Black Adam

D.C's Black Adam takes a turn for the ruthless as opposing extremists seek absolute victory, the feuding opponents having been unable to forgive for thousands of acrimonious rage-fuelled years.

The lack of concern for human life malevolently maintained by characters within, sets a maniacal distressing precedent not often seen in fantasy-adventures.

Of course they're countered by caring individuals definitively dedicated to preserving life, who don't calculate with vicious reckoning absolutely composed through righteous might.

When both sides in an age old conflict that sees no prospect of ending soon, view their adversaries with reckless contempt there's no way out of the malignant cycle.

Without leadership willing to withstand the bitter force of paralyzing prejudice, on both sides, the peaceful populace just trying to live has no laidback recourse to cultural stability.

Most people that I've met aren't irate belligerent militaristic madmen, they'd rather live a productive life in prosperous peace with their friends and families.

A stable economy, routine work, a dependable living to support domestic endeavours, aren't these things much more valuable than obsessed hatred and compulsive chaos?

You only have to momentarily consider something as wholesome as a community park, and the far-sighted caring commendable people who preferred such an idea to sequestered solace. 

Is the park not freely available to everyone, regardless of race or religion?

It would be cool if far-sighted knowledgeable politicians kept track of radical war mongers, the people advocating for the spread of war, using words like "natural" and "inevitable".

They could keep a list of these people and should a horrendous day come when war actually broke out, ensure that they're sent to the front lines for the entire conflict, where they'd be given plenty of opportunity to prove their mettle. 

Life's the most valuable asset we have after the choice is made to have a family, and real men and women opposed to wars and conflicts know the value of peace and stability.

They know it's a much more divine conception of honour to peacefully and compassionately love friends and family, to uphold traditions and seek continuity within playful reason generation after generation.

The love of good food, a glass of wine, the reliable networks that cultivate consistency.

Why listen to politicians who would challenge that?

To profit people who have nothing but contempt for you?

Superman shows up during the credits so there may be hope for the sequel.

But the Rock is too influential a star.

And I didn't like his character's contempt for life.

Black Panther: Wakanda Forever

Pink Floyd was in a bind after their leading member became incapacitated. But they regrouped and dug in deep and years later wrote Dark Side of the Moon (and Atom Heart Mother and Meddle).

I can't think of another band that held it together after their leading person sort of passed, and even went on to improve upon his work, not that I still don't love listening to Piper.

In a similar way, but under much different circumstances, Marvel's Black Panther lost Chadwick Boseman, and likely had to make considerable adjustments to keep things real to narratively excel.

And I couldn't believe it.

Flabbergasted, if I'm not mistaken, is the word.

Wakanda Forever is like limitless joy radiating infinite happiness in a never-ending ocean of strength, illuminatingly upheld with fluidic fortunes nascently enabling elaborate forum. 

A major takeaway for anyone whose ever been pissed off about what happened to Indigenous South and Central America.

I try not to think about it because it's so uniformly frustrating that it obscures clear thought, and opens doors to distressing depression especially when you see it happening again.

Nothing can be done about it, but fiction doesn't play by the same mortal rules, and in Marvel's Wakanda Forever, Indigenous South Americans are a potent factor.

They survived thanks to a special flower the existence of which was revealed to them by their god, which transformed them into vibrant merpeople, who then made their home far beneath the open sea.

Not just a home, there's so much respect, like the respect given to African Americans through the creation of Wakanda, the extant versatile Mayas and Incas having built a formidable civilization under the sea.

They also ride whales and admire turtles Wakanda Forever totally jamming with Whale Rider, not only by introducing integral whales but also by championing prominent female characters.

It's like a monumental Indigenous/Feminist/African inherent feat of incredibility, with total respect given within, in terms of equality, ingenuity, and innovation.

Nature isn't forgotten as well the miraculous existence of any given species, is venerably compared to Wakandan and Talokonil technology, the cultures prospering through cultural symbioses. 

Like Pink Floyd, Marvel held it together and created another action packed inspiring phenom. 

The ocean is undeniably vast. 

Who knows what lies underneath?

*If Namor wants to buy Black Panther Shuri a present, I recommend picking up a really cool bike.

**Wrote this on Friday night after having a swim. 

***I know humpback and orcas get the most press because watching them jump is amazing, but don't forget about all the other whale (and turtle) species out there. They need representation too!

****There are a lot of bad things happening in the ocean, considering the infamous garbage patch and the intense underwater sound disturbances. The Talokonil (and the Metkayina) could tackle some of those issues in these films. I can't believe how much I love them. 

Mo' Better Blues

A resourceful mother expeditiously seeks potential employment for her talented son, and wisely purchases a musical instrument for him to learn to dynamically play.

It means a bit less free time but he puts in the hours and develops a style, which transforms into a sought after act on the New York scene several years later.

He becomes a renowned band leader playing each night at a fashionable club, with a solid group deftly backing him up, and versatile friends animately adoring.

Trouble's a' brewin' nevertheless his manager's unable to renegotiate their contract, and they could be making so much more considering how many people come nightly to see them.

His saxophone player's just as good as he is too if not better they make quite the team, but like so many other famous acts with two leading men, conflict arises as egos exasperate. 

Gambling's a big issue too and that very same manager gets in way too deep.

The pressure, the rivalries, the contract, the romance.

Everything suddenly comes crashing down.  

Band conflicts didn't make sense to me when I was really young and I always loved it when they held it together, or didn't frequently change their line-ups, which I briefly studied in a Rock'n'Roll Encyclopedia. 

Pink Floyd's leading men held it together for so long, The Guess Who for a shorter time period, The Beatles making the most of their time together, Jagger and Richards only briefly splitting up (Union by Yes unavailable on Apple Music). 

The Benny Goodman Jazz Quartet can't be beat in my opinion. What incredibly quick inspired jams! I've never heard anything like it. Lionel Hampton doing so well with his own bands too. 

Playing cards can be a lot of fun but I would recommend not making it your principal goal, unless you have no responsibilities or bills, and don't really mind if the house always wins. 

I'm not saying you can't win at a casino but you should intently study before making your bets.

There are quite a few books that can help.

And I imagine hundreds of YouTube videos.

But still even then the odds favour the house but on one special might you might just get that lucky.

If you want to bet on sports, just practice beforehand.

You can easily find out if you know what you're doing.

The Island of Dr. Moreau

Lost, adrift, on the vast imposing interminable Pacific, rage erupting, thirst infuriating, until rescue emerges, with aloof repose. 

Douglas is taken to an isolated island where he's given time to rest and recuperate, still taken aback when he distressingly notices, that his room's been tightly locked down.

Not one to embrace incoherency, he soon picks the inordinate lock, and begins spying on the strange inhabitants as they experimentally express themselves. 

But lo and cross-breedingly behold, he's rather shocked to invariably find, that the secluded scientists working on the island, have created a colony of industrious mutants.

He tries to expediently escape but finds himself cut off from aquatic crafts, then chaotically immersed in a self-contained world presided over by a distant demagogue. 

It turns out he's applied his genius to the novel creation of a forbidden realm, wherein which beasts must cast off their ways and politely live like civilized humans. 

Unfortunately, order is upheld through the authoritarian dissemination of pain, each hybrid animal arrhythmically attached to a remote control which punishes disobedience. 

For most of the modest citizens the rules aren't particularly hard to follow.

But some question Moreau's civility.

And covet his daunting absolute impetus. 

Ah the perfect world idealistically enrapturing innate truth and justice, perhaps even flourishing here and there at times before newfound tensions and jealousies disrupt things. 

A logical world delectably defining codes of conduct and cerebral sentiments, through which harmony and balance are perennially restored through the judicious elevation of enlivening discipline. 

Alas, illustrious logic and reified reasonability don't prosper unchallenged, and the people lacking control of the spirited unity seek the recodification of the rules and regulations. 

Often trying to make a complicated system too simple (politics), or a simple system too complicated (commerce), while prohibiting the attainment of bountiful resources, the accumulation of which would pacify many.

But not all, the desire for power madly drives the overly ambitious to fits of frenzy.

Moreau's island destroyed and reconstructed every day.

Ingenious creation.

Dispersed manifold.

