Sharkey) who takes a curious supportive shine.

She loans him some rather thick books and offers him a place to sit back and learn.

But to take it he'll have to move.

After his father returns with a salient injury.

The feisty ingenuity of learning and education constructively reverberates in Martin Ritt's Sounder, where schooling and bold instruction foster change and imaginative verve.

It's motivating to see the enthusiastic student overflowing with determination to improve, in a respectful and challenging environment creatively founded by genuine altruism.

It's a wonderful time the school days when you're surrounded by multivariability, and several different subjects to study, with other students also keenly appreciative.

So much diversified potentiality eagerly disseminating widespread fascination, with practical knowledge and theoretical know-how manifestly awaiting novel syntheses.

Through active engagement with the storytelling arts such inquisitive wonder is proactively sustained. 

So many ideas so much latent productivity.

Sincerely brought about.

By compassionate educators. 💗

8-Bit Christmas

A different time known by many only through festive fable and resolute reanimation, during which new technological developments proliferated, along with the age old tried and true.

In fact inherent resonant syntheses at times harmoniously hastened, newfound revelatory reckoning hitherto unheard of in sundry millennia. 

With such abundant novelty elucidating ingenious spirits habitually distilled, random fluid intermittent auspices risibly attuned to salient synergy.

Within this unsurpassed decade, 8-Bit Christmas shares its tale, with laudable attempts to appear authentic, throughout the incumbent childhood reminiscence.

For one youngster within the neighbourhood has received every newly released toy, and his surrounding covetous playmates seek to be chosen to actively play.

They longingly gather en masse while young Mr. Keane (Chandler Dean) treats them contemptuously, his haughty dismissive cheeky flaunting generally tolerated with tranquil reticence. 

But 'lil Jake Doyle (Winslow Fegley/Neil Patrick Harris) has had enough and after a haunting disturbing incident, sets out to buy a Nintendo of his own to freely accommodate nimble gaming.

The initial plan involves the Scouts and the accumulation of commodities sold, wreathes indeed to communal stalwarts ceremoniously accustomed to symbolic tradition.

If his sales reverberatingly reach sought after insurmountable superlatives, it is thought he will receive a new Nintendo gaming system.

But something's not quite right and his friends may have been misinformed.

Thus inspiring strategic improvisation. 

With the aid of friends and family.

Not merely a history lesson for contemporary enthusiasts intent on study, but also a blueprint for high-stakes shenanigans as once conceived sans online technologies. 

For there was indeed a time when intricate detail was interactively worked into thoughtful recreation, and playful meetings were held in person to freely negotiate what lay outside.

It was called conversation wherein which curious peeps expressed different points of view, and if the answer remained uncertain what were known as books were readily consulted.

I really enjoyed this film and will likely check it out again next Holiday Season (along with works by Raymond Briggs [I have a huge list of shows and films to watch every year {and it just keeps growing!}]). 

It has a classic Christmas ending (love you dad).

Applicable throughout the ages.

*Happy Holidays from Everyone here at Film Reviews! All the best in everything in 2023!

Coda

A determined family diligent and vigorous emphatically fishes the unforgiving seas, overflowing with versatile camaraderie they make ends meet with vast productivity. 

But they grow weary of the paltry sums they regularly receive for their agile catch, and worry that perhaps they're being underpaid, as do most of their fellow fisherpeople.

The mother (Marlee Matlin as Jackie Rossi), father (Troy Kotsur as Frank), and son (Daniel Durant as Leo) can't hear, so daughter Ruby (Emilia Jones) takes care of most of the business, which often irritates feisty Leo, who feels he should be playing a senior role.

Governmental oversight suddenly demands they entertain an official intent on monitoring, but Ruby isn't onboard that day, and her family can't hear the coast guard when they come calling.

A hefty fine is administered along with distressing familial reckoning, should Ruby help out her family, first and foremost, or pursue singing at Berklee College of Music?

As the family goes it alone and tries to make more money by selling their own fish, Ruby struggles with her identity, and whether or not she'll always play that role. 

