Yogi Bear

Jellystone Park is in dire straits. Wicked politician Mayor Brown (Andrew Daly) has decided that its trees must be harvested in order to raise enough capital to keep his bureaucracy functioning. He supports his decision through recourse to a bylaw which states that government supported organizations must earn enough money to cover their operating costs each year, and Jellystone is tens of thousands in the hole with less than three weeks to come up with the cash. Ranger Smith (Tom Cavanagh), documentary filmmaker Rachel (Anna Faris), Yogi (Dan Aykroyd) and Boo Boo (Justin Timberlake) are none to impressed and immediately launch a campaign to sustain their way of life. But subterfuge and treachery are afoot and due to the fact that they don't coordinate their fundraising efforts, Jellystone is threatened with annihilation.

Eric Brevig's Yogi Bear amusingly examines the dynamics of federal and provincial politics. As the right uses local laws to attempt to destroy a public resource, only a national regulation can be applied to thwart it. The left is divided and it isn't until they learn to collaborate that a successful counterattack is launched. The idea that government supported organizations must cover their operating costs is clearly embedded in the script, a fiscal challenge to the sacred cultural essence of parks such as Algonquin. Do logging companies want to cut down the trees and exploit the resources within these Parks? I'm sure some of them do. Do they have deep pockets and lobbyists who are consistently trying to find ways to break down the legal protections preventing them from doing so? Methinks it's most likely. Is it a good idea to promote a fiscally responsible environment wherein such parks cover their operating costs? Sounds like prudent planning to me. But should said parks be commercialized in order to achieve such goals at the expense of the endemic wildlife etc. whose proliferation reflects the purpose of such parks? Definitely not, and for a good example of the negative impact on protected wildlife within commercialized parks see The Grizzly Manifesto by Jeff Gailus. He's smarter than the average bear!

True Grit

Revenge. Determination. The Law. Bold teenager Mattie Ross (Hailee Steinfeld) is determined to hire a lawperson in order to bring the man who murdered her father to justice, and she possesses the stubborn constitution and iron will necessary to do so. Refusing to allow the stereotypes regarding her age and gender thwart her, she convinces the grizzled alcoholic U.S. Marshal Reuben J. "Rooster" Cogburn (Jeff Bridges) to pursue, and accompanies him along the way. The bumbling Texas Ranger La Boeuf (Matt Damon) is also in search of their quarry and the ensuing relations between the three roughhouse traditional conceptions of law and order. Cogburn and La Boeuf are like a rugged cantankerous reflection of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson and their argumentative dialogue complicates matters before the Coen Brothers round up their complementary strengths and weaknesses (it's as if they've taken a "good" standard lawperson, separated him or her into two, provided both personalities with piss and vinegar, and then used [in this case] feminine strength to bring them together). Mattie saves them from themselves and maintains a firm influential grip, perhaps suggesting that as patriarchal conceptions of the good drink and qualify themselves to death, strong young women will revitalize and recast their semantics, maintaining a prominent place for men while creating one as equally influential for women, thereby manifesting true grit. The fact that her efforts are only substantialized through a stroke of somewhat random good fortune suggests that an egalitarian feminine and masculine power distribution may be generated both legally and politically and treated as if it was evolutionary publicly, if and only if the actual composition of its resonance is dependent upon frustrated logic reinvigorated serendipitously, i.e., the introduction of and capitalization upon a paradigm which oddly corresponds to and uplifts its socialized framework, something formally similar to Lafontaine and Baldwin's use of restraint in the 1840s. A catalyst, a cyberstone, something from within. Good film.

Black Swan

Discovering that hidden talent, the improvised malevolent sensual complement to your precise demanding technical expertise, with competitors vindictively waiting in the wings, with a smile and a patronizingly friendly remark, ingratiating, lackadaisical, treacherous, while a mental illness, hitherto concealed and dominated, can no longer be subjugated as pressure reallocates psychological resources to spontaneous professional challenges, and exquisitely chaotic repercussions must be embraced. Mother will learn to adjust. Romance is simply an illusion. He could certainly be more of a prick. It's the seductive consequence of perfection. Darren Aronofsky once again coaches his cast into delivering first rate performances as Natalie Portman internally glides her way through Swan Lake. Intertwining an artist's subjective deconstruction with her universal adherence to and revitalization of performance standards, Black Swan suggests the costs of multidimensional characterizations can indeed be extreme, if not everlasting. Smutty and taciturn and evocative and sinister, paranoia is unleashed and interrogated as Nina Sayers learns to dance the Black Swan. While her paranoia is logical, as it increases in proportion to her responsibility it realistically manifests her worst fears and results in her best performance.

Had the best French class tonight. The teacher discussed bears in French for almost an hour. Nice.

The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

Tough to discuss the latest instalment in the Chronicles of Narnia film series without looking at the difference between fantasy and reality as seen through the eyes of pesky newcomer Eustace (Will Poulter), the movie's principal saving grace. Eustace is a mischievous trouble maker whose perspective is governed by fact and he is none to happy with the fact that his cousins Lucy (Georgie Henley) and Edmund (Skander Keynes) are currently living with him. Alas, he is also none to happy when his factual world disappears altogether and he is transported to the realistically-fictional world of Narnia. Expressing his discontent in a number of flamboyant tantrums, Eustace must come to terms with the fantasy in which he has been cast in order to save what remains of his scientific marbles. Thankfully, as he seems reluctant to do so, he is transformed into a giant dragon after inappropriately handling a hidden deposit of gold. As he comes to terms with his scaly scorn, things take a turn for the better, and he is eventually instrumental in defeating the forces of evil.

Seems to me anyways, the dragon being a symbol of the unconscientious nouveau riche, if Eustace were to continue on his present concrete path within the real world, he would have become a miser, breathing impenetrable critical fire wherever he causticly tread. By embracing the fictional realm of Narnia, which realistically molds him in his traditional symbolism, he develops a generous spirit which becomes socially conscientious, like Mr. Scrooge, and begins to help everyone. Thus, we are provided with a basic differentiation between the aristocrat and the oligarch, the one who believes they have an obligation to nurture their community which involves listening to that community's input, and the one who believes they own the community and it should therefore bow down to his or her pressure. By recognizing the realistic beauty inherent in fiction, quests, adventures and what not, Eustace begins to qualify his reality with a wider array of fruitful principles, theoretical hypotheses being an intrepid scientific catalyst, progressive thinkers believing in universal healthcare materializing various tenants of several religious focal points, which, are unfortunately upheld by a King to whom everyone bows, and well, I'd rather not get into it.

