New Rose Hotel

I've never really understood the allure of pursuing high stakes crime. Most related films make it clear that should you reach 50 having embraced such a life, you're remarkably fortunate if you're not locked up and still have a small army of troops protecting you. It's not passing before reaching old age that's disconcerting it's living while constantly worrying about outwitting your adversaries. That must grow tiresome after awhile. But I suppose the work may be more exciting.

In Abel Ferrara's New Rose Hotel, Fox/Christopher Walken celebrates the risk-fuelled life, and living without fear or limits, it's one of his best performances.

Perhaps there's something of the actor's lifestyle caught up with imaginative redefinition, the lucrative transference of artistic synergies inherently illuminating his authenticity. 

The film's well-cast, he's amicably joined by a less animated yet lithe Willem Dafoe (X), who works as his trusted partner engaging in lucrative industrial espionage.

Asia Argento (Sandii) luxuriously complements his smitten improvised amorous calling, the hopeless romantic having found yet another seemingly impressionable curious enthusiast.

But she may have more than one identity and may not seek the cloistered path.

So distressing these inspired freedoms.

Ethereal interconnected independence.

It's kind of like sci-fi noir although the detectives aren't what you'd expect, they're more like spies helping a science-genius move from one covetous corporation to the next.

The ominous sense of impending doom delicately blended with ebullient hope, shockingly seduces and destructively serenades as the jocose trio travels the globe.

Ah well, it doesn't seem like they're hiring poets although in the '90s we really believed, or I did anyways, that the old world stereotypes prejudicially preventing misfits from finding alternative trade routes would fade away.

Into banal feudal oblivion along with war and irritable class-bias.

Since Trump things have changed dramatically.

Not to mention the woeful pandemic.

Nevertheless, I imagined the poems I've been writing recently for several years as time progressed. 

When new rhymes seemed improbable, I rewrote the language.

For better or worse, I don't really know. 

I am still having as much fun, although I need to start transforming my film reviews too.

The future radiating indeterminate.

Just picked up some more horseradish. 

Mis dos voces (My Two Voices)

Lina Rodriguez's Mis dos voces (My Two Voices) takes a hard look at Canadian immigration, with extended thoughtful honest accounts, as three women share their experiences.

It's impressive how naturally they speak, how they can continue talking for such a long time, without pausing or searching for the right word, the films presents a solid look at natural spoken language.

How do you keep the narrative flowing while being filmed for such a long time?, perhaps the language just naturally diversifies when compassionately asked sincere open-ended questions.

It's nice to see people who care about one another and genuinely seek widespread well-being, while candidly sharing what they've practically learned in order to help others in similar situations.

They don't mince words or sugar coat things.

But still warmly share experiences people can relate to.

I know that learning a new language can be tough especially if you start your studies later in life. I'm a bit out of practise these days but I can share some tips I've learned which may help. 

It's really daunting at first because there's so much for you to learn. And you're striking blind from oblivion and seriously hoping to gain some traction.

Keep at it though.

Rome wasn't built in a day.

It can take time to acquire new language skills. I still have so much to learn.

But if you put in an effort you'll find you're making progress and you'll start to notice patterns and shortcuts that can help you express your ideas.

In the beginning, there are a lot of bad days and not being able to communicate is frustrating, but as time passes good days emerge and make things much more interesting.

After you start having good days if you have another bad day it isn't so bad, because you can focus on the good day memories, and rationally expect more of them to come.

Years later a day may dawn where you find you understand quite a lot. I haven't made it particularly far. But there are a lot of conversations I can have.

It just takes a while to build up vocabularies and then match the correct words to the sentences.

But when you suddenly find you can do it.

That's a really cool feeling.

My experience has been much different than that presented by the women in this film.

I just share what psychological strategies helped me in order to aid people in similar circumstances. 

Démanty noci (Diamonds of the Night)

The blunt tiresome imposition of exacting extremist cacophonous doctrine, inflexible coercive stone totalitarian limited unimaginative codes.

With everything narrowly prescribed with short-sighted grim oppressive tidings, the threat of harsh dismissive punishment leads to absent playful recalcitrance. 

With people fearing for their lives the tension palpably pervades, otherwise constructive interactive harmonious multidimensional communal initiatives. 

It's difficult to courageously refuse when facing tenacious organized opposition, even if that's what must be done to preserve inherent lithe vitality. 

Two characters in Démanty noci (Diamonds of the Night) see an opportunity to break free, from a train taking them to a concentration camp during the carnage of World War II.

Youthful and free of guilt and alertly aware of their people's innocence, they flee through a nearby wood with the hope of finding food and warmth.

Director Jan Nemec captures their frightened thoughts as they beg at rural lodgings, deprivation producing uncharacteristic distracting wild unwholesome rumination.

They hold it together however and don't act on their destructive impulses, making their way through the inclement climes while others gather to track and hunt them.

The desperation is manifested through shocking visceral lamentation, as others seeking to maintain their freedoms incoherently give chase.

Divided the country's people do the work of their oppressors for them, everything they're forced to do against their will an abomination.

What country understood Nazi oppression more than the routinely terrorized Soviet Union, who lost millions of its own citizens before it outmatched Hitler's armies?

Who was more deserving of a hero's welcome in contemporary legend and heraldic song, after the war came to an abrupt end and Nazi Germany was reduced to ruin?

Yet who now uses the same brutal tactics to subdue a country against its will, to force the peaceful democratic Ukraine to abandon nation, hope, and freedom?

Historical street cred valiantly gained as Russia fought off Berlin, now lost to their embrace of fascism and imperious monstrous violent aggression.

Who would have ever thought it would come to this twenty odd years ago when amicable thoughts, were disseminated far and wide as the world sought widespread peaceful accords?

It has though nevertheless and the people of Ukraine bravely fight on.

Unwilling to yield once more.

United together as one.

*Written last winter.

Le vent souffle où il veut (A Man Escaped)

A French resistance fighter is woefully captured during World War II, and sent to a brutal prison from which escape is notoriously challenging.

Not one to give up hope he correspondingly applies himself nevertheless, and goes about acquiring tools to help him furtively break free.

The rules within are rather strict so conversation remains quite limited, but he's still able to learn requisite facts from his locked down brethren through stealth and cunning.

Warnings abound regarding improbabilities and potential stool pigeons messing things up, most residents resigned to their fate yet still encouraged by the lieutenant's (François Leterrier) bravery.

His neighbour timorously worries that his escape plans will be detected, and the entire block punished for such ambitions, his fears brought upon by age.

Another prisoner attempts to escape but is unfortunately caught while attempting to do so, his maladroit efforts still supplying the officer with helpful intel regarding necessities.

There are still Nazis to fight and France needs him to secure liberation.

He continues to gradually progress.

Increasing his speed, when he's sentenced to death.

Patiently awaiting the miraculous day when he constructively frees himself from his prison, director Robert Bresson slowly builds up the tension as he meticulously choreographs each struggle.

The palpable concrete uncertainty drives the resonating raw desperation, as hope and logic still efficiently marshal remarkably high spirits considering the circumstances.

The painstaking steps the laborious plan effectively contravenes instantaneous postures, while the cold calculating inhuman pressures chaotically motivate exacting rigour.

Mixed with brief candid exchanges lies irrepressible undaunted light, resplendently illuminating inherent audacity through exoteric recourse to fathomless plight.

Attempts are made to rob prisoners of war of any desire to do anything but, simply follow a severe routine absolutely obscuring identity and purpose.

But the enlivening knowledge of the pervasive injustice recalibrates ethical strides and intuitively guides them.

A prison break film which follows a plan and authentically labours from dusk 'til dawn.

Memorable scenes clandestinely crafted.

Distinct deliberation.

Ecstatic pause.  

A Beautiful Life

A resilient fisherman makes a day-to-day living helping some friends down at the nearby docks, living on a sweet boat that his parents left him after they wound up in a tragic accident.

One of his mates likes to play music and he assists at his gigs around town, one night impressing a legendary widow with his exceptional singing and practical songwriting. 

She likes him so much that she invites him to patiently record at her in-house studio, with her daughter producing the songs, it's an incredible opportunity.

But he isn't ready at first the temperamental transition playing with his head, he still doubts his homegrown talent and trepidatiously remains hyper-critically unsure.

His songs are solid however and as he records them enthusiasm blossoms, and after the first release is met with applause self-assured belief tantalizingly manifests.

Moving from the wharf to superstardom in a couple of months still takes quite the heavy toll.

With newfound relationship responsibilities. 

Tantamount tension.

Consummate joy.

I suppose a lot of people are shy and it's difficult to prepare for mass observation, the overwhelming scrutiny of every micromovement generating controversy, buzz, and takeaway. 