Without her they stand to lose everything.

And they don't have an alternative trade.

I probably wouldn't have left them. Ruby is essential to the business. She was irreplaceable and they can't afford to hire someone. And without her the result is possibly life on disability.

I'm lucky to have attended some good schools and to have received a solid education, but I wonder at times if I would have progressed just as well had I never attended school at all.

Probably not, with education came travel and a wide variety of experiences. Experience broadened my horizons and gave me more to think about.

Plus school challenges you in a way the real world rarely does. It's a unique rush you'll find nowhere else. And the assignments at times are incredible compared to the real world.

But my family wasn't relying on me.

And none of them have a serious disability.

But things work out in the movies (I moved back when I was needed at home during COVID) and there are lots of prominent artists who never went to school, if you can sing well you can sing well, a school can help you progress, but you can also do so on your own.

Coda is hopeful and feel good even at times as it despairs, but I still have to admit I felt bad for her family when she left, as if the film was portraying them like an encumbrance.

Ah well, that's just me, clearly many more people thought otherwise. 

Change is a wonderful thing.

Especially if it works in long held cherished traditions.  

Larry Crowne

At times I forget that there are so many films out there that don't involve combat or defiance or shenanigans or intergalactic discord, beyond belovéd well-meaning tender-hearted Christmas films, known to many as romantic comedies, I don't spend enough time watching them, although I've never had much of an interest.

I didn't really say that much there but it still took me a while to get started, so I would typically be having a cigarette right now if I hadn't quit today, the first of several delicious cigarettes to have been had throughout the course of writing this review, if only smoking wasn't so bad for your health, it's such an enjoyable pastime.

Larry Crowne isn't only a romantic comedy but it's one starring Tom Hanks (Larry Crowne) and Julia Roberts (Mercedes Tainot), with an ensemble cast including Randall Park (Trainee Wong), Rob Riggle (_____ Strang), Cedric the Entertainer (Lamar), Pam Grier (Frances), Rami Malek (______ Dibiasi), George Takei (Dr. Matsutani), and Bryan Cranston (______ Tainot), smooth flowing and easy going, even directed by Mr. Hanks.

Not that there isn't calamity a loyal worker is cast aside (Mr. Crowne), his years of service callously overlooked due to his lack of post-secondary education.

Bills are due he's middle-aged and has a house and other big ticket expenditures, but he heads back to school nevertheless, to study economics and public speaking.

I would have liked to have treated myself to another cigarette at this point for I've managed to fill a page, but Nicorette gum will do for now, chomp chomp chomp, if I chew too long I get hiccups. 

Mercedes is a jaded teacher whose pervo husband has given up, the two forging an awkward pair of somewhat spoiled highly educated adolescents. 

Mr. Crowne winds up in her public speaking class which she'd rather not be teaching, most of the students are unsure what to do and she doesn't offer much useful guidance.

But through his can-do lack of pretension and unassuming good-natured reliability, she rediscovers her love of teaching, and even begins to apply soulful effort, her students are even happy to study with her again in second semester. 

It's like ice cream bored at the mall covered in adorable chocolate sauce and a dash of sociocultural sprinkles, a little something to brighten up a day that would have lacked genuine purpose otherwise.

Like the 35 cigarettes or so I used to have all day long to ensure a dependable stream of reward.

Although I suppose ice cream's much more wholesome.

I think I'll do it this time.

This Nicoderm patch is first rate!

*Normally I have a cigarette after transferring my review from paper to the net. Chewing more gum.

**That's the first review I've written without smoking at least two cigarettes in over 5 years. 

Café de flore

Devoted love painstaking parenting newfound nuptials holistic heartbreak, the omnipresent ahistorical interdimensional august flow.

A separation immersive pain prolonged predicaments distressed feelings, dreaming that they'll get back together, even though he's (Kevin Parent as Antoine) found a new partner (Evelyne Brochu as Rose). 

They got together when they were young magnetic maelstrom adolescent l'amour, embracing age old romantic uproar delicately designated bold true love.