It's the holiday season.

Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance

A kidnapping scenario where everything goes wrong. The sympathy generated is profound insofar as its apolitical nature sophisticatedly reexamines traditional dichotomies and leaves one anchored in an ambiguous, amorphous juncture. An organ transplant is required. In order to gain the necessary funds a child is kidnapped. After the ransom is delivered, the child accidentally dies. The police and the past-the-point father investigate while a terrorist organization keeps tabs. High and low, rich and poor, everyone is deconstructed while a sadistic sense of humour consistently produces feelings of guilt. Not for the faint of heart, Chan-wook Park's Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance convolutedly presents a nocturnal psychological thriller which playfully and insouciantly complicates its volatile subject matter. Distinct and provocative, it mischievously detonates a compelling aesthetic which creatively questions its audience's motivations. More subtle than Oldboy and an insight into what it's like to live without universal healthcare, Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance oscillates and undulates while establishing definitive strikes, a mutated dialectical homage to kaleidoscopic terms of endearment.

His instinct was impressive. It was as if every decision had been tailored by a modestly incisive broad conceptualization whose various tenants had been synthesized then sequestered (for expediency's sake) in order for the day's routine to be enthusiastically engaged. Wit was also employed in order to dryly and sardonically acknowledge alternatives whose character, while robust, could not fit into that particular moment's configuration. Formidable yet endearingly diplomatic, as a verdict of taste, I staggeringly laid down my anatomical tract.

Belle and Sebastian's live version of "Here Comes the Sun" popped up on my ipod shuffle first thing in the morning last Friday and Joel Plaskett's "Beyond, Beyond, Beyond" was the last song I heard after returning home. That was some cool randomness.

If you have a gloomy exterior and can't do anything about it, to the point where you're sitting there in a state of extreme happiness while passers by regard you as if you're suicidal, then it's a matter of just accepting that your inner-world is not adequately reflected by your appearance, and trying to convince people that you're having a good time as they frustratingly ask if everything's okay.

Doorways getting in the way again. Today, I ran into an elderly person in the street with whom I'm acquainted because he frequents my place of work once or twice a day. Not wishing to appear rude, I said "hi" and listened as he began to talk. As the doorway approached, I figured that since he is older, he likely wishes to open the door thereby simplifying my passage through. As the door was opened, I followed my plan of action only to recoil in discouraged frustration; he had not opened the door for me as I had suspected but for a mother who was waiting to pass through with her baby carriage. I foolishly walked through only to halt my progression upon recognition when I immediately felt incompetent, idiotic, and ineffectual. I tried to remedy the situation by agreeing to hold the door open for the mother at the same time noticing an electric door opening button. In my haste, I decided not to push the button and proceeded to stand there with the door open. Naturally, the elderly person walked through, pushed the button, and kept going. Doorways: I really can't win.

Nadja

Pleasantly awkward ridiculous dialogue effectively normalized and elegantly delivered, in scene after scene, as if an electromagnetic butterfly is quietly lamenting its misshapen cocoon, delicately fluttering from one petal to the next, breathing in the air, analyzing the moisture, multiple seductive themes variegating its flight, the wind's benevolent seniority quaintly clarifying its path, Michael Almereyda's Nadja revitalizes Bram Stoker's Dracula through sheer complacence and subterranean muses, voluptuously illustrated, magnanimously debated, by a multidisciplinary soundtrack, a haunting, viscidly structured purpose, a metamorphosis incarnated, a resurrection infuriated, mesmerizing, juicy tidbits lusciously lounging within your consciousness, united, shattered, synthesized, compartmentalized, with no particular goal, no definite objective, besides a sister's love for her brother, a husband's undying devotion, a nurse's attentive care, and a hardwired eccentric romantic. Like Nathalie Parentau's paintings, Nadja's subjects are surreal, affectionate, verbose, and dynamic, uttering convulsive resurgent facts, determining sundry, fervid pronouncements, observing dreamlike, rustic reverberations, and organic, felicitous statements. Immediate and everlasting, it gently settles in the underbrush, and shivers.

Unstoppable

Enjoyed Tony Scott's Unstoppable prior to engaging in further reflection. Overtly, it's an entertaining, generally modest, popcorny thrill-ride wherein two blue collar workers heroically save the day. Issues examined: the hardened worker with 28 years experience must deal with the green newcomer who thinks he knows it all; the ways in which nepotism haunts unions; the ways in which executives ignore the advice of their subordinates and make decisions with only the interests of profit in mind; jealousy's rueful mania; the notion that the good of the many outweighs that of the few; labour costs; the dynamic forged by corporate-media relations during a moment of crisis. Not very many Female characters within and I'm assuming Scott found some of his funding from Hooters. Fox news is legitimized which I found disconcerting. Blue collar workers who have a mistrustful eye regarding unionized labour are provided with a more profound degree of sincerity. Many scenes lack emotional depth, as if the actors are trying to finish several sequences quickly and efficiently throughout the course of a day, focusing on production costs rather than art. Sorry to say that the sum of these parts equals a subtle, sinister form of Republicanism, dangerously barreling down North America's cultural track. If we imagine Denzel Washington and Chris Pine's characters as representing United States Senator from Vermont Bernie Sanders, then Unstoppable's Republican agenda can be deconstructed and revitalized however. The film concerns a runaway train that must be stopped before its toxic contents destroy a section of Stanton Pennsylvania.

I'm glad I can honestly say, "well, I like bluegrass," when someone asks the awkward, "so, do you like country music?" question.

Have you noticed how people in their thirties are constantly trying to 'out-advice' one another? I generally prefer this type of social interaction when it concerns ironic inappropriate advice, like that so eloquently delivered by Dad in every episode of The Brak Show.

Wish I didn't feel morbidly-ill yet content every time ethics trumps self-preservation.

