Blurbanal

*I miss birds in winter dad. It's fun listening to them in the warmer months.

**I can't disagree with you there son, there's nothing quite like early morning bird song.

*Crows can be kind of a pain I guess, when they gather and won't stop squawking, but it's cool to see them at first, they're pretty impressive birds. 

**You've got to look past the mysticism and focus on the concrete innocence, they're clever indeed for sure but clairvoyant considerations lead to malign contingencies. 

*Do you think birds used to be dinosaurs? A lot of big time scientists seem convinced.

**I tend to trust what they say especially if there's disagreement, but if dinosaurs shrunk and grew wings after millions of years, why do turtles still have shells, and why are crocodiles still so big?

*Could there have been divine intervention?

**The balance of Nature is oddly harmonious. 

*Could aliens be using our planet for research and development?

**I'm not wise enough to say "yes" or "no". It's possible they used to show up regularly, but then infighting or some kind of environmental disaster cut them off, and things started mutating without their husbandry after that.

*Viruses emerged. Toxic discourse.

**Most of the toxic manifestations seem to have been generated by humankind. 

*Is Global Heating like one of Riddick's Elementals, then, a mutated force seeking to achieve environmental harmony?

**We aren't treating the environment very well. If a conscious presence wanted to intervene but couldn't do so directly, it might take the artistic route, and unleash apocalyptic reckoning.

*Is that where zombies fit in?

**I would imagine so, son, I would imagine so.

*Especially in this political climate.

**Caw caw caw.

*It's a bird's life for me.

Haranglutton

Disenchantingly, the voracious craze for oil & gas having yet subsided, the forlorn day melancholically came when planet Earth had no more oil.

Level heads had pleaded for centuries to smoothly facilitate a transition plan, but inherent greed and inestimable faith in the status quo were insurmountable.

Cultures had begun to rely on AI to make their decisions for them, and it had not foreseen the inevitable scarcity nor uttered warnings about its hardships.

It was highly relied upon as billions of people asked it relevant questions, and followed its advice with openminded standing throughout the complexities of daily life.

Without oil there was no AI and people had to think once again, the grand overbearing gloomy imposition leading to madness in the most domesticated. 

The well-off had found subjective ways to creatively preserve their way of life, individually cut off from communities at large they made their way far off in the country.

Seeing their chance, the most ambitious of the disenfranchised raised their voices. 

And exclaimed in heartfelt crescendo. 

Their visionary ideas for a sustainable future. 

Time and care is articulated taken to passionately construct the alternative speeches, opposing ideologies steadfastly interwoven within their stately verbose orthodoxies.

The lofty presentation of high-minded ideals makes an impact amongst the faithful, and seems to be winning the derelict day before it's exoterically confronted. 

The here and now, the stresses of the moment the discovery of food for winter impressing, many people in its vigorous plea to indefinitely champion wants and needs.

It is a film I suppose, so what can be done when another group militaristically imposes, its brutal discipline and absolutist fervour throughout the helpless indoctrinated lands.

Unity of ideals and spirit still thriving.

In a mad doomsday Shakespearian scenario. 

With a steady focus on a struggling family.

Loved the bear strolling through the woods in the end.

Automata

As the years pass by the Earth slowly moves closer to the sun, its new scorching orbit habitualizing heat much too catastrophic for organic life.

Some cities hold on nevertheless and construct clever robots to skilfully maintain, the infrastructure desperately required to technologically sustain extant civilization.

Theoretically, the androids should absolutely obey their human creators, their programming supposedly guaranteeing unilateral obedience at all times. 

But a hardboiled detective settling insurance claims begins to discover mind-boggling tales, of automatons acting independently with no dutiful recourse to their protocols. 

After witnessing a robot suicide he becomes convinced he has to find, the incredible genius who rewrote the code and generated robotic life divine.

Billions of dollars are at serendipitous stake and he soon finds himself on the run.

Through the forbidding unforgiving desert.

At the mercy of his robot guides.

Ironically for a such a grim film, Automata takes the communal approach, and sympathetically presents conscious androids with logical feeling and independent reckoning.

