Ocean's 8

Alone in prison, with nothing but time on her hands, Debbie Ocean (Sandra Bullock) masterminds a plan to steal over a hundred million in diamonds, immediately acted upon after her release, old and new contacts forging a daring team assembled, multiple components carefully coaxed and compacted, efficient intricate undaunted elasticity, subtly stretched to briskly bounce back, executing envisioned flawless features exfoliated, requiring patient expertise, and cultivated spurned suspicion.

She also plans to see her ex who betrayed her incarcerated for her crimes, her uncompromised love having been outrageously cast aside, her scorn left with abundant time to exhaustively scheme and cypher.

Meticulously so.

The team's an eclectic mix of independent spirits each existing beyond the clutches of patriarchy, thriving individually with highly specialized skills, collectively blended to secure legendary salutations.

As Debbie explains her plan.

Enormous risks taken to facilitate freespirited acclimations.

Proceeds to be evenly split amongst them.

Exacting details.

A group of friends.

Ocean's 8 takes this group of remarkably skilled individuals and lets them intelligently showcase with care.

Seductive they may be, but the film focuses on brains rather than beauty and doesn't sexualize its crafty heroines.

It's strictly business.

It moves at a fast pace as the plan dispassionately pursues its objectives, everything smoothly falling into place without much strain or fallout.

The plan's clever and it's fun to watch but if there had been more conflict throughout it would have been grittier and edgier, even if it's still appealing as it stands.

Could have used more Constance (Awkwafina) too.

She doesn't get much screentime.

Precise and polished yet somewhat too perfect, Ocean's 8 outwits expectations with crystalline charming tact.

Keeping a level head as it executively chills, it puts theory into practice with brilliant regenerative exclamation.

Juyuso seubgyuksageun (Attack the Gas Station!)

A group of young adults, who have failed to professionally assert themselves, randomly decide to attack a local gas station, again, in Sang-Jin Kim's Juyuso seubgyuksageun (Attack the Gas Station!), their boredom invigoratingly eclipsed by rash hypertense pretentions, inspirations from which they reclaim the dignity that their culture's strict obsession with obedience has denied them, artists and athletes in/variably adjudicating calamitous caprice, with malevolent will, and assiduous extension.

But through their delinquent acts, through the ways in which they audaciously challenge their neighbourhood's modus operandi, their divergence necessitating that unanticipated rival factions gather, investigate, emerge, the established order riled, jurisprudence gingerly jabberwocked, a serendipitous state of affairs chaotically presents itself, wherein which everyone eclectically entertains novel nubile notions, energetically exceeding the bumptious bottom line, collectively assembled, to irascibly trench and tether.

Extreme masculinity deftly delineating the absurd, Juyuso seubgyuksageun satirizes sociopaths to exorcize easy living.

Note how the no-goodniks must pretend to be constructive citizens in order to eventually acquire the loot they're after.

Comedically crafted psychotically shafted supreme bizarro excess, like Walter Hill's The Warriors sponsored by Red Bull, like paddleboarding down the St. Lawrence, a culture's admiration for fighting shocked but surely syndicated, Juyuso's childlike unconcerned courageous illuminating lunacy still metaphorically cultivates the entrepreneurial path, with cold considerate recourse to hypocrisy notwithstanding, levels and layers and legitimacies, assuming roles to expedite karma.