The Hit

Extravagant teething steadfast stream notorious nettle lucrative gang, candlestick caution versatile temper floored execution galavant getaway.

Mechanized methods interrogative vocal witness protection continental coda, renewable readymade convertible cloister filament folio aggrieved annotation. 

Mischievous moil literate leisure lorbital library penitent play, bumblebee bustle velodrome vintage innocent moxy cavalier quota. 

Determinant dank diabolical influx tenacious threshing bucolic bantha, syndicate scooping equipped acquisition featherweight fetters rotisserie hide.

Irritating logistics indolent imposition interminable road trip improvised irking, semanticore switch calculated kidnapping indefinite stitch calisthenic contagion.

Erroneous calcite callous communication serendipitous infatuation enamoured intuition, bullheaded attrition voluptuous vexing diehard disentanglements endowed absurdity.

Bookworm contention variable learning sincere reflection keen undertakings, unexpected conversation lighthearted argument artistic reticence instinctual interest.

Comic implosion gloomy humour immiscible remnants juxtaposed jubilee, cerebral severance streetwise baccalauréat Walden urbanity Thoreau-row-row.

Blossoming friendship disciplined obscurity confusing insights angelic equipoise, ambient frustration peaceful serenity sentiment solace teddy bear traction.

Dogmatic decibels uncertain agua offhand distraction lickspittle legion, tumultuous confidence brittle intransigence bulbous oath victual vow.

Blunt obfuscation treasurefeit truffle sideshow ambivalence mangy magenta, awkward perseverance nocturnal chum misinformed magpie telemetric trigo. 

Joie de vivre living-the-art-life chill peace-of-mind inherent discrepancy, books for the soul omnisciently so serious or carefree existenz philos.

With Terence Stamp as the age old dreamer. 

Putting on quite the show.

Criterion Keywords: Terence Stamp.

Odd sensibility, stark eccentricities. 

Victoria & Abdul

Dualities softly structure Stephen Frears's Victoria & Abdul, like stately courtly pillow fights stuffed with feta cheese.

Abdul (Ali Fazal), a young Indian clerk who's suddenly given the chance to serve the British Queen (Judi Dench), is initially contrasted with Mohammed (Adeel Akhtar), a fellow citizen who has a much less romantic vision of Britain's sleepless empire.

He's also opposed to Victoria's eldest son, Bertie (Eddie Izzard), since his close relationship with the Queen allows her to be much more maternal with him than she ever could be with her entitled offspring.

The Queen is royal yet rough and grumpy after decades of diplomatically socializing, while Abdul is common yet polished and enthusiastic after years of cultivating working relationships.

She's also contrasted with her staff whose racist pretensions cringe at the thought of entertaining and living with an Indian muslim.

Jealousy fosters collusion.

Collusion begets wrath.

The dualistic structures of the script, which is full of light short meaningful scenes which briskly move the film along while digestibly dramatizing intense subjects, create a disputatiously inclusive reverent collage of hospital hostilities and delicate debates, complete with brave moments that champion multicultural communities and uphold principles of mutual tolerance at the highest anti-racist levels.

Eat it Trump.

The release of Victoria & Abdul comes at a critical time.

Trump's in/direct promotion of intolerance and hate is spreading like a loathsome psychological plague, enacting a total disaster for the working people he claims to champion and likely regards as cannon fodder.

I've lived and worked with people from Africa, Indian, China, South and North America, Europe, the country, the city, etcetera, and I've learned that the racist hate speech fuelled by Trump and his supporters is as detestable as it is absurd.

I obviously want to see the terrorists brought to justice.

If the police have more power to stop terrorist suspects before they act without infringing upon the rights of citizens in general, especially considering how freely terrorists move throughout Europe, then perhaps the terrorist brats who keep giving their cultures a violent name will think twice before detonating bombs or driving through crowds.

It should be remembered, as Victoria & Abdul soundly relates, that muslims also seek the benefits of civil society and continue to form an integral part of Western communities.

Most of them simply wish to work and peacefully support their families while simultaneously building strong communities.

Tolerating these communities in an atmosphere of mutual trust leads them to feel like citizens, not muslim citizens but French or American or Canadian citizens.