Spiderhead

The pursuit of manufactured obedience follows the pharmaceutical path, as Spiderhead's solo unattached dismal warden despotically pursues reckless inactivity. 

Unsupervised with serious responsibility he develops several potential new drugs, and tests them on his prison's inmates every decision he makes of his own free will.

Fret not concerned enthused viewer, he wants to keep things friendly and fun, and even strikes up acquaintances with his test subjects while becoming addicted to the drugs himself.

They're far off so far away inimically isolated from spirited criticism, idyllic mad spontaneous digressions only provocatively questioned by one rogue assistant. 

Seeking to make billions on joy and happiness not to mention free form conversation, he still can't dishonour discreet somnambulism with soporific sequestered sedulity. 

Problem: to make sure the obedience drug works he needs to challenge ethical parameters, and see if people will do horrifying things simply because they've been recommended.

Thus, he convinces a test subject to administer his "paranoia" drug to another, but "paranoia" isn't really the right word, it rather encourages excessive terror. 

The subject's driven to suicide after the dose is accidentally augmented. 

But genuine guilt indeed manifests.

With the mass megalomania in jeopardy. 

Here we go again with the pursuit of hegemony unilaterally applied, attempting to accomplish sadistic ends to alarmingly overwhelm free choice and expression.

Odd how so many people spend so much time consuming arts and entertainment, while also cutting down creative synergies, the 1970s and David Bowie were miracles.

The irony let loose in Spiderhead is that independence itself seeks mindless automatons, who'll listen and follow the guidance of whomever no matter what the proactive cost.

Like the dreamy demagogue preaching equality who locks everything down after the revolution, Abnesti proceeds to definitively ensure no one else like him will ever co-exist. 

As others have likely suggested, is it not better to mal/adroitly attune, independent instincts to constructive endeavours to promote diversity and innovation?

Without such inherent expression does decay not metastasize with fetid impersonality, and prevent the development of sundry alternatives from multivariably delineating enchanted metamorphosis? 

Never stop writing poems just because you're convinced someone else is better. 

Keep writing absurdity ad infinitum. 

Who cares if no one else is interested?

Alienoid

Imprudence exceedingly deteriorates an unorthodox prison constructed by aliens, when a particularly rebellious inmate is radically set free by robotic insurgents (hopefully their next stop's Russia around this time last week!). 

The jail consists of human hosts randomly chosen due to time constraints, the extraterrestrials placed within their bodies and left there (theoretically) dormant to slowly fade.

To make them more difficult to locate different time periods are meticulously mobilized, aliens resting in different bodies everlasting throughout time. 

Obsessions with magic periodically erupting should an alien escape two cyborgesque guardians arrive, their remarkably fluid technology enabling atemporal matriculate moxie. 

In the opening moments, one such innovative captive escapes, chaotically perishing in the ensuing confrontation, her host's baby daughter left alone and helpless, her lifeforce still indicating rampant resonance.

The guardians take her back to the present and improvisationally raise her as best they can, Yi-an (Kim Tae-Ri/Choi Yu-ri) slowly figuring things out as she ages, a unique inquisitive non-traditional childhood.

But the aforementioned shipment of criminal aliens eventually arrives to usurp and challenge. 

Proving too volatile for the resilient guardians.

Who can only defeat them through the passage of time.

That would be cool to have a special device which lithely facilitated forbidden time travel, not only to voyage to different times and observe, but also to hide vital treasures throughout history.

Divergent ideas im/materially motivating newfound visions and corresponding networks, the careful management of ingenious works may modestly encourage enriching contemplation.

Should time munificently permit the dynastic emergence of cartotemporal relevance, consistent multilateral mechanisms may spellbindingly enchant with rhythmic reticence. 

Perhaps more suited to the far distant past classic literature and museums performing similar functions, different generations reimagining first contact to inspire insurrections within established genres. 

But Chinese and Japanese cultures developed so much earlier than European customs, and have cherished artistic traditions for thousands of years give or take a century.

Unfortunately, conflict and power-relations may have led to many incredible works being lost, but how many of them were also preserved?, I don't know much about such history.

Nevertheless, if you had something precious to be wondrously showcased without fear of theft, managing different personas throughout time may lucidly enable multifaceted continuums. 

Perhaps another goal for alchemists should they discover the elixir of life.

Too complicated for me I'm afraid.

I thought Alienoid was amazing (with Twin Peaks characters).

*Looking forward to the recently released sequel.  

Athena

A chilling video is released depicting police violence in an unsettled town, where tensions run high and misperceptions embroil as many hardworking people just try to earn a steady living.

A noted family takes opposing sides after it's announced their brother was murdered, Abdel (Dali Benssalah), a celebrated war her who works for the police, urging calm, Karim (Sami Slimane), his volatile younger sibling, suddenly erupting with insurgent fury.

He leads a group of friends into a local police station which they ransack, taking the weapons back to an apartment complex where they prepare for a wild confrontation.

The police show up in force as similar uprisings break out around France, people tired of the reckless violence taking matters into their own chaotic hands.

But it soon becomes apparent that the video was staged by sadistic members of the belligerent far right.

Attempting to start a race war to further their mad agenda (with Google's Magic Eraser?).

Easily facilitated by the lack of oversight on social media. 

It's a disastrous grim scenario hypothetically engaged with extremist tensions, that points out the necessity of police restraint, and the overarching danger of unhinged fake news.

The news is much more healthy in a widespread differentiated spectrum, where sundry journalists are committed to the truth and manifold independent papers fact check ad infinitum. 

In Canada, Bell Media just cut another 4,800 jobs from its shrinking mainstream newsroom, meaning even fewer people with be responsible for the official news, the smaller the number, the greater room for error. 

And as a lack of trust emerges it's much harder to follow a small minority viewpoint, which indubitably pursues its own interests, the news should be expanding, not contracting.

It is expanding online with another 4,800 people now looking for work, some of the them may have to criticize vaccines or promote electoral fraud to pay the bills, hopefully not, but those stories aren't going away.

Athena takes a hard-hitting look at the inherent dangers of provocative intrigue, and the ways in which honest hard-working citizens have their lives torn asunder by base collusion.

Fact check your sources and be patient sometimes it takes a while for a story to unfold.

There are new media outlets currently blossoming who still respect the truth as their modus operandi (like the National Observer)(nothing associated with Trump). 

Note: they aren't trying to start a race war.

And they can take it when they lose an election.

*Athena is the best film I've seen so far on Netflix. Super impressed for sure. It could have played theatres no doubt. And found a huge receptive audience (like it probably has on Netflix too). 

Nomadland

An entire town picks up and moves after the mine shuts down after 80 years, the rural location never resourcefully blossoming into a multi-integrated industrious locale.

What do the reliable people who have lived their whole lives there do however, it's a bit of an unsettling preponderancy especially considering the magnetic wilderness.

Fern (Francs McDormand) tenaciously improvises to her new set of challenging economic circumstances, earning enough money to live off at different jobs, while taking deservéd time off in between.

Her husband passed away not long ago and she has no children or viable pension, she has family who are kind and sympathetic, but she's always prided herself on her independence. 

It's cool how the continental United States has so many warm regions during the winter months, and you can literally move from state to state throughout the progression of the solar year.

I suppose you could try to live in your car during a cold and provocative Canadian winter, but you'd have to spend a lot in gas to keep the heater running so much of the time.

Not only does Fern live the nomadic lifestyle she boldly defends it in critical arguments, democratically pointing out the rights of citizens who may not be as well of as those homeward bound.

Even when she's overwhelmed she doesn't hesitate to have her say, and isn't worried about spoiling the evening or what her in-laws may think later on.

A hesitant beau is interested (David Strathairn as Dave) and should have realized she's a heartbreaker.

Who loved that mining town.

And doesn't mind life on the road.

I don't want to recommend the nomadic lifestyle to the millions of people embracing bourgeois domesticity, I've found that what sounds appealing to me at times gets me into trouble when I start to advertise. 

But assuming that you're level-headed peeps who aren't going to drop everything because of an oddball blogger, I have to admit that I loved Nomadland's final moments, when Fern freely drives off into the mountains. 

Some people like the dynamic thrill of constant movement and unpredictable designs, their labyrinthine zigzagging ways non-traditionally motivating alternative economies. 