I see the most ridiculous stuff in the For You news section on my cell (can someone hook me up with better articles?), it's like Malibu Stacy getting a new hat, I'm really just not that into it.

Nonetheless, I recognize that people are and that mundane trivialities build community, or through the relationships and fashionable choices of famous stars conversations matriculate.

I worry that fame can alter an otherwise innocent unique trajectory, that it's easy to filter out distractions when you aren't being meticulously criticized. 

If you can harness that tumultuous energy and use it to fuel your celebrated progression, I imagine that things would work out and that your outputs would consistently diversify. 

That's what the Beatles did anyways, they took that worldwide hysteria and responded impeccably. 

It's mind-boggling what they achieved from 1965 to 1970.

So many bands would deal with Satan for the albums Help! and Let it Be.

And for The Beatles, those aren't even the good ones.

Insanely good band.

Cool film too.

*Seriously, between 1965 and 1969 The Beatles released Rubber Soul, Revolver, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, The Magical Mystery Tour, The White Album (a crazy good double), and Abbey Road. With Yellow Submarine thrown in the mix too. Plus a bunch of hit singles that weren't on the LPs. It baffles the mind how anyone could have ever produced so much amazing pop in such a short period of time. I can't find anyone to compare them with. Plus their sound consistently changed throughout. How did they pull that off? They did stop touring early on. That may have played an instrumental role. 

Speedy

Perhaps one of the first exuberantly stately carefree yet stern comedic films, wherein which cherished productive pastimes feature prominently in the outlandish narrative.

It's 1928 and Babe Ruth's a playin' for the stalwart Yankees, whom Speedy (Harold Lloyd) zealously follows throughout the day while improvisationally engaged at a soda fountain.

The city has decided to create a vast network of interconnected streetcars, and has set about buying up the extant tracks currently owned by local entrepreneurs. 

Pop Dillon (Bert Woodruff) owns such a peculiarity but doesn't want to sell for paltry chump change, so the prospective buyers nefariously apply themselves to their lucrative ill-gotten banal dysfunction.

Speedy moves from job to job and provides quite the look at the old school city, while taking Jane Dillon (Ann Christy) out to Coney Island to sample practically everything it has to offer.

But one night he becomes aware of the dastardly plan to outwit grandpappy, hoping to start a chaotic dispute and destroy his streetcar in the process (not if the Civil War Vets have their say!).

He can only keep his track if said car runs at least once every 24 hours, thus the maintenance of his plucky vehicle remains eruditely paramount should he wish to stay.

Assistance is thus required and Speedy knows just whom to call.

Calamitous reckoning rambunctiously ensuing.

Age old cacophonous retro zounds. 

I like how films like Speedy take a shine to a particular town, and without being too preachy or pushy gingerly interweave many of its local highlights.

With historical change consistently duelling with resonant traditional ways and means, progress paradigmatically pigeon holes sundry specifics with vehement posture.

Tough to imagine individual tracks uniquely owned by different people throughout the city, who could work them as they saw fit at different times throughout the day.

Was it ever like that with trains as well at a time when perhaps many companies clashed, each seeking to lay down track more efficiently and efficaciously than its rivals?

You really see how the protests regarding the treatment of urban horses are necessary as they transport people around, it even looks like one is ready to collapse when it takes off down the street with a streetcar in tow. 

For a look at the roaring twenties Speedy mischievously delivers, providing practical playful glimpses into entertaining life.

Without overlooking old school definition to harmoniously serenade the future.

Perhaps somewhat too endearing.

But not without exspeedient charm. 

Fool's Paradise

A humble generally mute man unconcerned with popularity, is released from a mental hospital and finds himself living on the streets (Charlie Day as Latte Pronto). 

But as fate would have it, he's a dead ringer for a widely sought after Hollywood star, and a reputed producer accidentally takes note and asks if he'll take part in one of his films (Ray Liotta).

Neither fortunately nor awkwardly, the star he's replacing suddenly passes, and he finds himself moving in on his career, soon married in the confusing spotlight.

A down-on-his-luck casting agent soon befriends and seeks to represent him (Ken Jeong as the Publicist), and he sees neither reason to protest nor oblige as he doesn't particularly care about what's happening.

His career slowly spirals out of control since he really has no idea what's going on, but still shows up on set and at dinner parties to make obliviously sincere appearances.

He's somewhat like Chaplin's Little Tramp but without the rambunctious versatility, the intense perplexing permutations which make his films so entertaining. 

He's also kind of like Peter Sellers in ye olde Pink Panther classics, although without the bemusing repartee which leads to intuitive blundering captivation. 

Perhaps if they'd been born at a later date they would have been more concerned with sleaze, and less drawn to borderline wholesome clever family friendly endeavours.

Imagine Charlie Chaplin having matured watching generally uncensored prime time romps, would he have even bothered to pursue filmmaking, and if so, to what inspirational degrees?

A contact once pointed out the protruding mean-spirits in contemporary comedy, whereas there used to be a sense of congenial accord there's currently much more dispiriting sadism. 

Perhaps the same sentiments were there in the past but the tighter censors encouraged less carnage, or a more enthusiastic communal embrace, striving to disseminate respect and well-being. 

Not all the time, the insouciant management of integral cheek still startlingly manifest, where to establish the balance difficult to say with relative collegial im/precision.

Then again, Fool's Paradise may be making this very same point without having expressed it.

Could be taking an ironic swipe. 

Lamenting what's clearly missing. 

The Net

At the dawn of the Cyber Epoch when the emboldened internet was beginning to prosper, a group of clever yet malevolent programmers sought to gain unprecedented 😏 limitless access.

Yet they didn't prognostically count upon a lone systems analyst in Venice, California, who one day stumbled across a cryptic disc unwittingly exposing their dishonest loci (Sandra Bullock as Mr. Bennett). 

She doesn't microanalyze it however before heading to Mexico on vacation, her first extended break in years, she still comes equipped with an ample workload.

Including the coveted disc the existence of which is known by the terrorists, who track her to that very same resort and arrive enamorously a' callin'.

After escaping her seducer's clutches (Jeremy Northam as Jack Devlin)f she unfortunately crashes her impromptu zodiac, and miraculously survives only to awake to find her identity has been stolen.

Not just her trusty ID everything she owns is in fact gone, she tries to verify her identity, but beyond cyberspace she hardly knows anyone.

Plus her mother is struggling with amnesia and barely recognizes her devout care (Diane Baker as Mrs. Bennett).

An ex can assist but their history's awkward (Dennis Miller as Dr. Champion).

It's psychotically defined worst case!

I suppose the odds of this happening are slim but just to be safe if you spend a lot of time online, make sure to still maintain a physical real-world appearance perhaps with neighbours or friends or family (awkward! [just kidding {sort of}]).

I know it's fun to escape on the net and pretend like you're in a sci-fi novel, but the real world also has compelling features like endemic wildlife, cheese and wine.

I wonder how the doomsday scenario presented in The Net plays out on a daily basis, or if the companies hired to provide internet security still have insane access to private information. 

When even the Supreme Court can't seem to keep a secret, you wonder if something's up.

But the checks and balances spiral out of control first someone designs the system and then you trust them to implement it. Then you hire someone else to try to break into it and trust what they're telling you is precise. To be safe, you hire another company to secretly monitor the first enterprise in question. But what if they all went to the same school? 

And devotedly love Tangerine Dream and Kraftwerk?

Billions to keep things safe on top of what we already spend on hospitals and schools.

Law and order aficionados can be somewhat too serious. 

But you may want flag waving zealots for these specialized jobs.

And pay them well, they must get offered incredibly high sums to misinform. 

Cool film from back in the day.

Still remarkably relevant. 

*I'm not critiquing Edward Snowden. I think he should be pardoned. He risked everything for everyone. He couldn't be more North American.

Brainstorm

So far, I've had trouble getting into virtual reality. Don't get me wrong, it's kind of cool, but as a substitute for the real thing, it disappoints. Perhaps the technology has significantly advanced in the last 15 years, I haven't checked it out for a long time. But way back when I was highly critical, criticism accepted, I could have have been more open.

I do like watching nature documentaries as a substitute for the real thing, since there are so many places around the world I'll never get to see. I know it's not the same thing, they're not meant to be holistically immersive, but since it's unlikely that I'll ever visit Indonesia or Vietnam 😢, I appreciate being able to watch related wildlife programming.

Brainstorm is some cool old-school sci-fi (1983) that takes an imaginary look at virtual reality, wherein which ingenious scientists actually create realistic virtual experiences.

