Tuesday, February 25, 2020
Downhill
My apologies if Downhill was meant to be taken seriously, if it wasn't a clever attempt to make fun of itself for being so, um, unavailingly unorthodox. That's what it seemed like to me for a time but perhaps it wasn't meta-Will Ferrell (Pete) at all, perhaps it was a serious Will Ferrell film that was meant to be taken literally as a serious comedy? It seems like that at times. If so, I apologize for the misinterpretation. If I hadn't expected it to be purposely self-defeating after the scene where Pete and Billie (Julia Louis-Dreyfus) eat room service together early on, perhaps I would have been less likely to say anything positive, meaning if I did misinterpret the film that misinterpretation has lead to something more productive, not that much more productive, but I'll at least smooth out a silver-lined missed opportunity. It's like directors Nat Faxon and Jim Rash (two directors can be a bad sign) were trying to make a Will Ferrell film with an indie aesthetic that subtly lampooned Will Ferrell films generally while still making another Will Ferrell film, like they can't decide if this is a film making fun of Will Ferrell films or is in fact another one of his traditional films. For years I've been meaning to suggest that Ferrell should make a film about making a Will Ferrell film but haven't found the right moment. Downhill is something different yet still embodies that same spirit. It's like the directors know it struggles and they're making fun of that struggle (was a second director brought in to save it?) as suggested by the stock mountain images that keep showing up, accompanied by jaunty lighthearted doodles, as if their idea was to make an appealing comedy for mainstream audiences where a family vacations at an adult-oriented ski resort with non-traditional staff (perhaps traditional for the resort in question), but then realized their idea was much more independent and wouldn't catch on, leaving them caught in the crossfire as they sought to blend everything, and couldn't reasonably orient the resulting disharmonies. It becomes clear that Pete is a huge douche for multiple reasons so I started to think, wow, this is what Ferrell's usually like (or used to usually be like) in his films but he often has no responsibilities so it's kind of funny, but with the added responsibilities it seems grotesque, so it's like the film is trying to make older Will Ferrell films seem grotesque as he continues to act the same way even though he has a family, and it accomplishes this goal but then still seems like it's also making his predicament seem tragic, as if it's tragic that he's had to take on responsibilities, and can't continue to randomly drink, fight and fornicate whenever and with whomever the moment unwittingly presents. The key moment comes when Billie is propositioned by her ski instructor before she remembers her marital commitments and they head off on their separate ways. Meanwhile, Pete is getting drunk with a friend that he invited to meet him during their family holiday and revelling in the assumption that women still find him appealing, until he discovers he's been mistaken for another and then tries to punch him in a drunken stupor. If Billie had gone further, not much further but further, Downhill would have asserted itself as a master of just reckonings, and the ways in which it made fun of itself for being a bit lame would have become much more appealing. But she doesn't and Pete returns drunk to his family to have an awkward dinner where everyone's disappointed in him and he has trouble eating his red meat. Soon Billie finds a way to help him reestablish his respectability in his children's eyes (he bailed on them earlier during an avalanche and then engaged in critiqued horse play at a family-themed resort), and their marriage moves forward with Pete still regarded as patriarchal liege. For a moment it seems like Downhill really is sticking it to lifelong juvenile shenanigans, but in the end there's no consequence, even though it's clear there should be. Perhaps it's saying that the fact that there's no consequence is awful, and there should have been a consequence resolutely, but since there often aren't consequences for such behaviour in real life, they decided to mundanely lampoon this reality instead. But why go for the mundane lampoon? Why not have the strong female character assert herself instead? The answer lies in the response she's given after she complains about the avalanche: a man tells her, "it was done perfectly". So it's like Downhill uses the indie aesthetic to suggest there's something more while still giving juvenile shenanigans a free pass. Difficult to watch consequently and lacking the courage to go further, it falls flat in the face of Me Too, and leaves you wondering, why? For what purpose? Ding dong.
Friday, February 21, 2020
The Photograph
Nice to see a film that leaves you so relaxed and calm, afterwards, like life's serious yet still filled with wonder as thoughtful people seek a bit more spice.
No explosions, no bitterness, no grudges, no animosity, just moderately successful energetic joie de vivre experimentin' out and about without specific ends.
Potential though, the film contemplates potential, as if director Stella Meghie decided to concentrate more on possibility than proclamation to embrace how cool things can actually be.
As they develop.
Imagine a present wherein which innocence still hesitantly thrives, not that the professionals aren't struggling, bored, or challenged, they're just so active they don't focus on the negative, and harvest amicable yields accordingly.
There's the thrill of getting to know someone.
The enlivening sweet unknown.
That isn't trashy, jaded, or cynical.
But not cheesy or cookie cut either.
As if level-heads are still curiously engaged in soulful honest investigation, unconcerned with pasts or scores, or vainly trying to gain the upper hand.
Like the moment's just as invigorating as past endeavours or variable futures, because you like what you're doing and you're doing it, and there's no end to the novelty in sight (Place des Arts).
Perhaps Meghie asked herself if active spirits remain constantly refreshed, revitalized through curious engagement, because they're always seeking something new, even if they embrace steadfast traditions?
And decided to bring that idea to life through the art of romantic conversation?
There are so many cool scenes in The Photograph that celebrate the act of living, like learning about a partner's past relationships through an accidental conversation with his nieces, getting to know each other by discussing music, lighthearted pints to accompany different time zones, or mature agile professional understanding, contemplating difference, lamenting loss while generating renewal.
In a world often characterized through gloom and confrontation, The Photograph pushes it all aside to reimagine constructive life.
Productive R&D.
It's feel good but isn't ridiculous so the reasonability doesn't seem absurd, and the characters are making things work without grim ulterior motives.
A jewel of a romance that sharply contrasts so much that's out there, by introducing a bit of positivity, no expectations, no regrets.
Flowin' and growin'.
Perfect for mid-February.
Or any time of the year really.
It's like violence is completely absent from this film.
It'd be amazing if more filmmakers thought this way.
No explosions, no bitterness, no grudges, no animosity, just moderately successful energetic joie de vivre experimentin' out and about without specific ends.
Potential though, the film contemplates potential, as if director Stella Meghie decided to concentrate more on possibility than proclamation to embrace how cool things can actually be.
As they develop.
Imagine a present wherein which innocence still hesitantly thrives, not that the professionals aren't struggling, bored, or challenged, they're just so active they don't focus on the negative, and harvest amicable yields accordingly.
There's the thrill of getting to know someone.
The enlivening sweet unknown.
That isn't trashy, jaded, or cynical.
But not cheesy or cookie cut either.
As if level-heads are still curiously engaged in soulful honest investigation, unconcerned with pasts or scores, or vainly trying to gain the upper hand.
Like the moment's just as invigorating as past endeavours or variable futures, because you like what you're doing and you're doing it, and there's no end to the novelty in sight (Place des Arts).
Perhaps Meghie asked herself if active spirits remain constantly refreshed, revitalized through curious engagement, because they're always seeking something new, even if they embrace steadfast traditions?
And decided to bring that idea to life through the art of romantic conversation?
There are so many cool scenes in The Photograph that celebrate the act of living, like learning about a partner's past relationships through an accidental conversation with his nieces, getting to know each other by discussing music, lighthearted pints to accompany different time zones, or mature agile professional understanding, contemplating difference, lamenting loss while generating renewal.
In a world often characterized through gloom and confrontation, The Photograph pushes it all aside to reimagine constructive life.
Productive R&D.
It's feel good but isn't ridiculous so the reasonability doesn't seem absurd, and the characters are making things work without grim ulterior motives.
A jewel of a romance that sharply contrasts so much that's out there, by introducing a bit of positivity, no expectations, no regrets.
Flowin' and growin'.
Perfect for mid-February.
Or any time of the year really.
It's like violence is completely absent from this film.
It'd be amazing if more filmmakers thought this way.
Tuesday, February 18, 2020
The Rhythm Section
Lost and alone overwhelmed by grief, a former A-list student struggles aimlessly to get by, no will, no drive, no purpose, no quarter, moribundly drifting through the years, until a Samaritan arrives.
He's familiar with her case and seeks to facilitate just closure, and at least has the means at his disposal to provide temporary soulful relief.
Coordinates and probabilities, nothing definitive, eager to learn, never having accepted the official account explaining what caused a fatal accident.
Soon her leads dry up though and she's back on the road researching further, eventually finding an ex-secret service agent, who still takes the time to work in the field.
He agrees to train her resolutely, her resolve quickly becoming an obsession, replete with fierce wherewithal, months later she's determined and ready.
She embarks naive yet feisty and soon takes on her first assignment.
Aware of possible limitations.
Seeking the truth regardless.
The Rhythm Section's quite primal, instinctual, reactive, brazen, there's little argument or variability, just raw unyielding focus.
It pulls you in with blunt alarm and keeps things rough and menaced, crazed and stressed, with striking backbeat discipline, it tenaciously accentuates.
But without the variability its plot's somewhat too thin, too reliant on what takes place considering not much happens.
When you see The Empire Strikes Back as a child you don't think that Luke is only trained by Yoda for a couple of days (is it even that long?) before he faces Vader.
But later you discover the Jedi were once educated from a very young age, for decades under the tutelage of masters, which would make Luke's emergence as a Jedi seem slightly absurd if he hadn't learned his profession under epic duress.
It's similar in The Rhythm Section inasmuch as there's too much improbability. It's a serious film so you're meant to take it seriously and the action's direct and grave so it doesn't promote generic misunderstanding.
At least for me.
I don't mean it would have been more probable if the lead had been a man. It just seems like anyone coming out of circumstances comparable to those The Rhythm Section's heroine finds herself within at the beginning, would have had quite the time suddenly transforming into an elite counterterrorist.
But whereas some films improve as you think about them after they've finished, The Rhythm Section seems more and more implausible, not that something similar couldn't have indeed taken place, but the odds of it actually happening are beyond me reasonable thresholds.
Of course good cinema excels as it takes you beyond such thresholds to present something different from typical life, but if it's meant to be persuasive, and goes out of its way to be grim and realistic, it becomes more difficult not to apply logic, the application of which doesn't aid The Rhythm Section (she fights someone who's breathing from a respirator?).
More characters and a more intricate script and it may have been more believable.
The novel's likely more gripping.
Others likely found it more appealing.
It's always a good idea to forge your own opinion.
He's familiar with her case and seeks to facilitate just closure, and at least has the means at his disposal to provide temporary soulful relief.
Coordinates and probabilities, nothing definitive, eager to learn, never having accepted the official account explaining what caused a fatal accident.
Soon her leads dry up though and she's back on the road researching further, eventually finding an ex-secret service agent, who still takes the time to work in the field.
He agrees to train her resolutely, her resolve quickly becoming an obsession, replete with fierce wherewithal, months later she's determined and ready.
She embarks naive yet feisty and soon takes on her first assignment.
Aware of possible limitations.
Seeking the truth regardless.
The Rhythm Section's quite primal, instinctual, reactive, brazen, there's little argument or variability, just raw unyielding focus.
It pulls you in with blunt alarm and keeps things rough and menaced, crazed and stressed, with striking backbeat discipline, it tenaciously accentuates.
But without the variability its plot's somewhat too thin, too reliant on what takes place considering not much happens.
When you see The Empire Strikes Back as a child you don't think that Luke is only trained by Yoda for a couple of days (is it even that long?) before he faces Vader.
But later you discover the Jedi were once educated from a very young age, for decades under the tutelage of masters, which would make Luke's emergence as a Jedi seem slightly absurd if he hadn't learned his profession under epic duress.
It's similar in The Rhythm Section inasmuch as there's too much improbability. It's a serious film so you're meant to take it seriously and the action's direct and grave so it doesn't promote generic misunderstanding.
At least for me.
I don't mean it would have been more probable if the lead had been a man. It just seems like anyone coming out of circumstances comparable to those The Rhythm Section's heroine finds herself within at the beginning, would have had quite the time suddenly transforming into an elite counterterrorist.
But whereas some films improve as you think about them after they've finished, The Rhythm Section seems more and more implausible, not that something similar couldn't have indeed taken place, but the odds of it actually happening are beyond me reasonable thresholds.
Of course good cinema excels as it takes you beyond such thresholds to present something different from typical life, but if it's meant to be persuasive, and goes out of its way to be grim and realistic, it becomes more difficult not to apply logic, the application of which doesn't aid The Rhythm Section (she fights someone who's breathing from a respirator?).
More characters and a more intricate script and it may have been more believable.
The novel's likely more gripping.
Others likely found it more appealing.
It's always a good idea to forge your own opinion.
Friday, February 14, 2020
Birds of Prey
A world wherein which consequence and repercussion have never been considered laments freewheelin' largesse as Harley Quinn (Margot Robbie) breaks up with the Joker.
Not a kind world by any means, as ill-composed as it is bellicose, supplying notions like wholesome and sentimental with animate vigour in their shocking absence.
She's sought after by many for different reasons artichoke, and must chaotically improvise to avoid painful brash comeuppance.
Yet she still visits local restaurants and chills at her trusty pad, having rescued a coveted pickpocket who's swallowed a precious diamond.
It contains instructions you see as to how to amass an enormous fortune, and crime boss Roman Sionis (horrible representation of gay people!) (Ewan McGregor) will pay 500 grand to get it.
So Quinn and others find themselves at odds with the irate extravagance, and the aggrieved forge a feisty clique as versatile as it is combat ready.
Those are structural facts although they're by no means determinate, the tale abounding with nuts and nuance intriguingly enunciated.
The clever albeit absurd script keeps at it with unnerving style, non-linear nimble necro accelerated cranked attire.
Not the place for guile or sympathy sorority notwithstanding, cruel worlds enraged colliding mistook madness high stakes shallows.
Necessitous individualism.
Nebulous crazed existence.
All goes well the first run through throughout the reckless merge, the alarming detonated detail shell-shocked, revealing, zesty.
Gotham's controlled by men whom the feminine contest not so shyly, exonerating tactile teamwork independent disputatious.
New characters abound so introductions are in order, the Canary (Jurnee Smollett-Bell), Renee Montoya (Rosie Perez), the Huntress (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), and Cassandra Cain (Ella Jay Basco), profiles crafted, futures fathomed.
DC is seriously impressing these days with Joker and now Birds of Prey, nothing that uplifting about either of the films, but they're still ironically well thought out comic book distractions.
Just need to work in the Justice League (or Deadpool) and maintain the creative style.
Birds of Prey keeps reinventing itself with observant discursive fury, right up 'til the traditional end, order out of groundless chaos, a bit repetitive but still compelling.
I hope the Birds have some more of their own films and don't just show up to aid the Batman.
Nice to see the change of pace.
Happy Valentine's Day!
Not a kind world by any means, as ill-composed as it is bellicose, supplying notions like wholesome and sentimental with animate vigour in their shocking absence.
She's sought after by many for different reasons artichoke, and must chaotically improvise to avoid painful brash comeuppance.
Yet she still visits local restaurants and chills at her trusty pad, having rescued a coveted pickpocket who's swallowed a precious diamond.
It contains instructions you see as to how to amass an enormous fortune, and crime boss Roman Sionis (horrible representation of gay people!) (Ewan McGregor) will pay 500 grand to get it.
So Quinn and others find themselves at odds with the irate extravagance, and the aggrieved forge a feisty clique as versatile as it is combat ready.
Those are structural facts although they're by no means determinate, the tale abounding with nuts and nuance intriguingly enunciated.
The clever albeit absurd script keeps at it with unnerving style, non-linear nimble necro accelerated cranked attire.
Not the place for guile or sympathy sorority notwithstanding, cruel worlds enraged colliding mistook madness high stakes shallows.
Necessitous individualism.
Nebulous crazed existence.
All goes well the first run through throughout the reckless merge, the alarming detonated detail shell-shocked, revealing, zesty.
Gotham's controlled by men whom the feminine contest not so shyly, exonerating tactile teamwork independent disputatious.
New characters abound so introductions are in order, the Canary (Jurnee Smollett-Bell), Renee Montoya (Rosie Perez), the Huntress (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), and Cassandra Cain (Ella Jay Basco), profiles crafted, futures fathomed.
DC is seriously impressing these days with Joker and now Birds of Prey, nothing that uplifting about either of the films, but they're still ironically well thought out comic book distractions.
Just need to work in the Justice League (or Deadpool) and maintain the creative style.
Birds of Prey keeps reinventing itself with observant discursive fury, right up 'til the traditional end, order out of groundless chaos, a bit repetitive but still compelling.
I hope the Birds have some more of their own films and don't just show up to aid the Batman.
Nice to see the change of pace.
Happy Valentine's Day!
Tuesday, February 11, 2020
Bad Boys for Life
Time has past and methods of fighting crime have adapted, yet Detective Mike Lowrey (Will Smith) still applies old school reckonings to the volatile realm within which he plays.
But he's been shot down by an unknown assailant who ballistically came calling during flippant carefree fun.
Distraught partner Marcus Burnett (Martin Lawrence) invokes divine intervention to aid his robust recovery, while settling into retired life, unsure of his stable routine.
