Im Westen nichts Neues (All Quiet on the Western Front)

Ideological exuberance devastatingly clashes with abysmal import, as new recruits head to the trenches mind-bogglingly eager to do their part.

The crushing realities having been kept generally tight-lipped amongst the influential, the daily terror and the resounding menace not quite as romantic as old school sword-fighting (see MacBeth).

But the adoring dreams jingoistically cultivated with envious furor and imperial venom, have concretely created joyous optimism overwhelmingly destined for chaotic discord.

How could those responsible continue the campaign, when only children were left to call up to refill the ranks that were clearly suffering?

How could monotonous ideals still stubbornly endure amidst the reckless bombardment, of mechanized condemnatory contradiction uniformly proving just recalcitrance?

But they do, they still do today, and they've once again become widespread and persuasive, notably within the war in Ukraine where Russia has clearly been deluded.

With a widespread dismissal of alternatives and a unilateral focus on master and slave, the fascists cruelly and abominably wage woebegone destruction with merciless rancour.

Fortunately, the free people of Ukraine are capable of multilateral thought, which inevitably outwits absolutism with inherent character and formidable verve.

People will argue that a cultural focus on the needs of the many is yet another form of absolutism, but how does food to eat and multivariable pastimes lead to a singular demarcation?

If manifold businesses with corresponding counterparts judiciously compete within a regulated sphere, antitrusts eventually level the field to promote newfound trajectories while nurturing tradition.

Thus, there is no absolutism, the absolute cannot coercively materialize, the checks and balances ensure constructive fluid motion and the liquidation of totalitarian trusts.

Do you really want only one store to buy clothes in, and only two or three restaurants where you can eat, and to accept what they provide with neither question nor critical infrastructure designed to inspect them?

Do you not want the liberating option to try new things regardless of race or income?

Do you want to transform a brilliant world full of life?

Into dull autocratic inertia?

1917

I like 1917's title.

It's blunt and non-specific, refrains from attaching nuance or particular, as if it chronicles events that took place during an extended incredibly bleak period, wherein which there was no end in sight to World War I, it must have seemed neverending, interminable, no matter how many battles were won or lost, with no choice if you were fighting but to endure, and make the most of the intrinsic chaos.

Both sides dug in, in command of vast stretches of ground, neither able to advance much further, yet still attacking with fierce resolve.

One battle transformed into hundreds, a colossal mass of composite correspondence, broken down into tens of thousands of crucial messages, their import daunting and ephemeral, so much unravelling with unpredictable fortitude.

Cool heads necessitated nevertheless, hold the line, maintain chains of command, proceed stalwart and unerring, as the unprecedented slaughter horrendously escalates, it's estimated that 40 million people died in the war, from 1914 to 1918, like unleashed menace meticulously terrorizing, survival, a precious miracle.

1917 unreels in the thick of it, and doesn't romanticize the horror, camaraderie thrilling against a background of shock, a lifetime of trauma in little over a day.

An hour.

Two soldiers head out with a message intended to save over a thousand people, but their destination lies across enemy lines, even if they're theoretically deserted, different message, different day, as the film states, best foot forward notwithstanding, into the forbidding treacherous rage.

It's a bold endeavour courageously undertaken, but what they encounter's by no means light, the film doesn't present something easy or relatable, its distraught bedlam grotesquely abhorrent.

With a touch of reason shining through, a noble purpose, heroic deeds, the knowledge that if the mission fails things will be even worse, even if the colonel's far from hopeful in the end.

I won't say there must have been thousands of missions like this one, because the brave soldiers who undertook them were unique, and the grave risks they took at extreme peril shouldn't be compromised through comparison, courageous acts truly like none other.

1917 assigns dignity to millions of lost lives, bold soldiers following orders handed down the line, speculative commanders rationally assailing the unknown, in fierce combat, nothing certain or stable.

War isn't something to be romanticized and you can learn this without having fought in one.

I was glad to see 1917's generally grim.