At first, the genius is rewarded with scientific applause and technological accolades, but soon disreputable agencies seek to weaponize its potential.

It's classic innovative idealistic scientists confronting the corruption of their work, with Christopher Walken erupting in fury near the beginning of his outstanding career.

Fortunately, it predates internet hypotheses so it's still possible to hide the work. It's like they're trying to take out SkyNet before it has the ability to shift and mutate.

If you're fascinated by old school special effects or varying degrees of authentic realism, effects that were made without the total reliance on computers, effects relying on the creative manipulation of the dynamic production qualities of the time, and an erudite knowledge of electronics, Brainstorm's concluding moments are fun to watch, scientific artistry chaotically applied.

Directed by Douglas Trumball, who worked on the special effects for Blade Runner, 2001, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, and Star Trek: The Motion Picture (it still has cool effects), it's nice to see a tech wiz at the helm, don't recall ever hearing of a similar transition.

I still feel like virtual reality is cheating when it comes to interpersonal experience, I still like talking to people and don't mind getting burned regularly for being honest.

Sometimes I'll ask a question that I know the answer to because I can't think of anything else to say, and then I'll be ridiculed for having asked the question, sigh, it's always the same old story.

Brainstorm isn't Inception but still makes a cool historical impact.

A pioneering look at this type of story.

When special effects were really starting to take off. 

Starcrash

Evasive creative space pirates habitually manoeuvre to outwit the law (Caroline Munro and Marjoe Gortner), until one grievous inopportune day when they suddenly find themselves sentenced to life.

Fortunately for them, a courageous ship was sent out on a vital mission, to discover whether or not a powerful weapon exists, in the far off reaches of space.

As fate would have it, they were no match for the irate destructive colossus, yet three bold innovative cruisers escaped, their whereabouts heretofore unknown.

The space pirates, imaginatively engaged in improvised spur-of-the-moment shenanigans, soon find themselves tasked by the galactic Emperor (Christopher Plummer) to voyage to locate his forlorn son (David Hasselhoff [Hasselhoff does not show up in spellcheck!]).

They respond with innate gusto and are soon soaring throughout the heavens, following clues and appealing hyperbole wherever the seductive stars collide.

As the Emperor's rival the foul and cruel ignominious usurper known as Count Zarth Arn (Joe Spinell), plots to take over the galaxy with his formidable insufferable Lava Lamp. 

When the first two ships lead nowhere our reluctant heroes digress abandoned. 

But one cast-off vessel remains. 

Harbouring symphonic destiny. 

It's all in good fun unconcerned merrymaking inconclusively driving this campy space romp, through the spirited realms of theoretical melee to the upstanding spawn of illustrious bewilder.

Strange how Lucas found a way to make Star Wars seem so much more real, than his robust and ample competition there's no doubt it was a stroke of genius. 

Still though, when it doesn't work out why not add a robot programmed down south (Hamilton Camp as the voice of Elle, Judd Hamilton as Elle), to emphatically uphold intergalactic chivalry as starstruck maidens bravely prosper.

Perhaps space isn't the lofty officious spectacle it's pretentiously thought to be, perhaps horseplay and mischievous exaggeration at times do qualify its stately grandeur.

If not how would cultural propagation consistently redefine and reconstitute, throughout mutating in/animate continuums elaborately cascading in flagrant nadir?

When superlatives fail to provide what else awaits beside kitschy inexactitude? 

Netflix etc. have so much potential.

As does the old school compelling variety. 

Hud

Three generations of a ranching family actively live together in the American mid-west, father and son at ethical odds while the observant grandson comes of age.

Gramps (Melvyn Douglas) is an honourable man who takes responsibility for his actions. When it becomes apparent that his herd of cattle might have foot and mouth disease, he doesn't try to sell them for scandalous profits. 

His son Hud (Paul Newman) on the other hand only sees an enormous loss, and would have sold the cattle to his neighbours and spread the problem across the land.

He also cavorts around town with other men's wives out in the open, and routinely gets into fights and drinks too much and has a furious temper.

Thus, two visions of America irascibly compete home on the range, one steady and trusted and true the other only seeking crass self-fulfillment. 

They're consistently at venomous odds and don't freely beat around the bush, it's plenty awkward intergenerationally so, how do you progress in such heated circumstances?

The grandson (Brandon de Wilde) isn't sure what to do both the adults offering disputatious alternatives. 

The next generation of an adventurous country caught between competing undefined dreams. 

I reckon it's generally like this from one unique epoch to the original other, integral factors and intermediary zones cultivating community while self-obsessed visions tar with the same brush.

There isn't much ambiguity here it's clear to me Hud's quite the rapscallion, and there's nothing sublime or misunderstood about his way of life, he's just a first rate self-centred jerk.

There's something to be said for community building for playing a role big or small in such construction, perhaps not requiring mandatory parades or laudatory ubiquity, but still with a general sense of collective well-being (like you find in Québec).

There are thousands of chill roles to play and many aren't that bad if you show up and work, although things can be tricky from time to time, I try to keep quiet, unless my silence offends.

In one scene from Hud grandpappy relates how the munificent cow built so much of their culture, providing material for clothes and other things while also encouraging nourishment.

I immediately thought of the millions of bison who had historically resided on the plains. 

There was a built in network of ranching way back.

What a tragedy, how things unfolded.

*Not the Broncos win on Monday night versus Buffalo. That was amazing. 🏈

You've Got Mail

Well, it looks like way back when, when giant bookstores starting taking over, an adorable romantic comedy was made to help soften the corporate blow.

I remember the old school crisis and how it effected the local markets, not that independent bookstores disappeared entirely, but I certainly don't see them as much as I used to.

I suppose I don't really know who financed You've Got Mail, but it looks like a traditional piece of propaganda, that makes for a much more pleasant hostile takeover, complete with big business male conquering small business female.

I wonder how it was received at the time.

There's no doubt it's clever.

The internet was just starting up and people were just beginning to use email. 'Twas a fledgling monumental paradigm shift in the ways in which the entire world operates. The people at You've Got Mail clearly understood this, and went about crafting a related narrative.

Which was inherently endearing. 

If not ominously inevitable. 

I do rather like Chapters/Indigo, it is a cool place to look for books, each individual store having to pass the Proust and Dickens test, before definitively delineating its classical authenticity. 

Stick a Starbucks in there.

What a brilliant idea.

A Christmas bonus to whoever thought that one up.

It was a shame to see so many independents go under though, they had character and savvy and weren't quite so freakin' imposing.

My favourite bookstore will always be the local bookshop from my youth, a cool little place where I found my first volume of Proust (after watching Little Miss Sunshine) and many other cool books over the years, the owner used to even feature photos of raccoons in winter, and even took the mayor of Hamilton to court (and won if I'm not mistaken [long before Andrea Horwath who I imagine is doing a great job])!

25 years after the release of You've Got Mail I find myself dreading another paradigm shift, where Chapters/Indigo and bookstores everywhere go out of business, and one's forced to shop online.

That's all I've been doing since the pandemic hit and I have no idea how those stores have coped. All I know is that books used to feature prominently in the mainstream narrative (see You've Got Mail or The NeverEnding Story), and I never really see them mentioned anymore.

There should be money for prestige films that might win Oscars that focus on books. Obviously, I love film. But books and music still feature heavily in my life.

Perhaps I'm just being anxious, and nothing's really wrong, but I keep hearing bad restaurant tidings, and my laundry alarm went off while I was editing this sentence. 

I worry because I don't know many people who read books.

But I never really have come to think of it (outside of University).

Good thing Dad made sure I read as a child.

That was one thing he sincerely pushed. 

Honestly, when I was really young illiteracy still existed in the mainstream mind, and learning to read was regarded as a great thing, like we really had evolved. 

Another step in the wrong direction?

Getting my COVID booster soon. 

Good Morning, Miss Dove

The age old fascination with dependability and routine, as applied to flourishing bucolic life, through tranquil age and consistency, intergenerationally sustained. 

A clever recent University graduate travels home to see her Dad, who brags about her success and dreams of lucrative dividends. 

But he suddenly passes on and she soon soon finds he's been embezzling funds, and in order to avoid shock and scandal, agrees to gradually pay back the debt.

Thus, she refuses to marry a reliable brilliant eager suitor, and takes a job teaching geography at the local primary school, where she remains throughout her life.

It's the old world stiff-upper-lip resigned to duty and objective sacrifice, without flinching or even the  consideration of much more personally enriching paths.

She doesn't entertain regret or destructive bitterness or disastrous envy, and settles into a steady job she devotedly keeps for years to come.

As time passes, many local students must deal with her requisite tests, her level-headed impartiality encouraging widespread lifelong respect.