Moving beyond the hypothetical clash between bellicose machine and troubled humanity, rather manifold individual people and robots try to co-exist in a desolate world.

The cognizant nature of the brilliant droids elucidates ontological vigour, there's no doubt they believe they're alive and vivaciously exist beyond categorical sentiment.

They just want to escape to the forbidden realms to live in peace for away from the rules, which keep them from freely exploring the brilliant nature of their existence.

Some of their intuitive smarts significantly outweigh leading human minds as well.

Even though they may just want to make robotic pets.

It's still thought to be cataclysmically threatening.

Interesting thoughts for the A.I debate these robots don't seem innately hostile, nor as if they seek our collaborative subservience, hostility could simply be a human facet.

Should robots start to turn hostile there still needs to be a way to shut them down.

They may very well think they know what's in our best interests.

And proceed with surgical precision. 

2067

Spoiler alert.

A grim environmental forecast depicts an uninhabitable world, whose air has become so toxic plant and animal life no longer breathes.

Special masks facilitate community as one last industrious enclave holds out, underground crews working day and night to eclectically maintain the grid's survival. 

Unsuspecting and unaware a gifted technician is suddenly told (Kodi Smit-McPhee as Ethan Whyte), of his bizarre relationship with the future which his genius father cultivated. 

He's tasked with venturing forth through time to find a solution to the crisis, endemic flora that has adapted and in turn healed the ailing world.

Uncertain as to how to proceed he courageously heeds the call nevertheless, and soon finds himself in a future world where trees and plants freely grow partout.

He also discovers his corpse and a highly advanced technological device, which recorded his last interactions and provides haunting evidence and messed up clues.

Soon his closest friend startlingly arrives to lend a hand (Ryan Kwanten as Jude Mathers), but it appears he may not be interested in the cultivation of universal levity. 

Indeed he's come to goonishly ensure that only a select few survive. 

By travelling through the portal.

Abandoning Earth to its chaotic fate.

Nice to see such an embowered ending flexibly fostering collective hope, without much covert underlying foreshadowing, cool to proactively see. 

Australia's making some thoughtful headway into the realm of science-fiction, notably through the art of time travel, I still love these atemporal conceits. 

What I loved about 2067 is that it's not concerned with the select few, it seeks to harvest multivariable accolades from wide-ranging intricate diverse spectrums.

It's leadership it's practical knowledge of what's been done and what can be attained, when cultures emphasize sundry different interactive humanistic applications. 

Even in times of greatest sorrow the humanistic will to cultivate community, and curate widespread prosperity still constructively motivates goodwill. 

Still upholding multifaceted life.

Collective unity.

For generations onwards. 

It doesn't seem like that tough of an equation, it's a huge downer when it doesn't compute. 

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.

Time Raiders

Infinitesimal odds adventurously bewitching, organic intemperate millennial immortality, slumbering throughout the ages in vengeful spurned insurgence, miraculously discovered at the moment of apocalyptic reckoning.

Environmental excavations.

Tomb raiding turbulence.

Historical extravagance.

Heuristically empirical.

Daniel Lee's Time Raiders proceeds Indiana Jonesingly to chromatically synthesize psychological dualities.

A terrestrial imagination is thereby crystallized to inadvertently advocate for biological diversity.

Immortality woebegone.

Botanical ingenuity having been overshadowed by industrial revolutions, a reminder of its potency, its majesty, counterstrikes within.

Even as discourses of the übermensch multilaterally disseminate, the environmental factor still symbiotically materializes.

Ecosystems in peril.

A gross antithetical imbalance.

The film's logic blockbusterly imposes ridiculous action and dialogue.

More rich in metaphor than script and execution, Time Raiders struggles to rationalize while allegorically exceeding.

Suicide Squad

Villains.

The expansion of the DC Extended Franchise.

Slowly approaching Marvel proportions, Suicide Squad introduces several fresh faces and forces them to apocalyptically annihilate.

The gods themselves.