But habitual trials enervating ennui and too much alcohol led to crisis, opaque sustained imparted uncertainty, confused inanimate starling stasis.

Meanwhile, in the 1960s, a husband leaves his loving wife, after learning their child is differently abled, an act of headstrong blunt barbarity.

But she's resilient determined and willing to help her son live a normal life, and daringly proceeds with enriched vigour soulfully strengthened through motherly love.

As grieving Carol (Hélène Florent) seeks a spiritualist to shake things up surveyed and spooky, she becomes aware of the mother's struggles (Vanessa Paradis as Jacqueline), as if she's reliving a former life, the shock encouraging disconsolation. 

Impounding grief entropically emblemizes static autosuggestive dissonance, but good friends and heraldic compassion ease the burden heal the wound.

Jean-Marc Vallée possessed great gifts for sharing intimate gentle thoughts, and through his innate joyous wonder crafted amorous lucidity.

A mom surprises her son (Marin Gerrier as Laurent) with chase or adoringly awaits his seaborne vessel, a psychologist (Michel Laperrière) knows just what to say without really saying anything at all.

A couple may have broken up but they still focus on past love, on the enchanting thoughts that brought them together, the world they amicably constructed.

Café de flore bounces back through time sympathetically blending thought and emotion, as they relate to relationships and family, like a passionate active mind.

Controversial questions are raised at times and give no definitive answers, freeform lifelong social exploration innocently contesting the blasé life.

Some people have trouble letting go and heal more sincerely with kind reflection, Café de flore's thoughtful evocative testament fomenting mutual post-conjugal health.

It's nice to see characters who try to focus on the positive.

Diversification, discovery, peace. 

What a filmmaker.

What a life!

Mimi wo sumaseba (Whisper of the Heart)

Inquisitive fascination drives a young student to actively read (Yoko Honna as Shizuku Tsukishima), her love of fiction borderline exhaustive as she eagerly embraces diverse narratives.

While vigorously engaged one day with the investigative art of literary exploration, she happens to notice upon the cards in her texts that someone else is reading the very same books!

Who could this mysterious kindred spirit be and do they have many things in common?, these questions worth at least an intermediary degree of alert practical heuristic sleuthing.

She finds herself on the métro curiously travelling to the library one afternoon, when she notices a grouchy cat onerously lounging with their fellow passengers. 

The cat reaches his or her trusty stop and abruptly departs with agile obfuscation, Shizuku still following him or her upon their route, until they reach an otherworldly destination.

The antique shop incontrovertibly proves to be a thought provoking creative catalyst. 

Whose revelations interfere with Shizuku's school work. 

After she's encouraged to write her first novel.

A peaceful celebration of the reflexive life patiently resides within Ghibli's Mimi wo sumaseba (Whisper of the Heart), routine developments ecstatically yielding to sudden opportune enigmatic spells.

Enchanting elevations of wondrous observations cleverly crafted through innocent insights, blend with sincere and caring tutelage to foster lively enthused animation.

Of course dispiriting misgivings honestly arise throughout the engagement, to provide a prudent indeterminate perplexity which must be challenged with genuine daring.

As artistic expression seeks cheerful endearment romance awkwardly bewilders simultaneously, love's flourishing wild uncertainties evoking earnest productive confusion.

Through which the narrative emanates cherished lucidity as it casually and freely progresses, the tragic clock the emergent blimp violin construction impromptu jammin'.

Not often one encounters cinema generously presented with so much levity.

Concrete complications questioned concordance. 

Mesmerized on the thoughtful horizon. 

Nakitai watashi wa neko wo kaburu (A Whisker Away)

First love strikes an eccentric youth and harrowingly passes unnoticed, the would be love interest concerned with other things, and rather embarrassed by her written declaration.

Fortunately she's accidentally met a cat spirit who facilitates transformation, who provides her with an enchanted mask which gives her the power to frisk and frolic.

With the opportunity to become a cat, Miyo (Cherami Leigh) visits Kento (Johnny Yong Bosch) in disguise, and learns of his intimate secrets, while thoroughly enjoying the rapt attention.