And if they feel at peace within their cultural surroundings, they'll be much more likely to do the work of the police for them.

Don't let the politics of hate destroy your mind.

Simple acts of kindness, and a willingness to constructively work together, can lead to a proliferation of united nations, the many deconstructing warlike rhetoric with comedic dis/engaged prosperity, psychotic mainstream discourses, crumbling into meaningless dust thereafter.

Which is ironically how they’re often presented.

Beware the ignorant boy Mr. Scrooge, beware.

His kind understands next to nothing.

And seeks to rule everything with extreme prejudice.

Florence Foster Jenkins

Florence Foster Jenkins melodiously orchestrates the dedicated caring and understanding required to sustain true friendship.

It's a film that looks at the generosity and civility that kindly lifts up the arts to playfully generate elegance and authenticity.

The rowdier side also represents, but the same sense of communal sensitivity still pervades, raucously acknowledging a devoted patroness intently through saturated conciliations.

Cultivations.

The film's more concerned with the behind the scenes efforts required to sanctify a beautiful spirit than the performance that spirit delivers, savvy husband St. Clair Bayfield (Hugh Grant[Grant giving his best performance to date{I haven't seen all his films}, like a humble sprightly humanistic aristocratic gazelle gracefully commanding each effortless stride]) smoothly working critical crowds to achieve angelic objectives.

Thus, it inevitably examines criticism's human factor, feelings as opposed to frequencies, comprehending multiple levels of artistic endeavour advocating for myriad aesthetic principles, eccentricities, something beyond obsessions with novelty that rationally yet wantonly balances sociopolitical ethics to assert un/specific cultural insights and focus on the dynamic perennial exchange between the educational and the entertaining.

Easy to scathe at will.

Although people sometimes find constructive criticism just as scathing as vitriol because they flippantly equate the different styles.

It's an artistic Magellan, a simmering solubility, not a mathematical exercise.

Exponential.

A complicated controversial multilayered investment in the unanimously uplifting, Florence Foster Jenkins, for a bit of harmless play, that's how I viewed it anyways, presented with the outmost tact.

More to it than crushing egos.

Daring in its amicable enterprise.

Philomena

An out-of-work atheistic professional journalist teams up with a devout confident assertive mother to write his first human interest story in Stephen Frears's Philomena.

The two work well together.

I wouldn't be able not to say that (lol) because Steve Coogan and Jeff Pope's script has created two wonderful characters, one with elite qualifications, the other comfortable within the kitschy continuum, the kitschy elite and elitist kitsch notwithstanding, both successes in their respective domains insofar as they've groomed themselves well over the years, brought them together to conduct investigative research, and given them both enough humanity to be able to work as an effective team, both partners listening to one another and making related adjustments throughout which demonstrate facets of humble active listening, snide though it may occasionally be, their power relations not being strictly governed by a master/slave dichotomy, but rather a constructive allied argumentative breach, which playfully and dismissively gives and takes on both sides.

Martin Sixsmith's (Steve Coogan) intellectual capacities are higher than Philomena's (Judi Dench) and he has trouble refraining from expressing this fact, especially before 9 am (why do you have to pretend to be in a good mood before 11 am?), which is to be expected, but they're also high enough to recognize their own particular shortcomings, their exclusive ornate prejudices, which helps Martin learn to accept Philomena's difference, her loves, her passions.

Philomena doesn't shy away from defending her values and even though she's likely never studied advanced rhetoric nor frequently schmoozed in realms where it's condescendingly applied, she holds her own when Sixsmith criticizes her beliefs, breaking through his sound observations (with which I tend to agree) with cold hard forgiving faith.

How she could continue to believe after what certain religious authorities put her through is beyond me but she does and justifies her position coherently enough.

The metaphorical extract (the breach) distilled from their colourful exchanges is a fluid effervescent bourgeoisie, competent mediator of the clashes, comprehensive, cogent, chill.

First time I've briefly forgotten it was Judi Dench acting for awhile, her divergent performance creatively testifying to her dynamic multidimensional strengths.

Not that I've seen most of the films she's been in.