And a new team lies in wait after Lowrey fully recovers, tech savvy yet lacking daring, led by precise pragmatic vision (Paola Nuñez as Rita).
Will the unstable mix of strategic planning and sheer impudence produce exclamatory results as the vengeful track and yearn?
Will Mr. Lowrey see something beyond the unattached ephemeral as his work with Rita progresses?
Will irresolvable speculation lead Mr. Burnett to once again contend, as clues manifest probabilities, and teamwork vests credulity?
Will Smith and Martin Lawrence irresistibly back at it and then some, bringing vocal spirits to the lively fore, after a considerably withdrawn hiatus.
They've still got it, that defiant spark from long ago, reciprocal mutually constructive disarray that contextualizes stark contention.
Lawrence's aggrieved summative evaluations add hyper-reactive humour, while Smith's intense driven presence keeps things seriously grounded, hewn.
It's like Martin and Fresh Prince still asserting themselves after all these years, a rare treat if you grew up watching both shows, still appealing to new audiences regardless.
The new recruits diversify its holdings and introduce less combative by-the-book character, not that they aren't ready to head out in the field, but their manners are much more reserved.
Unless provoked.
They even find remarkably well-integrated cover diggin' deep at local night clubs.
It's a solid 20th/21st century blend skilfully synthesized by Adil & Bilall.
It takes Lowrey and Burnett a long time to figure out who's oppressing them, and considering who's been shot their response time lacks speed, but the patient reflective struggle does build quite the crescendo (it's a cool ending), with a Vaderesque reversal, back before it all began.
Bad Boys for Life provides a fierce yet thoughtful narrative that reimagines age old themes, this variation as technologically infatuated as it is with mobile practice.
Okay, it's more infatuated with direct action which is certainly a good thing, a chillin' break from the cold calculation that qualifies so much daily life.
Judging by the responses of North American audiences there's still something to be said for interpersonal relations.
Technology may be astounding.
But it can't replace face-to-face conversation.
But he's been shot down by an unknown assailant who ballistically came calling during flippant carefree fun.
Distraught partner Marcus Burnett (Martin Lawrence) invokes divine intervention to aid his robust recovery, while settling into retired life, unsure of his stable routine.
And a new team lies in wait after Lowrey fully recovers, tech savvy yet lacking daring, led by precise pragmatic vision (Paola Nuñez as Rita).
Will the unstable mix of strategic planning and sheer impudence produce exclamatory results as the vengeful track and yearn?
Will Mr. Lowrey see something beyond the unattached ephemeral as his work with Rita progresses?
Will irresolvable speculation lead Mr. Burnett to once again contend, as clues manifest probabilities, and teamwork vests credulity?
Will Smith and Martin Lawrence irresistibly back at it and then some, bringing vocal spirits to the lively fore, after a considerably withdrawn hiatus.
They've still got it, that defiant spark from long ago, reciprocal mutually constructive disarray that contextualizes stark contention.
Lawrence's aggrieved summative evaluations add hyper-reactive humour, while Smith's intense driven presence keeps things seriously grounded, hewn.
It's like Martin and Fresh Prince still asserting themselves after all these years, a rare treat if you grew up watching both shows, still appealing to new audiences regardless.
The new recruits diversify its holdings and introduce less combative by-the-book character, not that they aren't ready to head out in the field, but their manners are much more reserved.
Unless provoked.
They even find remarkably well-integrated cover diggin' deep at local night clubs.
It's a solid 20th/21st century blend skilfully synthesized by Adil & Bilall.
It takes Lowrey and Burnett a long time to figure out who's oppressing them, and considering who's been shot their response time lacks speed, but the patient reflective struggle does build quite the crescendo (it's a cool ending), with a Vaderesque reversal, back before it all began.
Bad Boys for Life provides a fierce yet thoughtful narrative that reimagines age old themes, this variation as technologically infatuated as it is with mobile practice.
Okay, it's more infatuated with direct action which is certainly a good thing, a chillin' break from the cold calculation that qualifies so much daily life.
Judging by the responses of North American audiences there's still something to be said for interpersonal relations.
Technology may be astounding.
But it can't replace face-to-face conversation.
Friday, February 7, 2020
Dolittle
An eccentric doctor imprisoned by grief makes the most of his settled routine, taking care of an eclectic menagerie while managing a cloistered estate.
But his seclusion is to be interrupted as a royal patron beckons, she's fallen ill and can't find a cure and knows Dolittle's (Robert Downey Jr.) honest and true.
He's a gifted polyglot as it were who can speak with each and every animal, applying his unique talents to the inviolable veterinary, unravelling inextricable enlivening Beatrix.
Diplomatically assuaging instinct.
To facilitate communal fluencies.
Those who would dispose of the Queen (Jessie Buckley) are none too keen to see him enlisted, even if his quest is against all odds. It's been years since he's left his domain. But he proceeds with animate rigour.
They follow him anyway with villainous intent well-endowed with extraordinary resources, but he possesses adaptive extemporaneous finesse, and can make adjustments which variably avail.
Aided by another who also loves animal kind, they set forth with noble purpose, to break free from slack despondency, and seek robust unheralded virtues.
Clues have they which may lead to nimble fortune.
In defiance of time and tide.
As raccoons shift and sway.
Their voyage symbiotically commences.
The film excels at employing whale kind to assist with bold navigation, briefly granting services submerged to accelerate adventurous import.
Ravages wrought on fierce independence aren't overlooked or casually conveyed, for a tiger has been driven mad by his confinement, incarcerated in vengeful chains.
A cohesive group, gregarious gallantry, enables velveteen execution, a binding adherence to mutual respect reifying the superlative laissez-faire.
In surest action.
Melodiously disposed.
Avidly progressing from trial to predicament, the film perhaps revels in augmented haste, rarely pausing to rear and reflect, instantaneous unimpaired impacts.
Its target audience unperturbed by the steady alert quickening, direct meaning addressing identity, reactions brisk to untold considerations, Dolittle's less concerned with mature obfuscations, immersed in innocent wondrous candour.
Assured unbeknownst lackadaisical ingenuity, it may be easy to find faults, but would a 5-year-old care?
Cool animals.
Spirited goodwill.
But his seclusion is to be interrupted as a royal patron beckons, she's fallen ill and can't find a cure and knows Dolittle's (Robert Downey Jr.) honest and true.
He's a gifted polyglot as it were who can speak with each and every animal, applying his unique talents to the inviolable veterinary, unravelling inextricable enlivening Beatrix.
Diplomatically assuaging instinct.
To facilitate communal fluencies.
Those who would dispose of the Queen (Jessie Buckley) are none too keen to see him enlisted, even if his quest is against all odds. It's been years since he's left his domain. But he proceeds with animate rigour.
They follow him anyway with villainous intent well-endowed with extraordinary resources, but he possesses adaptive extemporaneous finesse, and can make adjustments which variably avail.
Aided by another who also loves animal kind, they set forth with noble purpose, to break free from slack despondency, and seek robust unheralded virtues.
Clues have they which may lead to nimble fortune.
In defiance of time and tide.
As raccoons shift and sway.
Their voyage symbiotically commences.
The film excels at employing whale kind to assist with bold navigation, briefly granting services submerged to accelerate adventurous import.
Ravages wrought on fierce independence aren't overlooked or casually conveyed, for a tiger has been driven mad by his confinement, incarcerated in vengeful chains.
A cohesive group, gregarious gallantry, enables velveteen execution, a binding adherence to mutual respect reifying the superlative laissez-faire.
In surest action.
Melodiously disposed.
Avidly progressing from trial to predicament, the film perhaps revels in augmented haste, rarely pausing to rear and reflect, instantaneous unimpaired impacts.
Its target audience unperturbed by the steady alert quickening, direct meaning addressing identity, reactions brisk to untold considerations, Dolittle's less concerned with mature obfuscations, immersed in innocent wondrous candour.
Assured unbeknownst lackadaisical ingenuity, it may be easy to find faults, but would a 5-year-old care?
Cool animals.
Spirited goodwill.
Tuesday, February 4, 2020
Color Out of Space
A family bound together living far away from the closest town, goes about their habitual routines in a forest lush and haunting.
Lavinia (Madeleine Arthur) plays occultist, little Jack (Julian Hilliard) seeks clarification, Benny (Brendan Meyer) hides and smokes that reefer, while Mom and Dad (Joely Richardson as Theresa and Nicolas Cage as Nathan) sit back and dream.
As their idyllic bucolic hideaway suddenly receives a visitor from space, a giant meteor lighting up the heavens, remaining solid as it swiftly descends.
At first things seem quite ordinary, even if a local television crew comes calling, without much of a story to go on, apart from a comic lack of rehearsal.
But something's strangely spellbound and new flowers start to appear, the alpacas slightly on edge, their neighbour (Tommy Chong as Ezra) even more otherworldly.
For extraterrestrial entities have inhospitably stowed away, upon it, radiating inorganic rectitude, which mutates grassroots life.
Capable of transforming both solids and immaterials, without recourse to pattern or schematic, it virulently asserts conceited conflict, while transfusing spiritual venom.
Communications function no longer.
They're cut off from the outside world.
With only cohesivity to rely on.
As their family vouchsafes the nuclear.
I wonder what others thought of Richard Stanley's Color Out of Space?
I could only sort of get into it, I felt like it was missing something.
But I often don't get campy horror or fail to see what others cherish, their immersion in the genre more full-on, more attuned to shocking hysterics.
Perhaps I'm too old school, but I kept wishing the cast had been larger, that more characters had encountered the lifeforce, to be botanically decomposed.
John Carpenter's The Thing may have been released in 1982, but it's become somewhat of a classic, so it may be too early to be paying unacknowledged homage, its reverberations still starkly dishevelling.
I thought Ezra's first scene was all too short and brief, it didn't leave me hangin', wanting more, it left me frustrated that I'd have to wait.
For more.
It's clear they need to vacate as soon as humanly possible yet he crawls into the well? I'm thinking there was something cool there I didn't get, like most of Attack of the Killer Tomatoes, or Killer Klowns from Outer Space?
I did love Return of the Killer Tomatoes!
I was searching for some memorable lines chaotically delivered by an impassioned Nicolas Cage, too, which would have reminded me of old school Twin Peaks or even Q, but if they were there I didn't detect them, my loss, no doubt, to be certain.
Color Out of Space still appeared to be the genuine article, like bona fide midnight mayhem, my apologies for wandering adrift, I totally did not get it.
Even if I applaud the viral nature of its mysterious antagonist, like an enviroalien consciousness, like tangible biological thought, or the horrors of forever chemicals.
Toxic waste.
Fluorocarbons.
DEET.
Lavinia (Madeleine Arthur) plays occultist, little Jack (Julian Hilliard) seeks clarification, Benny (Brendan Meyer) hides and smokes that reefer, while Mom and Dad (Joely Richardson as Theresa and Nicolas Cage as Nathan) sit back and dream.
As their idyllic bucolic hideaway suddenly receives a visitor from space, a giant meteor lighting up the heavens, remaining solid as it swiftly descends.
At first things seem quite ordinary, even if a local television crew comes calling, without much of a story to go on, apart from a comic lack of rehearsal.
But something's strangely spellbound and new flowers start to appear, the alpacas slightly on edge, their neighbour (Tommy Chong as Ezra) even more otherworldly.
For extraterrestrial entities have inhospitably stowed away, upon it, radiating inorganic rectitude, which mutates grassroots life.
Capable of transforming both solids and immaterials, without recourse to pattern or schematic, it virulently asserts conceited conflict, while transfusing spiritual venom.
Communications function no longer.
They're cut off from the outside world.
With only cohesivity to rely on.
As their family vouchsafes the nuclear.
I wonder what others thought of Richard Stanley's Color Out of Space?
I could only sort of get into it, I felt like it was missing something.
But I often don't get campy horror or fail to see what others cherish, their immersion in the genre more full-on, more attuned to shocking hysterics.
Perhaps I'm too old school, but I kept wishing the cast had been larger, that more characters had encountered the lifeforce, to be botanically decomposed.
John Carpenter's The Thing may have been released in 1982, but it's become somewhat of a classic, so it may be too early to be paying unacknowledged homage, its reverberations still starkly dishevelling.
I thought Ezra's first scene was all too short and brief, it didn't leave me hangin', wanting more, it left me frustrated that I'd have to wait.
For more.
It's clear they need to vacate as soon as humanly possible yet he crawls into the well? I'm thinking there was something cool there I didn't get, like most of Attack of the Killer Tomatoes, or Killer Klowns from Outer Space?
I did love Return of the Killer Tomatoes!
I was searching for some memorable lines chaotically delivered by an impassioned Nicolas Cage, too, which would have reminded me of old school Twin Peaks or even Q, but if they were there I didn't detect them, my loss, no doubt, to be certain.
Color Out of Space still appeared to be the genuine article, like bona fide midnight mayhem, my apologies for wandering adrift, I totally did not get it.
Even if I applaud the viral nature of its mysterious antagonist, like an enviroalien consciousness, like tangible biological thought, or the horrors of forever chemicals.
Toxic waste.
Fluorocarbons.
DEET.
Friday, January 31, 2020
Just Mercy
It's clear enough that justice is a matter of guilt or innocence, the guilty party convicted for their crimes, the innocent individual eventually set free.
It's also clear that determining someone's guilt or innocence is a lengthy complex procedure, which takes multiple factors into account in order to assert the highest degree of reasonability.
These factors are subject to various interpretive procedures, presented by prosecutors and defence attorneys according to alternative plausible perspectives, each perspective like a contradictory ingredient in an opaque conflicting recipe, which is hopefully judged without bias, within the spirit of daring independence.
Different narratives emerge.
But which one is in fact correct?
Some cases are more complex than others, however, and Walter McMillian's (Jamie Foxx) conviction for murder in Just Mercy is presented as a serious perversion of justice, the evidence supporting his innocence both reasonable and overwhelming, as brave civil rights attorney Bryan Stevenson (Michael B. Jordan) has to go to great lengths to prove.
The world needs more lawyers like him.
He's harassed and humiliated for doing his job to the best of his abilities, because local law enforcement was more interested in locking someone up for the crime than actually finding the guilty individual.
Since they were unable to find the guilty individual, they arrested a prosperous African American, who had been bold enough to do his job well and earn a respectable living, by working hard and honestly persevering.
Serious roadblocks prevent his retrial from moving forward, but his lawyers are determined to see he has another day in court.
Their interactions add interpersonal integrity to the story which abounds with emotionally charged dialogue, dispassionately conveyed, to reflect bitter rational despondency.
Hope and hopelessness creatively converse within to highlight gross jurisprudent indecency, but the resilient lawyers care about truth, and won't back down in the face of disillusion.
Tim Blake Nelson (Ralph Myers) puts in a noteworthy performance as a felon who gave false testimony which led to McMillian's conviction, emanating a compelling presence on screen which complements that of Foxx, Jordan, and Brie Larson (Eva Ansley).
I haven't seen everything Foxx has done since Ray but his performance in Just Mercy reminded me why he once won an Oscar.
I hope films like Just Mercy and Dark Waters inspire practising and potential lawyers to keep fighting the honourable fight.
I know it's hard to remain hopeful sometimes.
But without hope there's just the abyss.
Tweeting relentlessly.
Calling the bravest most intelligent American service people dopes and babies.
It really is reminiscent of various depictions of Caligula.
Reckless callous abuses of power.
Blind unilateral engagement.
It's also clear that determining someone's guilt or innocence is a lengthy complex procedure, which takes multiple factors into account in order to assert the highest degree of reasonability.
These factors are subject to various interpretive procedures, presented by prosecutors and defence attorneys according to alternative plausible perspectives, each perspective like a contradictory ingredient in an opaque conflicting recipe, which is hopefully judged without bias, within the spirit of daring independence.
Different narratives emerge.
But which one is in fact correct?
Some cases are more complex than others, however, and Walter McMillian's (Jamie Foxx) conviction for murder in Just Mercy is presented as a serious perversion of justice, the evidence supporting his innocence both reasonable and overwhelming, as brave civil rights attorney Bryan Stevenson (Michael B. Jordan) has to go to great lengths to prove.
The world needs more lawyers like him.
He's harassed and humiliated for doing his job to the best of his abilities, because local law enforcement was more interested in locking someone up for the crime than actually finding the guilty individual.
Since they were unable to find the guilty individual, they arrested a prosperous African American, who had been bold enough to do his job well and earn a respectable living, by working hard and honestly persevering.
Serious roadblocks prevent his retrial from moving forward, but his lawyers are determined to see he has another day in court.
Their interactions add interpersonal integrity to the story which abounds with emotionally charged dialogue, dispassionately conveyed, to reflect bitter rational despondency.
Hope and hopelessness creatively converse within to highlight gross jurisprudent indecency, but the resilient lawyers care about truth, and won't back down in the face of disillusion.