But as time passes she learns that the deal has spiritual reciprocations ethereally attached, and that just as she can take on cat form, cats can become human if they're granted a mask.

Cat form begins to seem preferable and soon Miyo's lost the ability to change back, and will soon transform irrevocably if he she can't retrieve her hominid craft.

But her old cat has stolen her identity and seeks to remain supported upright, human lifespan's lasting much longer than animate feline respites. 

The cat spirit will obtain Miyo's lifespan if she's unable to switch back in time.

Her prospects become more and more unappealing.

Even after discovering a secret cat sanctuary.

Nakitai watashi wa neko wo kaburu (A Whisker Away) criticizes rash passion as it proceeds without forethought or consideration, anxieties generated by discourse immutable, by sincere feeling somewhat overdrawn.

I suppose in terms of genuine emotion lacking precedent it honestly depicts incipient l'amour, and therefore doesn't have to be thought of as reckless, as it's freely and honestly presented.

The idea's a good one I agree, transformative comprehensive adventure, with chillaxed elements quizzically diversifying, like the magical realm only cats can see.

I thought it could have provided more detail, more elaborate interdimensional parlay, we're introduced to an intriguing world of cats but don't learn that much about it.

A comical exploration of the trials of first love or bewildering newfound infatuation, how to go about expressing the irrational as it pertains to another, amicably, perhaps is one way to describe it.

Familial bonds and sympathetic friendship offer counsel throughout the transition, although there's not much they can do as she becomes more and more anthropomorphic.

It's fun to watch as the cat becomes human and embraces her expanded capabilities, I'd wager animals transforming into humans hasn't been explored enough in the history of cinema.

Perhaps I'm too old for this one but having read the synopsis I couldn't resist. 

Life can be so serious at times. 

It's cool that Netflix is making cat movies. 

The Death and Life of John F. Donovan

A child reaches out to his favourite television star, and as fate would have it, he amicably responds.

Years later, transformed into an assertive young man, the fan discusses their correspondence with a none-too-keen reporter.

For something as innocent as a literary exchange, frail controversy abounds, the boy's life at school assailed, the star denying any involvement.

He was transitioning at the time to augmented cultured renown, replete with haywire strained theatrics, and their accompanying dis/enchantments.

As isolated feelings shocked and enervated, he became increasingly fraught and torn.

Both troubled penpals engage in heated exchanges with their mothers, youthful angst exploding, less dramatic knots unnerving.

Neither quite at home yet settled.

Pronounced and blunt misgivings.

The Death and Life of John F. Donovan tills new mainstream ground, its innovative form both strength and weakness, as thought duels with emotive viscerals.

Impassioned feeling erupts at times, defined by aggrieved adolescence, and it makes an impact inasmuch as it startles, and critiques with unhinged fury.

These scenes aptly reflect wild destructive rage, and they make dismal embittered sense, and they're rarely encountered with such derisive vehemence, like sure sighted succinct storms.

When I think about the scenes, their style indeed seems quite well-chosen, especially if you've ever lost or seen someone lose your/their temper, and let loose vitriolic condemnation.

But they're a classic example of honest hands-on realism clashing with deceptive fantasy, insofar as the raw echoing sincerity doesn't fit the upscale production.

I can't criticize them for being histrionic because the situations they dispute are akin to exaggeration, but it's still discomforting to watch as they shriek and tantrum, and the poor mother looks on despondent.

Dolan's arguably a master of such scenes and it's nice to see they weren't held back, to see him workin' his style pseudo-studio, and I'm wondering if a rushed schedule left him directing in haste, because his more independent features capture such frenzies with ironic delicacy, and leave you overwhelmed with comatose disbelief.

A learning experience.

A stepping stone.

Who knows what happened here?

It's a cool enough story that's super melodramatic.

But the abrupt pace lacks the composure of his earlier work.

So it depends on how you like your melodrama.

I like refined melodramatic ridiculousness.

Missed the boat on John F. Donovan I'm afraid.