Pray the Devil Back to Hell

Providing coordinated snapshots of the movement that led to the end of Liberia's second civil war, Gini Reticker's Pray the Devil Back to Hell distills and memorializes an exceptional postmodern promotion of peace. Interviewing many of the principal participants, Reticker offers personal histories and general statistics to frame and conceptualize her portrait. Her depiction of the civil war modestly evidences the daily atrocities, only graphically referring to one barbaric situation, which highlights the brutality without sensationalizing it, thereby providing her with more time to focus on the movement. The Women of Liberia, Christian and Muslims working together, were basically tired of the civil war and decided to launch a peaceful protest demanding that Charles Taylor's corrupt regime meet with Liberia's rebellious warlords to come to a peaceful agreement. Eventually attracting international attention, they tenaciously and ingeniously held their ground until their goals were met.

Seemingly up against insurmountable odds, the Women of Liberia uprightly stand as a shining beacon of dedicated grassroots political action (Charles Taylor is being tried for war crimes in the Hague). Hopefully their example, brilliantly upheld in Pray the Devil Back to Hell, continues to globally inspire the bold and the oppressed.

The Meaning of Life

Hugh Brody's The Meaning of Life introduces us to several inmates of the Kwìkwèxwelhp minimum security correctional facility (The Kwìkwèxwelhp Healing Village), located on Chehalis First Nations territory in British Columbia. Providing several of them with the opportunity to speak, a vicious cycle of abuse and violent crime is showcased. The residents, having been sentenced to life in prison, recognize that the crimes they committed were heinous and deplorable, the kinds of acts that aren't easily forgiven. Wishing they had taken a different path while making the most of the one they're on, many of them occupy their time with various productive tasks, often producing venerable works of art. The healing village's operation is guided by First Nations's spirituality, and its focus provides the inmates with a high degree of dignity. It is certain that they committed brutal crimes for which one must be locked up as a consequence. But what becomes clear is that most of them were the extreme victims of abuse themselves, many of them Natives who suffered under the Residential School System, and wherever they went prior to committing their crimes, there were few people if anyone willing to try and understand their situation, who weren't selling drugs and/or alcohol. What The Meaning of Life poetically captures is the beauty remaining within these victims, as well as the fact that serving time can have enormously beneficial spiritual affects, especially when that time is served within an institution that respects its subjects. There are certainly no easy answers when it comes to political and ethical viewpoints regarding the nature of discipline and punishment, but people and institutions which attempt to understand the historical, social, and psychological reasons why something occurred, rather than simply judging the fact that it did, are moving in the right direction in my books, dynamically examining multidimensional big picture questions through the productive lens of compassion and culture.

Shopping

I couldn't figure out if it was one of those eager requests to assist which you're supposed to ignore, or a genuine display of concern requiring a response. Follow-up questions added to the confusion for all the answers sounded like double-entendres.

If I was setting up a booth at a conference, I'd place it somewhere in the middle of the pack, based solely on my own preferences, for upon entering conferences I prefer to move quickly past the booths in front, unless snacks are provided in their vicinity, in order to discover snacks, then booths situated in the middle, after which I'll proceed from right to left, then back to front, until I've absorbed it all.

All it took was patience and tact guided by a discerning critical intuition which could precisely delineate the attributes of an indescribable topic, week after week, in order to generate no direct response.

I didn't see the trap at first but then it occurred to me. They were cognizant of the fact that I was there by myself and wanted to play a game. The female would ask me questions the answers to which I couldn't possibly know, in a sweet voice, and I would blush and express my ignorance (gathering). The male would then confidently answer the question which related to his area of expertise and his ego would inflate (hunting), thereby increasing his attraction to the female. Don't mean to be gender specific, have simply presented the genders as they related to one another during the social interaction in question.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part I

Know then that Harry Potter is back once more in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part I, wherein he battles death eaters and fascists and feelings all the while coming of age. Most of the regular cast is also back for a scene or two and since the book has been cut in two even more depth than that found in The Order of the Phoenix is presented. Which doesn't mean many of the scenes aren't still curt and melodramatic full of noises and exclamations the kitschy insertion of which is supposed to tap into our preprogrammed dispositions and produce one of a variety of emotional responses. Short and to the point most of the time, yet supposedly exceptional due to the hype and reputations of the cast, the scene where Harry dances with Hermione still adds a nice touch. It's not that I didn't like the film, I certainly did. It's just as entertaining as any of the others, in fact, even more so, because it strays from the typical Hogwarts-and-they're-a-year-older-now format. It's just very rushed. A couple more extended scenes like that where Harry dances with Hermione would have been worth their weight in transitionary gold, or galleons, or something (why did they even include the Dursley's?). I'd really like to see an auteur like Werner Herzog or David Lynch take an aspect of one of these novels and transfer it to another setting within which its character is reconstituted yet traditionalized in order to provide it with more artistic depth. Or perhaps one of them could simply direct the Battle of Hogwarts. Could you imagine how amazing it would be if David Lynch directed the Battle of Hogwarts?

It would be amazing.

The Town

Ben Affleck's The Town is your classic intergenerational flick. You can rent it with an eclectic bunch including your parents and although few will likely be seriously impressed, many will accept its better than average character. It's subdued yet poignant, frank yet thoughtful, situated in an inner-city small town. Sort of cool how Affleck (Doug MacRay) falls for the girl he kidnaps after setting her free (Rebecca Hall as Claire Keesey). Liked the ways in which it cryptically and ambiguously emphasizes how people accidentally suffocate one another as circumstances dictate that they 'must' engage in certain actions, whether they're decent cops or Robin Hood, even if such an emphasis is paranoid and cynical (the internal consistency works). Affleck pulls off the classic complacent comeback performance, successfully portraying a character who never has to display much emotion, which makes it easier for him to appear accomplished since he doesn't have to take any risks. Jeremy Renner (James Coughlin) is provided with more of an opportunity to display his talent than he was in The Hurt Locker, and it looks like he may be around for awhile. Entertaining. The film subtly uses clichés successfully to present an appealing middle-of-the-road entertaining distraction, the kind of film you can hope that your friend with bad taste picks when it's his or her turn to choose a movie. A long ways from Good Will Hunting, but worth a forty minute walk on a cold, dark, typical weeknight.