When she unexpectedly falls ill several ex-students visit her in the hospital. 

The dedication of an honourable lifetime abounding with reticent heartfelt allegiance. 

It's nice to see that dismal alternatives aren't generally focused on in Good Morning, Miss Dove, that the rewards of service and fidelity are angelically uplifted with enchanting charm.

Also nice to see the profession of teaching narratively celebrated and highly regarded, with the advent of new technologies breaking down timeless methods of instruction.

Do people dislike their fellow citizens so much is there that much social tension promoting A.I?, I honestly doubt it would ever replace teachers, but if I'm not mistaken, others disagree.

Then again the sale of CDs and cassette tapes has greatly decreased in recent memory, I hope artists still make comparable amounts from Apple Music etc. but I'm afraid I rather doubt it.

Professional movie making has been significantly challenged by online streaming and Netflix etc as well, my new remote even came with a Netflix button, I've never seen the like for CBC or CNN.

How else did artists used to make money and encourage independent thought, oh yes books!, is the younger generation reading? It's amazing how much you can learn from reading if you just put in a little time and effort.

Has the internet taken billions away from artistic endeavour as part of a plan to promote obedience, or was it just an unfortunate byproduct skilfully envisioned by pent up grouches?

At least schools are still prominently functioning and pandemic experiments proved infertile.

Doesn't mean they won't try again.

Working on my vinyl collection. 

John Q

I'm happy that we have great health coverage in Canada and Québec, and I'm glad that everyone has access.

I'm glad my friends and family and neighbours can see a doctor or visit the hospital without having to pay out of pocket, and that the wide variety of services available continue to expand beyond limitation.

I know it's frustrating having to wait.

It would be nice if things moved more quickly.

But the services are still available and they're available across the board.

Watch Michael Moore's Sicko watch John Q check out the nightmare, awaiting the privatization of health services if there's less of an emphasis on public health.

Imagine you suddenly had to come up with over $200,000 to pay for medical bills, which the insurance plan you had paid into for your entire life wouldn't cover.

Imagine that if you couldn't come up with that money one of your loved ones would die.

Without public health this isn't a rare occurrence. 

Without universal health care it's par for the course.

Universal health care is a sign of enduring progress and practical community, a sustainable way to ensure widespread health at all times across the land.

If we can hire more doctors and invest in hospitals wait times should decrease, and more of our medical school graduates will find the jobs they've worked hard to get.

One of the big differences between private and public health care, as outlined in Maude Barlow's Too Close for Comfort, is that public health care workers put people before profits, while private health is more interested in money.

Thus, the private hospital sets a goal of profits to be earned in a specific month, and then sets about trying to earn them. If there's a shortfall come the 31st heads will roll and people will lose their jobs, hence services are cut for employment security's sake, as administrators with no medical knowledge try to save money. If they save money and produce higher profits the private board running the hospital is more impressed. Therefore, there's an impetus to be as cheap as possible while pretending to provide expert service.

In the public system people care about health and finding more efficient ways to take care of each other.

While providing access to all kinds of different specialists.

For a thriving culture.

It's a total win-win.

Person to Person

Hyper-obsessions with the omnipresent, the characteristic need to express thoughts and emotions, the honesty clarity genuinely beaming, the established difficulties perpetually stoking.

The potential scoop inertly resting within unconcerned inanimate shade, wholeheartedly uninterested in asking questions of an inconsiderate aggressive nature.

Trying to learn a new skill indubitably applicable to arts and crafts, yet unaccustomed to the invasive practices at times associated with acquiring information.

The incipient stages acrobatically wherein which versatile material may flexibly emerge, counterbalanced with awkward politesse and innate feelings of communal well-being.

The joy of life sincerely illuminating multifaceted random cause, as someone who vividly cares goes frolicking about with cheerful genuine stalwart integrity.

A scrutinizing look at urban communities interactively drawn towards communicative life, without much of a focus on automobiles or ye olde home ownership or raising a family.

The unmarried masses productively relating inhibitions cast off and merriment proclaimed, within a volatile spectrum reciprocally radiating instantaneous clash.

So much happening within the city so much free time to extract and chirp, who knows indeed what to imaginatively make of it, fun to lose yourself within the immersion.

I did have problems with observant delineations vocally defining social miscues, which unfortunately turned me into that guy even long after I had learned not to generally share them.

I eventually adapted and grew and slowly mutated into a traditional mode, but I was still prone to humorous outbursts which could at times lead to passionate scorn.

Nice to see the people in this film constructively givin' 'er nevertheless, a cool cast with creative narratives offering thoughtful insights into variable phenomena. 

Books and film and music and poetry there's ample room for a life of the mind.

It certainly never grows boring.

Especially with wildlife sightings. 

A River Runs Through It

Family first and foremost reciprocally resigned in pristine pastures, a sturdy minister and his adventurous sons tenderly taken care of by an adoring mom.

Strict but not overbearing the natural tendency to erupt in play, openly encouraged within temporal limits reasonably applied each and every day.

Fly fishing forges the backbone of glib inquisitive rural endeavours, local rivers and fields and forests ebulliently itemized in joyous caricature.

It's focused on several times and becomes something artistic if not spiritual, the youngest lad remarkably entertaining with paramount dexterous improvised brilliance. 

His older brother's somewhat more tried and true and spends six years away from home at school, learning the integral ways of literature to be creatively taught with bucolic industry.

The younger takes to the wild and emphatically learns the art of journalism, freely expressing his withering whimsy with a festive fair-hand and spry open-mind. 

But somewhat unsettled somewhat borderline reckless he pursues risk-fuelled gambling and drink beyond reason. 

Yet still never arrives late for fishing.

And always puts on quite a show. 

Narrated with old world omniscience as if oracled fate was clairvoyantly hewn, exciting moments and tragic expenditures objectively passing with sagacious sentiment.

I remembered so many exuberant hours curiously exploring throughout my youth, as I watched those rambunctious lads engage in resolute countryside quorums. 

Such a shame when disciplinary regulations counterintuitively produce wanton interludes, the legionary impetus of the pervasive patterns alternatively encouraging adventitious catalogues.

Such a shame when a lack of order counterintuitively begets despotism, through the unfortunate contemptuous dismissal of laidback chillin' and relaxed intuition.

What a consistent pain applying reason and logic to find realistic solutions.

Sport always seems to fend off carnage.

The arts unfortunately lacking commensurate mass appeal. 

Venom 2

I was going to forget about Halloween this year when I found myself looking for something to watch on Netflix. Old Dads didn't make the cut so I kept searching till I found Venom 2, which I had missed because of the pandemic. I didn't even clue into the fact that it's a monster movie until after I'd chosen it and settled in. Thus, even when I'm not seeking out Halloween films, they find me, this one's perfectly suited to the times.

When I imagine ye olde Odd Couple films I usually think of Walther Matthau and Jack Lemmon. Their cantankerous übergrumpy disputes were fun to watch in my observant youth.

But it was a different time, without the impressive rise of realistic special effects, when the master narrative still heavily relied on bourgeois scenarios and corresponding efficiencies. 

I figure that's why Star Wars: Episode IV was so overwhelmingly popular, not only was it a cool film to watch, but it was also the first science-fiction film to have realistic special effects.

I love the old '50s and '60s sci-fi due to its imaginative pioneering impetus, and there's no doubt the historical value's significant not to mention the resplendent kitsch factor.

But the special effects are pretty incredible these days with Star Wars having started it all, thus it's no wonder the old school Odd Couple paradigm now plays out with a journalist and a monster.

As times have habitually mutated and resonant tastes transformed and diversified, one member of the couple remains potentially stable, while the other is an overly ambitious carnivorous alien.

They routinely argue about many things as time quotidianly passes, both of them seeking lofty admiration for goals achieved and services rendered. 

Feelings are hurt and grievances aired as their mutually accommodating relationship briefly ends, and Venom heads off into the great unknown and even makes a brilliant showing at a local night club.

But this is Halloween of course and what would it be without psychotic love?, or a pair of lifelong criminals hoping to wed after they break out of prison.

With a chaotic wedding in tow Venom 2 is transported into the comedic realm, which accentuates the brandished horror, and makes for quite the mindf*&*#.

Not exactly what I remember from the grouchy Odd Couple or even Midnight Run.

But certainly a clever twist on a belovéd theme.

Perfect for any Halloween scenario.

*I didn't really like how special effects were used to alter the actor's appearances. Isn't it a slippery slope to using special effects to replace actors entirely? 😠 

Hustle

Hustle does a great job of pointing out how much solid work goes into crafting a professional sports team, just by focusing primarily on one gifted scout (Adam Sandler as Stanley Sugarman) who runs into problems when the owner's son takes over (Ben Foster as Vince Merrick). 