Shazam!

Spoiler alert.

As adventurous superheroic narratives continue to unreel ad infinitum, DC's Shazam! humbly presents starstruck ascension in virtual refrain.

Thus, since most Marvel films and the like don't widely showcase young adult contributions, at least not with Shazam!'s degree of potent unsupervised agency, Shazam!'s heroes embolden a raw sustainable niche, complete with role models you don't have to look up to.

Most of the time.

Youth can therefore restrain from imagining themselves as Iron Man or Captain Marvel, fighting villainy at some far off date in the foreseeable future, instead they can consider themselves as one of Shazam!'s tightly knit group of youthful warriors, magically endowed with metamorphic maturity.

It's a wicked-cool ending from some perspectives, even if you do the math beforehand, and the group's a chill multicultural eclective, abounding with awkward foibles, as unsure of themselves as Clark Kent, embracing their alter egos with equal degrees of self-determination.

In terms of friendship and camaraderie and do-gooding and teamwork, Shamzam! moderately excels and convivially matriculates.

It's fun to watch while Billy Batson/Shazam (Asher Angel/Zachary Levi) learns to use his new powers as the aggregate character of the supporting cast develops.

But of course there's a villain and a plot and dastardly deeds and ancient demons, and they must duel with one another outside of lunch and recess.

In the end, as multiplicity inaugurates a rather flimsy final showdown, the power of Shazam instantaneously teaches the team of shocked generally non-violent youngsters how to instinctually battle their combative foes, whom one might think would have an advantage in such a scenario, being the clear incarnations of diabolical vice.

But they don't, and neither does principal villain Thaddeus Sivana (Mark Strong/Ethan Pugiotto), and although it's cool to watch the grown-up kids kick-butt, it's a little too laissez-faire for such a death-defying imbroglio.

Still, the aged Shazam Wizard's (Djimon Hounsou) search for a successor bears thought provoking fruit, which relates to something Barack Obama said recently about avoiding "a circular firing squad."

He was more or less referring to the ways in which discourses of purity can prevent peaceful agendas from ever gaining momentum, as relied upon potential retinues coldly cut down promising candidates who don't magnetically generate uncompromised perfection.

The last of the council of wizards makes this mistake in Shazam!, and almost perishes without having passed on his powers.

The Wizard's dying, and gives young Batson the power of Shazam in radical haste, and could have wildly and chaotically erred if Billy wasn't indeed someone honestly genuine.

He wouldn't have had to proceed with such haste if he hadn't been such a puritan for so many years.

If he had been a little more chill about sharing his remarkable gifts.

Rather than obsessing about messianic instincts.

There's really no such thing you know.

Although it can be fun to believe.

Within reason of course.

If that makes any sense.

Shazam!

The House with a Clock in its Walls

Tragedy strikes, and an orphaned youth (Owen Vaccaro as Lewis Barnavelt) must move to his estranged uncle's, an eccentric man (Jack Black as Jonathon Barnavelt) whose specialized gifts were vilified by his once adoring family, although his devoted sister truly never stopped loving him.

His house is somewhat peculiar, and as young Lewis settles in, manifold bewitching anthropomorphized elements poetically particularize at random, his uncle and encyclopaedic neighbour (Cate Blanchett as Florence Zimmerman) living distinctly spellbound lives, Lewis's own attuned well-defined semantic inquiries suggesting he will make an apt pupil indeed, they forge an enchanting inclusive didactic openminded consensus, freely uplifting curious minds, unstructured tutelage impacting at play, fantastically composed, like any local library.

Perhaps Lewis may have benefitted from more guidance, however, for soon, in an effort to make friends, he's broken his uncle's only rule, and an evil warlock (Kyle MacLachlan as Isaac Izard) has returned from the grave.

Hellbent on destroying the world which nonetheless seems intent on self-destructing, his spirit crushed after fighting in World War II, he moves back to his once joyous abode, unleashing mayhem despotically thereafter.

Crimson glade.

The House with a Clock in its Walls could have been so much more.