And there I was, waiting in line at the grocery store, then placing my chosen items upon the belt of conveyance. At that moment, what I wished more than anything was for the divider, the stick separating my groceries from those picked by the individuals occupying the space behind me, to remain stationary, not to move as my food and beverage choices pressed onwards. But low and behold, as if Satan had descended upon _______ in order to gleefully thwart my superlative passion, the divider moved a fraction of an inch as the cashier pushed her motivational button. Distraught, I then did my best to maintain my composure as I exchanged funds for the goods in question. And the gummy worms I had purchased, sublime representatives of truth and prosperity, emanating earthen warmth and squiggly justice, making unreasonable demands, adding stipulations and salutations the likes of which I had never thought could be the product of joy, slithered their way into my pocket, and as I lamented the movement, the lack of a concrete resolution, I could only sigh and shake my head, for I new that never again would I be able to watch as that specific divider at that particular moment remained stable, for during the period in question it had moved, and therefore would also move, within my memory, forever.

Age comes when you recognize your faults.
Maturity comes when you start trying to correct them.
Wisdom comes when you realize that no matter how hard you try, many of your faults will remain.
Contentment comes when you find someone who loves them.
Someone with a huge rack.

Everything related to the next year and half's future rests upon the social outcomes of tonight's activities, for they have been advertised by representatives of diverse groups without the assistance of coordination, meaning that I must be on my best behaviour or risk being cast into oblivion. Methinks it's time for a six pack.

When a particular point, one of many possibilities, full of reason and certitude, prosperity and diligence, is suddenly elevated to the status of a universal, and everyone is talking about it, you need to do your best to adapt, even if your collegial skill set does not naturally and easily reflect its wisdom, until such a time when it has been replaced by something which makes a smooth psychological fit, if there's nowhere to hide.

If I had met her in a cold small town, and we had fallen for each other to shake it off, upon leaving, when she turned to me and said "I think we'll have to break up in order to stop thinking about it," I would have looked at her and for the first time stated, "I love you," before whispering "you're probably right" in her ear.

Trucks

Licensed powerful
machines driving across countries
with goods to exchange.

Puke

Inconsequential
solution diluted plastic
victory flowers.

If Not for You

Wild animal magnetism
prudently chides
discreet mischievous charm.

Wish the Broncos were having a better season. At least their playoff hopes aren't high this year.

Baseline

Oddly situated
diagonal lattice clockwork
eclectic figure.

Has God given great film directors the ability to intuit absolute cultural codes, applying only to specific dispositions within particularized epochs, which they then unconsciously embed within their texts, leaving critics the task of deciphering them in order to better understand the divine content of the human condition?

It takes a special kind of man to write books about women of virtue while treating his partner with absolute disrespect. But it takes an angel to enjoy and accept her partner's disrespect because she loves the virtuous books he creates.

For the first time today, I was politely asked to leave my apartment for an hour in order to accommodate a roommate's (foiled) assignation. Got to take his jeep for a drive.

I think the next time he reminds me that I left my shampoo bottle in the wrong place in the shower I'm going to call him a filthy adulterer.

Fool for Love

Robert Altman's Fool for Love is one of those dark sombre romances that's almost more fun to write about than watch. The basic plot is traditional. A gorgeous woman (Kim Basinger as May) is in love and has been in love with a cowboy (Sam Shepard as Eddie) whose no good for her for over a decade. She tries to overcome her desire by dating someone less bold (Randy Quaid as Martin). When the two subjects of desire meet, an otherwise viscid, enigmatic, nocturnal love story suddenly has all of its secrets revealed, candidly, confidently, and non-chalently, a shocking synthesis of opposites cheerfully and disconcertingly materialized. This portion of Fool for Love's script, by clarifying the details the rest of the film has so cleverly hidden, carnal forbidden details forged by desire's twisted and recalcitrant whims, seems to be saying that if a polar synthesis is unleashed in order to explain two sets of taboo miscalculations (one the direct result of the other), while order will be briefly restored, that order's chaos will not be able to withstand externalized vindications. Hence, while the love remains, the situation becomes even more surreal.

I allowed myself to believe that what she had said was true for 15 minutes.

Habit

Pent up nothing just
constant routine desire one
smoke two smokes smoking.

Rar rar rar.

Due Date

As you enter your fourth decade, you may find getting along with people difficult, especially if you're not interested in fucking people over, or, are very interested in fucking people over. If you're interested in fucking people over, you'll get along well with your brethren, but any sort of genuine affection is always mitigated and diluted by an underlying creeping sense of dread, which can lead to misery if not alleviated by church on Sunday (or a weekly chat with a psychiatrist). If you're not interested in fucking people over, you'll seem odd, and the ways in which you interact with others will be judged as suspect and counterproductive, as if you don't want a three storey house, although there will be an unspoken respect for your good nature that underlies your social interactions. Todd Phillips's Due Date takes a representative from both of these categories and sticks them on a road trip together from Atlanta to Los Angeles. Peter Highman (Robert Downey Jr.) simply wants to make it back to L.A. for the birth of his first child while Ethan Tremblay (Zach Galifianakis) has a meeting with an agent in Hollywood. The relationship between their personalities is very Plains, Trains and Automobiles, although the consistently awkward and ridiculous scenarios have been crafted for a 21st century audience (like the difference between Back to the Future and Hot Tub Time Machine or Growing Pains and Family Guy). It's sort of like high-strung lackadaisical perseverance meets care-free trusting tactless generosity while co-ordinating various provocatively inane exchanges on an uplifting heroic comedic adventure. Will an enduring friendship be the result and will Ethan and Peter learn to fuck each other over productively by openly caring for one another? My favourite Todd Phillips's film to date.

Novocaine

While growing up in the 80s I was a huge Steve Martin fan, so I decided to give Novocaine a shot recently even though its reviews are predominantly negative. And it's obvious that those reviews are negative because Novocaine is simply to smart for its own good. It's well written insofar as its melodramatic presentations and pronouncements are consistently subverted by ridiculous subject matter that simultaneously lambastes and reconstructs several film noir 'motifs' in order to ironically elevate the whole kitschy kit and kaboodle. It's like director David Atkins is giving Martin the chance to make fun of the ways in which Steve Martin films were typecast during the 90s by allowing him to return to a more atypical role, like those from Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid or The Man with Two Brains. In fact, Atkins plays with mass conventions and characterizations within in order to reinvent and reinvigorate filmic constructions, notably with his police officers and femme fatales, thereby providing an unpredictable treat for the conditioned status quo, by destabilizing the manufactured organic link between characters and occupations. Which opens up the comedic spectrum and explains the vituperation.