It's like a 24/7 job it's rare he ever stops concentrating on basketball, he consistently sacrifices so much for the team without much complaint or sharp contradiction.

He has an amazing job and gets to spend his time doing something he loves, and can concretely see his emphatic results each time a player he's chosen makes a cool play.

I saw him like a representative for what generally goes on behind the scenes in professional sports, for the tens of thousands of people diligently working to put a dynamic team together.

Even when that team isn't playing well the wheels are still in perpetual motion, making deals and calls and observations hopefully leading to that next championship.

When you think about how many thousands of people are habitually competing to build the next champion, it does seem like the odds against anyone ever winning are so astronomically high that victory's miraculous.

And then if you see your outstanding favourites lose the Super Bowl three times in your curious youth, and then come back to pick up back to back wins less than ten years later, with the same quarterback, you can't help but be thankful to the organization.

If you do actually win the championship it objectively validates every decision made that season, you can take a break and sit back and bask in heralded pseudo-divine contemplation.

Each step of the way not just the winner it's still better to get there than not make it at all, it's like every organization is fighting for each inch of ground at all times and never even considering coming up short.

At least that's what characters like Stanley make me think with their healthy attitudes that keep things focused, with some jobs you have to continuously adapt at any given time with inquisitive reflexes.

That was amazing when the Raptors won I never thought I'd see that happen.

I was pissed Dad didn't get to see the Leafs win again before he passed.

But honestly, he loved basketball so much more.

I'm so happy he got to see that.

Hustle's worth checking out.

King Richard

Sheer uncompromising confidence proactively proceeds with undaunted integrity, as a father is so sure his daughters are peerless, he ignores countless established conventions as they train.

The best in the business lay it down to haplessly explain the traditional course, if you want to excel in the world of tennis, you play what are called "juniors" to prepare for the pros.

They're a series of tournaments for tenacious young players who want to improve their skills through competition, and it's through their heuristic happenstance professional aptitude efficiently emerges.

But Mr. Williams thought differently it's really remarkable what he did, he found the junior circuit so demanding and overbearing that he decided to take his girls out of it.

He was so certain that they could turn pro without competing throughout their youth, he drove some of the most knowledgeable coaches nuts as he consistently refuted their industrious know-how.

I applaud his sublime logic, he wanted his girls to have a childhood and do well in school, he didn't want them to only have tennis to look back on by the time they retired should they turn pro.

Imagine ignoring so many tried and true methods while hoping to do something even the best find next to impossible.

And have everything work out.

Your unprecedented courage rewarded.

It's like a real-life Disney film where inherent miracles nurture impeccability, where a family's guts and raw determination overcome incredible odds to become the world's best.

A parenting team aware of their potential prowess never taking no for a definitive answer, even when dozens of people tell them it's simply impossible and constantly dismiss them with words of wisdom.

So devoted to their family so aware of their unmatched talent, they persevere above and beyond even the most daring unorthodox methods.

But at the same time they want their kids to have a childhood they can pleasantly remember, one where they still chilled out and did fun things while still training to redefine the superlative.

I have to admit, I like these parenting methods, they're very holistic and reasonably balanced.

And Venus and Serena Williams did go on to become the best in the world.

This story's outstanding.

The American dream. 

*Not to mention an Oscar for Will Smith!

Kaamelott: First Installment

Nice to see a familiar style of comedy still observantly elucidating, to the tune of ancient legend emphatically deconstructed in recalcitrant sheath.

Thus, extended less devout commentaries can be expediently relied upon, as the temptation to laze about disarmingly overwhelms protocolian spirits.

Indeed, should a situation arise inherently imploring trust thereupon, debate regarding the utility of action may argumentatively delay courageous concourse.

Was there ever ebulliently a time when innate fidelity preponderantly prospered, and allegiance shone forth across the land with impeccable practical superstitious brilliance?

Or were old school lands aggrieved equanimously equipped with parallel suspicions, and whole-heartedly abreast of postmodern cheek illustriously composed through disputation?

Would the rarefied pretensions of the day have taken note in their limited volumes, of imparticular ineptitude, or would their vellum have harmonized rhapsodic?

Still, within ye olde Kaamelott: First Installment heroic endeavour doth vouchsafe akin, as Arthur (Alexandre Astier) pulls the sword from the stone and lackadaisically assumes regal volatility.

Sensing little effort need be applied to potentially reap heraldic fortunes, other nobles ceremoniously sign-up for the sublime cause sans hesitation. 

Alas, it is nice to see a less shocking and violent mass-marketed comedy, which doesn't rely on racism or cruelty as you sometimes find in this day and age. 

If that's the evolution of comedy is it not regenerating a decadent phase, to be followed by meaningless emptiness so the old theory historically goes?

For so many centuries much brighter comedians have encouraged laughter without bigoted reckoning.

Without bellicose mean-spirits.

Manifest pejorative prosperity. 

Kaamelott has faith in its strengths and doesn't stoop to bombastic prejudice, doesn't infuriatingly apply blunt and crude generalized cultural dissonance. 

In the age of legend it industriously competes with magnanimous superheroes, to provide a thoughtful supplement should the master narrative prove overwhelming.

Asking the age old question, lead through trial and error or ornate pageantry?

They find an intermediate compromise.

Composed so long ago. 

BigBug

Dystopian yet familiar realities lugubriously haunt Jean-Pierre Jeunet's BigBug, as a future wherein which AI predominates officiously contends with the bourgeoisie.

I suppose there's the theory that what's presented on television or in film will be regarded as fact, or at least find an adoring audience, and that audience will proceed to advertise.

Thus, if the irate right was slowly replaced by cantankerous A.I, due to the bipolar resonance of the popular matrix unobservant citizens unconsciously consume, and the bizarro ways in which so many people trust disingenuous initiatives designed to cheat them, a manifest sadomasochistic uniformity could one day emerge and in the darkness bind them. 

Within BigBug, one of two major political parties has been replaced by octogenarian robots, who have slowly used advanced cybernetics to brutally suffocate a robust culture.

The bourgeoisie still attempts to flourish within the mechanized meticulous structure, having adapted to the ubiquitous rules and incumbent authoritarian connectivity. 

Additional robots not associated with politics worry they're becoming obsolete, and genuinely confer to find a way to consistently maintain their resolute use-value.

Thus, both The Terminator and ye olde Data find themselves concretely represented within, a potential future embraced through comedic horror alternatively critiquing cold-hearted lockdowns. 

Artists are lampooned and books are burned, it's like a blasé happy-go-lucky thrill ride through prognostic annihilation. 

Could reality television take on such extremes is it already that bad I never really got into it (I was planting trees in the forests of Northern Canada when Survivor came out), I've never been able to just watch people interact on television, I prefer old school creative storytelling and mockumentaries.

The ruthless sadist who seeks to control every aspect of postmodern life, with duplicitous totalitarian reckoning, is still sincerely critiqued within.

As are cultures that would turn their institutions over to robots to become more efficient, the human factor obliviously overlooked in the superlative practices, grandstanding bravado.

In an obtuse condescending way BigBug reminds its audience of the value of criticism, and that critical strategies should be taught in school to hold back the onslaught of pervasive credulity.

Robot politicians? Robot police? It doesn't have to happen, it's not inevitable.

Prefer the old school humanistic methodologies.

Round the campfire.

Settlin' in. 

The Dive

As two sisters congenially scuba-dive, turmoil and calamity audaciously challenge, one suddenly stuck beneath falling rocks, her air rapidly decreasing.

She's the bossier of the two who's grown gloomier as time has passed, the grim embrace of counterproductive cynicism having obscured life's lighthearted wonders.

Her sister is much less suspicious and still enjoys things like family and friends, and getting together for adventurous undertakings as the seasons change and interconnections fluctuate. 

She wants to chill with her older sis who over the years has grown distant and cold, too independent and radically dismissive, she can't comprehend the awkward tension.

It's as if May (Louisa Krause) has became an authoritarian who seeks to accomplish every task on her own, with no time for consultations or delegating, the strict lonely embrace of absolute disparity.

But when she finds herself trapped beneath the sea with no one to rely upon but a carefree worker, she finds she must once again enter the productive free world and engage in mutually beneficial dialogues.

Relaxation is key as the terrifying nature of their circumstances sets in, likelihood and probability hauntingly destabilizing hopeful psychologies at the desperate outset.

But as necessity is the mother of invention plucky Drew (Sophie Lowe) proves rather industrious, rapidly doing everything she can to facilitate a working solution.