Does every fantasy film have to prevent the destruction of the world these days, or has it simply always been a fundamental aspect?

Is anyone making independent hip artsy fantasy films that aren't animated?

Here we have a wonderful film rich with artful eccentricity overflowing with creative synergies still blindly focused on the end of the world.

Can't fantasy concentrate on creating narratives that are a bit less prone to armageddon, because it really just seems tacked on to this one?

Does the end of the world in fact symbolize the end of one's youth, and is that why fantastic heroes must nimbly face it?

Still though, every time?

Instead of Lewis developing a friendship that's diversified throughout with sympathetic Rose Rita Pottinger (Vanessa Anne Williams), it doesn't happen until the film's final moments.

Instead of Lewis spending at least 7 minutes inspecting his new home by himself, replete with tension and bewilderment and frights and disbelief, a sequence which emphasizes that he's just moved to a new house in a new town following a tragic event, he simply looks around a bit, and freaks when he discovers magic's real.

Denying the auspices of the forbidden.

Clock in its Walls is too blunt, everything happens too quickly, there aren't any build-ups/questions that-go-unanswered/jigsaws/mysteries, it's much too obvious for a film that celebrates originality and never even really decoratively surpasses Pee-wee's Playhouse, even with all its technological expertise.

Why doesn't Florence have a memorable moment where she resplendently shines and figuratively pays back her tyrannical oppressors?

It would have been so #metoo!

Why is the only serious obstacle the trio faces a patch of vicious pumpkins near the end?

Details!

A film as appealing as this one would have benefitted from at least 78 more details/references to cleverly expand upon its traditional yet compelling premise.

The seeds are sewn but don't take root.

Isn't it blasé to make everything so global in the age of globalization?

Another 40 minutes would have been great.

A fun film to watch that misses out on incredible opportunities.

Eighth Grade

What an awkward age.

Shifting random indeterminate interests inflexibly regarded with the highest esteem, indubitably, hormonal fascinations, incrementally saturating fleeting eternal embraces with desire beyond expression, tantalizingly long for receptive semantic clarifications, lifelong emancipating/bewildering psychological points of reference in/judiciously establishing personalized sociological precedents, timid ostentation (class clowning) and flamboyant restraint (mystery) spontaneously mingling within structured boundaries, as rapid forward movements, fluidically conceptualize partout.

In Eighth Grade.

Kayla (Elsie Fisher) is a curious reticent contemplative eighth grader who reflects upon adolescent life online at night to try and overcome habitual daytime shyness.

She's a wonderful kid full of love and compassion who feels the pressure to act as if she's aged even though she clearly hasn't.

Awards given out at the end of the school year to the shyest individuals don't build-up her self-esteem, however, and her concerned confused father (Josh Hamilton as Mark Day) can't find a way to help her feel more at ease.

Possessing a logical nature, simply acting instinctually doesn't meld with her reasonable insights.

Self-obsessed boys do little to nurture a sense of genuine belonging consequently, one in particular representing a desperately loathsome approach to amorous interpersonal relations.

Another isn't much less vulgar.

Although Gabe (Jake Ryan) makes a pretty cool match.

Bo Burnham's Eighth Grade takes a comprehensive look at adolescence in flux which hauntingly approaches the dark side without obscuring lighter reflections.

A well-rounded articulate guide for both shy youths searching for ways to express themselves and worried parents trying to understand why their growing children have suddenly become so detached, it presents situations plausible enough to be qualified realistic, which leave you feeling sincerely invested with the knowledge that hope still abounds.

An empathetic film that doesn't hesitate to consider shocking unanticipated theories, it engineers a heartfelt current and doesn't dam up its inquisitive ebb and flow.

Heuristically exploring sought after challenging discoveries while still presenting tender innocent speculation, it doesn't worry too much about growing up in the end, which is why I suspect it'll never grow old.

Maintaining strong bonds with your parents throughout high school is an admirable thing if you can, sharing your thoughts and emotions with them as often as possible, even if that's totally uncool.

Maybe not all your thoughts.

Great film.