Kevin Bacon's first scene is outstanding.

Tsotsi

Gang leader David (Presley Chweneyagae) has a bizarre crisis of conscience after stealing an automobile in the first twenty minutes of Gavin Hood's Tsotsi. Used to spending his time organizing petty robberies with the help of his friends, David suddenly steals a car on his own only to find a baby nestled in the back seat. Horrific and haunting childhood memories demand that he care for the child in order to make amends for his father's abuse. In the meantime, the child's parents use their power and influence to vigilantly search for their offspring.

Tilling complicated ethical ground, Tsotsi illustrates how a troubled individual uses the rewards gained from criminal activities to transform his attitude regarding community living. Hood is clear to point out that the opportunities in David's neighbourhood are slim and a life of crime one of the only options. As David learns more about the art of parenting, his personality changes and he develops a more inclusive set of social principles. And then he is arrested, but on his own terms.

If you take someone who is relaxed seriously you may lighten up.

Most of what you learn from relationships comes from interacting with whomever you happen to be dating. As you spend more time together, such interactions become more complex as a historical layer begins to unconsciously affect things. As the years go by and several relationships pass, patterns develop, and from these patterns generalizations regarding the sex of your partners suggest themselves, while love's euphoric magnanimity obfuscates and obliterates them. From these patterns, characteristic statements and reactions are generated and as time passes they become more complex and diverse. As a consequence, if you rarely date anyone, you set yourself up for sincere misfortune while engaging in the act of dating, for your lack of understanding of these statements and their corresponding reactions will leave you consistently confused as you suffer beneath the weight of your partner's experience. Hence, it's better to date people whom you find banal and uninteresting than to wait for that special someone, even if this means that love's euphoric magnanimity will not obliterate the patterns suggested by your experience, so that when that special someone comes around you don't alienate them by being consistently frustrated by their cultural savvy.

Note: beware of falling in love with someone whom you initially find uninteresting, for when they realize that you love them they will punish you for your initial indifference, the nature of said punishment directly corresponding to the degree of their remaining love, and if they do still love you, it will likely be worse.

Furry Vengeance

Roger Kumble's Furry Vengeance is actually a lot more than an annoying comedy with poor bear representation and far to many repetitive scenes. It's also an attempt to indoctrinate children with an eco-friendly racist attitude regarding globalization (I suppose this is about as progressive as Republicans get). As the film unreels, real-estate developer Brendan Fraser (Dan Sanders) plans to turn a forest into a subdivision and cash-in both professionally and economically. But the forest's residents are aware of his ambitions and set out to annihilate them. As time passes, Fraser realizes that the animals are simply trying to protect their families in the same way that he is trying to protect his, and he consequently takes their side in the order of things. But his change of mind angers his Asian American boss who was trying to raise the related development capital from a group of East-Indian industrialists and all hell breaks loose at the annual town festival. And the reconstituted American champions the rights of his community and India and China are prevented from ruining the American landscape. Children should be spared the ways in which films like Furry Vengeance attempt to xenophobically and racistly indoctrinate them, and it's a shame trash like this received a widespread mainstream distribution.

Definitely miss smoking but I think I've quit this time for good. Every day I had smoking to look forward to, always there for me, never letting me down, yelling at me, or complaining that I'm tired and don't want to do that. It's as if the people at Smoking are saying that if something's there for you and it never lets you down it will take up a significant portion of your income, make you smell really bad, and slowly kill you over the years. That's messed up.

Red

I liked Robert Schwentke's Red even though there's not much to it. I recommend it if and only if you're searching for a mildly entertaining brain numbing occasionally amusing action flick wherein several old-school big names (Helen Mirren, Bruce Willis, Morgan Freeman, John Malkovich, Richard Dreyfuss, Ernest Borgnine) give a Space Cowboys salute to their careers. I was glad to see Brian Cox included in the cast. Even though his career hasn't had as many leading roles, he's definitely demonstrated a robust dynamic multidimensional integrity over the years (as if casting personnel Deborah Aquila and Mary Tricia Wood are saying "you, Brian Cox, are the ultimate mainstream supporting actor"). The next generation is represented by Karl Urban who has demonstrated his abilities in films such as The Chronicles of Riddick, Star Trek, and Pathfinder, and he resignedly holds his own throughout. The film vilifies American atrocities committed in Central America during the 1980s and while this is good it's as if its structure is saying that it's to bad it took the American mainstream 25 years to catch up. The internal dynamics point out how hard it is to prevent such things from happening if you're solely concerned with advancing your own personal agenda, unless that agenda is designed to prevent such things from happening.

It's important to mention the details of your social dynamic to both the shy and boisterous individuals who may seem like they aren't concerned with its fluctuating composition. For if no one ever mentions anything to them, they may start trying to deduce what's happening based solely upon body language and innuendo. You can learn a lot from doing this but nothing's ever certain, and mistakes, though rare, are often made. Mentioning actual truthful details may save them some trouble, especially if this goes on for years and the grip separating hypothesis from fact slips away.

Something new has shown up on your desk. It's nice but you're busy and it's not that important to you so you don't acknowledge its presence. Eventually, someone mentions it to you in the hopes of gaining some recognition for its delivery, assuming that you haven't noticed it yet. But you have noticed it and you mention this fact to their shock and surprise. Now, in this situation, it's better to say that you didn't notice the item in question until that moment, for trying to explain that you had noticed it earlier but didn't say anything is much more complicated and your co-workers likely won't believe your explanation. Because these kinds of things really matter to them and they would have said something had they been in your position. If someone had left a nice poem about the autumn or a delicious snack on my desk I certainly would have said something.

I hate it when medication toxically mixes with your nicotine patch and causes you to throw up before morning coffee, and, this is the closest I've ever come to being a yuppie.