Thus faced with overwhelming odds recklessly existing outside her comfort zone, the worker demonstrates intuitive dexterity and discovers essential requirements.

Not without the incumbent trial and error which accompanies improvised decision making, the perilous predicament begetting haste which in turn at times leads to computational dysfunction. 

Like Saint-Loup's admiration for the bakers and plumbers and other workers who heroically distinguished themselves in World War I (In Search of Lost Time), actions cut through class prejudice, her inspired dedicated resolute resiliency electrifying the pretentious/carefree dialectic.

But after her trials she's left unconscious due to the logistics of rapid ascent, management forced to react reciprocally to save the life of its valiant stalwart.

Not enough time expires in the end to know if the deconstructed cynicism held, and lighthearted takes on animate sweet nothings once again resurfaced with literal composure.

Erlenwein does a lot with The Dive and keeps things tense throughout. 

If you're thinking the plot doesn't have much to go on.

You may be pleasantly surprised. 

Wavelength

An artist facing the void seeks reanimate resuscitation, and discovers a curious lass seeking to hold back observant recon.

The two enjoy spirited fledgling manoeuvres while invoking inquisitive complimentary frolic, before an eerie mystery bewilderingly emerges which leads to experimental enthused investigation.

Voices-in-trouble are being transmitted telepathically from a secret location, the sleuthing of which leads to uncouth jail-time at the hands of the unamused military.

Who have encountered an alien craft and clandestinely moved its survivors accordingly, unable to communicate with the touristic humanoids who've been placed in pandemic style lockdown.

It becomes apparent that whoever contacts them soon suffers biological entropy, their bodies radiating inhospitibility, although they are able to cure corresponding ailments.

The couple desperately seeks their freedom just as the operation is sternly locked down.

But not without having provided emancipatory leeway.

For those involved to romantically break free.

It's classic low-budget sci-fi complete with narration and a romantic hermit, the hidden base in Los Angeles no less, having striven for ironic concealment. 

Perhaps the less prominent filmmakers were indirectly drawing attention, to a movie-making militaristic plot to control hearts and minds through mass produced film.

What percentage indeed of the various budgets of the diverse film companies a' reckoning over yonder, are factually spent on valourizing conflict with sincere hardboiled exceeding lament?

The novel imaginative aliens therefore generate unheralded song, the orthodox clique ensuring rehabilitation with no choice but to dynastically schism. 

Alas look to the ingenious French and other robust agile continental visionaries, who celebrate the diversity of their tribes with harmonious distinct eclectic inclusion.

Continuing to accelerate and zag they seek cultivation of genius as well, to salute nothing universally in particular, at times without resolute agenda.

The telepathic artists within ye olde Wavelength help the aliens escape beyond categorical compunction.

Hewn so long ago.

Manifold viewpoints, multilateral trajectories. 

Babysitter

If you're conservatively religious or not into gender-bending, I don't recommend this film. 

Even if it's one of the best films I've ever seen.

Too much inhibition and a freeform embrace of reckless honest indiscretion, lead to sociopolitical complications after a rowdy husband kisses a reporter.

The news spreads swiftly far and wide and reputation and occupation are soon jeopardized, the foolish manifestation of an adolescent prank thoroughly enveloped in critical ubiquity. 

He attempts to make amends by writing a book to wholeheartedly apologize, but still fails to understand the issue with passionate sincere conscious remorse. 

I don't know if it's supposed to be funny as he haplessly attempts to make things right, and struggles to understand what he's done wrong through the sudden immersion in advanced semantics.

Brilliant director Monia Chokri seems to be humorously illustrating the enormous gulf, between the rambunctious contemporary caveman and new developments in feminist theory.

His well-meaning brother makes things even worse as his good intentions are led astray, by improvised overwhelming waking dreams wherein which he reifies chivalric reconnaissance. 

Unfortunately, he's been somewhat unsuccessful regarding his relations with sustained pair-bonding, and his lack of traditional mutually concordant harmonies have transformed his hypotheses into nightmares.

They hire a babysitter to take care of the child while coming to terms with the media sensation. 

The wife so jaded every practical utterance suggestively radiating bitter irony.

It may be the most hilarious film I've ever seen made on Québecois soil, I haven't laughed this hard since I was a child, the intricate detail indubitably mesmerizing.

It's like every second was delicately crafted by a supportive team each sharing their gifts, a perfect synthesis of dialogue and sound productively edited with astounding precision. 

It's not just that she's taking on Xavier Dolan this film is better than so much of Godard and Truffaut, an incredible mélange of domestic politics internationally applicable to worldwide genius.

It made me think of ye olde Sedmikrásky (Daisies) or Le Tigre or Masseduction or Antisocialites, like an immaculate conglomerate of essences multilaterally matriculated matronly maelströms.

Sad the materialistic lack of voluble longlasting progressive initiatives, frustrating to see the march of history beguilingly devastating incumbent resonance. 

Perhaps a costume is appropriate something out of the ordinary beyond infatuation, dressing up and solemnizing oblivion like thoughtful exercise for terminal distress.

Babysitter still makes a play to significantly change the masculine world.

They say fortune favours the bold.

Who's bold enough for this masterpiece?

Viking

Hypotheses deemed reasonable fluidly facilitate relational replication, as a team is readily assembled which closely matches one sent to Mars.

As the astronauts were being chosen they had to pass a psychological test, during which they could freely respond to a variety of random potentially standardized questions.

Due to the length of the voyage, mission control thought it might be prudent, to duplicate their isolated conditions and place hearty surrogates within similar circumstances.

These volunteers have to take the same psych-evaluations and should their responses match those from a trooper, they'll be given the chance to function as their facsimile on a secluded base back home.

Hence, as drama and challenge coherently test the bona fide in space, their echoes residing on Earth produce the same social situations and generate theories.

Should their Earthen bound drama produce results considered highly applicable, the astronauts themselves can follow their advice and adapt their strategies in focused concordance. 

But what should happen if things become boring or resolute tensions claustrophobically arise?

And are they the only active team, currently reimagining solar schematics?

Imagine NASA with a hundredth the budget still valiantly spearheading courageous initiatives, and as they attempt to recruit concrete fascination, wind up with aggrieved personality (so 21st century).

Thus the mission occasionally lacks prominence in the hearts and minds of the locked-down duplicates, and rather than concentrating on the historical import, nitpicking irregularities steadfastly taunt them (😌).

In terms of a dry lackadaisical critique of bureaucratic function and hands-on theory, Stéphane Lafleur's tremendous Viking industriously lampoons think tanks and committees. 

The results of their disputatious endeavours as preponderantly quizzical as they are performative, needless to say issues endemically complicate throughout the bewildered parallel missions.

Of course space travel and space bureaucracy spiritedly functioning on a shoe string budget, may encounter resonant difficulties as binding conclusions hatch and spawn.

As for the comedic expenditure, the genuine inanity etherealizes throughout, with a structured lack of determinate goals sincerely generating realistic implosion.

Much more clever than relying on a monster to suddenly instigate space shenanigans. 

Keeping the mission in mind.

Great companion for Babysitter.

Au revoir le bonheur (Goodbye Happiness)

What to make of this film.

It concerns a well-to-do family whose father unfortunately passes, leaving his 4 sons to squabble in grief at their cherished home on the Magdalen Islands (which I'd like to visit). 

They own a rather large business which one of them manages somewhat ruthlessly, and even though they earn plenty of scrilla, he's still tightfisted regarding start-ups.

Another brother is a talented artist as regards brilliant culinary manifestation, yet he's somewhat hopeless in tune with everything else to do with commercial affairs.

I suppose it's a heartfelt look at a grieving disputatious family, but it has elements I just can't let slide, I'm not really that familiar with relationships or dating, but I believe Au revoir le bonheur (Goodbye Happiness) goes way over the top.

I don't think having children with 4 separate women all of whom were left for one reason or another (who all still secretly love him), while not paying child support even though your family's loaded, and eventually impregnating a 5th much younger girl by the end of the film, is a humorous subject, that goes way too far.

It's the kind of idea that occurs to you and you dismiss for being far too insensitive (there's a dark side to creativity), I'm not sure how this film was received in Québec, but it seems to have overlooked La révolution tranquille. 

I'm not exactly in touch with prevalent trends and cultural narratives (although I love wildlife and football), but this may be the most tone deaf film that's ever been presented as a merry bellwether. 

In the 1950s, or long ago when westerns dominated the market, in film and television and novel alike, perhaps Au revoir le bonheur would have been well-received.

When men and only men decided everything and the patriarchy adjudicated with irate prejudice. 