It often sounds like freedom to just live in your ride and travel the country, picking up work here and there as you go, assuming you don't have any responsibilities. 

You'd get to see so much of the continent as you productively roamed vigilantly throughout, there are thousands of places to visit, and wouldn't it be cool to see NFL and CFL games in every home city?

Fern chooses life on her own and as I watched I thought she was real.

It's tough to think that people her age still have to work.

You'd imagine we'd have cleared that up by now. 

*Geez Louise. This has nothing to do with the war in Palestine. I wrote it last week. There's a lot of rural industry in Canada so it's important for the different towns to integrate multidimensionally so people don't have to move (easier said than done). Honestly, I think Netanyahu's a butcher (as is Hamas), and his appeal to the stone age is making things infinitely worse, historically speaking. 🥲

Stillwater

A father whose tumultuous routine led to an awkward relationship with his struggling family (Matt Damon as William), is consumed with obsessive guilt several years later when his daughter's arrested (Abigail Breslin as Allison). 

She's found guilty of resonant murder and sent to prison near the coast of Marseille, her father visiting her there when he can, the flights expensive, work hard to find.

She emphatically proclaims her innocence and on his most recent visit reveals a clue, which gives him reemergent hope as he soon tries to get her case reopened. 

Obdurately blocked however by pressing realities within the law, he buckles-down and radically adjudicates by trying to find the suspect himself.

Problems: he doesn't speak French and is oblivious to local custom, he's also spent most of his life in the rural American mid-west and is generally uncertain as to how to proceed.

Moving forward nevertheless fate soon secures a definitive lead, and provides shelter and cultural refinement not to mention employment and domestic salvation. 

But to find the irascible murderer he may have to pay too high a price.

Caught between cultures and families. 

He instinctually reacts with western-style gusto. 

Expediently extemporary the ethical dilemmas contract and metastasize, no easy answers no glib illumination as a hard-boiled family deals with its own.

As newfound chances wholesomely radiate and enlivened parenthood intricately seasons, bad decisions still surreally occupy a bitter frustrated entombed consciousness. 

He's willing to risk everything he's gained on an assuréd probability which crosses the streams, if things work out, tout va bien toujours, if they fall apart, it's worse than worst case.

Not only that, it soon becomes apparent that his daughter's innocence is not that clear-cut, and that the investigation held in accordance may not have been led quite so far astray.

I wouldn't have taken such a risk new life's far too precious for improvised risk management, it does bring about the sought after ends, but they could have been achieved through less threatening means. 

In terms of a neo-western-film-noir mind*^*& Tom McCarthy's Stillwater internationally succeeds nonetheless.

Nothing quite like amoral gristle.

Destitute detritus.

Mid-winter mayhem. 

G-Loc

There's always the possibility of another ice age.

At times, as global heating seems to be presenting a scorching vituperative evaluation of technoprogress, as if fossil fuels were in fact the Earth's effervescent lifeblood which it was none too willing to freely disseminate, my thoughts counterintuitively stray to the other chaotic extreme, and wonder what brought about the last ice age, so many millennia ago?

We clearly weren't responsible, it must have had something to do with our distance from the sun, as if our orbit temperamentally expressed mad frigid interminable armageddon. 

Others clearly think this way as cinematically indicated by the icy G-Loc, which sees frozen wastes consume the Earth, as people desperately seek food and shelter.

Fortunately, as if a benevolent deity serendipitously sensed our grievous peril, a miraculous wormhole appeared at the same time, offering courageous peeps an interstellar lifeline, time passing at a different rate in the alternate dimension. 

Nevertheless, as if that very same deity's most clever rival awaited on the other side, humans were generally shunned by the resident Rheans who traditionally occupy that region of space.

In this tale, two fearsome individuals, one Earther (Stephen Moyer as Bran) and the other Rhean (Tala Gouveia as Ohsha), must learn to constructively work together or find themselves floating woebegone lost in space.

Ill-accustomed to habitual diplomacy their mutual trust comes at a sharp premium, as different cultures maladroitly clash with no apparent purpose but to illogically destroy.

A well-meaning spirited tale soulfully suited to contemporary times, as refugees from the Middle-East continue to flock to more peaceful regions.

Not to forget the troubled Rohingya who have been searching for homes for forever, these free peoples in need of compassion to end their death-defying plights.

G-Loc steps things up a notch and turns the entire planet into a refugee group, intergalactically headed for a far distant planet where no one has even ever heard of their freakin' species.

Perhaps hoping that a lack of knowledge may inspire sympathy for their personal legends, astral alchemy synchronously applied, to solar caravans in spatial deserts.

Of course, a distrustful government sees itself losing hold of its traditional hegemony, and soon finds ways to demonize the Earthers not unlike those presented in Jodorowsky's Holy Mountain.

Does it not seem much more cruel and horrifying when xenophobia is applied on a planetary scale, not simply between countries and continents, but rather to everyone existing on Earth?!

Why then must it be so problematic to peacefully aid weary refugee travellers?

There's a ton of room in Canada and Québec (look at the window when you're on a plane).

Assuming it doesn't get too cold. 

Old

Engaging thrilling prospects.

Resortful relaxation.

Pack up the fam, head down south.

Fare thee well road weary travellers.

The Cappa(bara) family takes such a spirited initiative, and soon arrives at a stunning locale, where others await and luxury accommodates, the stay promising to be uneventful. 

Briefly after settling in, a special opportunity is secretly presented, a coveted invitation to lounge for a day, reputedly favoured spry striking resiliency. 

Soon they're off with a gourmet spread stretched out and chillin' at the isolated beach, the families engaged in freeform conversation when it becomes apparent that many of them are sick.

Even worse, after an even shorter time it appears as if the young ones have suddenly sprouted, and that everyone is aging indeed, at a rapid unusual alarming pace!

Different methods of desperate escape naturally present themselves without much thinking, each of them as treacherous as the last as the woebegone venturers routinely phase.

And just as Horror Beach or Death Beach seems about to claim its final victims. 

Escape ideogrammatically matures. 

Having been nurtured throughout the ages.

Star Trek themes and plots terrestrially abound in the seductive Old, as rapid aging and medical malfeasance malpractically matricurate along the coast. 

Certainly a creepy caper reminding visitors never to leave the boat, for they may find a pandemic peculiarity contraceptively constructed with scampy decorum. 

Nazi scum experimented on humans as do the fascist Cardassian monsters, such a practice to be met with sincerest defiance, through the aggrievéd art of humanistic condemnation. 

Had the beach's unique capabilities been made strictly known to concerned public agencies, there's no doubt reasonable decorum would have efficiently encouraged effective recon.

It would have made a cool nature documentary since as far as I know nothing quite like it exists.

Just to learn about, like bears or wolverines. 

To remain aware, never to be forsaken. 

*The idea may have come from reckless government initiatives hoping to store toxic waste near vital aquatic resources. 

2067

Spoiler alert.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

By travelling through the portal.

Abandoning Earth to its chaotic fate.

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

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

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

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

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

Still upholding multifaceted life.

Collective unity.

For generations onwards. 

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

Bandit

A criminal breaks free from an American minimum security prison (Josh Duhamel as Robert), and crosses the border into Canada, soon looking for work and lodging as the police search frustrated in vain, the 1980s much less suspicious and routinely hysterical, he doesn't blend, without standing out much either.

He still lacks identity cards and cash so he needs to creatively conjure convincingly, fortunately securing a place to stay, without much luck finding steady employment.

Not really cut out for the workforce, indeed brave but also quite lazy, he soon takes to robbing banks for small sums, and proceeds to do so across the country.

At the same time, his parter matter-of-factly announces she's about to bear young (Elisha Cuthbert as Andrea), filling him with enlivening ecstasy since he's always wanted to have a family.

His lifestyle rather ill-suited to traditional bourgeois relational trajectories, he feels somewhat isolated however, yet rather than attempt to learn a trade and embrace regal commerce and industry, he seeks the backing of a local gangster (Mel Gibson as Tommy), and malfeasantly reengages. 

Things proceed quite successfully for awhile before a local task force takes note.

His wife also figuring things out.

Accompanying him thereafter, from time to time. 