I'm more into scripts but the camera work in 1917's incredible, it pulls you in and epitomizes the helplessness.

The pressure.

I can't recall many films with better cinematography (Roger Deakins).

Reminded me of The Player, Touch of Evil, La nuit américaine, and Birdman.

Napszállta (Sunset)

Dreamlike exploration observing radical tradition, patient determined movements discovering reticent clues, modest celebrity cultivating passage instinctual grace establishing ties, temperate precipitation intuitively encompassed, like Napszállta (Sunset)'s surreal backgammon, and curious Írisz Leiter (Juli Jakab) keeps rolling double sixes.

She would have been an heir to the Austro-Hungarian Empire's most prestigious millinery shop if grand misfortune hadn't necessitated alternative fortunes.

The new owner still supplies elegant hats to fashionable royals, and one of his resident artists will perhaps serve at court one day.

But it's not that simple, not quite so clear cut, so homely.

It's a different time, just before the outbreak of World War I, and the aristocracy and the people are expressing themselves confrontationally, neither group willing to accept the other's terms, destructive conflicts having arisen consequently.

The film and myriad other sources truthfully suggest the upper crust was none too kind to its workers of the day, and the people had no means to hold them to account.

Írisz's brother, in hiding and displeased with the corruption, has abandoned peaceful methods of persuasion; she's caught between his anger and the traditions of her artistic heritage.

She's just moved to Budapest and doesn't understand what's happening, wandering somnambulistically between the two parties, accessing highly secretive and exclusive realms without censure, maladroitly assured that peace is ecumenical.

Even though her family was well thought of, and her name is widely known and respected, it's still quite improbable that she would be able to proceed so freely, to go wherever she wants at whatever time.

Thus the dreamlike qualities of the narrative, the intense nightmarish revelations accentuated by obsessive close-ups.

Napszállta's more like grim realistic fantasy than lively magical realism, its chaotic combative testaments composed in dismal haunting fairy tale.

Mátyás Erdély's cinematography creates sombre phantasmagorical confusion that asymptotically incarnates horror, thereby reflecting the terrifying nature of the times, wherein which nothing seems concrete or stable.

But it's still loosely grounded inasmuch as you know where you are and what's transpiring, or at least know as much as Írisz, who knows close to nothing at all.

The total absence of concerned mediators intensifies the conscious anarchy, as does the lack of conversation or explanation, as if a child's on its own for the first time, lost and leading in Twin Peaks's Black Lodge.

Napszállta's bewildered sincerity magnetically draws you in, substituting nausea for lucidity with morose desperate conjecture.

The effect is nauseating at times so it's difficult to take the whole way through, but that doesn't mean its aesthetic isn't uniform, nor its ambivalence, inarticulate.

Bold filmmaking.

Grizzly style.

Wonder Woman

Fearless Diana (Gal Gadot/Lilly Aspell/Emily Carey), inquisitively nestled within her disciplined Amazonian bower, an island apart eternally bound to its rigour, its logic, its tenacity, her information hunger - her desire to learn - overflowing with nimble versatility, her lessons strict and hands-on necessitating stealth until maternal permission is granted, her aptitude ingenious and multivariable like Marie Curie or Meryl Streep, cloistered indefatigable incisive honourable distinction, suddenly combatting the Kaiser's Germany, then slowly falling for a courageous spy.

The fated day when she would leave her home to battle the unsuspecting Ares having arrived, she departs for Allied Territory (London), remarkably smooth and safe sailing accelerating her journey, where she must learn to navigate the world of men, and balance the heroic and the hideous while embracing potent conflict.

An armistice is within reach but a mad officer still seeking German victory (Danny Huston as Ludendorff) facilitates the development of a doomsdayesque gas, the deployment of which could quickly subdue England.

Diana, Steve Trevor (Chris Prine), and their peerless team boldly set out to stop him.

They even schmooze at a decadent Teutonic soirée where the participants oddly converse in English.

But Ares has alternative plans.