I know there are other things happening in the film, but trying to create a loveable endearing cad with absolutely no awareness of consequence or responsibility (even if such things are annoying), even after it's happened twice, three times, four times, who can't even remember his children's names and loses track of them when he's in charge, is a blind horrendous nauseous infantilism that isn't even fit for the worst trash comedy.

I liked Starbuck like many others but that wasn't nearly as definitively offensive. 

It's presented like a Disney movie with challenges and endemic daring.

I like a lot of oddball stuff.

Assuming there's still conscious sympathy. 

*The pandemic's produced worse. 

Arsenault & Fils (Arsenault & Sons)

The patriarchy's up to its old tricks again, this time in Rafaël Ouellet's Arsenault & Fils, wherein which a family of ruthless poachers is thoroughly and counterintuitively whitewashed.

Think of all the families who play by the rules to maintain healthy animal populations. The Arsenault's poach so much that sometimes nothing's left for their neighbours during hunting season. A lot of woodland people can save heavily on their winter grocery bills if they're able to harvest a deer or moose from such a population. But if some rogue family of jackasses shoots everything in the nearby forest (while claiming kinship with nature) including curious bears there's nothing left for thrifty locals to catch. The Arsenault's don't even keep the meat for themselves or distribute it to their community.

They sell it to far off restaurants. 

And when the heat's on they dump it in the forest.

It's basic math, well-meaning bright people have created a system to manage the hunt, and ensure it continues for generation after generation, just as long as you don't fucking kill everything.

As the saying goes, one family poaching for scraps is negligible.

5 million poachers will destroy a forest.

Look at Britain.

What a catastrophe. 

Although a lot of people are bringin' it back.

When we aren't supposed to be falling for the loveable family that's trying to change, while killing innocent bears and moose with high-tech weapons outside of hunting season!, a beautiful lass infiltrates the unit with hopes of bringing them down.

Undercover and at one time conscious of the adorable 4-legged residents of the forest, she witnesses several transgressions and compiles enough evidence to put them away.

But it's classic patriarchy.

In the short amount of time she's spent chillin' with the family, she's unconsciously fallen for them, especially the one who cares little for his appearance (the true patriarch needn't do anything to attract devoted beautiful mates), and she even cares for his nutjob brother.

Worried that they'll die in a confrontation with the cops, she blows her cover and ruins everything.

The writers suggesting she couldn't overcome.

Her natural dependence on lawless men.

I was so angry while watching the production team try to cultivate sympathy for such a way of life, that I thought committing myself to the animal protection squad may just be a great way to live.

I have lots of ideas like that though and I don't know if I'm ruthless enough for the job.

It'd be nice to save animal lives though.

Wish the UN paid more attention.  

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3

Geez Louise.

The spirit of the '90s lives on.

It hasn't been replaced by some mad bigoted dysfunctional totalitarian complex.

Writers and directors still seeking a reasonable balance amongst the levels harmoniously sustained with heartfelt respect.

Racist discrimination isn't dominating.

Neither is elitist pretension. 

In Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3, posthaste, which holds a coveted place within the mass market, and is theoretically quite influential in terms of meaningful intergalactic liberty.

Within an ingenious megalomaniac seeks to reinvent ye olde planet Earth, with genetically modified animals, but the results are not utopian (Chukwudi Iwuji as The High Evolutionary). 

He's such a piece of shit that he doesn't try to fix the ailing society he's created, instead since it isn't ideal, he decides to utterly annihilate it.

He can't accept that the creation of a world has too many variables to cohesively caress, and that manifold multivariable mutations naturally challenge strategic planning.

You can't just destroy tens of thousands of lives if your perfect world lacks ornate distinction, that's tens of thousands of murders on your hands, if you create life, it happens to be living.

That's what he does though, that motherfucker, the Guardians fighting him along the way, while offering glimpses into Rocket's (Bradley Cooper) past, the Evolutionary's most gifted creation.

A ship is self-destructing, everyone must flee and move quickly to avoid oblivion, a voice shouts out to save the higher lifeforms at which point I thought elitism had won the day.

But an alternative voice rich with multilateral concordance soulfully contradicts it with compassionate equipoise. 

And the animals locked down upon the vessel are also freed and led to safety.

In the end, there's an awesome party which looks like it must have been fun to attend, different species from different walks of life exchanging observations and jokes and memories.

We were taught long ago way back when to value life in all its form, and not to condescendingly judge those whose grades lacked brilliant correspondence. 

Not to let them run the show but certainly to give them a salient voice, not everyone fluent in microbiology, but generally aware of ways and means.

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 cherishes life and celebrates community, regardless of I.Q or test scores, or biological resiliency.

In a wild unpredictable way that isn't preachy or overwrought.

I may have to pick up a copy.

Along with Avatar: The Way of Water.

🦝🐘🐻🦏🦛🦑🐄

Jules au pays d'Asha (Adventures in the Land of Asha)

It's a shame there has to be so much conflict as different groups try to inhabit the same space, mad insensitive aggrieved prejudice spoiling what could have been mutually beneficial otherwise.

Latent curiosity and shapeshifting definition steering clear of volatile absolutes, can lead to less authoritarian conviction as so many others have noted.

Less authoritarian conviction leads to less violent prescription as possibility proves multivalent and choice radiates concurrently. 

Thus, to be curious about secular orders and different faiths leads to fascination, through noteworthy respectful chronicles inquisitively investigating difference.

It's fun to imagine the divine touch illuminating each distinctive viewpoint, through natural immaterial observances characterizing piece of mind.

The traditions can be appealing as they provide industrious links, stretching thousands of years into the past, direct connections to extant history.

Applicability to cultural mutations and newfound initiatives scientifically spearheaded, perhaps lead to doctrinal adjustments which celebrate difference and transformation.

You wonder why books stopped being added to sacred texts as if the ancient world had monopolized spirituality, suspicious how divine inspiration has been sharply dismissed forever after since then.

Scientific observations of the heating planet do rationally suggest, that sustainable stewardship of global environments will lead to a less disastrous future.

Perhaps thousands of years ago when technology was rather primitive, and the wild was still imposing and seemed like a limitless potent hostility, the desire to cultivate and criticize it predominantly spread across the land, especially noting habitual plagues and many frustrating incurable ailments, nature must have seemed at times quite daunting to ancient researchers. 

Yet there were also thousands of years when people around the world lived harmoniously with nature, and reciprocal symbiosis drove renewable extents!

I suppose if the fossil fuel age comes to a sudden end and no alternative technologies emerge to replace it, the likelihood of an embrace of nature will be nautically necessitated. 

Perhaps with adaptations and a much less wild and reckless impetus, the loss of such a multidimensional society enough to humble even the most self-serving autocrat.

Back to travelling by boat, ye olde steam engines, bikes, and blacksmiths. 

Things are so expensive in Canada and Québec nowadays it's not like there's much opportunity to travel interprovincially anyways.

Cool film.

*It's not just groceries. Let's look at gas that hasn't gone back down to pre-pandemic levels either. 

Blackberry

Don't really know what to make of this film.

I know it was awesome when blackberries were huge and a Canadian company was performing exceptionally well internationally. I know we excel with minerals and potash and maple syrup and wheat, but a huge tech sensation, that was something new for me (more so than the Canadarm). 

I imagine there are thousands of new innovations being made in Canada every year by crafty individuals, blackberry just generated more media attention, and took on companies like Apple.

Could you have had the iPhone without Research in Motion?

Probably. I imagine someone would have invented something similar around the same time regardless, but trying to make something even more impressive than the Blackberry may have driven dynamic creative iPhone progenitors.

The film closely follows the paths of RIM's ambitious CEOs, Mike Lazaridis (Jay Baruchel) who spearheaded the design, and Jim Balsillie (Glenn Howerton) who was able to market it.

As their prominence grows they both become consumed by power, Lazaridis losing his relatable cool (and cancelling Movie Night!), Mr. Balsillie transforming into a megalomaniac. 

The co-founder who questioned Balsillie's methods gets away with a lucrative sum (Matt Johnson [who also directed] as Doug), and he's right, when you're working insane hours it's things like Taco Tuesday or Movie Night that make the job worthwhile. I don't know how many books and articles have to be written about the subject, it's pizza and jazz that make jobs fun.

And they make you want to work harder, make me want to work harder anyways, it's like working in Montréal, you work super hard during the day to build up the economy, and then prosper after hours with the amazing night life.

I liked how Blackberry the film suggests that sending RIM's manufacturing jobs to China ruined the company. I don't know if that's just something that made the truth based story more coherent, but the more jobs we keep in Canada and Québec the better.

I've heard about companies wanting to set up shop in Canada and Québec precisely because our population's so educated. With mass education you create a bright people that can handle complex tasks and intricate interactions.