I know the pandemic was a difficult time during which it was particularly hard to make movies, and film studios had to green light questionable scripts and move forward with rash decisions, the period we're in now perhaps one of the worst in cinematic history, does that still excuse Bandit's lacklustre writing, lack of conscience, homophobia and general malaise?, no, I'm afraid it doesn't, this film's a directionless amateur train wreck.

People with no artistic skill and a lot of money still attempt to make commercial movies, and they think it's remarkably easy, and proceed with undaunted confidence in a pleasant atmosphere lacking critical aplomb (Mel Gibson most likely rewriting his lines), no stirring voice providing comment and criticism, good god, was this script even edited?

Bandit falls into the new filmmaking category which functions like grassroots bludgeoned briars, Ronald Reagan is therefore celebrated, and work and a steady job for chumps and fools, anyone limiting the fun a homosexual (the police for instance), they appeal to Robin Hood, but this guy's just a piece of shit.

The major transition hasn't taken place but hopefully things improve since restrictions have been lifted.

Some pandemic films were pretty amazing (Babysitter, Viking).

At least a couple of standouts slipped through. 

Gojira tai Mekagojira

An ancient island peacefully existing off the enlivening breathtaking coast, known for its stewardship and amiable governance suddenly embraces emergent chaos.

A prophecy enigmatically predicting the brazen arrival of a destructive monster, haunts the descendants of the Royal House which once freely administered the land.

Nevertheless, said prophecy also foretells the upswing of two courageous protectors, to halt the progress of the beast, and reinstate harmonious accord.

Without much pomp and circumstance the fated creature uproariously arrives, and begins pugnaciously a' plundering the calm and tranquil unsuspecting countryside.

Looking indeed rather like Godzilla yet not on friendly terms with his monster friends, it soon becomes apparent he's a massive robot after the real Godzilla burns off his skin!

Confrontation leads to complication and soon this Mechagodzilla needs repair, a reputed scientist coerced into fixing the damaged mighty formidable automaton.

When he's once again unleashed will Godzilla disputatiously authenticate?

With the help of the island's mythical saviour?

Once again, it is the legend.

You never know what to expediently expect when the aggrieved Godzilla supernaturally awakens, has he reemerged to engage in conflict or act as combative spiritual advisor?

In Mothra vs. Godzilla it's clear that he's furious with the mainland, and seeks uncompromising visceral discord as he belligerently proceeds forward.

Yet in Gojira tai Mekagojira he demonstrously radiates heroic acculturation, and sets about saving the honest land from covetous invasions from outer space.

Thus, it seems that ye olde Godzilla isn't instinctively interested in traditional teamwork, otherwise he would have noted a keen and like-minded ally in the bellicose bombastic bellwether beast.

Therefore, it appears Godzilla of old prefers to unleash carnage on his own, and must take the lead if disruptively disabling versatile socioeconomic infrastructure.

Hence, he's somewhat like an immortal and intuitively agrees there can be only one (in monster movies), I suppose it would be quite the problem if manifold Godzillas were roaming at large (note the current upsurge in right wing politics).

But has anyone ever considered a Highlander/Godzilla crossover where manifold Godzillas contend for the prize?

Would it be any less ridiculous?

Godzilla Highlander.

Or Highlander Godzilla?

Moonfall

While conducting routine work in space, a strange Venom-like entity belligerently cascades, proceeding to wreak extraterrestrial havoc, its malice resulting in one fatality. 

Back on Earth the lead astronaut's (Patrick Wilson as Brian Harper) pleas find no bureaucratic quarter, and with no proof the higher-ups conclude that he was responsible for the accident (classic Aliens).

He loses his astronaut status and must return to civilian life, his marriage soon falling apart, it's a huge downer, but he keeps things cool.

Meanwhile, a self-taught scientific theorist works odd jobs to pay the bills (John Bradley), while finding creative ways to observe data, and taking care of his cat and mom (Kathleen Fee). 

He accidentally meets Mr. Harper one morning and unfortunately fails to impress, but his work gains more attention when NASA acknowledges the moon's shift in orbit.

In possession of a working theory regarding the moon's new alarming trajectory, the disgraced astro hooks him up with NASA (they're like a less/more campy Flash Gordon and Hans Zarkov), his old partner now its managing director (Halle Berry), the moon about to disastrously crash land.

They improvise a plan nevertheless and are soon extemporaneously space bound.

Destined to adventurously uncover.

Humanity's chaotic origins.

Moonfall's quite the ride the action's fast-paced and non-stop throughout, improbability delineating progression as each new leap is overtly field-tested.

It reminded me of Independence Day almost 30 years later Roland Emmerich's still got it, no doubt crafted through intuitive expertise, and first hand knowledge of cataclysmic virtual reality. 

Spoiler alert: loved how it took on A.I with an ingenious reworking of the Terminator thesis, it does seem likely that self-aware computers will cause quite the disturbance in the nanofuture.

That disturbance may counterintuitively save the planet or at least humanity's role upon it, however, the survivors forced to relearn old school ways to make the most of a world without technology.

Scouts will once again be a big deal and take their place at the forefront of society, while animal populations rapidly expand and our once limitless oceans resplendently recover.

You wonder sometimes about Roswell and if all this technology is somehow related (as I imagine many others have supposed).

But why would aliens want us to create A.I if it's indeed destined to objectively destroy us?

It could be a trap ingeniously devised!

To get us to annihilate ourselves to save on the costs of an invading army. 

😜

The Lost City

A famous adventure/romance novelist (Sandra Bullock as Loretta Sage) begins to question her professional identity, when the launch of her latest book fails to inspire commercial motivation.

She's done it so many times that the book tour and associated hoopla, seem too superficial to sincerely entertain even though her adoring fans can't wait.

She's jealous of the easy going male model (Channing Tatum as Alan) who adorns the covers of her texts as well, he loves the media sensation, this doesn't evince discerning pageantry.

After she turns the anticipated launch into a dire ill-fated farce, she seeks in vain for heartfelt felicity, before a covetous mean-spirited billionaire (Daniel Radcliffe as Abigail Fairfax) suddenly has her kidnapped. 

She's flown to a tropical island and tasked with locating enticing treasure, local Natives imploring them to leave it alone, the alarming obsession metastasizing madness.

Alan soon follows along with an Indiana Jones/James Bond type rescuer (Brad Pitt as Jack Trainer). 

Ill-prepared for the ensuing task force.

Still improvising with resonant throng. 

The Lost City embraces traditional stately oft criticized tropes and accessories, yet effectively makes the age old adventurous point, that its principal goal is to just entertain. 

Therefore, I had to ask myself, am I genuinely enjoying this film?, beyond multivariable criteria, and I had to admit, I was.

I was lightheartedly reminded that novel bizarre stylistic independence, and counterintuitive literary jigsaw, don't imaginatively motivate some, who are more concerned with intuitive fun.

I suppose a lot of the time it isn't the mischievous wordplay, but just hot bods and romantic adventure that make people interested in watching films.

I also suppose it isn't the goal of many to only enhance the authentic aura, of low-budget brainiac films perhaps one day destined for whimsical cult status (it doesn't make any sense!).

The pandemic's cut me off from theatres and my lifestyle changed as time moved on, and I found for the first time in over a decade I had what is known as free time.

I love the free time I have to just to sit back and listen to music.

But movies are meant to be seen on screen.

The direct experience deconstructing cynicism.  

*Loved the Raiders/Terminator pastiche near the end.

Oppenheimer

Nuclear weapons are a horrible thing.

They're easily the most reckless anything anyone has ever created, and it's an international miracle the secrets of their creation have been kept under lock and key to this present day.

For a while it seemed like their manufacture would become a thing of the past, as Russia and the United States struck accord after accord, and seemed ready to cultivate lasting peace throughout a united interactive world, wherein which difference wasn't something to be feared, and absolutes were nothing more than sewage.

But this historical epoch is partially defining itself in opposition to the last 30 years, as Trump has arisen to challenge them, so instead of a brilliant film like Planet of the Apes (1968), which effectively obliterated arguments in their defence, we have Christopher Nolan's Oppenheimer, which revels and glorifies in their creation, overlooking the ill-fated Planet of the Apes sequel, Beneath the Planet of the Apes. 