Tim Blake Nelson (Ralph Myers) puts in a noteworthy performance as a felon who gave false testimony which led to McMillian's conviction, emanating a compelling presence on screen which complements that of Foxx, Jordan, and Brie Larson (Eva Ansley).
I haven't seen everything Foxx has done since Ray but his performance in Just Mercy reminded me why he once won an Oscar.
I hope films like Just Mercy and Dark Waters inspire practising and potential lawyers to keep fighting the honourable fight.
I know it's hard to remain hopeful sometimes.
But without hope there's just the abyss.
Tweeting relentlessly.
Calling the bravest most intelligent American service people dopes and babies.
It really is reminiscent of various depictions of Caligula.
Reckless callous abuses of power.
Blind unilateral engagement.
Tuesday, January 28, 2020
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.
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.
Friday, January 24, 2020
Tenki no ko (Weathering with You)
Alone in Tokyo after having made a run for it, Hodaka Morishima (Kotaro Daigo) makes the most of unsettling circumstances.
But good fortune shines upon him, and he soon finds digs and a steady job, searching for different people to converse with, then writing about their random tales.
While he was struggling he sought daily sustenance, and at times it was hard to come by, and one evening while embracing hunger, a fast food serviceperson came to his aid (Nana Mori as Amano Hina).
Later, as fate would have it, she finds herself unaware in villainous clutches, with those who seek to exploit her, when he arrives with earnest daring.
Soon they're dearest friends, thoughtfully navigating the cold world around them, applying logic innocently improvised, perhaps inclined to amorous ascension.
As it rains and rains without pause everyday, Hina possesses a miraculous secret, which becomes a full-time job, a luminous pastime enriching alight.
Yet they both should technically be in school, and authorities are aware that Hodaka has run away, and as freedom becomes less unattainably disposed, the police move in to assert jurisprudence.
But before pressing realities come bluntly crashing down, Tenki no ko (Weathering with You) comments on life on the road, on the non-traditional fluidic path, its characters deep as they envision comprehension.
How first love beyond distress and despair can illuminate so much steadfast life, how the forgotten vivaciously remonstrating can evoke prosperity and happiness.
It's not as cheerful as this perhaps sounds, they do encounter pressure and danger, none of their lives void of hardships, which their friendships soothe and mitigate.
I imagine the film's appealing for youthful and aged audiences alike, for its style is sharp yet light and its content free yet fiercely embroiled.
Its diverse multifaceted script examines difficulties associated with never having time off, the necessity of full-time employment, how hard it can be to find a hotel room, compassionate animal care, conjugal misperception, emotional conflicts embraced as children are raised by others, thriving commerce, an unorthodox feisty existence, as if every scene's integral to the narrative yet still has something to say about non-fictional working life, the pros and cons of picking things up on the fly, strong bonds forged as people innovate together.
The film can be so many things for so many different people, its premise built on controversy, its action elevating resolve.
It's first rate magical realism, which rationalizes impossibility as it critiques the real, abounding with incredible depth, Makoto Shinkai is a brilliant storyteller.
I loved how the animation captures the rain and the story highlights the joys of sharing meals.
A film composed to keep you thinking.
Without abandoning soulful yields.
But good fortune shines upon him, and he soon finds digs and a steady job, searching for different people to converse with, then writing about their random tales.
While he was struggling he sought daily sustenance, and at times it was hard to come by, and one evening while embracing hunger, a fast food serviceperson came to his aid (Nana Mori as Amano Hina).
Later, as fate would have it, she finds herself unaware in villainous clutches, with those who seek to exploit her, when he arrives with earnest daring.
Soon they're dearest friends, thoughtfully navigating the cold world around them, applying logic innocently improvised, perhaps inclined to amorous ascension.
As it rains and rains without pause everyday, Hina possesses a miraculous secret, which becomes a full-time job, a luminous pastime enriching alight.
Yet they both should technically be in school, and authorities are aware that Hodaka has run away, and as freedom becomes less unattainably disposed, the police move in to assert jurisprudence.
But before pressing realities come bluntly crashing down, Tenki no ko (Weathering with You) comments on life on the road, on the non-traditional fluidic path, its characters deep as they envision comprehension.
How first love beyond distress and despair can illuminate so much steadfast life, how the forgotten vivaciously remonstrating can evoke prosperity and happiness.
It's not as cheerful as this perhaps sounds, they do encounter pressure and danger, none of their lives void of hardships, which their friendships soothe and mitigate.
I imagine the film's appealing for youthful and aged audiences alike, for its style is sharp yet light and its content free yet fiercely embroiled.
Its diverse multifaceted script examines difficulties associated with never having time off, the necessity of full-time employment, how hard it can be to find a hotel room, compassionate animal care, conjugal misperception, emotional conflicts embraced as children are raised by others, thriving commerce, an unorthodox feisty existence, as if every scene's integral to the narrative yet still has something to say about non-fictional working life, the pros and cons of picking things up on the fly, strong bonds forged as people innovate together.
The film can be so many things for so many different people, its premise built on controversy, its action elevating resolve.
It's first rate magical realism, which rationalizes impossibility as it critiques the real, abounding with incredible depth, Makoto Shinkai is a brilliant storyteller.
I loved how the animation captures the rain and the story highlights the joys of sharing meals.
A film composed to keep you thinking.
Without abandoning soulful yields.
Tuesday, January 21, 2020
A Vida Invisível (Invisible Life)
Tumultuous times await a romantic spirit after she's left behind with child and her family brusquely disowns her.
Or refuses to allow her to come home after she returns from her amorous adventure, alone with nowhere to go, having fallen prey to dishonest advances.
Made when she was ready to sacrifice everything.
Her sister's left unawares, has no idea what's transpired, and marries as the months and years pass, settling into domestic life.
But she never gives up her dream of playing the piano in Vienna, nor stops thinking about her missing sister, who communicates regularly in writing, her messages intercepted by a disapproving husband.
The oft irreconcilable relationship between emotion and principle forges an ethical current within, the husbands obsessed with how things appear, the wives sympathetic to concrete reality.
I can't understand how a parent could care more about a principle or social standing than the happiness of their child, or how they could disown him or her absolutely for doing something they may have once considered.
Themselves.
Some things lack prestige or appeal until you've reached a certain age, and it's difficult to imagine that one mistake made in the grips of youthful passion could ever prevent them from luminously radiating, for if principle isn't able to take what once seemed irrefutably endearing into aged spiritual account, are the thoughts and feelings of younger generations to perennially persist in ill-defined obscurity?
How could you know that your grandchild is being raised in a neighbourhood close by and that you've given his or her parents no assistance whatsoever to ease their emotional and financial distress?
How could you suddenly dismiss all the wonderful times cherished with your children as they grew, because they didn't follow a rigid rule to its stifling incapacitating letter?
Is it possible to love rules and regulations more than flourishing life?, to abide by stern codes and customs when surrounded by contemporary endeavour?
There's no doubt youth seeks to uphold what they've been taught to behold as rational, but to make sense of rational traditions when you're young overlooks the exuberance of life.
A Vida Invisível (Invisible Life) demonstrates how a young adult cast aside by her family digs in deep and vigorously strives.
And how that family suffers in her absence, how it would have prospered with her vital strength.
A sorrowful tale crafting knowledge woebegone, which contrasts domesticity with independence to challenge stubborn points of view, it exhales tragedy with forlorn breaths while encouraging compassion and understanding, as siblings long for the abandoned innocence that once so thoughtfully bloomed.
Is it not more shameful to abandon your child?
To leave them alone to dismally struggle?
I'm not encouraging reckless behaviour.
But mistakes require sympathy, not severe punishments.
Or refuses to allow her to come home after she returns from her amorous adventure, alone with nowhere to go, having fallen prey to dishonest advances.
Made when she was ready to sacrifice everything.
Her sister's left unawares, has no idea what's transpired, and marries as the months and years pass, settling into domestic life.
But she never gives up her dream of playing the piano in Vienna, nor stops thinking about her missing sister, who communicates regularly in writing, her messages intercepted by a disapproving husband.
The oft irreconcilable relationship between emotion and principle forges an ethical current within, the husbands obsessed with how things appear, the wives sympathetic to concrete reality.
I can't understand how a parent could care more about a principle or social standing than the happiness of their child, or how they could disown him or her absolutely for doing something they may have once considered.
Themselves.
Some things lack prestige or appeal until you've reached a certain age, and it's difficult to imagine that one mistake made in the grips of youthful passion could ever prevent them from luminously radiating, for if principle isn't able to take what once seemed irrefutably endearing into aged spiritual account, are the thoughts and feelings of younger generations to perennially persist in ill-defined obscurity?
How could you know that your grandchild is being raised in a neighbourhood close by and that you've given his or her parents no assistance whatsoever to ease their emotional and financial distress?
How could you suddenly dismiss all the wonderful times cherished with your children as they grew, because they didn't follow a rigid rule to its stifling incapacitating letter?
Is it possible to love rules and regulations more than flourishing life?, to abide by stern codes and customs when surrounded by contemporary endeavour?
There's no doubt youth seeks to uphold what they've been taught to behold as rational, but to make sense of rational traditions when you're young overlooks the exuberance of life.
A Vida Invisível (Invisible Life) demonstrates how a young adult cast aside by her family digs in deep and vigorously strives.
And how that family suffers in her absence, how it would have prospered with her vital strength.
A sorrowful tale crafting knowledge woebegone, which contrasts domesticity with independence to challenge stubborn points of view, it exhales tragedy with forlorn breaths while encouraging compassion and understanding, as siblings long for the abandoned innocence that once so thoughtfully bloomed.
Is it not more shameful to abandon your child?
To leave them alone to dismally struggle?
I'm not encouraging reckless behaviour.
But mistakes require sympathy, not severe punishments.
Friday, January 17, 2020
Ford v Ferrari
I could never get into car racing.
No matter what the track.
I watched a car race once one afternoon when I was 10 years old or so, while two brothers started brawling for some reason, and after 5 minutes or so it generally lost its appeal, I'm afraid I never had the desire to watch one again, cold storage, dusted away.
I like films however, so if a film about car racing is nominated for best picture at the Oscars I figured there must be something to it, something that transcends the actual racing itself, and perhaps highlights a point or two I never would have taken into account if I hadn't seen it, although I did respect car racing meanwhile, it's just something I could never get into.
Into watching.
It sounds fun, like it'd be something fun to do, not watch.
The film does a great job of demonstrating how much thought goes into winning such races, the coveted expertise possessed by precious few aficionados, who take the time to actively pursue their passion without thinking much about reward, the love of the game drives them, and it's impressive how much they know.
Honestly, seeing a company that was as big as Ford at the time take on a much smaller company that was going out of business (Ferrari) didn't appeal to me much, it's like the company that already has everything backed up by unlimited resources competing against a devout artist, who's passionately spent everything in the pursuit of something breathtaking and unique.
It's super American.
I didn't care for that aspect of the story much, but since Ford had the reputation for making less specialized cars and wanted to prove they could do something unique, I appreciated the improbability of the challenge, which would have seemed more profound without the wealth.
The incredible wealth.
But the team Ford assembles isn't rich, it's composed of hands on struggling independent artists who thoroughly understand their craft, and the film excels as they bat heads with bland executives, whose knowledge is much more concerned with spectacle (they think more about what to do if they've won as opposed to how to actually go about winning).
For some domains, a large bureaucracy functions well, ensuring the delivery of various services for vastly different markets, the inherent intricacies and size of which require multiple levels of thought, positions occupied by workers familiar with the terrain, and the flexibility to calmly deal with manifold contingencies.
If you're trying to win a race, however, if you're doing something highly specific for an individualistic set of circumstances, and there aren't multiple levels of thought, there are just a couple of highly skilled professionals who have the knowledge to get the job done, who in fact know what they're doing, and are making the most relevant observations, like Carroll Shelby (Matt Damon) and Ken Miles (Christian Bale) in Ford v Ferrari, then, as Carroll and Ken mention in the film, the bureaucracy can get in the way, and make simple decisions that need to be made absurdly complex, the absurd complexities making the practical goal unachievable, keep it simple, keep it practical and hands on.
If you want to do something bureaucracy can be frustrating because you have to wait so long for approval to do the simplest things.
Not so much in politics where it's important to think about the impacts of what you're doing.
But if you like the bureaucratic ebb and flow, I suppose the argument itself is somewhat compelling.
The film is somewhat direct and easy to follow, no nonsense is the phrase writers employ in writing such a narrative I imagine, everything has a traditional relevant point, and it presents a thoughtful situation full of risk, trial, error, reward.
It's the kind of light film pretending to be tough that makes a positive impact, if you don't think about it too much, if you just sit back and take it in.
It would have been cool if the impact the experimental nature of race car driving makes on domestic automobile manufacture had been briefly explored.
And it hadn't been so massive, so Goliath.
A generalized examination of a complex phenomenon.
Nice to see Jon Bernthal (Lee Iacocca) with a larger role.
No matter what the track.
I watched a car race once one afternoon when I was 10 years old or so, while two brothers started brawling for some reason, and after 5 minutes or so it generally lost its appeal, I'm afraid I never had the desire to watch one again, cold storage, dusted away.
I like films however, so if a film about car racing is nominated for best picture at the Oscars I figured there must be something to it, something that transcends the actual racing itself, and perhaps highlights a point or two I never would have taken into account if I hadn't seen it, although I did respect car racing meanwhile, it's just something I could never get into.
Into watching.
It sounds fun, like it'd be something fun to do, not watch.
The film does a great job of demonstrating how much thought goes into winning such races, the coveted expertise possessed by precious few aficionados, who take the time to actively pursue their passion without thinking much about reward, the love of the game drives them, and it's impressive how much they know.
Honestly, seeing a company that was as big as Ford at the time take on a much smaller company that was going out of business (Ferrari) didn't appeal to me much, it's like the company that already has everything backed up by unlimited resources competing against a devout artist, who's passionately spent everything in the pursuit of something breathtaking and unique.
It's super American.
I didn't care for that aspect of the story much, but since Ford had the reputation for making less specialized cars and wanted to prove they could do something unique, I appreciated the improbability of the challenge, which would have seemed more profound without the wealth.
The incredible wealth.
But the team Ford assembles isn't rich, it's composed of hands on struggling independent artists who thoroughly understand their craft, and the film excels as they bat heads with bland executives, whose knowledge is much more concerned with spectacle (they think more about what to do if they've won as opposed to how to actually go about winning).
For some domains, a large bureaucracy functions well, ensuring the delivery of various services for vastly different markets, the inherent intricacies and size of which require multiple levels of thought, positions occupied by workers familiar with the terrain, and the flexibility to calmly deal with manifold contingencies.
If you're trying to win a race, however, if you're doing something highly specific for an individualistic set of circumstances, and there aren't multiple levels of thought, there are just a couple of highly skilled professionals who have the knowledge to get the job done, who in fact know what they're doing, and are making the most relevant observations, like Carroll Shelby (Matt Damon) and Ken Miles (Christian Bale) in Ford v Ferrari, then, as Carroll and Ken mention in the film, the bureaucracy can get in the way, and make simple decisions that need to be made absurdly complex, the absurd complexities making the practical goal unachievable, keep it simple, keep it practical and hands on.
If you want to do something bureaucracy can be frustrating because you have to wait so long for approval to do the simplest things.
Not so much in politics where it's important to think about the impacts of what you're doing.
But if you like the bureaucratic ebb and flow, I suppose the argument itself is somewhat compelling.
The film is somewhat direct and easy to follow, no nonsense is the phrase writers employ in writing such a narrative I imagine, everything has a traditional relevant point, and it presents a thoughtful situation full of risk, trial, error, reward.
It's the kind of light film pretending to be tough that makes a positive impact, if you don't think about it too much, if you just sit back and take it in.
It would have been cool if the impact the experimental nature of race car driving makes on domestic automobile manufacture had been briefly explored.
And it hadn't been so massive, so Goliath.
A generalized examination of a complex phenomenon.
Nice to see Jon Bernthal (Lee Iacocca) with a larger role.
Tuesday, January 14, 2020
Cats
I hesitate to suggest that Tom Hooper's Cats produced its desired affects upon its audience, insofar as laughter was consistently generated within the theatre where I recently saw it, but that's not necessarily a bad thing if entertainment value is taken into account, for that very same audience no doubt foolhardily enjoyed themselves, even if their applause was critically attuned to camp as opposed to melodrama.
Is there a difference?
That would be a fun essay to write (in detail).
I would argue that Cats sets out to romantically investigate life on a thriving fringe, within a talented artistic community, independently predisposed.
It's a wonderful idea.
It introduces a variety of vigorous individuals who have taken the time to melodiously compose themselves, in preparation for a carnivalesque soirée, abounding with life and perhaps reincarnation.
A wicked cat who jealously seeks to live again nefariously disrupts the proceedings with cruel and covetous intent.
The historical social interactions of the innovative neighbourhood are observed by a fascinated newcomer who's introduced after emerging astray.
The songs are sung very well, there's no denying the musical talent, the robust sincere efficacious concerned camaraderie erupting with ecstatic charm.