And will confront Diana with knowledge dark and incapacitating.

Awaken.

Resiliently awaken doth she.

In one of the cheesiest diabolical clashes I've seen, which goes along well with the equally cheesy extremely reductive inclusion of Greek mythology, the DC films still lacking the provocative yet practical grit that distinguishes their Marvel but not Dark Universe competitors, focus on Christopher Nolan, not on the oft overlooked Darkman.

Diana's forthright innocence could save Wonder Woman from this criticism however, for the most compelling aspect of the film emanates from her agile altruistic vocal integrity, the ways in which she immediately finds real world solutions to devastating problems that have bureaucratically resulted in millions of deaths, as a matter of regal nerve.

Her dynamism is captured by the antics of the eventually faithful team which accompanies her into No Man's Land as well.

If the superhero in question possesses a noble and pure constructive brave simplicity, does it not make sense to surround them with diverse cheeses, their resulting actions producing exceptional melts, healthy sandwiches, and robust salads thereby?

That's not what I mean.

Diana's scenes in London are warm, funny, thoughtful, and assertive, i.e irresistible.

Etta's (Lucy Davis) super cool too.

Question: would the Amazons have chosen to dress like that?

Controversy?

War Horse

Trudging through the war torn European countryside, using skills learned from a forgiving instructor to survive, a horse alertly struggles through World War I, making the most of his talents as he's haplessly acquired by different armies. Functioning as a valuable fortuitous representative of pluck, he resignedly forgoes his wild instincts until circumstances demand their acceleration. As a consequence, he becomes inextricably entangled with imperialist hostilities, an indelible illustration of apocalyptic freedom. External forces most then intervene to secure his release, employing logic and chance to facilitate its realization.

Steven Spielberg's War Horse successfully depicts the brutality of war without glorifying its retributive catharsis (without accenting the accompanying felicity that results from crushing jingoistic calamities). Simplified scenes exemplifying sincere trust or pastoral serenity (the French grandfather [Niels Arestrup] and granddaughter [Celine Buckens]) are juxtaposed with militaristic might to highlight the sharp distinction maintained between these domains. The concept of order is resultantly polarized as well since war represents an extreme form of total mobilization (organization) (you will be shot if you don't follow orders) while the trust built into an idyllic existence organizes necessity (you must work to continuously reproduce your quality of life) in relation to the imagination (it's still possible to enjoy yourself once the work is complete). One approach necessarily tethers fantasy to a definite specific goal while the other leaves it free to roam and discover/create concrete or abstract objects.

The discovery of these concrete or abstract objects may or may not relate directly to your work at hand but in War Horse's opening moments they certainly do. Ted Narracott (Peter Mullan) decides to outbid his landlord for a riding horse which he cannot afford. In order to make the payments, the horse must plow a rocky field that the village has dismissed as unmanageable. Ted's son Albert (Jeremy Irvine) teaches the horse to pull a plow and the land is thereby tilled. Thus, Ted's imagination allows him to believe that he can procure something which can then assist him in earning his living while also providing him with the means to pursue other interests (in his case, drinking, in his son's, horse riding). Unfortunately, a storm ruins his crops forcing him to sell his horse to the military.

And his son signs up for war.

Joyeux Noël

The setting's World War I. Scottish and French troops are fighting the Germans. Heartbreak, lesions, and loss on both sides as they dig in and fight it out attrition style. But Christmas arrives and three commanders miraculously come together and order a ceasefire to give their troops time to celebrate. This unsettles their superior officers and soon enough there's hell to pay, respect for humanity be damned. What Christian Carion's Joyeux Noël points out is that superior officers who are theoretically responsible for representing and maintaining acceptable models of behaviour often take none to kindly to being outshone by their subordinates, especially when such actions resolutely salute the ideals for which each respective officer stands. A gregarious film showcasing hearty camaraderie and its humanistic complement, Joyeux Noël is a must for the annual holiday circuit inasmuch as it thoroughly embodies the spirit of the season.