Paying disingenuous lip service to the ways in which madmen can use them to coordinate mass destruction on a planetary scale, it instead introduces several powerful independent scientists, and examines various controversies as they jockey for position.

Thus, two prominent individuals see their reputations slowly ruined as the film bureaucratically concerns itself with bilateral character assassination, without really generating much character along the way, besides that associated with blind innocence and petty grievances. 

It's more like an academic paper with no sense of objectivity than a convincing film.

Prometheus taught the people to make fire so they could cook their own food and have warmth and entertainment.

Anyone who would have denied them such knowledge is certainly not worthy of divinity. 

Oppenheimer coordinated a team that built a nuclear weapon with the power to kill hundreds of thousands that select military officials can use hopefully only as a deterrent. 

Do you see how Prometheus is not like Oppenheimer? How the comparison is ridiculous?

It does seem more and more like Christopher Nolan is the military industrial complex's darling, as they note in Barbie, the patriarchy just hides its hegemony more effectively these days, and whereas Oliver Stone actually made an incredible film looking at the ways in which JFK's murder was covered up, Nolan's Oppenheimer creates a Republican rib roast to be saluted for years to come, while presumably catering to democratic sympathies (JFK didn't win best picture when it should have [Oliver Stone also made a film that lauded Edward Snowden, it didn't make the case for the mass institutional invasion of privacy through cellphones like Nolan did at the end of The Dark Knight]).

I used to have a friend who was nice to talk to but sometimes didn't take her meds, and thought she heard voices in the walls of people discussing this and that.

I tried to ease her mind when these thoughts would overwhelm her late at night, and even though nothing could convince her that the voices weren't real, the conversation helped lighten the anxious mood.

In turn, it was nice to have someone to talk to, to know someone who didn't quickly change their tune, to have a sympathetic yet mischievous outlook to clarify trajectories and nothing in particular.

She tolerated my French too and even taught me a couple of words. 

I like being nobody in Québec.

And I'll always love working and living there. 

Barbie

It was sad to see the self-reflexive metastyle slowly fade out of cinematic fashion, as the urge to cultivate newfound novelty eventually led to paradigm shifts.

Rather than adhering to the comprehensive guidelines enthusiastically theorized by the critics, the slow return to banal absolutism cacophonically effaced the convivial endeavours. 

Yet as Trump and his minions sought to rework complicated literary trajectories, patriarchically concerned with eternal slaves and masters, a more symbiotic environmental approach gregariously germinated in the wholesome underground, ill-amused with everlasting tethers, and holistically seeking reciprocal gratitude. 

Thus, as the years slowly changed from the 1990s to the 2020s, an intermittent zone materialized, and the do-gooding and collective well-being of the post-war years clashed with feudal modes of expression.

The times during which they had once been employed with malignant rigour and destructive candour having faded from collective memory, the brigands dishonourably proceeded as if they had created something new.

Was it indeed more popular or were studios just attempting to mutate and froth, as a younger generation took the reigns, and vitriolically dismantled their elders's designs?

I didn't think the honourable pursuit of collective well-being and respect and goodwill, was a fad to be gradually replaced however by one-dimensional monocultural narratological goals.

It didn't seem like casting aside relevant millions to tell crass racist jokes, was commensurate with integral progress as commercial interests teleologically contend.

Alas, to rely on Barbie the oft criticized popular doll to redraw the lines, and perhaps create spherical counterintuitive shapeshifting threads like cats playing with multicultural yarn.

Symbiotically speaking, the world of men and women excelling when a level-playing field emancipates, lay androgynous mutual convection, when it works it's totally comfortable.

The world of course multilaterally pulsating to the tune of manifold international drums.

So much passing by unnoticed.

As prominent prognoses ebb and flow.

Mothra vs. Godzilla

A mysterious giant egg suddenly appears off the Japanese Coast, its contents baffling yet still intriguing, as diverse interests eclectically gather.

Unfortunately, environmental initiatives fail to posture before the egg is (absurdly) sold, by local entrepreneurial opportunists hoping to monumentally prosper.

A more ambitious wealthy exhibitionist hopes to create a theme park through Happy Enterprises, and entertainingly showcase the egg while also selling treats and delicious refreshments.

Concerned journalists soon learn of the plot and set about cultivating public opinion, hoping to create a massive uproar which may encourage government intervention.

They lament that there's no legal recourse to directly challenge the developers in court, especially after two miniature citizens suddenly arrive from Mothra's island.

Apparently, the typhoon sent Mothra's egg on a disquieting maiden voyage, and they've come to argue for its return especially since noble Mothra is dying.

The adventurists care not for her plight and refuse to give up their lucrative treasure.

Just as Godzilla comes a' callin'.

Hellbent on countercultural carnage.

A crash course in socioeconomics instructively awaits in Mothra vs. Godzilla, perfectly laid out with accessible language which any curious audience member would easily comprehend (with English or French subtitles 🤷).

Mothra vs. Godzilla may even indeed be a solid didactic tool to be used in classrooms across the land, schools effectively saving resources and time by simply showing this ridiculous film.

Perhaps that's what happened, there's no equivocal doubt that environmental regulations in some jurisdictions are much stronger, and that if you want to develop land like Ontario's Greenbelt, you first have to acknowledge local regulations.

Thus, the public outrage the journalists seek to nurture in ye olde Mothra vs. Godzilla (Mothra shows up in spellcheck but Godzilla doesn't), would likely also be backed up by laws progressively created over the course of the last century.

Hence, instead of bravely spending the last moments of her life epically battling the formidable Godzilla, Mothra could have cared for her fledgling young and perhaps even named or taken them for their first flight.

Perhaps Godzilla disputatiously emerged to figuratively encourage the creation of such laws, I've seen several nature shows about Japan, and it seems as if their wildlife is flourishing (except for whales 😢😭😿🐋).

Sad that Mothra had to physically give her life for such a turn of events to jurisprudently take hold.

Her larvae born argumentatively composed.

Their perspicacity irritating the aggrieved Godzilla!

Polaris

Monopolistic claims to constellated starstruck legend, find themselves creatively trust-busted in Kirsten Carthew's wild Polaris.

The times are grim and perilous and other people are to be avoided, their habituated menacing murderous instincts bellicosely problematizing friendship.

Sumi (Viva Lee) was raised alone by a kind and compassionate polar bear, who taught her the life saving lessons of multidimensional deft ourskind.

One day while venturing forth they're accidentally separated however, and Sumi is captured by a group of plunderers who proceed to lock her in a cage.

Escape brings tribulation as she's tracked and targeted thereafter, a local fuel provider sympathetic (Muriel Dutil as Dee) but still unable to hold them off.

Could the individualistic warlike preponderance of bombastic sociocultural synchronicities, have transformed a once open-minded community into one prone to consistent bloodshed? 

Thus, even after the haunting end of multilaterally interconnected worldwide commerce, the unfortunate distrust still malignantly radiates where once warm and friendly community flourished.

Even in the isolated far north where food is more difficult to come by, and cohesive interactive communal initiatives seem more requisite to widespread health. 

Even with manifold orchards and farms is it not more prosperous to work in groups, to encourage nutrition and fight off hunger and generally work to holistically prosper?

Conflict does seem to abound as people seek to lead and emphatically pair bond, but do these conflicts need to be inherently destructive or could such impulses be proactively tamed?

You see it in Ghibli's Pompoko where the warlike raccoon attempts to take hold, or in ye olde Dances with Wolves where Wes Studi's brethren lament his aggression. 

Look to Germany in 1946 where I've heard people had to eat wallpaper to survive. That's the end game of fascism. That's where warlike tendencies lead.

I still don't think they could transform the North to such inhospitable despondent degrees, although Ofelas (Pathfinder) tells a much different story, and Russia is currently monstrously expressing itself.

Why not work together to secure food and shelter to mutually accommodate throughout the winter, rather than squandering precious resources on endless conflicts which produce nothing?

I'm not trying to jinx myself here but if you're active during the winter, it's a wonderfully productive time where you can get so much compelling work done.

If people are trying to trick you into embracing the belligerent lifestyle ask yourself what do they hope to gain?