But they rarely stop, there isn't much intermittent dialogue, and I'm afraid they're somewhat abstruse, or lack helpful points of clarification.
It's not that you can't figure out what's going on or find yourself lost within a byzantine delirium, but if you're not familiar with the story beforehand, you may find it somewhat obscured in the opening numbers, which are rather wordy if not longwinded, and lack sturdy lucid foundations.
Even if they are cats.
But they are cats, and there are a bunch of cool animated felines singing and dancing with paramount glamour, so if you aren't worried about what's actually going on, you have recourse to the wild absurdity.
Even though it's just a bit garrulous, I still wondered if it was primarily made for children, because the cat expressions employed fall flat throughout, but may appeal to the more innocently minded, if they're seeing a musical for the very first time.
The constant close-ups too, which seem like they're trying to generate wonder, but often cause people to burst out laughing, don't worry, the same thing happens to me.
So the melodrama's there, Cats at least approaches serious subjects with a touch that's light of heart, and leaves room for scandal and intrigue as it proceeds with the best intentions.
But if it's meant to be taken seriously, and I can't really see that happening, even if it improves as Ian McKellen (Gus the Theatre Cat) begins to sing, and there's a wonderful break where's there's no singing at all, just dancing, it may not universally succeed, although my hypothesis could be way off.
Nevertheless, films that are meant to be taken seriously which create serious comic appeal can be transformed into cherished camp, if the audience is there and willing.
The audience whom I watched Cats with was overflowing with playful cheer.
Is it always that way with melodrama?
To tell you the truth, I'm far from certain.
But people get angry if you don't take what they're taking seriously sometimes.
A matter of perspective, I try to keep quiet.
Is there a difference?
That would be a fun essay to write (in detail).
I would argue that Cats sets out to romantically investigate life on a thriving fringe, within a talented artistic community, independently predisposed.
It's a wonderful idea.
It introduces a variety of vigorous individuals who have taken the time to melodiously compose themselves, in preparation for a carnivalesque soirée, abounding with life and perhaps reincarnation.
A wicked cat who jealously seeks to live again nefariously disrupts the proceedings with cruel and covetous intent.
The historical social interactions of the innovative neighbourhood are observed by a fascinated newcomer who's introduced after emerging astray.
The songs are sung very well, there's no denying the musical talent, the robust sincere efficacious concerned camaraderie erupting with ecstatic charm.
But they rarely stop, there isn't much intermittent dialogue, and I'm afraid they're somewhat abstruse, or lack helpful points of clarification.
It's not that you can't figure out what's going on or find yourself lost within a byzantine delirium, but if you're not familiar with the story beforehand, you may find it somewhat obscured in the opening numbers, which are rather wordy if not longwinded, and lack sturdy lucid foundations.
Even if they are cats.
But they are cats, and there are a bunch of cool animated felines singing and dancing with paramount glamour, so if you aren't worried about what's actually going on, you have recourse to the wild absurdity.
Even though it's just a bit garrulous, I still wondered if it was primarily made for children, because the cat expressions employed fall flat throughout, but may appeal to the more innocently minded, if they're seeing a musical for the very first time.
The constant close-ups too, which seem like they're trying to generate wonder, but often cause people to burst out laughing, don't worry, the same thing happens to me.
So the melodrama's there, Cats at least approaches serious subjects with a touch that's light of heart, and leaves room for scandal and intrigue as it proceeds with the best intentions.
But if it's meant to be taken seriously, and I can't really see that happening, even if it improves as Ian McKellen (Gus the Theatre Cat) begins to sing, and there's a wonderful break where's there's no singing at all, just dancing, it may not universally succeed, although my hypothesis could be way off.
Nevertheless, films that are meant to be taken seriously which create serious comic appeal can be transformed into cherished camp, if the audience is there and willing.
The audience whom I watched Cats with was overflowing with playful cheer.
Is it always that way with melodrama?
To tell you the truth, I'm far from certain.
But people get angry if you don't take what they're taking seriously sometimes.
A matter of perspective, I try to keep quiet.
Friday, January 10, 2020
Little Women
Sisters living together in old school bucolic surroundings, lively animate reckonings overshadowing speechless gloom.
A cross-section of formative events congenially pitched and harmonized, love and care guiding inquisitive actions, a mother providing lucid instruction.
Not necessarily gloomy, it just seems like it must have been that way, so locked down in one specific set of circumstances, without the internet lying in wait.
But Little Women emphasizes grassroots creativity, or wholesome bonds forged through familial endeavour, the theatre as tantalizing as postmodern film, perhaps predating phrases like the art of conversation.
If people had no technological distractions to prevent them from directly interacting with one another (I'm reinterpreting the phrase), and dialogue flourished throughout the course of the day, conversation may have seemed less like an art form, and more like something freeflowing and natural.
Discussing topics at length may not have been reserved just for soirées and seminars, and sundry nuances may have been eagerly explored, by loquacious lackadaisical candlelight.
Perhaps with less of an emphasis on making weak arguments appear strong, and more of a desire to encourage prosperous articulation, people actually making their own nightly narratives, and debating while casually observing.
I was monitoring the activity of a relative the other day, who overflowed with tenacious curiosity, and I was somewhat relieved when The Last Jedi caught his attention, and I could then worry less about inspired destruction.
But I checked myself for having such thoughts, and took to heart accusations of entropy, for I should have been eagerly engaged, and ready for every distinct counteraction.
As parents prior to television no doubt must have rigorously been, how much tighter family bonds perhaps were back then, how much more available people were to please, how much more time there might have been for tasks at hand.
I'd like to read essays and/or books comparing 21st and 19th century pastimes, and Little Women as well, to learn more from its compelling story.
Greta Gerwig's film's exciting to watch, and kept me captivated from beginning to end.
It focuses on goodwill and charity at times which pleasantly caught my attention, not just because I saw it during the Holiday Season, but also since I rarely encounter self-sacrifice in contemporary film.
Or conversation.
Good things happen when people commit to reducing poverty and make healthier green alternatives more accessible.
It seems like the cast had a lot of fun while making it, but still worked hard to create a good film, the kind of vigorous reliable teamwork that can be facilitated by an emphasis on cool.
Having fun off screen while sincerely delivering when it's time to work, Little Women's most impressive, like working in Montréal.
And I've found a fictional companion for Ethan Hawke in my personal filmic pantheon (in my head), the one and only Laura Dern (Marmee March), they both keep showing up in so many cool films.
They've been around a while too.
Sort of like Harry Dean Stanton but not the same.
Not that the rest of Gerwig's cast didn't impress.
Left the cinema feeling happy.
A cross-section of formative events congenially pitched and harmonized, love and care guiding inquisitive actions, a mother providing lucid instruction.
Not necessarily gloomy, it just seems like it must have been that way, so locked down in one specific set of circumstances, without the internet lying in wait.
But Little Women emphasizes grassroots creativity, or wholesome bonds forged through familial endeavour, the theatre as tantalizing as postmodern film, perhaps predating phrases like the art of conversation.
If people had no technological distractions to prevent them from directly interacting with one another (I'm reinterpreting the phrase), and dialogue flourished throughout the course of the day, conversation may have seemed less like an art form, and more like something freeflowing and natural.
Discussing topics at length may not have been reserved just for soirées and seminars, and sundry nuances may have been eagerly explored, by loquacious lackadaisical candlelight.
Perhaps with less of an emphasis on making weak arguments appear strong, and more of a desire to encourage prosperous articulation, people actually making their own nightly narratives, and debating while casually observing.
I was monitoring the activity of a relative the other day, who overflowed with tenacious curiosity, and I was somewhat relieved when The Last Jedi caught his attention, and I could then worry less about inspired destruction.
But I checked myself for having such thoughts, and took to heart accusations of entropy, for I should have been eagerly engaged, and ready for every distinct counteraction.
As parents prior to television no doubt must have rigorously been, how much tighter family bonds perhaps were back then, how much more available people were to please, how much more time there might have been for tasks at hand.
I'd like to read essays and/or books comparing 21st and 19th century pastimes, and Little Women as well, to learn more from its compelling story.
Greta Gerwig's film's exciting to watch, and kept me captivated from beginning to end.
It focuses on goodwill and charity at times which pleasantly caught my attention, not just because I saw it during the Holiday Season, but also since I rarely encounter self-sacrifice in contemporary film.
Or conversation.
Good things happen when people commit to reducing poverty and make healthier green alternatives more accessible.
It seems like the cast had a lot of fun while making it, but still worked hard to create a good film, the kind of vigorous reliable teamwork that can be facilitated by an emphasis on cool.
Having fun off screen while sincerely delivering when it's time to work, Little Women's most impressive, like working in Montréal.
And I've found a fictional companion for Ethan Hawke in my personal filmic pantheon (in my head), the one and only Laura Dern (Marmee March), they both keep showing up in so many cool films.
They've been around a while too.
Sort of like Harry Dean Stanton but not the same.
Not that the rest of Gerwig's cast didn't impress.
Left the cinema feeling happy.
Tuesday, January 7, 2020
Bombshell
You should always be wary when a film about Fox News comes out shining forth as a champion of the Me Too Movement.
It certainly is full-on Me Too, but what else does it have to critically say about Fox?
Within, female journalists are harassed as they assert themselves, but they're still sternly dedicated to Fox's opinion based sensational broadcasting, as opposed to the evidence or fact based reporting you find on CNN or in The New York Times, and except for one behind the scenes worker (Kate McKinnon as Jess Carr), who can't find work elsewhere, the journalists seem happy enough with Fox, just not some of the men who work there.
The men who work there whom they're upset with are total pigs who have transferred private adolescent locker room shenanigans to the grownup public sphere, wherein which they still behave as if they've never met a woman, or have never once even considering respecting one.
As seems to be the case in many American businesses, hence the rise of Me Too, women persevering in toxic environments till they accumulate enough evidence to prove they've been sexually harassed in court.
They're worried about their careers and futures as they proceed.
Such actions take an enormous amount of courage.
Total respect.
Bombshell (I get the double entendre, but still, that's the title you give to a film about Me Too?) excels at presenting strong courageous women who take huge risks to stick it to their perverted manager, Roger Ailes (John Lithgow), and highlights their struggles as they do so, as many of their fellow workers line up to defend him, and their own support staff voice apprehensions.
Inasmuch as Bombshell sets out to champion the Me Too Movement and sincerely critique sexual harassment in the workplace, it succeeds, that aspect's well done, and it isn't preachy or sentimental, it's rather a comprehensive factual account.
It's shocking to read about how much sexual harassment persists in the workplace, and the ridiculous "boys will be boys" mentality that assaults daring brave professional women, as chronicled in various news media at length for what seems like freakin' ever.
In the '90s it seemed like 2000-2020 would be much much much much different.
A world free from sexism, racism, ethnocentricity, and homophobia.
But unfortunately things seem to have become much worse.
Or haven't changed much and there's currently more exposure.
The number of unions have also decreased in the last twenty years, if I'm not mistaken.
And job losses and low wages have ignited tensions.
A strong mix of gender, sexuality, culture, and point of view can lead to dynamic working environments, as long as there's mutual respect, and a willingness to work together as a team.
The best working environments I've been fortunate enough to work within have been composed along such lines.
Doesn't sound much like Fox News does it?
When I think of Fox News, I think of sexist, bigoted, privileged caucasian men.
Bombshell critiques the sexist men who work there but doesn't sincerely critique Fox News itself, the style of overly opinionated news Fox delivers.
Some of the women who have been sexually harassed still want to work there.
Just not with Roger Ailes.
McKinnon does sum it up in a clever frightening nutshell, but I think the people who like Fox, upon hearing her summary, will probably just think, "totally".
Instead of, "damn, that sucks!"
I'd argue Bombshell is another attempt by the right to make it appear as if it cares about women's rights by severely critiquing its own.
But the characters within are still loyal to Fox's sensational opinion based misleading ludicrous brand of news.
And that brand of news itself isn't sincerely critiqued, only the sexist men who work there.
Which makes Bombshell like an advertisement for a new fresher Fox News that cares about women's rights (come on!).
There's no emphasis on changing its style.
And that, I'm afraid, is a fact.
It certainly is full-on Me Too, but what else does it have to critically say about Fox?
Within, female journalists are harassed as they assert themselves, but they're still sternly dedicated to Fox's opinion based sensational broadcasting, as opposed to the evidence or fact based reporting you find on CNN or in The New York Times, and except for one behind the scenes worker (Kate McKinnon as Jess Carr), who can't find work elsewhere, the journalists seem happy enough with Fox, just not some of the men who work there.
The men who work there whom they're upset with are total pigs who have transferred private adolescent locker room shenanigans to the grownup public sphere, wherein which they still behave as if they've never met a woman, or have never once even considering respecting one.
As seems to be the case in many American businesses, hence the rise of Me Too, women persevering in toxic environments till they accumulate enough evidence to prove they've been sexually harassed in court.
They're worried about their careers and futures as they proceed.
Such actions take an enormous amount of courage.
Total respect.
Bombshell (I get the double entendre, but still, that's the title you give to a film about Me Too?) excels at presenting strong courageous women who take huge risks to stick it to their perverted manager, Roger Ailes (John Lithgow), and highlights their struggles as they do so, as many of their fellow workers line up to defend him, and their own support staff voice apprehensions.
Inasmuch as Bombshell sets out to champion the Me Too Movement and sincerely critique sexual harassment in the workplace, it succeeds, that aspect's well done, and it isn't preachy or sentimental, it's rather a comprehensive factual account.
It's shocking to read about how much sexual harassment persists in the workplace, and the ridiculous "boys will be boys" mentality that assaults daring brave professional women, as chronicled in various news media at length for what seems like freakin' ever.
In the '90s it seemed like 2000-2020 would be much much much much different.
A world free from sexism, racism, ethnocentricity, and homophobia.
But unfortunately things seem to have become much worse.
Or haven't changed much and there's currently more exposure.
The number of unions have also decreased in the last twenty years, if I'm not mistaken.
And job losses and low wages have ignited tensions.
A strong mix of gender, sexuality, culture, and point of view can lead to dynamic working environments, as long as there's mutual respect, and a willingness to work together as a team.
The best working environments I've been fortunate enough to work within have been composed along such lines.
Doesn't sound much like Fox News does it?
When I think of Fox News, I think of sexist, bigoted, privileged caucasian men.
Bombshell critiques the sexist men who work there but doesn't sincerely critique Fox News itself, the style of overly opinionated news Fox delivers.
Some of the women who have been sexually harassed still want to work there.
Just not with Roger Ailes.
McKinnon does sum it up in a clever frightening nutshell, but I think the people who like Fox, upon hearing her summary, will probably just think, "totally".
Instead of, "damn, that sucks!"
I'd argue Bombshell is another attempt by the right to make it appear as if it cares about women's rights by severely critiquing its own.
But the characters within are still loyal to Fox's sensational opinion based misleading ludicrous brand of news.
And that brand of news itself isn't sincerely critiqued, only the sexist men who work there.
Which makes Bombshell like an advertisement for a new fresher Fox News that cares about women's rights (come on!).
There's no emphasis on changing its style.
And that, I'm afraid, is a fact.
Friday, January 3, 2020
Marriage Story
The slow patient cultivation of specific general roles, patterns emerging as time passes becoming more rigid while still considered ill-defined, dynamic environs creatively encouraging unpredictable professional growth, but within their fluid energetic exciting jazzy continuums lies one person directing, and another following established codes, their lives constantly shifting reimagined as inspiration strikes, but the thought of doing something else never so much as remotely materializes, even though passive hints are presented until years have past and it seems like every decision's made without sincere consultation, even though he thinks he's listening and they're making joint discoveries, as fluctuating intensities eagerly fascinate, and everything's cast anew.
Perhaps a stunning aid for couples who have been married for quite some time, inasmuch as Marriage Story makes so much lucid sense, yet Nicole (Scarlett Johansson) and Charlie (Adam Driver) still can't understand one another.
Noting the errors Charlie makes may save similar marriages, I've always thought working together (jobs) is a bad idea, although some couples do seem to work well together (at jobs).
Case by case.
But it's perhaps more probable that in Marriage Story nothing can be done, since one partner's too caught up with too invested in a particular way of life, which can't suddenly change to fit new circumstances, circumstances which demand he abandon everything altogether.
Nicole no longer wishes to live in New York, which leaves Charlie without much room to work with, in a bit of a pickle as divorce proceedings commence, and he has to prove he resides in L.A.
While directing a play in New York.
He was just too immersed in the limelight to notice that something was going wrong, or that the passive suggestions were actually serious, and required full-on responsive note.
I don't know how to sift through the suggestions myself, I've never really had a deep relationship, but in theory I'd try to sift through them by listening for those that were presented more than two or three times, if my partner was passive. If a suggestion popped up that many times I would take note that it was indeed much more than a suggestion, and would adjust my busy schedule accordingly, if forgiven for having taken my sweet time.
Charlie and Nicole get along so maturely you wonder why they're getting a divorce?, until it becomes clear Nicole needs something less ubiquitous, and doesn't like the constant direction.