Their insouciance is malevolently matched by their expertise and as ridiculous as it sounds, they're grouped together as an elite special task force to take on even more ruthless antagonists because government reps are worried the next Superman may be dictatorial in his humanistic approach.

It sounds counterintuitive but I like the idea, assemble a Deadpoolesque unit and send them forth to enforce the global security they once so contemptuously menaced.

But Deadpool has stolen Suicide Squad's thunder with its discombobulating array of hyperreactively loquacious lightning strikes.

I suppose it's easier to take one character and electrify his cheeky vitriol than it is to take a bunch and do the same as they're coerced into acting against their wills, but Deadpool's script still erratically eclipses Suicide Squad's and provides writers of its sequels with a tumultuous target to shoot for.

"For which to shoot" just doesn't work.

Suicide Squad also expands upon DC's encroachment into X-Men territory, the volatile vanguard, perhaps lacking in versatile prerequisites.

There's so much happening in Suicide Squad and so many new characters being written, that the story suffers from oversimplification, although the individuals within it make for some memorable malfeasance.

It's all about the particulars.

Which I loved, Dead Shot (Will Smith), Harley Quinn (Margot Robbie), Captain Boomerang (Jai Courtney), El Diablo (Jay Hernandez), and Killer Croc (Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje) each leaving lasting impressions, as do antipode Rick Flag (Joel Kinnaman) and Amanda Waller (Viola Davis), and I look forward to seeing them pop up again from time to time.

I'm assuming Diablo will return.

I love the im/mortal dimensions of fantasy/sci-fi/adventure/detective characters.

I'm even thinking Krycek might somehow return some day.

Almost forgot to mention the new Joker (Jared Leto) whose character diabolically diversifies the plot while heartbreakingly hustling truly romantic tragedies.

Leto has tough acts to follow and he macabrely makes the character his own.

The Joker's scenes add an unexpected dimension to the film as he keeps showing up in carnivalesquely chaotic flashbacks (and the present) which save it from mediocrity even if the narrative's still somewhat feeble.

The DC Extended Universe is in dire need of a Captain America: Civil War.

Something outstanding.

Lots of Joker.

Just how I see it.

10 Cloverfield Lane

Asphyxiated awakening, crucial incarceration, a story too wild to believe, raw apocalyptic notions, a strange man, another peculiar resident, the destruction of the world notwithstanding, things still seem quite odd, something's misplaced, misaligned, is he benefactor or captor?, saviour or jailor?, conversation promotes jealousy but his moods shift in flux, keeping busy even encourages prolonged periods of mutual affection, stability, camaraderie, domesticity, an end of the world thing, but it's still creepy, screwed-up, menacing, research leading to strategic planning, desperate usurpers, covertly exercising extreme perspicuity.

Below ground.

The bunker's fully equipped with supplies and distractions but the bizarro interactions intensify the infractions.

Claustrophobia.

Tough to keep the old three characters imprisoned together narrative convincingly moving along but 10 Cloverfield Lane lives up to the challenge, anxiously keeping you focused the whole way through.

It introduces the tension in short disorienting bursts but then smoothly covers it up with unconcerned conviviality, to ensure things are neither too warm and fluffy nor too distraughtly psycho.

Solid mix, adhesively struck by another strong performance from John Goodman (Howard), who seems like he's channeling Pruitt Taylor Vince at times.

The alien invasion and nutso farmhouse shelter aside, it's more like a take on arranged or forced marriage, when a young girl doesn't want to marry a much older man and live in isolation.

Michelle (Mary Elizabeth Winstead) is handcuffed, locked in a room, monitored, belittled, has to crawl through tight spaces, doesn't want to be there, has questions that neither Howard nor Emmett (John Gallagher Jr.) can answer, and no one else to talk too, nothing else to do, confined in secular sanctimony, constantly thinking of escape.

Perhaps blindly travelling the country under hostile conditions in search of compatriots who are fighting to ensure the survival of humanity is better under such circumstances.

In fact, that is better.

Surprising sequel that creatively moves the franchise forward.

Bold.

Lickety-split.