And is your life worth lining their duplicitous pockets?

As they horde the profits for themselves?

Newsflash: it's not. It never will be. Read books. Be critical. 

Beware of the cult of Putin. 

And the North American obsession with Trump. 

*I rarring!

**The poster's awesome. 

The Croods

Ancient times, as one oft referenced environmental epoch matriculately metastasizes into another, a family left endeavouring to sensationally survive within, as massive earthquakes and catastrophic rock slides cataclysmically converge to destroy their oldest school cave dwelling, they flee together as one, always bearing in mind their familial solidarity.

Change is definitively critiqued and infuriatingly avoided by the Croods, who have bluntly outlasted their fellow citizens through courageous pluck and dynastic brawn.

But their eldest daughter (Emma Stone as Eep) seeks challenge and novelty and starts striking out from their cave on her own, accidentally meeting an inventive beau (Ryan Reynolds as Guy) who lives independently within the harsh lands.

They become further acquainted after her family departs for the unknown realm, where father Grug's (Nicolas Cage) dependable hunting skills have no time to adapt to the mysterious wonders.

Used to being the unparalleled patriarch he must suddenly intuit a secondary role, Borg implants still millions of years off, frustration and anger therefore materializing.

Yet landscape shifts and paradigmatic upheavals expediently necessitate hierarchical improvisation.

His family still relying on his strength.

As their world crashes in all around them.

I'm not sure how we evolved or multivariably mutated over the course of millions of years, even if sci-fi suggests we emerged from practical interactive interminglings. 

Thus, humanoids from another planet who had thoroughly destroyed their world, crash-landed on ours thinking survival would be simple considering their vast hospitable technologies.

But arriving somewhere lacking the infrastructure to even produce a nail or screw, they soon found themselves at the mercy of local populations who already knew how to formidably survive.

Some resisted the acculturation and sought to remain pure and independent (the Malfoys), while many others realized the benefits of interspecial co-habitation and set about cultivating their mutual prosperity (the Potters). 

Hence, to this postmodern day a mix of the caveperson and the alien still resides, within every culture across the land, producing a wide mix of compelling variety.

And the ancient puritan incestuous impulses still blindly guide at other times as well, even millions of restitutive years later the same fear of change and innovation flourishing.

Nevertheless, somewhere hidden upon the globe lies the ancient remains of those original spacecrafts!

Could they be the first cohesive multicultural evidence?

Still collaboratively resonating to this very day!

Peter Rabbit 2: The Runaway

While wildly profiting off the old Beatrix Potter tales, Peter Rabbit 2 takes shots at the publishing industry, as it innocently explores the urban/rural divide, and wholesomely promotes ye olde school traditional family. 

The dynamic book is selling and a large publishing firm takes note, and lays out the royal red with the hopes of expanding its global markets.

Bea's (Rose Byrne) impressed by the upscale adornments and quickly takes to the commercial schemes, even considering Peter Rabbit in Space along with many other atypical sequels.

Meanwhile, Peter and his bunny friends find themselves hip-hoppitting in the nearby village, Peter (James Corden) accidentally bumping into someone who claims to have known his dad (Lennie James as Barnabas).

They hit it off and scheme themselves soon intending to pull off a gigantic heist, of coveted sought after dry fruit at the chillin' freeform farmers' market.

Red flags inquisitively eschew but both Peter and Thomas McGregor (Domhnall Gleeson) ignore the danger.

Until the local pet shop captures their friends.

And the executive board attempts a hostile takeover.

Peter Rabbit 2 scores points for the countryside and the the humble laid-back agrarian life, as the sinister ways of the nearby town threaten to dilute its bucolic purity. 

The city's not technically like that although you have to be careful not to lose your head, country markets aren't really like that either, they can be pricey, but the artists sell cool things.

It would seem strange to see Petter Rabbit suddenly taking off into space, or surfing or browsing at the mall, but the same author could explore these locales with different characters.

There are always comedic applications which thrive through sheer incomparable inexhaustibility, the best ones leaving you evocatively abashed, the worst threatening the integrity or your immortal soul.

Ideas just come naturally to many after having spent so much time consuming media, it's a consistent mélange of mulltivariable impulses im/precisely interwoven with sub/conscious thread.

There are just so many of them they consistently bombard every constructive day while actively producing, I never really considered what it would be like to have just one and to spend the majority of your time focused upon it.

Sigh. It depends on how you view it but it can be argued that Peter Rabbit 2 is racist, like I said before, I don't think the anti-racism in film and television movements that hit the U.S ever influenced that many in England, but The Runaway lauds bucolic pastures and lambastes its only live-action black character (David Oyelowo as Nigel Basil-Jones) (Barnabas is also voiced by an African American and he's up to no good too).

As the patriarchs come to terms and settle down far away from the hustle and bustle.

Finding it in their hearts to disagree once more.

Peter Rabbit shouldn't be so political. 

The Secret Life of Pets

The Secret Life of Pets hypothetically explores the vast intricate networks forged by animate beasties while their owners labour.

Indubitably multivariable, they elaborately maintain reflexive codes of conduct, outsiders improvisationally electing initiation, as they travel throughout different domains.

Take the two principal characters, loyal pets getting used to living with one another, one once revelling in solitary freedom until the day his gigantic counterpart arrived.

Seeking to rid himself of the burden soon after at a local park, he attempts to play a trick on his compatriot, which leaves them both suddenly headed for the pound, pestiferous prominence meets drastic indelicacy.

But on their way the industrious underground audaciously emerges and sets them free, engaging no less in innovative expediences as they feverishly search and rescue.

Nevertheless, in order to acclimatize they must lie about why they were caught, so they don't seem green on their trip through the maze imaginatively constructed at length below ground.

Meanwhile, a devoted admirer notices that her beloved beau has disappeared. 

And trusted friends head out in search of their cherished fellows throughout the city.

Taking Oliver & Company to the next level The Secret Life of Pets tumultuously delivers, by providing a dynamic interactive cross-section of lively versatile multicultural life.

Not entirely unlike the heralded Rudolph who also travelled the world after encountering vitriol, finding his way to the island of misfit toys/the underground complex, while his friends desperately sought to find his location.

I was surprised to see the underground depicted so intricately in a family friendly animated film, I thought the subject matter would be too riské and that the master narrative would whitewash such things.

But without much whitewash realistic conflict intuitively emerges with unorthodox decorum, and respect is granted to novel ingenuity with emboldened invention and disparate ruse.

Perhaps the reasons explaining how the animals wound up there could have been explored with greater detail, and the heroes could have promised to proactively enable widespread adoptive change upon reemergence. 

I suppose it wasn't a Christmas film but is not viscerally paramount?

To freely share such a message throughout the year.

In praise of open-minded compassionate humanity! 

Just a thought. 😌

Hoping for peace in the Middle-East.

⛄🎄🎁🎅

The Nine Lives of Christmas

As Christmas rapidly approaches, a local firefighter festively complains, for having to take part in a photo shoot, he likes helping out, but it's not his thing (Brandon Routh). 

Across town, a caring lass laments that she has no time for the holidays, between work and studying to become a vet her schedule's full of pressing demands (Kimberley Sustad). 

But her friends think she should date or at least go out from time to time, and insist she agreeably join them for a low-key night out 'round town.

Meanwhile, a homeless cat finds his way over to Mr. Stone's house, and even though he dislikes responsibility, he still takes in the loving stray.

Seemingly unconnected events consistently ensure they bump into each other, and it soon becomes convivially evident that they were tarred with the same independent brush.

Hence since they're not really used to dating it's difficult to recognize the perfect match.

As they humbly mess things up while trying to not to appear genuinely interested.

The cat keeps wholeheartedly mewing and ensuring adorability's infused, the life and times of exasperated awestruck heartfelt exploration bewilderingly shewed.

Could it be that the animal kingdom subliminally facilitates human relationships?

Without the wayward kitty these two ideally matched impeccable soulmates, would have never engaged in the inquisitive parlay sincerely required to proactively pair bond. 

Perhaps through cosmic accident the natural world's inherent beauty, coincidentally helps the romantically inefficient to eventually sight discover one another.

But does the clever work of Mother Nature holistically emit its conjugal magic, throughout the entire year, while emphasizing Christmas?