[Make that two days in a row where medication has toxically mixed with my nicotine patch to make me throw up before morning coffee!].

I suppose that in order to learn a new language you can be neither proud nor content.

Suppose it would be great if elected representatives actually fought for the rights of their constituents as opposed to those championed by their party. But the United Farmers Association of Alberta tried this in the early twentieth century and they found that because their members were voting with the interests of their communities in mind, they could barely pass their own budget. Meaning that democracy often doesn't work in a democracy.

La dernière fugue (The Last Escape)

A son struggles with his conception of his father as that father tries to maintain his place at the head of his household during Christmas dinner. But Parkinson's Disease and a generally ornery disposition have lead that father's family to openly revolt against his traditional authority. While taking a break, family members André (Yves Jacques) and Sam (Aliocha Schneider) consider the notion that perhaps euthanasia is the best solution, seeing how their patriarch (Jacques Godin) remains mentally lucid but physically and spiritually destitute. Their long suffering matriarch (Andrée Lachapelle) isn't adverse to the idea (especially after the father mentions that he no longer wishes to go on) and Léa Pool's La dernière fugue (The Last Escape) crisply examines the resultant subject matter. But is it the patriarchy itself that has Parkinson's and are we watching a sentimental salute to an eclipsed cultural stranglehold whose vilification of marijuana and strict gender roles doesn't productively jive with the 21st century? Pool's film doesn't directly suggest this and she delicately pays respect to different generational attitudes within, providing multiple viewpoints with terse, spur of the moment exclamations. The speed at which everything takes place is suspect as is the sudden ending, but the overt manner which Pool adopts in order to launch her investigation is pronounced and bold and refreshingly open.

So you've approached a situation with preconceived notions regarding how things will unravel, while maintaining a cautionary approach which takes into account unpredictable variables. As time is built into that situation's framework, patterns develop that have been seen before and experience suggests certain qualifications. If you are dealing with a disruptive genius, they are hoping to convince you that these patterns are absolute, in order to watch as you begin to engage them confidently. Then, when you are feeling calm and relaxed, the patterns suddenly change, since her or his test was judging your ability to adapt and contend after having been seduced by comfort.

There you have it. Your roommates are fighting and you feel like taking a side. But you can't take a side because your roommates are old friends and have a firmly established amicable relationship. If you take sides with one, the other will start scrutinizing your activity meticulously and use his or her research to defame you in the other's eyes. Since they already have a strong bond, they will then transfer the enmity engendered by their friendship's hiccup towards you and revitalize it accordingly. I wonder if marriage councillors use this technique as a strategy.

At least I know that throughout the day I always have Proust to whom to look forward. His writing guarantees me a degree of unmitigated joy each and every day and has done so for the past 3 and a half years. Like walking through the streets of Montréal after drinking a pint of Trois-Pistoles, Proust's writing encourages a creative open-mind while obscuring the day's misfortunes. Every time.

I find it hard to believe that every Conservative riding in Canada unanimously supports the long-gun registry. I'm not surprised that this hasn't been brought up in our predominantly conservative media outlets however. By never questioning this 'harmony,' it's as if several editors are trying to subliminally disseminate a myth of conservative homogeneity which hopes to unconsciously convince people that the Conservative Party is 'united' and 'pure,' and therefore 'trustworthy' and 'austere,' which is nonsense.

Masculin féminin: 15 faits précis

Answers and questions. Definitions and commitment. Meaning and possibility. Love. Jean-Luc Godard's Masculin féminin situates and interrogates his uncertain conception of Parisian ideology within a diverse realistic quotidian brand of surrealism which effectively simulates a dynamically fluctuating resolution. Practically searching for truths and realizations in accordance with predetermined principles can have a disillusioning affect when trying to place them within one's expectations of an other, based upon interpretations of historical interactions, especially when such principles are being simultaneously synthetically analyzed. But this doesn't prevent Paul (Jean-Pierre Léaud) from continuing to interact with and observe his community as partner Madeleine (Chantal Goya) becomes a pop star. Many scenes are robust, showcasing differing points of view quickly and acutely yet calmly and pensively, while eating breakfast in a café for instance, the actors eating and drinking throughout, like a well-executed preplanned orchestration of randomly improvised daily life, with just enough absurd happenings to make sure it isn't taking itself to seriously. Stop analyzing things and you may have an easier time unless analyzing things makes you happy (assuming happiness is a possibility). Cultural tropes (interviews for pop magazines . . .) are subtly satirized and recast to reelevate their "insert your adjective" recognitions. I have no idea what this film is about. And I used a lot of big words.

The Social Network

I'm on Facebook every single day. Mostly just to play Scrabble but also to see the news items etc. that friends have designated as worthy of sharing. And to see who is adhering to the art of creating compelling Facebook Profile Status Updates. It's not the easiest thing to do although its analysis depends upon which of the myriad factors one's disposition chooses to exalt as wrought iron synthetic principles at that specific time, which depends upon how that day's events have individually affected his or her historical constitution. Even if you have principles that you always apply it depends upon how those principles align themselves with and are interpreted by your personality's unique composition at that given moment. I'm just trying to say that it must be fun being a judge.

David Fincher's The Social Network examines how Facebook came to be, placing its provocative genesis within a generally non-judgmental framework. Harvard student Mark Zuckerberg (Jesse Eisenberg) is distraught regarding a relationship that has gone sour and engages in cybershenanigans in order to reestablish his sense of self. Said shenanigans impress three other students who resultantly share their idea for a social networking site, hoping that he will join their team. However, believing he can improve on their idea and develop it on his own, with a little help from his friends, Zuckerberg breaks and predominantly partners with his best friend Eduardo (Andrew Garfield) instead. But differing philosophies concerning how the company should be managed significantly rupture their bond, and the film unreels by staggering two simultaneous lawsuits with the practical details composing their judicial trajectories.