Were Balsillie and Lazaridis that brutal, did all power corrupt, perhaps, who am I to say?, the pressures they were under as presented in the film were extraordinary, but that's no excuse for alienating and abandoning your workforce.

I don't like how the film seems to be severely critiquing the company and poking fun about how they're not around anymore, however (I love the CBC, but blackberries didn't have government funding).

I've heard it's 10 times harder to live the American dream in Canada.

For a short time period, RIM made it happen.

Wish Blackberry was still around. Those were cool times.

The more jobs kept in Canada and Québec the better!  

*Heard they had AC/DC at their Christmas party one year. I don't know if that's true. But imagine that. AC/DC at a private party in Kitchener/Waterloo. I wouldn't have believed that could happen in the 1980s. 

Drinkwater

Note: I know they're fun to make fun of, but teachers have an incredibly difficult job.

They may have some time off in the summer, at Christmas, and during Spring Break, but the rest of their time is spent locked-down in a 24/7 hyper-panopticon, where they're under a communal microscope imposed by students, parents, and co-workers alike (having exponentially expanded with social media).

Most jobs have supervisors who monitor your performance, and fellow workers might say something if you have no excuse for having a really bad day, but the scrutiny teachers have to deal with is extreme, and criticisms can be difficult to shake off if ubiquitously intensified.

Not only do you have to show up and work from around 8:30am to 4, after work and on weekends you have to prepare your classes and grade tests and assignments.

All while simultaneously trying in many cases to raise a family and hold a marriage together.

In any given class, you have a variety of learners chillin' out with the A, B, and C's, you can't teach a lesson that's crazy hard, you don't want to make things ridiculously easy, and no matter what you do no matter how skilfully you level the playing field, some people will earnestly complain, but extra work for ambitious students, and compassion for those who have to take things they don't excel at in high school, can go a long instructive way, and is somewhat of an art that takes time to develop.

You also have to be A+ and recognize that you're a role model each and every day, even when you're sick or fatigued, it's an incredibly difficult job.

Easier for extroverts I imagine but not by that much.

If you're raising kids and don't teach I imagine having just one is demanding.

Some teachers are responsible for over 150 (not including their own families).

The gym coach (Alex Zahara as Mr. Babcock) in Drinkwater is presented fairly as he tries to reason with exuberant teens, but the only African American character in the film isn't, when you have limited black characters and you treat them that way, it's racist.

The main character isn't even that appealing, still around three-quarters of the way into the film I wasn't cheering for him, he finally gets it near the end and things improve, but couldn't he have had more amusing uncanny idiosyncrasies?

Sigh.

When the film isn't catering to what the production team assumes is a stock-jock scientific sympathetic market (smart writers dumbing it down by having nerdy characters obsess about beautiful women [for so much of the film]), there are moments of enticing brilliance, especially the credits, and they could make a classic film the next time out if the in-depth contemplations were the main focus of the narrative.

I imagine classic rock staples aren't that expensive to pick up for soundtracks anymore (Drinkwater plays a ton). I freakin' love classic rock and I know it still flourishes outside of Canadian cities (I don't know about the Québecois countryside). Still, there are a lot of cool contemporary Canadian and Québecois musicians as well. The Sheepdogs for instance. 

Is contemporary Canadian and Québecois music that expensive?

*Cool shout out for Penticton, B.C, anyways.

Avatar: The Way of Water

When Avatar: The Way of Water began I was initially confused.

It looked like it was going to focus primarily on revenge and reconstruct the devastating antagonisms that dominated the first film.

Of course these films are cinematic endeavours not nature documentaries, and I have to remind myself to concentrate on the difference at times to avoid sounding even more antiquated.

I was hoping the second film would expand the world presented in the original nevertheless (I didn't know anything about this film going in), and provide more insights into Pandora itself, and I was happy to see that that's what happened, as Jake (Sam Worthington) and Neytiri (Zoe Saldaña) and their family go into hiding.

They hide amongst people of the water or a tribe as knowledgeable of the sea as they are of the forest (the Metkayina), just writing that reminds me of how cool these films are, and how amazing it is that blockbusters are genuinely championing nature (I swear there's a dialogue here between Avatar and Ghibli, Kaze no tani no Naushika (Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind) anyways[wish I could write that essay]).

The water people are super intense and highly critical and dismissive of those who don't know their ways, the gauntlet immediate and challenging and demanding as the new recruits adjust to their newfound codes.

The Way of Water may not be a nature documentary but it does excel as it examines tulkan and human relations, the tulkan closely resembling whales back home, I couldn't make it to Tadoussac again this summer, this film went a long ways to compensate. 

It primarily concerns a rogue tulkan who made the forbidden decision to fight back against his hunters, his kind absolutely devoted to peace and unconditionally opposed to taking a life.

Extreme hardship drove him to fight back however and members of his pod were killed in the battle, he survived but was banished forthwith for having fought back against his oppressors. 

He forms a tight bond with Jake and Neytiri's son Lo'ak (Britain Dalton) who also has trouble following rules, and who brings his case to the Metkayina who are none too fond of the outcast.

Later in the film, it's like the coolest moment ever presented in blockbuster cinema, Payakan (the outcast tulkan) joins the concluding battle between the inhabitants of Pandora and the colonizers, and makes a definitive impact.

It isn't over in 30 seconds either, it keeps going and going and going. Scene after scene of nature fighting back. So much thought, time, and care sincerely went into it.

I tell people that the best possible world would be one where there is no war and violence (what people were fighting for for most of my life before Trump), where our social structures are so cohesive that someone like Putin would never arise.

But Hitler's rise in the 1930s makes me worry about such possibilities, i.e, if someone like that does arise and no country has an army to fight them, they could effectively blitzkrieg most of Europe, and leave civilization in bitter ruins.

Thus, I advocate for the creation of potent defensive armies and their continual existence in case of such a development, Putin having proven their unfortunate need, to be kept out of the hands of bloodthirsty tyrants.

Democracy prevailed for many a decade and kept the despotic autocrats at bay.

The rise of the internet has seen them prosper again nonetheless.

These are difficult times.

I suppose that without a defensive army you could wager assimilation might eventually win back your country, like the Chinese used to do with the Mongols (Sinicization), although it takes a lot of frustration and generations to possibly work, and, imagine having to listen to those people for generations (not the Chinese, the fascist colonizers).

Geez Louise, this became far too heavy, note that I really loved Avatar: The Way of Water.

It's a really cool universe and I'm glad it's popular.

Can't wait for my next whale watching excursion. 

*It would be cool to see an Avatar film that was focused primarily on the different interrelations between the inhabitants of Pandora, like an Olympics or something, with less of a focus on colonization. 😎

John Wick: Chapter 4

The world constantly mutating as unforeseen predicaments arise and challenge, the longed for permanent uniform consistency only a computational strategic plan away.

The sure and steady undeniably preferable to intermittent chaos and flagrant eruption, if you value life and inherent stability replete with potential and equal opportunity.

Should the sure and steady contain a flexible matrix designed to multidimensionally incorporate, manifold intricate wide-ranging disciplines, civil society may indeed emerge.

Should there be stimulating opportunities to earn a disposable income and freely spend it, the intense longing for the unattainable will surely fade into jealous oblivion. 

It's difficult to say where things are headed with the rise of the autocrats and the pandemic having changed things, attempts to re-establish a steady routine fraught with haunting manufactured doubts.

Nevertheless, unhinged contemplation remains emancipated within film and books, the freeform embrace of uncanny narrative hopefully still resolute and daunting.

I suppose in my mind there's a distinction between artistic independence and the political, whereas a book that revels in unorthodox imagination doesn't risk economic turmoil.

When I champion alternatives and divergent ways and means of doing things, I'm generally referring to the artistic world where innate novelty exhilarates. 

With politics the provision of affordable food and steady employment seem of the utmost import, variety no doubt a driving force in the playful unpredictability of a diverse culture.

People at work and people at play the harmless facilitation of curious ways, when people routinely introduce chaos to the political scene because they find dynamic variety threatening, it's indeed most unfortunate, the results playing out in various stages.

It's like John Wick (Keanu Reeves) fights for respect the unwritten codes many people abide by, having been sincerely disrespected himself he introduces the chaotic element.

He just wanted to be left alone and enjoy his retirement in genuine peace.

But he possessed incomparable skill.

Worth too much to far too many.

A king without a kingdom a CEO with no business plan, just pure impeccable authentic resiliency flourishing within a democracy.

In a democracy you can disagree without being sent to prison or a re-education camp.

Respect dutifully leading to traditional argument.

Totally love this franchise.

Along with Clancy Brown cameos.