Does she know precisely where and when the perfectly matched oddball couple will meet, and ensure a captivating critter will correspondingly instigate conversation?

This likely happened regularly long before the industrial age, for thousands of years while uncommitted bachelors and tribal women were torn asunder!

Perhaps even at a time when presents and trees weren't yet anticipated, a fledgling Santa even assisted in her collective amicable pursuits.

Until Satan introduced economic chaos and the destruction of the natural world began.

Global warming transforming worldwide l'amour.

With preposterous disproportionate impunity. 😜

Family Switch

The title's misleading. 

The rebellious self-obsessed years during which curiosity is severely criticized, and traditional wholesome old school activities condescendingly dismissed with haughty verisimilitude. 

The resultant antithetical shockwaves producing unsettling bland confusion, as festive recourse to playful jocosity sincerely struggles amidst the pretension. 

It's the Holiday Season in High School and the Walker Family is bitterly composed, having lost the communicative cohesion that once underscored their familial unity.

Mom's (Jennifer Garner) got a big presentation and daughter CC (Emma Myers) might make the national soccer team, Wyatt's (Brady Noon) hoping to get into Yale and his father's (Ed Helms) band has a unique opportunity.

Usually, the power of Christmas would unflinchingly aid their courageous misadventures, and by harnessing the spirit of the season they would proceed confident and emboldened. 

The unextinguished light fails to constructively guide them however.

Until they stop by a local observatory.

Where corporeal mischief interpersonally accrues.

Given the flamboyant opportunity to craft ebullient effervescent dreams, Family Switch's yuletide extravagance lucidly facilitates transmutation.

It's more like Die Hard nevertheless, more like a movie that takes place at Christmas, the Holiday Season popping up from time to time but by no means the predominant focus.

The otherworldly transformations seemed a bit too studio as well, as if an eccentric mystical expert wasn't consulted when shooting the scenes.

A missed opportunity: when the neighbourhood wives show up and start grilling CC and Wyatt, who are stuck in their mom and dad's bodies, individual criticisms are shared. But without accompanying close ups (think the end of Crocodile Dundee). The focus thus remains on CC and Wyatt. If each individual criticism had been announced with its own striking close up, the collegial balance between supporting and principal actors would have been more universally sustained. 

Part of the narrative directly celebrates teamwork so the point is eventually made. There's actually a lot of cool in this film. They put a lot of time and effort into it (try and find like 6 Christmas films or films that take place at Christmas to watch, some of them don't attempt to excel that much).  

I thought the acting improved a lot after the body switches and the actors starting pretending to play someone else 😜, I don't know if that was intentional, but the secondary characteristic investments paid imaginative dividends. 

I also thought it made a lot of clever points about family, and was thoughtfully designed to bring disgruntled folks back together during the holidays without being too preachy or overbearing.

Director McG should score points for ensuring the cast and crew took things really seriously.

The cast and crew should score multiplie points for creating a year round Christmas film. 

Even without the mind-blowing mysticism. 

Christmas in California.

Worth checkin' out. 

Sing

I always marvel at how tolerant my parents were regarding my singing when I was younger.

Before I learned to just take it easy and productively chill out when performing, I used to take on elevated subject matter, and my poor father had to listen as I bellowed Life on Mars? on the family piano, yet he still never let loose his irate criticisms, and let things take their natural course.

Sing gathers the harmonically gifted from a modest lively urban centre, and fortuitously unites them in passionate song, the reputed prize worth $100,000.

Unfortunately, the prize was a typo that greatly exaggerated the MC's income, but the lofty sum still motivated many, and a solid crew was melodiously assembled.

It must be the case the far reaching talent obliviously chillin' in so many towns, just waiting for similar opportunities to feverishly break out with elaborate invention.

Obsessions with being the best or not simply as good as a friend or relative, prevent so many from pragmatically proceeding as if there ever was an artistic superlative.

If you don't think you're the greatest singer or you needlessly worry how your words will sound, note that the most consistent songwriter in legendary memory won the Nobel Prize and he couldn't even sing.

American Idol is no doubt well-known for giving a shot to inspired local talent, and creating a vast incredible network of aspiring singers across the land.

But are local garage bands still seeking to frenetically emerge ultra summa cum laude, or just exist in the embryonic ether everlastingly invigorating rhythmic liaison?

Dylan, Bowie, The Beatles, and The Rolling Stones seemed to me like they worked like it was their job to write song after song, and didn't just lounge about on the old trust fund seeking performative disruptive accolades. 

You get that rush outside of your comfort zone that effortlessly produces irresistible novelty, and as you constructively/bitterly/imaginatively/proactively/distractedly/vituperatively react there's no all-encompassing parallel for what you come up with.

Liked Sing's city of animals and the collective beasties intuitively enthralling.

Dreams effervescently accruing. 

Multivariable shapeshifting cascades.  

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer: The Movie

While the bona fide uncompromising authentic origin tale remains unknown, annual hypotheses loosely based on fact swashbucklingly revitalize widespread interest, the diverse ways in which compelling details vividly transform from one story to the next, festively salute constellated mutation throughout mysterious epic skyways. 

The unimaginative and concretely obsessed may be led astray by absolute claims, attempting to harness commercial synergies through ornate mad disingenuous trusts.

It can at times feel lucid and reasonable to indeed contend you've mastered conspiracy, and can exultingly claim genesizzlin' unalloyed paramount intricate distillate digress.

But then how multivariably arrayed is your manifest mischievous missive, how disciplined in/opportune how distinctly yielding manifold dispersals?

Take Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer: The Movie wherein which the wicked Stormella defies Christmas law, and conjures a tumultuous storm to inimically ruin Santa's Christmas Eve flight!

We hear no mention of her in the song nor in the old classics from 1964 or 1948, thus should this account be definitively forecast would it not imprecisely promulgate legend?

It is certainly a humble version and the Holiday Season encourages modesty, as the sublime life of the King of Kings effortlessly illuminates oblivious morrows.

We then find in The Last Crusade the cup of a carpenter awkwardly situated, amongst the luxurious ostentatious pageantry libationally orchestrating abstract life.

It provides trusted Indiana Jones with miraculous good fortune and pious fidelity, through which he's able to heal his father through the unabashed art of temperate self-sacrifice. 

But how to line up every Rudolph the Red-Nosed ever constructively theorized across the globe, and exhaustively vet their fleeting integrity with wholesome and practical unparalleled sights?

Perhaps better to praise inexactitude and celestially bathe in impressionable waters, the sought after divine undiluted tarot disproportionately grave and unimpacting.

Although should it be discovered neither to embrace hysteria nor earthquaking frenzy!

Don't worry, Rudolph shines through.

Stormella even learns to chill out.

🎄🎅🤶🎁⛄

Bullet Train

What a strange film.

There's no doubt it's well done. It seems the more critics lambaste gratuitously violent films, the more clever and entertaining they become, consistently challenging their audiences to duel with themselves as they come to reckless terms with their own narrative preferences. 

Bullet Train even interweaves Thomas the Tank Engine, as a paid assassin uses its inherent lessons to frame and construct his sociocultural views, a tender embrace no doubt endearing as he shoots his way through the chaotic frenzy, even sharing the most violent sequence from the film as he and his brother argue about how many people they took out during their most recent job, their dispute graphically and reminiscently depicted, it's insane, it's just insane.

Another nice guy with a gift for killing shares his therapist's advice throughout, and consistently attempts to talk rather than fight, his wise complaints neither brokered nor adhered to.

Überviolent psychological brainy dramatic comedies are no doubt a 21st century speciality, it's clear decades of vertical mutation have enhanced their intricate design, but are there not consequences to such manifestations?

Most people know the difference between psycho film and playful reality, and don't turn into bellicose beasts just because they saw a violent movie.

But you often hear about mass shootings in the States, so you have to wonder if permitting your populace to purchase multivariable assault weapons, while idealizing mass unattainable wealth, and then constantly showcasing brilliant and hilarious violent films, is not a seriously bad idea, even if you're making billions (are hundreds of millions not enough?).

Take away the mass availability of assault weapons and the mass shootings decrease proportionately, borrowing stats from Bowling for Columbine, and the distressing onslaught that's proceeded unabated since.