Even if her husband's brilliant and nice.
I think she grows tired of him always finding a solution.
And perhaps finds her life's become a novel case study.
I'm probably incorrect, as Marriage Story points out in passionate detail with great supporting performances from Laura Dern (Nora Fanshaw), Alan Alda (Bert Spitz), and Ray Liotta (Jay Marotta) (loved the Julie Hagerty [Sandra] and Wallace Shawn [Frank] too!), women really understand what women are going through, and men generally understand all things bro.
It's a wonderful film examining a complicated multivariable couple trying to keep a hectic life simple as things unravel at their marriage's end.
It begins with touching characterizations they've both written about each other (a ruse) that provide in-depth accounts of the time they've spent together, with literal poetic resplendency.
Reasons.
Multiple compelling reasons.
The caring insights written into every observation prepare you for clever thoughtful storytelling that keeps it real the whole way through.
It isn't particularly light nor overwhelmingly dark, but chillin' and anger both expound within, each scene enacting free flowing difference sustained within a modest versatile frame (except for divorce court), as if the characters may actually exist, and have something irresistible to say.
Nice intelligent successful people who for some reason find themselves married, clashing with cold cruel realities with which they'd both rather not contend.
Artists hiring lawyers.
There's so much thought in this film it's like reading a good book, you wait for years to see dramas as good as this one.
The scenes last for much longer than 30 seconds.
Multiple reasons are provided to explain something neither partner wishes to fully comprehend.
Nice to see Adam Driver and Scarlett Johansson in something without intergalactic conflict.
Noah Baumbach's made so many great films.
This is his first masterpiece (I never saw The Squid and the Whale).
Even when it slips up it just seems like it's his youthful innocence shining through, like an historical trope, like he hasn't forgotten a randier style, here transformed into something more aged, the present and the past blended like well crafted gritty red wine, that's been maturing for fruitful decades, and's finally ready for bold presentation.
Wish I'd seen it in theatres.
Netflix can no longer be denied (by me).
Perhaps a stunning aid for couples who have been married for quite some time, inasmuch as Marriage Story makes so much lucid sense, yet Nicole (Scarlett Johansson) and Charlie (Adam Driver) still can't understand one another.
Noting the errors Charlie makes may save similar marriages, I've always thought working together (jobs) is a bad idea, although some couples do seem to work well together (at jobs).
Case by case.
But it's perhaps more probable that in Marriage Story nothing can be done, since one partner's too caught up with too invested in a particular way of life, which can't suddenly change to fit new circumstances, circumstances which demand he abandon everything altogether.
Nicole no longer wishes to live in New York, which leaves Charlie without much room to work with, in a bit of a pickle as divorce proceedings commence, and he has to prove he resides in L.A.
While directing a play in New York.
He was just too immersed in the limelight to notice that something was going wrong, or that the passive suggestions were actually serious, and required full-on responsive note.
I don't know how to sift through the suggestions myself, I've never really had a deep relationship, but in theory I'd try to sift through them by listening for those that were presented more than two or three times, if my partner was passive. If a suggestion popped up that many times I would take note that it was indeed much more than a suggestion, and would adjust my busy schedule accordingly, if forgiven for having taken my sweet time.
Charlie and Nicole get along so maturely you wonder why they're getting a divorce?, until it becomes clear Nicole needs something less ubiquitous, and doesn't like the constant direction.
Even if her husband's brilliant and nice.
I think she grows tired of him always finding a solution.
And perhaps finds her life's become a novel case study.
I'm probably incorrect, as Marriage Story points out in passionate detail with great supporting performances from Laura Dern (Nora Fanshaw), Alan Alda (Bert Spitz), and Ray Liotta (Jay Marotta) (loved the Julie Hagerty [Sandra] and Wallace Shawn [Frank] too!), women really understand what women are going through, and men generally understand all things bro.
It's a wonderful film examining a complicated multivariable couple trying to keep a hectic life simple as things unravel at their marriage's end.
It begins with touching characterizations they've both written about each other (a ruse) that provide in-depth accounts of the time they've spent together, with literal poetic resplendency.
Reasons.
Multiple compelling reasons.
The caring insights written into every observation prepare you for clever thoughtful storytelling that keeps it real the whole way through.
It isn't particularly light nor overwhelmingly dark, but chillin' and anger both expound within, each scene enacting free flowing difference sustained within a modest versatile frame (except for divorce court), as if the characters may actually exist, and have something irresistible to say.
Nice intelligent successful people who for some reason find themselves married, clashing with cold cruel realities with which they'd both rather not contend.
Artists hiring lawyers.
There's so much thought in this film it's like reading a good book, you wait for years to see dramas as good as this one.
The scenes last for much longer than 30 seconds.
Multiple reasons are provided to explain something neither partner wishes to fully comprehend.
Nice to see Adam Driver and Scarlett Johansson in something without intergalactic conflict.
Noah Baumbach's made so many great films.
This is his first masterpiece (I never saw The Squid and the Whale).
Even when it slips up it just seems like it's his youthful innocence shining through, like an historical trope, like he hasn't forgotten a randier style, here transformed into something more aged, the present and the past blended like well crafted gritty red wine, that's been maturing for fruitful decades, and's finally ready for bold presentation.
Wish I'd seen it in theatres.
Netflix can no longer be denied (by me).
Tuesday, December 31, 2019
The Irishman
Great to see another fascinating Scorsese film, it takes you back to another time that cinema clearly hasn't forgotten, he's still got it, the skills that led him to success with Mean Streets 46 years ago, and has even improved on films like Casino (24 years ago), The Irishman's like a time warp folding 5 remarkable filmmaking decades into one, it would have been shocking to see something this good released by Scorsese in 2019 if I had ever thought he'd lost a step, or stopped givin' 'er with exacting intensity, damned impressive, hopefully for many more decades to come.
The same can be said for Steven Spielberg who continues to impress like he did in the '70s.
I can't believe it's almost been 20 years since Y2K.
It's amazing how much things have changed in the last 20 years, how practically everything has moved online, even in the country, how a device that fits in my pocket functions as walkman (with access to every album in the Apple Music catalogue), flashlight, alarm clock, I'm writing about how much I love my cellphone again, mailbox, newsstand (with newspapers from around the world), internet service provider (I access the web more on my phone now than I do on my computer), calendar, camera, health promoter, wallet, weather network, world map repository (you don't even need to know where you're going anymore), music studio, translator, calculator, compass, stock market ticker, and phone, it's strange when you watch older films or new films set in the past and characters aren't casually checking their cellphones from time to time, even if I certainly spend too much time on my cell, although I rarely do if I'm on vacation.
Working vacation.
The net may even solve housing crises in cities if rural environments can offer steady internet access and people can then move there and work online from home.
The technology's already available in some locations but it's very expensive.
Mindboggling how much things have changed.
Not all for the good of course, what used to seem like deranged lunacy regularly pops up in the public sphere these days, passing itself off as rational discourse, and sensation's lost its edge as the quotidian embraces incredible daily scandal, politics used to at least seem much more responsible, as if the greater good didn't only apply to an elite few.
There used to be more of a humanitarian edge in the public sphere, a much stronger willingness to promote peaceful harmonies, which aren't as naive as provocateurs make them sound, even in Canada someone as loveable as Justin Trudeau is under constant attack, he has made mistakes, but still promotes compassion and understanding likes it's 1967.
Perhaps the next 20 years will see a shift away from petroleum based products as the producers find new ways to profit off biodegradable alternatives, and the world will embrace peace without ever having gone to war as world leaders come to redefine hope and optimism.
It's clear that that's what we need to do.
Doesn't it make more sense than drilling in the Arctic?
There has to be a will to keep people working without laying waste to the environment.
Thankfully they have such a will in Québec.
And elsewhere around the world, I imagine.
The same can be said for Steven Spielberg who continues to impress like he did in the '70s.
I can't believe it's almost been 20 years since Y2K.
It's amazing how much things have changed in the last 20 years, how practically everything has moved online, even in the country, how a device that fits in my pocket functions as walkman (with access to every album in the Apple Music catalogue), flashlight, alarm clock, I'm writing about how much I love my cellphone again, mailbox, newsstand (with newspapers from around the world), internet service provider (I access the web more on my phone now than I do on my computer), calendar, camera, health promoter, wallet, weather network, world map repository (you don't even need to know where you're going anymore), music studio, translator, calculator, compass, stock market ticker, and phone, it's strange when you watch older films or new films set in the past and characters aren't casually checking their cellphones from time to time, even if I certainly spend too much time on my cell, although I rarely do if I'm on vacation.
Working vacation.
The net may even solve housing crises in cities if rural environments can offer steady internet access and people can then move there and work online from home.
The technology's already available in some locations but it's very expensive.
Mindboggling how much things have changed.
Not all for the good of course, what used to seem like deranged lunacy regularly pops up in the public sphere these days, passing itself off as rational discourse, and sensation's lost its edge as the quotidian embraces incredible daily scandal, politics used to at least seem much more responsible, as if the greater good didn't only apply to an elite few.
There used to be more of a humanitarian edge in the public sphere, a much stronger willingness to promote peaceful harmonies, which aren't as naive as provocateurs make them sound, even in Canada someone as loveable as Justin Trudeau is under constant attack, he has made mistakes, but still promotes compassion and understanding likes it's 1967.
Perhaps the next 20 years will see a shift away from petroleum based products as the producers find new ways to profit off biodegradable alternatives, and the world will embrace peace without ever having gone to war as world leaders come to redefine hope and optimism.
It's clear that that's what we need to do.
Doesn't it make more sense than drilling in the Arctic?
There has to be a will to keep people working without laying waste to the environment.
Thankfully they have such a will in Québec.
And elsewhere around the world, I imagine.
Friday, December 27, 2019
Star Wars: Episode IX - The Rise of Skywalker
Rian Johnson's The Last Jedi has become my third favourite Star Wars film, behind A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back, but far ahead of all the others, except Return of the Jedi.
I've watched it several times now and it doesn't get old, in fact it gets better every time I view it, and it's wonderful to once again have a Star Wars film to look forward to watching, again and again and again.
And again.
I still watch episodes I-III again when I see them on television, but with less enthusiasm. However, I've come to prefer them to episodes VII and IX for the following risk-fuelled reasons.
It's not that episodes VII and IX are particularly bad, or lack entertainment value, but they're so heavily reminiscent of episodes IV through VI, that they lack the imaginative characteristics of Luca's bold second trilogy.
Take Episode IX, where Emperor Palpatine (Ian McDiarmid) reemerges.
Could they not have thought of another villain to fill the gap left by Snoke, one who perhaps hadn't met his electric end so many decades ago?
Or made Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) all the more wicked?
An elaborate explanation as to how he comes back to life isn't even provided, we're just supposed to accept that he was so powerful he was able to return from death, and build a massive fleet of star destroyers with planet annihilating capabilities.
Is this a Star Wars film or low budget television?
People may be calling this period of time the post-explanatory age, or the post-Truth age or what have you, but does that mean film narratives with the highest budgets imaginable aren't even going to provide explanations for their controversial plot developments anymore, and fans are just supposed to accept them without thought or thinking?
There's more continuity between episodes I through VI as well, they flow more harmoniously together.
Episode IX may be entertaining, but it doesn't flow well with Episode VIII. At the end of The Last Jedi, for instance, the entire rebel complement can fit on the Millennium Falcon, but their numbers don't seem to have been drastically reduced in Episode IX, or at least it proceeds as if everything's fine. Rose Tico (Kelly Marie Tran) adds so much to The Last Jedi and I thought earned a place at the forefront of subsequent narratives, but she's largely forgotten in The Rise of Skywalker, like Katherine Brewster in Terminator Salvation. As are the children on planet Cantonica. And the notorious codebreaker DJ.
It's like J.J. Abrams took the criticisms of The Last Jedi, which sees new strong female characters with prominent roles and critiques the manufacture of weapons and the eating of meat, and wanted to make a clean break with it in The Rise of Skywalker (note how Rey soothes the pain of a giant snake within), and the result's more like separate films than a trilogy, George Lucas had much more resolve.
Episodes I-III may be cheesy and some scenes are difficult to watch again and again, but their narratives are still highly complex and the result of in-depth brave storytelling.
They provide reasons for what takes place for instance.
They smoothly flow from one to another.
And Lucas significantly expanded upon the world he created within A New Hope, adding multiple layers of legendary depth, councils and federations and clones and mysticism, the films may have been melodramatic, but they weren't derivative or one-dimensional.
Lucas took brave risks when he created Episodes I-III and didn't back down when faced with bitter criticism.
He ironically didn't rely on what had come before because he was spending too much time creating it.
Episodes VII and IX may be entertaining, but I don't want to watch them again so much, because they aren't complicated or controversial, they're much too free and easy.
Episode IX is jam-packed with action for instance, it rarely slows down unless Rey (Daisy Ridley) is searching for something, but several of the scenes unreel far too quickly, notably the demise of General Hux (Domhnall Gleeson), a ginger, and Kylo Ren's torture of a disagreeable bureaucrat. Lucas had a much better sense of timing and pacing and his films were edited with much more care.
The Last Jedi was too.
Take the moments when Rey and Kylo Ren are being inspected by Snoke, Finn (John Boyega) and Rose are about to be executed, and the Rebel transports are being picked off one by one.
The editing for these three parts of the narrative is exceptionally well done, and keeps you hanging on the edge of your seat as you eagerly await what's going to happen next, and the film doesn't lose sight of the three components of its narrative, and keeps interweaving them with compelling precision.
The Rise of Skywalker loses sight of Finn trying to destroy the super star destroyer for far too long during its exciting climax.
It leaves it hanging as if fans aren't concerned.
While Rey battles the Emperor, who is also her grandfather, come on!, and Lando (Billy Dee Williams) predictably shows up with reinforcements.
One of the coolest aspects of Episodes I-III is that they pointed out how there's no such thing as Jedi blood, how Jedi are born throughout the galaxy at random and if discovered have the opportunity to develop their skills to avoid the risks of becoming obscurii.
It's an aspect this trilogy overlooks, except for the fact that Luke had students besides Kylo Ren who disappear after their cataclysmic falling out.
The Jedi can't end.
There will always be individuals capable of skilfully using the Force.
The Jedi Order may come to an end after which future Jedi may call themselves something different, but they will still technically be Jedi if they don't become Sith, even if they have to train themselves.
You wait 32 years for The Force Awakens with the hopes of seeing more Luke Skywalker and then he doesn't show up till the end, and he's abandoned the rebellion and is living alone on a remote island, on a planet that can't be found.
And Han Solo dies.
Disappointing to say the least.
The relationship between Kylo Ren and Rey is well-developed in the new trilogy and I really like Finn's character, but Episodes VII and IX just seem like they're more concerned with not slipping up than trying to create something new.
It's like they're so worried about not making a bad film that they forgot to make good ones.
Too much "supposed to", not enough, "totally".
Which is what Episodes I-III, with all their issues, tried to do.
It's a shame the latest trilogy completely ignored them (they're ceremoniously discredited in The Force Awakens).
Plus, Episode IX sees gay actor Richard E. Grant take the stage as General Pryde, and he's in charge of the new planet destroying star destroyer fleet.
I didn't think a new Star Wars film would be homophobic.
But there you have it.
Two lesbians kissing for a split-second near the end doesn't make up for this.
Finn should have ended up with Rose too, but instead it looks like he'll hook up with a fellow African American (Naomie Ackie as Jannah).
A New Hope, The Empire Strikes Back, and Return of the Jedi all had different directors, but they were also consistent and flowed well together.
Totally loved The Last Jedi.
The Rise of Skywalker could have been so much more.
I've watched it several times now and it doesn't get old, in fact it gets better every time I view it, and it's wonderful to once again have a Star Wars film to look forward to watching, again and again and again.
And again.
I still watch episodes I-III again when I see them on television, but with less enthusiasm. However, I've come to prefer them to episodes VII and IX for the following risk-fuelled reasons.
It's not that episodes VII and IX are particularly bad, or lack entertainment value, but they're so heavily reminiscent of episodes IV through VI, that they lack the imaginative characteristics of Luca's bold second trilogy.
Take Episode IX, where Emperor Palpatine (Ian McDiarmid) reemerges.
Could they not have thought of another villain to fill the gap left by Snoke, one who perhaps hadn't met his electric end so many decades ago?
Or made Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) all the more wicked?
An elaborate explanation as to how he comes back to life isn't even provided, we're just supposed to accept that he was so powerful he was able to return from death, and build a massive fleet of star destroyers with planet annihilating capabilities.
Is this a Star Wars film or low budget television?
People may be calling this period of time the post-explanatory age, or the post-Truth age or what have you, but does that mean film narratives with the highest budgets imaginable aren't even going to provide explanations for their controversial plot developments anymore, and fans are just supposed to accept them without thought or thinking?
There's more continuity between episodes I through VI as well, they flow more harmoniously together.