Zuckerberg comes across as exceptionally shrewd and benefits economically and culturally if not socially from his endeavours. The film's well structured (especially the opening scene), thankfully providing unnecessary depth for some of its characters while realigning our attention every couple of minutes or so. Generalizations regarding personalities are delivered incisively (internally speaking) and the difficulties of fantastically capturing the legal realities disrupting Zuckerberg's life are handled well (the scenes are terse and kitschy yet volatile and characteristic [the form 'distilling' the undergraduate personality]). Sean Parker's (Justin Timberlake) introduction effectively breaks up the narrative, functioning as a transformative bridge much like that in David Bowie's "Changes." And although the breakdown of Zuckerberg and Saverin's friendship is a little tough to take, at least its resolution sees some ethics transferred to the world of business. After lengthy, expensive, legal proceedings.

Well, I'm about to check Facebook for the 16th time today in order to see if that ukelele jam's still on for tomorrow and whether or not I can score a Scrabble bingo. Why did T_______ post that picture? That's not going to go over well. I would start my own zoo but you can't design it from scratch and I want a zoo that only contains different types of bears. This kind of functionality isn't present people . . !

Altered States

Eddie Jessup (William Hurt) is a scientist committed to experiencing/discovering the first thought, the foundational ontological kernel. Conducting experiments with sensory deprivation and hallucinogenic drugs, he comes closer and closer to unlocking existence's primordial governing secret. But as he approaches this void, he sacrifices his wife and family, not permitting domestic comforts to conflict with his pursuit of knowledge. Then, as his genetic structure begins to deteriorate and his blackouts engender carnal repercussions, he must battle reality's constitution and embrace the overwhelming power of love; after briefly transforming into an apelike creature.

As scientific-poetry deconstructs the relationship between professional and personal responsibility, Ken Russell's Altered States melodramatically illustrates a thesis regarding what it means to be human. Its synthesis of art and science can come across as naively sentimental, multifaceted and interrogative, cheesy and distorted, or incredibly uplifting, depending. Can you maintain a substantial "I" without reciprocating a loving partner's devotion? According to Altered States's depiction of the humanistic universe's physiological construction, the answer is "no," you cannot.

It's a situation requiring a self-sacrificing attitude. The quarters are tight and you're living with the home owner. They are alright and generally pleasant and cheerful. But they notice when you've been untidy, even if these instances are rare, and usually say something. The instances are rare because you are tidy and respectful yet busy and focused, and occasionally preoccupations with business obfuscate domestic concerns, causing you to appear absent minded. As soon as they say something you adjust your routine and immediately begin to take note of how many times your accuser engages in those very same actions. But you can't say anything in regards to said actions because they will likely become upset and throw you out. This has been my experience anyways.

When you're reading and you find that you've been preoccupied with something and have consequently failed to take note of what is happening, it's not necessarily that you've been preoccupied, but likely that the dynamic reality created by the author has transported you to another dimension wherein your vibrant thoughts indirectly correspond to the ways in which the author's life force has been translated and refocused by your subconscious.

Be careful when someone gaps and asks you to do something which is incredibly easy if you know the person is hot-tempered, stubborn, and irrational, for they will likely take your corresponding advice as a personal insult if delivered in a fashion that doesn't correspond to what their psychological disposition has determined acceptable, which is a defensive mechanism that enables them to blame you for their mistake.

Cube

Vincenzo Natali's Cube presents a group of strangers who wake up within a byzantine death trap with no choice but to work together to gain their freedom. Their prison is a giant cube in which some rooms are safe and others contain malicious contraptions designed to quickly end their lives. Enigmatic clues are provided the deciphering of which will enable them to pass through unscathed. As the trapped individuals begin to solve the puzzle, it quickly becomes apparent that a particular form of human nature is their own worst enemy.

The characters are divided into two camps, one nihilistic, the other content with the order of things. Paranoid anxious dialogue delivers extreme points from both ideological stances as their confines suffocate their more polite characteristics. One character decides that they must take control and takes it upon themself to lead. Believing in a strict, necessary, veracious, immutable relationship between things and the ways in which a particular school of thought has defined them, they consider themself to be a representative of austerity and therefore the purist candidate for leadership. Trying to apply the guidelines of a master-narrative to their random circumstances rather than negotiating and aligning themself with the organized structural ambiguity leads to violence and madness, and the laissez-faire nihilists must cope with this determined beast. But passively accepting their situation and progressing patiently and calmly does not guarantee them success, for the designs of the cube cater to both reason and madness alike where only the innocent can survive. According to the ridiculous ending anyways. The logic built into this ending works with Cube's structure however, Natali positioning himself within the very same technosocial-predicament he examines, like Rousseau in a pernicious futuristic state of nature, and delivering the predictable stereotypical solution (the fact that the villain somehow returns) that so often is designated "correct" by its designer's dementia.

It's best to engage chaotic situations randomly.

Heard an interesting theory about the one-hour lunch break from my roommate the other day. He claims managers like it when employees take the one-hour lunch break because they consequently look as if they're not in a rush to get home, comfortably relaxing and spending more time at work throughout the day. Don't know how practical this is and suppose it depends on the manager but it's a cool theory.

Content

Precise jab.
Swift motion.
Coquettish smile.
Conversation.
Music.

It was as if she wanted me to think of her whenever I thought of the city, distilling all of its various outlets and modes of expression into a smile, battering eyelash, tight pair of jeans, or clever remark. Such vanity thought I but at the same time such confidence.

Dust Lit Plain

Heat from the furnace.
Scent of the pine.
Red berries.

Machete

Robert Rodriguez's new action film Machete (co-directed by Ethan Maniquis) accomplishes its goals and effectively pays respect to its filmic heritage. But it's no Planet Terror. The right content is in place. An implacable officer of the law is disgraced and humiliated by a corrupt Mexican drug lord (Steven Seagal as Torrez) and left with nothing besides his integrity and honour (Danny Trejo as Machete). Continuing to make ends meet as a landscape artist, he is eventually hired by a rich thug (Jeff Fahey as Michael Booth) to kill a politician whose policies vilify illegal Mexican immigration to the United States (Robert de Niro as Senator John McLaughlin). But a double-cross is in the mix, and Machete soon finds himself hunted by Booth's men after narrowly escaping their treacherous clutches. Alone and on the run, he finds help from a sultry revolutionary posing as a taco-salesperson (Michelle Rodriguez as Luz) and a U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement Agent who needs to recalibrate her attitude (Jessica Alba as Sartana Rivera). Blades and bullets carve up and shoot through a copious cast of ruffians as justice is delivered with unrelenting speed and precision.