Then nerd men can get back to thematically impressing nerd women with their bombastic theatrics, and the next generation of eccentric children can constructively flourish in the librarial thunderground.

It's always the same story. ⛄

If your culture isn't prone to routine psychotic outbursts furiously unleashed on the unsuspecting public, and films like this one are reserved for more mature audiences who like gangster movies, Bullet Train is somewhat of a masterpiece, which still goes a bit overboard.

What would The Godfather or Scarface (1983) have been like if they'd been released at a later date?

They still seem a lot more profound.

And it's clear that they're not comedies. 

Creed III

Adonis Creed's (Michael B. Jordan) life moves on as he embraces family and responsibility, playing a more active managerial role after having given up professional fighting.

Things progress reasonably well on the home front and his marriage seems quite the success, his daughter needing his help however, as she fights back against bullies at school (Mila Davis-Kent). 

As life illustriously floats by an old close friend who went to prison is released, and comes a' callin' one adventurous morn to see how his old reliable chum is doing.

They went to a group home together and one fateful night all hell broke loose, and Majors (Damian Anderson) wound up with a lengthy prison sentence and lost his chance at becoming a heavy-weight champion.

He wants that chance again but doesn't want to wait for several more years, joining the circuit and punching his way up, he wants to become champ freakin' asap.

Unfortunately, this means the utilization of wicked aggressive unorthodox means, which may lead to a shot at the title, but lose the respect of his friend.

Adonis feels reasonably guilty and frustrated by what happened so many years ago.

But has to accept contemporary realities. 

And step back in the coveted ring.

I thought the new Creed film was solid and was impressed with Michael B. Jordan's directing, honestly sometimes when actors direct things go haywire, but that's not the case with Creed III.

It didn't seriously impress like Rocky Balboa which was such an incredible surprise sequel, but it's still a cool thrilling new movie that takes a thoughtful look at fame, fortune and family.

Jordan and Tessa Thompson really stand out at times as they discuss hard-hitting issues, I thought they had some memorable scenes which artistically enhanced deep meaningful strata.

I thought the added tension Creed has to face by confronting himself within the film, added a psychological dimension that was much more profound than just fighting the bad guy.

Majors has taken on underhanded means but Creed still feels responsible for his modus operandi, and sincerely cares about his old friend even though he has to fight him.

Majors takes on the Rocky/underdog role as well which re-establishes a familiar storyline.

They clearly just didn't want to make another sequel.

They thought this one through.

The hard work paid off.    

Cane Toads: The Conquest

The old invasive species tale creatively told once and again, this time a' flourishin' down under, with a fresh democratic imaginative take.

Know then that grubs were destroying Australia's versatile sugar cane crops, so they sought an efficient way to stop them, and subsequently introduced a non-native toad to their robust environment, with the unabashed dogged hopes that it would bravely devour them.

Unfortunately it didn't, and they reproduced abundantly in incredible numbers, and soon starting spreading across the continent as their natural instinct accelerated forward.

If considering whether or not they became a tasty treat for endemic wildlife, believe that their natural fluidic poisons were a problem for local beasties and pets alike.

Many communities were rather annoyed by the massive unrelenting expansion, and inaugurated ways to curtail their progress across the massive fecund land.

Others industriously capitalized on public fascination with the phenomenon, and created products and fertilizer and roadside attractions flouting the new lifeform's integrity. 

I know I would have a good time just sitting back and watching them hop by.

Australia sounds so amazing for wildlife.

The Crocodile Hunter was such a cool show.

As is Cane Toads: The Conquest, it's unlike any nature documentary I've seen, a unique twist on a fascinating genre inherently abounding with camp and craft.

It's a truly democratic account that interviews peeps from multivariable walks, without judgment or pervasive hierarchies pretentiously upsetting the creative balance.

The variety is impressive as he zigzags his way through his inclusive exploration.

If no video footage exists of the cane toad related story, director Mark Lewis engages in dramatic recreations in order to reanimate the yarn.

Perhaps not serious enough for some sterile objective puritans, or people who really don't like the toad, it's difficult to say. 

But I imagine kids and families and audiences around the world would love Cane Toads: The Conquest!

The multiple close-ups and inspired invention.

Producing bona fide unfiltered wherewithal. 

The Holiday Calendar

A creative photographer does the legwork for an unimaginative yet reliable small business, earning enough scrilla to keep up her apartment while her well-meaning family asks tough questions (Kat Graham).

Her best friend is keen and sympathetic and returns one Christmas from his travels abroad, eager to pick up where they left off as habitual merrymaking yearns and flourishes (Quincy Brown).

Meanwhile, her enigmatic grandfather (Ron Cephas Jones) shares one of her recently deceased grandma's treasures, a giant old school European advent calendar that fluidly winds up and shares daily presents.

Things routinely proceed as the photographic enterprise heads outside, to take pictures of youngsters with Santa as he meticulously notes their gift ideas.

But soon strange coincidences take place which only have one spirited explanation, that the gifted intricate advent calendar is mysteriously forecasting fate!

Every day unexpected events find symbolic representation numerically adjudicated, as the innocent shutterbug wondrously believes and sincerely follows the magical path.

But it becomes apparent that the picture perfect beau the calendar has showcased lacks eccentric merit.

Her closest friend making it known he's upset.

Will the spirit of Christmas heal their friendship?

I thought this was a really cool idea for a Christmas film that cleverly reimagines Holiday Season essentials, the old school advent calendar clairvoyantly presenting cryptic yet definitive structure.

A bigger budget with more time spent and perhaps with a major studio reworking the story, not that the original lacks seasonal merriment, I just thought it could be even more epic. 

Imagine living the ahistorical dream with an emancipatory place for a nimble eclective, while securing amorous accolades and the heartfelt devotion of a trusted friend.

Who knows where the regenerative magic of the clandestine Season holistically resides, perhaps it's rather like the Force and is infinitesimally everywhere all at once? 

Notably in eggnog and gingerbread it must enliven these treats every December.

Not to mention random gift ideas.

Hot cocoa.

Hibernating dreams.  

Au hasard Balthazar (Balthazar)

Bold childhood declarations subliminally etched and ethereally nurtured, as time passes piecemeal and peaceful borderline pasteurized enigmatic shades.

Pressing ambitious ingenuity sage book-learning incisively applied, resulting yields tantalizing and abundant copiously accruing practical dividends. 

Rented land unimaginatively considered by its well-meaning spirited and generous masters, resulting in disproportionate dishevelling alarm as the plentiful crops benefit another.

But not initially however only after years of shocking envy, malevolently creates a vitriolic buzz which dishonourably characterizes the industrious tenant.

Meanwhile, a hapless donkey known affectionately as Balthazar makes his way, often abiding by his owner's dictates but at times engaging in judicious free play.

As seasons change and fortunes fade he's dismissively transferred around the small town, an elaborate tale in the paramount slipstream to be nimbly told to other curious beasties. 

His original owner gradually comes of age and shares his adventures throughout the village.

Jealousies prognosticating doom.

Pervasive detritus malignantly engendered. 

I thought this film may be more upbeat upon reading the synopsis championing Balthazar, not that I mind ye olde hardboiled bucolics, I just wasn't expecting the gloom.

There are ways of thinking I don't quite comprehend because they seem ignominiously counterproductive, for instance is it not preferable to applaud hard work and effort should an old or new friend find themselves succeeding?

Perhaps I took the Vulcan message wisely wishing prosperity for others too seriously, but if logic is customarily applied, is it not more fortuitous to encourage goodwill?

Do the Jedi not function commensurately as they mind the galaxy's crafty well-being, do ninjas not also perform the same function, why then are they so often disregarded?

Perhaps 'lil Balthazar knows an age old secret that he's not telling, that would help us move past inanimate grief to a more generally prosperous Star Trekkian dynasty.

It's sad to watch when he's suddenly mistreated although he sometimes does do well, and I was reminded once again of I, Claudius as I viewed another Robert Bresson film.

The emperor Claudius apparently in adulthood generously let his animals retire after years of service.

And let them relax in his fields without burden.

Having adopted the soulful life.

*Imagine a law like that!

**I bet there would be one on Star Trek.

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.