Episode IX may be entertaining, but it doesn't flow well with Episode VIII. At the end of The Last Jedi, for instance, the entire rebel complement can fit on the Millennium Falcon, but their numbers don't seem to have been drastically reduced in Episode IX, or at least it proceeds as if everything's fine. Rose Tico (Kelly Marie Tran) adds so much to The Last Jedi and I thought earned a place at the forefront of subsequent narratives, but she's largely forgotten in The Rise of Skywalker, like Katherine Brewster in Terminator Salvation. As are the children on planet Cantonica. And the notorious codebreaker DJ.
It's like J.J. Abrams took the criticisms of The Last Jedi, which sees new strong female characters with prominent roles and critiques the manufacture of weapons and the eating of meat, and wanted to make a clean break with it in The Rise of Skywalker (note how Rey soothes the pain of a giant snake within), and the result's more like separate films than a trilogy, George Lucas had much more resolve.
Episodes I-III may be cheesy and some scenes are difficult to watch again and again, but their narratives are still highly complex and the result of in-depth brave storytelling.
They provide reasons for what takes place for instance.
They smoothly flow from one to another.
And Lucas significantly expanded upon the world he created within A New Hope, adding multiple layers of legendary depth, councils and federations and clones and mysticism, the films may have been melodramatic, but they weren't derivative or one-dimensional.
Lucas took brave risks when he created Episodes I-III and didn't back down when faced with bitter criticism.
He ironically didn't rely on what had come before because he was spending too much time creating it.
Episodes VII and IX may be entertaining, but I don't want to watch them again so much, because they aren't complicated or controversial, they're much too free and easy.
Episode IX is jam-packed with action for instance, it rarely slows down unless Rey (Daisy Ridley) is searching for something, but several of the scenes unreel far too quickly, notably the demise of General Hux (Domhnall Gleeson), a ginger, and Kylo Ren's torture of a disagreeable bureaucrat. Lucas had a much better sense of timing and pacing and his films were edited with much more care.
The Last Jedi was too.
Take the moments when Rey and Kylo Ren are being inspected by Snoke, Finn (John Boyega) and Rose are about to be executed, and the Rebel transports are being picked off one by one.
The editing for these three parts of the narrative is exceptionally well done, and keeps you hanging on the edge of your seat as you eagerly await what's going to happen next, and the film doesn't lose sight of the three components of its narrative, and keeps interweaving them with compelling precision.
The Rise of Skywalker loses sight of Finn trying to destroy the super star destroyer for far too long during its exciting climax.
It leaves it hanging as if fans aren't concerned.
While Rey battles the Emperor, who is also her grandfather, come on!, and Lando (Billy Dee Williams) predictably shows up with reinforcements.
One of the coolest aspects of Episodes I-III is that they pointed out how there's no such thing as Jedi blood, how Jedi are born throughout the galaxy at random and if discovered have the opportunity to develop their skills to avoid the risks of becoming obscurii.
It's an aspect this trilogy overlooks, except for the fact that Luke had students besides Kylo Ren who disappear after their cataclysmic falling out.
The Jedi can't end.
There will always be individuals capable of skilfully using the Force.
The Jedi Order may come to an end after which future Jedi may call themselves something different, but they will still technically be Jedi if they don't become Sith, even if they have to train themselves.
You wait 32 years for The Force Awakens with the hopes of seeing more Luke Skywalker and then he doesn't show up till the end, and he's abandoned the rebellion and is living alone on a remote island, on a planet that can't be found.
And Han Solo dies.
Disappointing to say the least.
The relationship between Kylo Ren and Rey is well-developed in the new trilogy and I really like Finn's character, but Episodes VII and IX just seem like they're more concerned with not slipping up than trying to create something new.
It's like they're so worried about not making a bad film that they forgot to make good ones.
Too much "supposed to", not enough, "totally".
Which is what Episodes I-III, with all their issues, tried to do.
It's a shame the latest trilogy completely ignored them (they're ceremoniously discredited in The Force Awakens).
Plus, Episode IX sees gay actor Richard E. Grant take the stage as General Pryde, and he's in charge of the new planet destroying star destroyer fleet.
I didn't think a new Star Wars film would be homophobic.
But there you have it.
Two lesbians kissing for a split-second near the end doesn't make up for this.
Finn should have ended up with Rose too, but instead it looks like he'll hook up with a fellow African American (Naomie Ackie as Jannah).
A New Hope, The Empire Strikes Back, and Return of the Jedi all had different directors, but they were also consistent and flowed well together.
Totally loved The Last Jedi.
The Rise of Skywalker could have been so much more.
Tuesday, December 24, 2019
Last Christmas
Carefree actions solipsistically proceed provoking criticism from friends and family, as an angelic ingenue can't adapt to grown up surroundings, yet still seeks age old immersions, repercussions notwithstanding.
Plus a place to crash for a while.
She could be doing well if she focused a bit more intently, but she's mastered everything at work (not me, Emilia Clarke as Kate), and doesn't realize she's full-on bored.
The dating scene provides nightly distractions replete with unpredictable highs and lows, but everyone she knows is pairing off, and don't have time for young adult shenanigans.
Yet as she flounders and misperceives a kindhearted beau comes a sweetly calling, appearing at opportune times, looking for more than just random repartee (Henry Golding as Tom).
He's nice so he's initially ignored but that doesn't mean he's not making a good impression, something reliable like grandma's home cookin', the Parc 80 bus, Cinéma du Parc, or Parc Jeanne-Mance.
Yet even as things start to seem perfect, and realignments lead to deep rapprochements, something bewilders anon beyond expression, with otherworldly immaterial spirit.
Could it be that the stars have aligned and Kate's begun to accept motivational absurdities, work fuelling her bright recrudescence, with biodegradable salubrious levity?
That she's rediscovered longlasting momentum?
Just in time for Christmas?
I can't say for certain, although Last Christmas is a very cool Christmas film, reimagining traditional themes with endearing revelation, stratified with delectable felicity.
Evaluating a Christmas film according to less festive criteria, misses the supernatural sentiment, inasmuch as it's something different from standard verbose ephemera, that's enthused with yuletide counterpoint.
The supernatural elements in Christmas films arise from less contemporary ingenious distillations, elements that can still dazzle and innocently sway, if they aren't considered realistically verifiable.
If you take a vibrant culture aligned with realistic endeavours and wipe out all its predilections for fantasy, you risk the same errors a theocracy generates as it uniformly glorifies legendary impossibility.
The Holiday Season adds a bit of harmless realistic fantasy to a world that's often obsessed with logic, and it's not that logic's a bad thing, but without fantastic distractions it can breed depression.
There's a book there.
Last Christmas blends reality and fantasy with charming even hardboiled engagement, introducing multiple relatable realities, enlivened through tangible spirit.
It's not hard to let loose and enjoy traditions that may indeed seem somewhat absurd.
Is it better to always laud materialism?
There's too much coincidence to suggest that's all there is.
Even if it's foolhardy to try to classify it.
Happy Holidays everyone, whatever you celebrate this time of year!
I hope you're enjoying time with friends and family.
Chillin' a bit with elastic cheer.
Plus a place to crash for a while.
She could be doing well if she focused a bit more intently, but she's mastered everything at work (not me, Emilia Clarke as Kate), and doesn't realize she's full-on bored.
The dating scene provides nightly distractions replete with unpredictable highs and lows, but everyone she knows is pairing off, and don't have time for young adult shenanigans.
Yet as she flounders and misperceives a kindhearted beau comes a sweetly calling, appearing at opportune times, looking for more than just random repartee (Henry Golding as Tom).
He's nice so he's initially ignored but that doesn't mean he's not making a good impression, something reliable like grandma's home cookin', the Parc 80 bus, Cinéma du Parc, or Parc Jeanne-Mance.
Yet even as things start to seem perfect, and realignments lead to deep rapprochements, something bewilders anon beyond expression, with otherworldly immaterial spirit.
Could it be that the stars have aligned and Kate's begun to accept motivational absurdities, work fuelling her bright recrudescence, with biodegradable salubrious levity?
That she's rediscovered longlasting momentum?
Just in time for Christmas?
I can't say for certain, although Last Christmas is a very cool Christmas film, reimagining traditional themes with endearing revelation, stratified with delectable felicity.
Evaluating a Christmas film according to less festive criteria, misses the supernatural sentiment, inasmuch as it's something different from standard verbose ephemera, that's enthused with yuletide counterpoint.
The supernatural elements in Christmas films arise from less contemporary ingenious distillations, elements that can still dazzle and innocently sway, if they aren't considered realistically verifiable.
If you take a vibrant culture aligned with realistic endeavours and wipe out all its predilections for fantasy, you risk the same errors a theocracy generates as it uniformly glorifies legendary impossibility.
The Holiday Season adds a bit of harmless realistic fantasy to a world that's often obsessed with logic, and it's not that logic's a bad thing, but without fantastic distractions it can breed depression.
There's a book there.
Last Christmas blends reality and fantasy with charming even hardboiled engagement, introducing multiple relatable realities, enlivened through tangible spirit.
It's not hard to let loose and enjoy traditions that may indeed seem somewhat absurd.
Is it better to always laud materialism?
There's too much coincidence to suggest that's all there is.
Even if it's foolhardy to try to classify it.
Happy Holidays everyone, whatever you celebrate this time of year!
I hope you're enjoying time with friends and family.
Chillin' a bit with elastic cheer.
Friday, December 20, 2019
Great Bear Rainforest
British Columbia's ancient coastal biodiversity, realm of the Great Bear Rainforest, home to wondrous species and the humans who study them, overflowing with composite symbiotic life, a treasure trove of enchanting dense resiliency, where the freshwater of B.C.'s interior blends with oceanic rhythms.
Incredibly.
A very rare type of temperate rainforest found in few locations around the globe, it nourishes unique lifeforms, its currents spiritual fuel.
Not this blog peeps, the forest, I'm writing about the Great Bear Rainforest here, I don't see why I have to explain this, again, but some people just don't get it.
Although this blog does have its charms.
Ian McAllister's Great Bear Rainforest highlights significant features of its bounteous titular domain.
The graceful sea otter, who has flourished since being extirpated from the region, insatiable fashionable greed voraciously hunting it to extinction, its reintroduction coinciding with less rapacious commercial stratagems, as if people suddenly realized they're ever so cute, and left them alone to flourish in wonder.
The majestic humpback whale, who returns every year to dine on herring, its numbers also bouncing back from voracious hunting, although ever so slowly due to low reproductive rates.
Slippery seals, accustomed to gliding through enriching submerged jurisdictions, as focused as they are elastic, in search of scaling symphonic synergies.
Grizzly, black, and spirit bears, the latter in fact a subspecies of the black bear, disharmoniously cohabitating at times, yet still sharing good fortune as they see fit.
I was hoping to see what animals benefit from the ways in which bears alter their landscapes as they dig for food, detecting this and that with their great sense of smell, depending on what nature's currently providing, as they cover vast distances à la carte.
Another time perhaps.
It's cool to see the healthy relationships local First Nations people still cultivate with their environment within, going on 14,000 years, why is sustainable harvesting such a difficult concept to grasp?, fish sustainably and keep fishing forever, overfish, and the resource disappears.
Great Bear Rainforest emphasizes that salmon leaping up waterfalls is the equivalent of humans jumping over four-story buildings (narration by Ryan Reynolds), and then proceeds to share some of the best shots of salmon jumping I've seen.
Bears perched to catch them.
Cinematography by Andy Maser, Ian McAllister, Jeff Turner, and Darren West.
It's a cool introduction to B.C.'s Great Bear Rainforest that depicts nature overflowing with life.
Along with the occasional hardships.
And the robust dynamics of adorable bear families.
Incredibly.
A very rare type of temperate rainforest found in few locations around the globe, it nourishes unique lifeforms, its currents spiritual fuel.
Not this blog peeps, the forest, I'm writing about the Great Bear Rainforest here, I don't see why I have to explain this, again, but some people just don't get it.
Although this blog does have its charms.
Ian McAllister's Great Bear Rainforest highlights significant features of its bounteous titular domain.
The graceful sea otter, who has flourished since being extirpated from the region, insatiable fashionable greed voraciously hunting it to extinction, its reintroduction coinciding with less rapacious commercial stratagems, as if people suddenly realized they're ever so cute, and left them alone to flourish in wonder.
The majestic humpback whale, who returns every year to dine on herring, its numbers also bouncing back from voracious hunting, although ever so slowly due to low reproductive rates.
Slippery seals, accustomed to gliding through enriching submerged jurisdictions, as focused as they are elastic, in search of scaling symphonic synergies.
Grizzly, black, and spirit bears, the latter in fact a subspecies of the black bear, disharmoniously cohabitating at times, yet still sharing good fortune as they see fit.
I was hoping to see what animals benefit from the ways in which bears alter their landscapes as they dig for food, detecting this and that with their great sense of smell, depending on what nature's currently providing, as they cover vast distances à la carte.
Another time perhaps.
It's cool to see the healthy relationships local First Nations people still cultivate with their environment within, going on 14,000 years, why is sustainable harvesting such a difficult concept to grasp?, fish sustainably and keep fishing forever, overfish, and the resource disappears.
Great Bear Rainforest emphasizes that salmon leaping up waterfalls is the equivalent of humans jumping over four-story buildings (narration by Ryan Reynolds), and then proceeds to share some of the best shots of salmon jumping I've seen.
Bears perched to catch them.
Cinematography by Andy Maser, Ian McAllister, Jeff Turner, and Darren West.
It's a cool introduction to B.C.'s Great Bear Rainforest that depicts nature overflowing with life.
Along with the occasional hardships.
And the robust dynamics of adorable bear families.
Wednesday, December 18, 2019
Reversal of Fortune
Snap judgments based upon agitated reckonings lead to pejorative sensationalized repute in Barbet Schroeder's Reversal of Fortune.
How to make someone appear guilty without making it look like you're attempting to make someone appear guilty, if they are in fact not guilty?
If they are in fact not guilty, how do you convincingly make it look like someone has attempted to make them look guilty without looking as if they were attempting to make them look guilty, before cold judicial verdicts descend?
It's basic Columbo, the televisual and cinematic world worse off without a regular dose of Columbo, and its freewheeling composed articulate dishevelled discourse, perhaps channeled by Professor Alan Dershowitz (Ron Silver) and his team in this inclusion, which asks if maligned bourgeois sentiment has predetermined an aesthete's obituary?
It's certainly quite the team.
It's incredible how many people can come together to defend or prosecute, many of them working pro bono, out of devoted respect for the law.
Engrained malfeasance.
People in positions of power exploit that power since no one holds them to account, but then someone does, it seems obvious that they're guilty, and justice adjudicates, condemning the reckless individual.
But it's still quite the task, the required reading voluminously dissonant, to transform every link into a succinct gripping narrative no small feat albeit thrilling for a motivated legal team, in possession of the facts, and interpretive plausibility, expert testimony, meticulous mechanics, it must be like playing a stable integral role in a constantly shifting production, not improvised, still rehearsed, but unaware of specific counterarguments, the speculation part of the fun, bold jurisprudent research and development.
Reversal of Fortune takes place in such a frame as Claus von Bulow (Jeremy Irons) seeks legal counsel, he's been convicted once already, and his lawyer's none too sympathetic.
He takes the case though, assembles his team, and finds evidence which contradicts his assumptions.
Upon appeal, another round of judicial observation considers the alternative facts, and the second reading makes Claus seem as innocent as he was once thought definitively guilty, differing detailed composite accounts, instructive rhetorical consommé.
People observe thousands of minute details distilled into an accessible format that leads them to make claims which back up narrative threads.
Hoping there isn't some technical distortion.
While theatrically duelling in shades.
How to make someone appear guilty without making it look like you're attempting to make someone appear guilty, if they are in fact not guilty?
If they are in fact not guilty, how do you convincingly make it look like someone has attempted to make them look guilty without looking as if they were attempting to make them look guilty, before cold judicial verdicts descend?
It's basic Columbo, the televisual and cinematic world worse off without a regular dose of Columbo, and its freewheeling composed articulate dishevelled discourse, perhaps channeled by Professor Alan Dershowitz (Ron Silver) and his team in this inclusion, which asks if maligned bourgeois sentiment has predetermined an aesthete's obituary?
It's certainly quite the team.
It's incredible how many people can come together to defend or prosecute, many of them working pro bono, out of devoted respect for the law.
Engrained malfeasance.
People in positions of power exploit that power since no one holds them to account, but then someone does, it seems obvious that they're guilty, and justice adjudicates, condemning the reckless individual.
But it's still quite the task, the required reading voluminously dissonant, to transform every link into a succinct gripping narrative no small feat albeit thrilling for a motivated legal team, in possession of the facts, and interpretive plausibility, expert testimony, meticulous mechanics, it must be like playing a stable integral role in a constantly shifting production, not improvised, still rehearsed, but unaware of specific counterarguments, the speculation part of the fun, bold jurisprudent research and development.
Reversal of Fortune takes place in such a frame as Claus von Bulow (Jeremy Irons) seeks legal counsel, he's been convicted once already, and his lawyer's none too sympathetic.
He takes the case though, assembles his team, and finds evidence which contradicts his assumptions.
Upon appeal, another round of judicial observation considers the alternative facts, and the second reading makes Claus seem as innocent as he was once thought definitively guilty, differing detailed composite accounts, instructive rhetorical consommé.
People observe thousands of minute details distilled into an accessible format that leads them to make claims which back up narrative threads.
Hoping there isn't some technical distortion.
While theatrically duelling in shades.
Tuesday, December 17, 2019
Waves
As much as you may want to debate it, it's her choice, her decision.
Not an easy decision to make if you haven't prepared for it, and support is key to easing the pressure if uncertainty's fogging things up.
There's no easy way to discuss these things, if you don't like discussing them, but if you are sexually active you should be prepared for the possibility of childbirth, and there are steps you can take to make sure pregnancy's highly unlikely, if you're not ready to have a child and are hoping to finish school or get a promotion, beforehand.
I'd use condoms even if my partner was on the pill to ensure a double line of defence, until such a time as we were both ready to child rear; it's probably the most serious responsibility there is.
But if I didn't want to have a child and she did, I would respect her decision. If she asked for my counsel, I would present my arguments, but it's her decision in the end, either way, and certainly not mine. Upon hearing her decision, I would do my best to prepare for fatherhood (nothing can prepare you for it) should she have chosen to have the child, and accept my nascent responsibilities. You may find as you grow older that you like having the little ones around. I certainly didn't way back when, as I was studying and working while travelling.
It's important to respect her decision.
That's the price for all the carefree fun.
Sincerest woe descends in Trey Edward Shults's Waves after confrontation leads to animosity, as two high school seniors discuss unplanned parenthood and can't come close to seeing eye to eye.
Opioid addiction clouds Tyler Williams's (Kelvin Harrison Jr.) judgment as he struggles to comprehend, an unfortunate injury jeopardizing his wrestling career too, he can't deal, even as people try to help him.
The film's quite well done, with the best cinematography I've seen in a while (Drew Daniels), the camerawork delicately louring you in to its breezy narrative flow, the current heaving as it helplessly adjusts to wayward distraught cataclysm, so felicitous early on, heartfelt ebb and flow.
Waves.
It spends one act presenting a golden road that's fraught with peril and distraction, the other romanticizing first love as a family comes to terms with its grief.
The father's (Sterling K. Brown as Ronald Williams) a good provider but also super, "this is my house!", which frustrates his teenage son who's constantly under his watchful eye.
It's a shame it takes extreme hardship for him to learn to apply the messages he absorbs without thinking, habitually.
But as he lets go of himself and stops trying to control things, as he waits for solutions to be organically presented instead of trying to generate them through authority, his family begins to heal through logical/emotional balance, and he starts to listen to what others have to say instead of just telling them what to do.
Family isn't the army or work.
I've always thought family was a safe haven beyond strict codes of conduct.
Where you learn responsibility at play.
Without having to worry about being fired.
Brought to light at special times of the year.
Sweet lattes.
Eggnog shakes.
Not an easy decision to make if you haven't prepared for it, and support is key to easing the pressure if uncertainty's fogging things up.
There's no easy way to discuss these things, if you don't like discussing them, but if you are sexually active you should be prepared for the possibility of childbirth, and there are steps you can take to make sure pregnancy's highly unlikely, if you're not ready to have a child and are hoping to finish school or get a promotion, beforehand.
I'd use condoms even if my partner was on the pill to ensure a double line of defence, until such a time as we were both ready to child rear; it's probably the most serious responsibility there is.
But if I didn't want to have a child and she did, I would respect her decision. If she asked for my counsel, I would present my arguments, but it's her decision in the end, either way, and certainly not mine. Upon hearing her decision, I would do my best to prepare for fatherhood (nothing can prepare you for it) should she have chosen to have the child, and accept my nascent responsibilities. You may find as you grow older that you like having the little ones around. I certainly didn't way back when, as I was studying and working while travelling.
It's important to respect her decision.
That's the price for all the carefree fun.
Sincerest woe descends in Trey Edward Shults's Waves after confrontation leads to animosity, as two high school seniors discuss unplanned parenthood and can't come close to seeing eye to eye.
Opioid addiction clouds Tyler Williams's (Kelvin Harrison Jr.) judgment as he struggles to comprehend, an unfortunate injury jeopardizing his wrestling career too, he can't deal, even as people try to help him.
The film's quite well done, with the best cinematography I've seen in a while (Drew Daniels), the camerawork delicately louring you in to its breezy narrative flow, the current heaving as it helplessly adjusts to wayward distraught cataclysm, so felicitous early on, heartfelt ebb and flow.
Waves.
It spends one act presenting a golden road that's fraught with peril and distraction, the other romanticizing first love as a family comes to terms with its grief.
The father's (Sterling K. Brown as Ronald Williams) a good provider but also super, "this is my house!", which frustrates his teenage son who's constantly under his watchful eye.
It's a shame it takes extreme hardship for him to learn to apply the messages he absorbs without thinking, habitually.
But as he lets go of himself and stops trying to control things, as he waits for solutions to be organically presented instead of trying to generate them through authority, his family begins to heal through logical/emotional balance, and he starts to listen to what others have to say instead of just telling them what to do.
Family isn't the army or work.
I've always thought family was a safe haven beyond strict codes of conduct.
Where you learn responsibility at play.
Without having to worry about being fired.
Brought to light at special times of the year.
Sweet lattes.
Eggnog shakes.
Friday, December 13, 2019
Dark Waters
It seems to me like if you're generating a billion dollars in profit every year just from one product in your vast catalogue, and you don't pay your workforce that much comparatively, as they loyally manifest that revenue, and you know that product is making them sick because you've done the research and it's raised multiple red flags, you should tell them they'll likely become seriously ill if they work for you, so they know what they're signing up for, and pay for their medical bills if they eventually do breakdown as well.
A scant fraction of the profits.
It seems to me like if you know the product you're creating is an environmental disaster that doesn't decompose and will make anything that encounters it seriously ill, possibly forever, that you should take steps to dispose of it properly (a scant fraction of the profits), if that's even possible, or perhaps abandon your plans to market it to the public entirely.
Lifeforms who became extinct prior to our experimentations with fossil fuels could at least blame environmental factors for their disappearance, post-existence.
They didn't or don't have to say, well, we knew we were creating lethal substances that were making people who used them sick, and that they wouldn't breakdown in the environment, ever, but we kept making them anyways because we were raking it in, and were highly unlikely to ever suffer from the ground level consequences ourselves.
Could you imagine we went out not because a meteor struck or a virulent plague emerged, but because we wanted to use frying pans that nothing stuck to and eat cheap food at fast food restaurants?
If there is an afterlife for extinct species we'd be a laughing stock for all eternity.
If we're to become extinct some day, let it happen another way.
The current path that we're on's so shortsighted.
Even though the available research is 20/20.
If you think the companies responsible for creating this mess are unstoppable, your thoughts are by no means misguided, but take note that they can indeed be held to account, and be made to address their actions.
As Todd Haynes's Dark Waters demonstrates.
The film presents dedicated lawyer Robert Bilott (Mark Ruffalo) and his fight against DuPont, who knowingly poisoned their Parkersburg West Virginia workforce and environment, for decades, and were none too pleased when they were taken to court.
Bilott took them to court though and didn't let up even as things became more and more challenging.
He sacrificed a lot to stand up for people's rights and kept on 'till he won a settlement that cultivated fertile grassroots.
His family stood by him throughout and dealt with the despondent gloom, unyielding support and commitment, intense cohesive telemetry.
Dark Waters isn't about ideologically or politically motivated avengers, it's about a god-fearing straight edge family who took plutocrats to court to help a struggling farmer (Bill Camp as Wilbur Tennant).
It calls into question categorial delineations.
While harvesting democratic crops.
Beyond popularity.
More films like this please.
A scant fraction of the profits.
It seems to me like if you know the product you're creating is an environmental disaster that doesn't decompose and will make anything that encounters it seriously ill, possibly forever, that you should take steps to dispose of it properly (a scant fraction of the profits), if that's even possible, or perhaps abandon your plans to market it to the public entirely.
Lifeforms who became extinct prior to our experimentations with fossil fuels could at least blame environmental factors for their disappearance, post-existence.
They didn't or don't have to say, well, we knew we were creating lethal substances that were making people who used them sick, and that they wouldn't breakdown in the environment, ever, but we kept making them anyways because we were raking it in, and were highly unlikely to ever suffer from the ground level consequences ourselves.
Could you imagine we went out not because a meteor struck or a virulent plague emerged, but because we wanted to use frying pans that nothing stuck to and eat cheap food at fast food restaurants?
If there is an afterlife for extinct species we'd be a laughing stock for all eternity.
If we're to become extinct some day, let it happen another way.
The current path that we're on's so shortsighted.
Even though the available research is 20/20.
If you think the companies responsible for creating this mess are unstoppable, your thoughts are by no means misguided, but take note that they can indeed be held to account, and be made to address their actions.
As Todd Haynes's Dark Waters demonstrates.
The film presents dedicated lawyer Robert Bilott (Mark Ruffalo) and his fight against DuPont, who knowingly poisoned their Parkersburg West Virginia workforce and environment, for decades, and were none too pleased when they were taken to court.
Bilott took them to court though and didn't let up even as things became more and more challenging.
He sacrificed a lot to stand up for people's rights and kept on 'till he won a settlement that cultivated fertile grassroots.
His family stood by him throughout and dealt with the despondent gloom, unyielding support and commitment, intense cohesive telemetry.
Dark Waters isn't about ideologically or politically motivated avengers, it's about a god-fearing straight edge family who took plutocrats to court to help a struggling farmer (Bill Camp as Wilbur Tennant).
It calls into question categorial delineations.
While harvesting democratic crops.
Beyond popularity.
More films like this please.
Wednesday, December 11, 2019
Frozen II
The difficulties of mastering flawless positive speech that outmanoeuvres misinterpretation, finds itself humorously depicted in Frozen II, as an enamoured lad seeks conjugal union, and a mysterious voice beckons far away.
It can be a delicate art requiring stealth and foresight, the rewards of which may be as enduring as the punishments severe.
Best to accustom today's youth with non-threatening exemplars of the phenomenon, to instruct them in courtship ritual without disparaging l'amour.
Preparation can no doubt come in handy but the challenge thinks for itself and analyzes, while in sport there's often subsequent opportunities that are much more grave and emotionless.
Fortunately, as time passes, and expectations lower through habitual frustration, disbelief may transform into cheek, which can be more pleasant in conversation.
Nevertheless, the pleasant and playful nature of the cheek can cut deep if lines are crossed, and discovering the character of such lines can be baffling, if you proceed in sarcastic error.
Blunt hopelessness can also generate fervour thanks to the preponderance of alluring sitcoms, but your inner caveperson can't be too savage if it's to feast 'pon nimble nuptials, not that it still can't wax blunt and beastly while applying scandalous enchantments, just a matter of discovering that line, and its various malleable preferences.
If the beast doth find itself wed, said enchantments may slowly lose their lustre, at which point a more robust appeal to enthused gentility, approaching but never realizing neutrality, may encourage less animated hostilities, or perhaps even reincarnate charm.
Of course it can help if your partner once indeed found you fascinating, and isn't interested in shaking things up, going through the whole process again a tedious bother, if you can't simply forgive and take.
I admit that without the fascination it can be bewildering as to how to proceed, and perhaps not worth the effort, if it must be relied upon in perpetuity.
But arranged marriages do seem to flourish at times as the couple engenders divine trial and error, although so many stunning passionate texts have been crafted as they fray.
Best not to think about it perhaps, natural blundering oft preferred to rehearsed theatrics, are they jazzy or strictly classical?, or a bountiful counterpoised mix of the two?
Changing as the years pass.
Clues help.
Decipherable clues.
Correct assumption besting bewildered resonance.
I suppose it's fun, it's supposed to be fun.
Keep that in mind, remain light of heart.
Frozen II!
*I've been single most of my life.
It can be a delicate art requiring stealth and foresight, the rewards of which may be as enduring as the punishments severe.
Best to accustom today's youth with non-threatening exemplars of the phenomenon, to instruct them in courtship ritual without disparaging l'amour.
Preparation can no doubt come in handy but the challenge thinks for itself and analyzes, while in sport there's often subsequent opportunities that are much more grave and emotionless.
Fortunately, as time passes, and expectations lower through habitual frustration, disbelief may transform into cheek, which can be more pleasant in conversation.
Nevertheless, the pleasant and playful nature of the cheek can cut deep if lines are crossed, and discovering the character of such lines can be baffling, if you proceed in sarcastic error.
Blunt hopelessness can also generate fervour thanks to the preponderance of alluring sitcoms, but your inner caveperson can't be too savage if it's to feast 'pon nimble nuptials, not that it still can't wax blunt and beastly while applying scandalous enchantments, just a matter of discovering that line, and its various malleable preferences.
If the beast doth find itself wed, said enchantments may slowly lose their lustre, at which point a more robust appeal to enthused gentility, approaching but never realizing neutrality, may encourage less animated hostilities, or perhaps even reincarnate charm.
Of course it can help if your partner once indeed found you fascinating, and isn't interested in shaking things up, going through the whole process again a tedious bother, if you can't simply forgive and take.
I admit that without the fascination it can be bewildering as to how to proceed, and perhaps not worth the effort, if it must be relied upon in perpetuity.
But arranged marriages do seem to flourish at times as the couple engenders divine trial and error, although so many stunning passionate texts have been crafted as they fray.
Best not to think about it perhaps, natural blundering oft preferred to rehearsed theatrics, are they jazzy or strictly classical?, or a bountiful counterpoised mix of the two?
Changing as the years pass.
Clues help.
Decipherable clues.
Correct assumption besting bewildered resonance.
I suppose it's fun, it's supposed to be fun.
Keep that in mind, remain light of heart.
Frozen II!
*I've been single most of my life.
Tuesday, December 10, 2019
The Rock
Decided to revisit The Rock last Summer after stopping by a local thrift store, and impressed was I as it chaotically unreeled.
It reminded me of a time when I still considered blockbusters to represent the best of what cinema had to offer, long before I discovered non-British European movies (I already knew about British films), Québec's vital film industry, Takashi Miike, Kurosawa, or Criterions.
Blockbusters are still kind of fun, especially when they're deep, the big picture critiqued in miniature, striking slices of stark sensation.
After the insane number of sequels released last Summer I even found myself wishing another Skyscraper was in the works, not a Skyscraper sequel, to be precise, but something sort of different that at least attempted to start something new.
Even if it channelled Die Hard.
I've mentioned this before.
Stuber filled the gap meanwhile.
The Rock never had any sequels and if it had they likely would have seemed preposterous, or at least too logically improbable, if they had sought to reunite Cage (Stanley Goodspeed) and Connery (John Patrick Mason).
The film's actual plot still likely seems preposterous if you read or talk to people about it, or see it I suppose, even if it rationalizes insanity well.
If you don't like action films or sports I imagine watching The Rock would be excruciating, 20 plus years later no less, some of its best lines as ra ra as they are hyper-reactively appropriate, like watching solid Monday Night Football, a Raptors/Clippers showdown, the Leafs facing off in Montréal, or Hamilton taking on the Argos.
As far as I remember, it was released before globalization took off, or just as it was taking off, when America was examining itself critically, even from militaristic perspectives.
And the hero's a green nerd (Cage) who'll pay $600 for one of the Beatles's worst albums (old vinyl though), his partner a dangerous Brit who's been locked up for at least 30 years, like Michael Bay of all directors was deeply concerned with creating something memorable, something that had never been seen before, in sharp contrast to so many new action films.
Take some of these scenes.
After some tourists find themselves locked up on the Rock, there's a really short moment that lasts long enough for one of them to say, "what kind of fucked up tour is this?"
It's funny, and could have easily been left out, but Bay realized how cool it was, and kept it in to generate humour and tension.
I've never seen anything like it in a Marvel film, even if they excel at multidimensionally entertaining.
There's also a high speed chase through San Francisco that revels in cinematic mayhem, that introduces a tour of the city, on a trolly, as everything goes to hell.
Then, as an elite group of Navy SEALs prepares to take on well-heeled Marines on Alcatraz, and Mr. Goodspeed seeks a breakdown of what's going on, one of the SEALS (Danny Nucci as Lieutenant Shepard), a relatively unknown actor at the time who had yet to say anything in the film, delivers an extremely precise borderline passionate synopsis, that startles as it summarizes, and shocks with exhilarating brevity.
What an opportunity for a young actor.
Nucci totally nails it.
There's nothing like that scene, that moment, in current action films, like the lines were created to give someone the opportunity to build a career, instead of all the roles going to world cinema's best and brightest.
It's like the actors in The Rock are fighting to build or sustain a career, from Vanessa Marcil (Carla Pestalozzi) to Tony Todd (Captain Darrow) to David Morse (Major Tom Baxter) to John C. McGinley (Captain Hendrix), no one holding back or resting on old school precedent, just givin' 'er hardcore with ample opportunity to do so.
There are at least 17 actors who stand out in this film.
That's a script that cultivates 1990s diversity (written by David Weisberg, Douglas Cook and Mark Rosner).
Cage and Connery work well together, the former frenetically perspiring athleticism, as he's suddenly thrust into the frenzied fray, replete with doubt, inexperience, and a pregnant partner, Michael Biehn (Commander Anderson), Ed Harris (General Francis X. Hummel), and William Forsythe (Ernest Paxton) givin' 'er too, the film's just so damned professional.
With a ne'er-do-well landing on a spike near the end.
This is what blockbusters could be like before pirating.
Greater risks.
Greater reward.
I'm recommending The Rock.
And watching it again this Winter.
It reminded me of a time when I still considered blockbusters to represent the best of what cinema had to offer, long before I discovered non-British European movies (I already knew about British films), Québec's vital film industry, Takashi Miike, Kurosawa, or Criterions.
Blockbusters are still kind of fun, especially when they're deep, the big picture critiqued in miniature, striking slices of stark sensation.
After the insane number of sequels released last Summer I even found myself wishing another Skyscraper was in the works, not a Skyscraper sequel, to be precise, but something sort of different that at least attempted to start something new.
Even if it channelled Die Hard.
I've mentioned this before.
Stuber filled the gap meanwhile.
The Rock never had any sequels and if it had they likely would have seemed preposterous, or at least too logically improbable, if they had sought to reunite Cage (Stanley Goodspeed) and Connery (John Patrick Mason).
The film's actual plot still likely seems preposterous if you read or talk to people about it, or see it I suppose, even if it rationalizes insanity well.
If you don't like action films or sports I imagine watching The Rock would be excruciating, 20 plus years later no less, some of its best lines as ra ra as they are hyper-reactively appropriate, like watching solid Monday Night Football, a Raptors/Clippers showdown, the Leafs facing off in Montréal, or Hamilton taking on the Argos.
As far as I remember, it was released before globalization took off, or just as it was taking off, when America was examining itself critically, even from militaristic perspectives.
And the hero's a green nerd (Cage) who'll pay $600 for one of the Beatles's worst albums (old vinyl though), his partner a dangerous Brit who's been locked up for at least 30 years, like Michael Bay of all directors was deeply concerned with creating something memorable, something that had never been seen before, in sharp contrast to so many new action films.
Take some of these scenes.
After some tourists find themselves locked up on the Rock, there's a really short moment that lasts long enough for one of them to say, "what kind of fucked up tour is this?"
It's funny, and could have easily been left out, but Bay realized how cool it was, and kept it in to generate humour and tension.
I've never seen anything like it in a Marvel film, even if they excel at multidimensionally entertaining.
There's also a high speed chase through San Francisco that revels in cinematic mayhem, that introduces a tour of the city, on a trolly, as everything goes to hell.
Then, as an elite group of Navy SEALs prepares to take on well-heeled Marines on Alcatraz, and Mr. Goodspeed seeks a breakdown of what's going on, one of the SEALS (Danny Nucci as Lieutenant Shepard), a relatively unknown actor at the time who had yet to say anything in the film, delivers an extremely precise borderline passionate synopsis, that startles as it summarizes, and shocks with exhilarating brevity.
What an opportunity for a young actor.
Nucci totally nails it.
There's nothing like that scene, that moment, in current action films, like the lines were created to give someone the opportunity to build a career, instead of all the roles going to world cinema's best and brightest.
It's like the actors in The Rock are fighting to build or sustain a career, from Vanessa Marcil (Carla Pestalozzi) to Tony Todd (Captain Darrow) to David Morse (Major Tom Baxter) to John C. McGinley (Captain Hendrix), no one holding back or resting on old school precedent, just givin' 'er hardcore with ample opportunity to do so.
There are at least 17 actors who stand out in this film.
That's a script that cultivates 1990s diversity (written by David Weisberg, Douglas Cook and Mark Rosner).
Cage and Connery work well together, the former frenetically perspiring athleticism, as he's suddenly thrust into the frenzied fray, replete with doubt, inexperience, and a pregnant partner, Michael Biehn (Commander Anderson), Ed Harris (General Francis X. Hummel), and William Forsythe (Ernest Paxton) givin' 'er too, the film's just so damned professional.
With a ne'er-do-well landing on a spike near the end.
This is what blockbusters could be like before pirating.
Greater risks.
Greater reward.
I'm recommending The Rock.
And watching it again this Winter.
Friday, December 6, 2019
Antigone
Tragedy strikes an immigrant family as their eldest son (Hakim Brahimi as Étéocle) is shot down while protesting his brother's arrest.
His brother (Rawad El-Zein as Polynice) sees what has taken place and responds with violence, adding assaulting a police officer to his crimes, which may lead to his deportation.
Their family bonds are tight and strong, and his sister Antigone (Nahéma Ricci) has a plan, to secure his dauntless release, even if it means she'll have to do time.
Her plan's a success, he escapes, she's arrested, and she settles in at the juvenile detention centre.
Where her brave actions are swiftly called out, in consideration of her brother's transgressions.
She's determined, dedicated, feisty, immutable, her conscience uprightly resolved.
Her partner (Antoine Desrochers as Hémon) fights for her integral freedom.
Stirring up quite the intense media frenzy.
No easy answers in this one.
The classic compelling mind*&%#.
Ethical issues abound as hearts clash in Sophie Deraspe's Antigone, a brilliant reimagining of the play, creatively and controversially brought to life, through the art of aggrieved contemplation.
Antigone's somewhat well-integrated.
She even won a scholarly prize.
She's by the book, constructive, rational, no-nonsense, the film critically absolved by her defiant reserve.
It's puzzling that she takes such risks for a career ne'er-do-well, yet provocative inasmuch as she avails.
The film intermittently interrupts the action with clever feverish pop-cultural analyzes, energetically presenting high octane observations, situating the narrative in the world at large, a broader multicultural context, that expands as the trial gets underway.
It's a convincing drama that excels at realistically depicting youthful and aged antagonisms, clearly in touch with the alternative views, and the ways in which peeps struggle to understand them.
Although Antigone's youthful rebellion ironically upholds old patriarchal schools, a cunning syntheses on behalf of Deraspe, who boldly articulates so many sharp distinctions, without seeming sentimental or preachy.
I'd argue Antigone upholds a great Québecois tradition of crafting rebellious films which make you think, like Mommy, Vic + Flo ont vu un ours, Quand l'amour se creuse un trou, or 1er amour, a unique style that's totally its own, that asks hard questions that have no answer.
But it's in trying to answer them that these films imaginatively assert themselves, as life presents impenetrable codes, as disconcerting as they are enlivening, basking in comprehensive intrigue.
There's no frosty sugar coating.
Just reality, action, dilemmas, mistakes.
Life.
Active living.
Insert The Matrix.
Bewilder.
His brother (Rawad El-Zein as Polynice) sees what has taken place and responds with violence, adding assaulting a police officer to his crimes, which may lead to his deportation.
Their family bonds are tight and strong, and his sister Antigone (Nahéma Ricci) has a plan, to secure his dauntless release, even if it means she'll have to do time.
Her plan's a success, he escapes, she's arrested, and she settles in at the juvenile detention centre.
Where her brave actions are swiftly called out, in consideration of her brother's transgressions.
She's determined, dedicated, feisty, immutable, her conscience uprightly resolved.
Her partner (Antoine Desrochers as Hémon) fights for her integral freedom.
Stirring up quite the intense media frenzy.
No easy answers in this one.
The classic compelling mind*&%#.
Ethical issues abound as hearts clash in Sophie Deraspe's Antigone, a brilliant reimagining of the play, creatively and controversially brought to life, through the art of aggrieved contemplation.
Antigone's somewhat well-integrated.
She even won a scholarly prize.
She's by the book, constructive, rational, no-nonsense, the film critically absolved by her defiant reserve.
It's puzzling that she takes such risks for a career ne'er-do-well, yet provocative inasmuch as she avails.
The film intermittently interrupts the action with clever feverish pop-cultural analyzes, energetically presenting high octane observations, situating the narrative in the world at large, a broader multicultural context, that expands as the trial gets underway.
It's a convincing drama that excels at realistically depicting youthful and aged antagonisms, clearly in touch with the alternative views, and the ways in which peeps struggle to understand them.
Although Antigone's youthful rebellion ironically upholds old patriarchal schools, a cunning syntheses on behalf of Deraspe, who boldly articulates so many sharp distinctions, without seeming sentimental or preachy.
I'd argue Antigone upholds a great Québecois tradition of crafting rebellious films which make you think, like Mommy, Vic + Flo ont vu un ours, Quand l'amour se creuse un trou, or 1er amour, a unique style that's totally its own, that asks hard questions that have no answer.
But it's in trying to answer them that these films imaginatively assert themselves, as life presents impenetrable codes, as disconcerting as they are enlivening, basking in comprehensive intrigue.
There's no frosty sugar coating.
Just reality, action, dilemmas, mistakes.
Life.
Active living.
Insert The Matrix.
Bewilder.
Wednesday, December 4, 2019
The Good Liar
A reptilian overture preys on aged innocence, moving from one lonely widow to the next, as he amasses prim misfortune, too incorrigible to ever give it up (Ian McKellen as Roy Courtnay).
Lifelong aggressive tremens, no friend to terms or tact, slipped through the cracks for many a year, avoided wayward trim detection.
He's quite hawkish, rather diligent, a partner lending a helping hand (Jim Carter as Vincent), watching out for eager fools all too willing to softly land.
Romance by night, fraternizing by day, not one to take time off, he's insatiably disposed, as voracious as they come, an emotionless career psycho.
He meets another unsuspecting victim (Helen Mirren as Betty McLeish) all too happy to make a new friend, she's so overcome with infatuation it's not long 'til he's movin' in.
Her grandson's (Russell Tovey as Stephen) more suspicious and proceeds to make historical inquiries, uncovering a gruesome awkward scandal dating back to World War II.
But explanations are forthcoming and life's less bitter if you can forgive, the two making it up on the shifty spot, and carrying on as if nothing's unhinged.
But if the title's none the wiser, there may be more surprises in store, The Good Liar as composed as its enmity, begetting bitter strikes richly scored.
It's straightforward yet tough from the get-go, but neither textbook nor boring, a brisk pace highlighting the novelty, of high stakes octogenarian high-jinx.
The couple's half bourgeois, half streetwise, at times they pleasantly blend, Betty's sympathy keeping things afloat, providing excuses for Roy's demeanour.
I think a particularly vile realm in hell should be reserved for those who prey on the elderly, if such a place exists, and it's odd to see the elderly preying upon each other in this one, sheer proof of the ageless psychopath.
Certainly a good idea for a film and I can't think of anything else like it, although if it had been shot like a creepy indie, it likely would have made more of an impact.
It's a bit farfetched that Roy is still at large at his age, can you always work in a British detective?
Still enjoyed it, a bit of irreverent controversy, nice to see Helen Mirren and Ian McKellen in something dramatic, without fast cars or apocalyptic agendas.
Some unexpected twists keep it moving along as their coupling becomes more intense, neither too poised nor that full-on thug, without ever displaying much feeling.
Is this a date movie?
Lifelong aggressive tremens, no friend to terms or tact, slipped through the cracks for many a year, avoided wayward trim detection.
He's quite hawkish, rather diligent, a partner lending a helping hand (Jim Carter as Vincent), watching out for eager fools all too willing to softly land.
Romance by night, fraternizing by day, not one to take time off, he's insatiably disposed, as voracious as they come, an emotionless career psycho.
He meets another unsuspecting victim (Helen Mirren as Betty McLeish) all too happy to make a new friend, she's so overcome with infatuation it's not long 'til he's movin' in.
Her grandson's (Russell Tovey as Stephen) more suspicious and proceeds to make historical inquiries, uncovering a gruesome awkward scandal dating back to World War II.
But explanations are forthcoming and life's less bitter if you can forgive, the two making it up on the shifty spot, and carrying on as if nothing's unhinged.
But if the title's none the wiser, there may be more surprises in store, The Good Liar as composed as its enmity, begetting bitter strikes richly scored.
It's straightforward yet tough from the get-go, but neither textbook nor boring, a brisk pace highlighting the novelty, of high stakes octogenarian high-jinx.
The couple's half bourgeois, half streetwise, at times they pleasantly blend, Betty's sympathy keeping things afloat, providing excuses for Roy's demeanour.
I think a particularly vile realm in hell should be reserved for those who prey on the elderly, if such a place exists, and it's odd to see the elderly preying upon each other in this one, sheer proof of the ageless psychopath.
Certainly a good idea for a film and I can't think of anything else like it, although if it had been shot like a creepy indie, it likely would have made more of an impact.
It's a bit farfetched that Roy is still at large at his age, can you always work in a British detective?
Still enjoyed it, a bit of irreverent controversy, nice to see Helen Mirren and Ian McKellen in something dramatic, without fast cars or apocalyptic agendas.
Some unexpected twists keep it moving along as their coupling becomes more intense, neither too poised nor that full-on thug, without ever displaying much feeling.
Is this a date movie?
Tuesday, December 3, 2019
Knives Out
The details of a significant literary fortune gravely concern a renowned P.I., after its author passes away.
For multiple motivations could have driven his children to murder, although things seem quite prim and proper during preliminary investigations.
But bold personalities have lied about particulars to appear both innocent and ready to please, their uncoordinated individualized tales melodramatically unwinding under further examination.
Classic lackadaisical mischief improvisationally askew, a bit of lacklustre stiff-lipped cerveza effervescent undrafted clues.
An ingenue accompanies Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig) as hypotheticals brashly accumulate, her involvement hushed up meanwhile while others clash and conciliate.
Unnerved as if something's counterpoised, or shifty, ill-gotten, extraneous, her own misdeeds wouldn't be so incriminating, if they weren't so exceedingly awkward.
Disbelief as inherently relied upon as stealth or disingenuous inquisition, what's to be said is difficult to say, if everything isn't just brought right back up.
Veracity assuming verisimilitude.
Awaiting redoubtable spectre.
A murder mystery not as stealthy as I had expected, still induces endearing alarm, more commercial than Frost, Morse, or Vera, its lighthearted humour in sharp cheeky contrast.
Almost as if writer/director Rian Johnson is aware of the appeal of astute British sleuths, yet sought something less traditional for his star-studded Knives Out, then hired Daniel Craig (James Bond) to detect with a Southern accent, to craft something much more American.
It's first rate unperturbed spice mélange, unconcerned yet still strict and serious, bashful yet residually haunting, determined to make things up as it goes along.
It generates enough interest early on to still entice as it gives itself away, cleverly concealing less evident alternatives, to sustain reanimating perspectives.
If there ever was an old world its conception disputes the new, as the media picks up the scoop, and youth habitually makes the right moves.
It's cool to see a film that finds a physical image to sum up its form in the end, although I can't mention what it is, although from what I've said it should be somewhat obvious.
Neither too light nor too dark and damning, another creative film from the versatile Rian Johnson.
Not as edgy or grim as Looper.
But certainly a lot more fun.
For multiple motivations could have driven his children to murder, although things seem quite prim and proper during preliminary investigations.
But bold personalities have lied about particulars to appear both innocent and ready to please, their uncoordinated individualized tales melodramatically unwinding under further examination.
Classic lackadaisical mischief improvisationally askew, a bit of lacklustre stiff-lipped cerveza effervescent undrafted clues.
An ingenue accompanies Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig) as hypotheticals brashly accumulate, her involvement hushed up meanwhile while others clash and conciliate.
Unnerved as if something's counterpoised, or shifty, ill-gotten, extraneous, her own misdeeds wouldn't be so incriminating, if they weren't so exceedingly awkward.
Disbelief as inherently relied upon as stealth or disingenuous inquisition, what's to be said is difficult to say, if everything isn't just brought right back up.
Veracity assuming verisimilitude.
Awaiting redoubtable spectre.
A murder mystery not as stealthy as I had expected, still induces endearing alarm, more commercial than Frost, Morse, or Vera, its lighthearted humour in sharp cheeky contrast.
Almost as if writer/director Rian Johnson is aware of the appeal of astute British sleuths, yet sought something less traditional for his star-studded Knives Out, then hired Daniel Craig (James Bond) to detect with a Southern accent, to craft something much more American.
It's first rate unperturbed spice mélange, unconcerned yet still strict and serious, bashful yet residually haunting, determined to make things up as it goes along.
It generates enough interest early on to still entice as it gives itself away, cleverly concealing less evident alternatives, to sustain reanimating perspectives.
If there ever was an old world its conception disputes the new, as the media picks up the scoop, and youth habitually makes the right moves.
It's cool to see a film that finds a physical image to sum up its form in the end, although I can't mention what it is, although from what I've said it should be somewhat obvious.
Neither too light nor too dark and damning, another creative film from the versatile Rian Johnson.
Not as edgy or grim as Looper.
But certainly a lot more fun.
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