The following strengths permeate Machete: it takes itself seriously while seeming unconcerned and distracted which results in a confident cohesive bravado; there are plenty of ridiculous situations and conversations which accentuate its robust candour; voluptuous babes, a pure and indestructible hero, mayhem, and a clearly defined purpose; over the top incompetent villains who are consistently outmaneuvered and thwarted; classic showdown in the end heralded by several acrobatic and athletic escapes throughout; solid response to harsh immigration laws; these features and many others coalesce to forge a thrilling A-listed B-movie whose volatile vendettas and frenetic flesh provides myriad treats for the senses. But the writing lacks the hilarious moments that made Planet Terror superlative kitsch and many scenes consistently fall flat as a consequence. This isn't necessarily a bad thing considering that many of the films to which Machete pays homage possess similar scripts. But many of these films aren't the greatest and Planet Terror worked because it was one of the greatest not-so-great films of the early 2000s, one of my favourites anyways. I'm afraid that without the linguistic skill and ingenuity that adhesively structured Planet Terror's action and dialogue, Machete is little more than a vivid and harmonious recapturing of a lacklustre aesthetic, perfectly sliced, yet lacking innovation.

Always san-chôme no yûhi (Always, Sunset on Third Street)

Felt strange watching a Japanese film that wasn't full of monsters, samurai warriors, or drug addicts and femme fatales. Apparently, there's a huge market for melodramas and tear jerkers in Japan as well. Who knew! Takashi Yamazaki's Always san-chôme no yûhi (Always, Sunset on Third Street) is one such melodrama and it tugs at the heartstrings while presenting colourful characters in an urban setting. The narrative is basically divided along artistic and mechanical lines. Ryunosuke Chagawa (Hidetaka Yoshioka) dreams of becoming a famous noteworthy writer and ending his days composing mainstream popular books. He was cast out by his family for pursuing the literary life and is consistently ridiculed by the hot-tempered garage owner Norifumi Suzuki (Shin'ichi Tsutsumi). Norifumi employs Mutsuko Hoshino (Maki Horikita) who has just arrived from the country and is none to pleased when she discovers his garage is not a prosperous automotive plant. While Ryunosuke is characterized by meekness, Norifumi expresses himself through rage, and the two form an entertaining odd-couple relationship. Poverty and manners of representation are examined throughout, most characters being forced to make tough decisions as a result of their predicaments. But as they make these decisions friendships grow and personalities change as responsibilities increase and families multiply. Sure, Always san-chôme no yûhi doesn't have a group of survivors boldly holding out against the mighty Godzilla, and the ancient code of the samurai is neither interrogated nor referred to. But it does showcase the ups and downs of following your dreams in a sentimental fashion that is more enlightening than maudlin, and it felt good to get caught up in its quotidian routines. With reversals and adventures and orphans and heartbreak, Always san-chôme no yûhi may be a bit much to take at times, but it still successfully develops a vibrant, convivial, volatile life of its own, more compelling than incorrigible, for which everything does not work out in the end.

Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby

Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby is consistently funny. There isn't much of a point which is nice. It concerns the life and times of Ricky Bobby (Will Ferrell) who wants to grow up and drive really fast. The comedy is produced by a number of extended awkward scenes wherein propriety is recast and reconstituted according to the guidelines of driving really fast (notably the grace, rehabilitation knife, and Ricky Bobby meets Jean Girard [Sacha Baron Cohen] scenes). Juvenile and spontaneous yet sophisticated and structured (editing by Brent White), the successful jokes and offbeat characters/situations thoroughly lap their demobilized opposition. Several themes appear, lay dormant, are referred to quickly, and then revitalized (Ricky's relationship with his father [Gary Cole] for instance), as a multidimensional cast adds different layers of comic sensitivity to the narrative. Ricky Bobby does drive really fast and so does his lifelong best friend Cal Naughton, Jr. (John C. Reilly). Worth several laps around the track, Talladega Nights presents and promotes a worthwhile down home country concern, with confidence and potency, the occasional piece of historical trivia, and a number of observations regarding values. It's well done.

Need to remember when friends have children to ask them questions related to how they are adjusting to life with those children before asking them questions concerning whether or not they recently won chicken wing cook-offs.

Made some tasty moose chilli yesterday, cooked for four hours on low with an extra layer of garlic added every hour on the hour. The tube of frozen ground moose meat was cut in two with an axe by my roommate.

I thought, while walking through the streets and contrasting present points of view with those possessed ten years ago, that if I had met her three years later, when my desire had been sequestered within a more domestic comportment, that perhaps we would have enjoyed a greater number of dinners featuring delicious cakes and sumptuous cheese sauces, while discussing the details of some ridiculous Canadian political development, like the outcome of an election being decided on positions concerning a long-gun registry, the formal characteristics and agitations built into its presentation, whether or not said presentation was predetermined or spontaneous, or the degrees to which either side of this opposition coalesce with one another in a political aesthetic, quaintly cloistering different ethical stances within picturesque prints illustrating mainstream predictability; and whether or not we should buy a cat. That's what she sort of wanted at the time anyways and I was still dreaming about writing screenplays in Hollywood. In the film we would end up with three cats even though if I remember correctly she wasn't fond of them. She used to glower at them whenever they disturbed the harmony established by a group of birds in her parent's backyard.

And as I was crossing the street I was surprised, for the distance I still needed to traverse was vast, and the speed at which an approaching car was travelling intense, and it had plenty of time to slip through the space to which I was eagerly moving before I arrived. But instead, exercising supreme caution and modesty tempered by a resounding respect for pedestrian ways and means, the vehicle decelerated and gingerly waited for me to pass. I could only deduce from this state of affairs that the culture of _______ was indeed generous and self-sacrificing, putting the interests of the law ceremoniously ahead of its own personal ambition, while tranquilly accepting the fact that there is no need to rush. For the day's events and unsatisfied necessities can indeed wait and be resolved/satiated/underwritten at another time. Upon reaching the other side and turning back to watch the traffic surge onwards, as though I had never existed, never sauntered through its accelerated domain and interrupted its determined pace, I felt a sense of disproportionate awe for this peculiar circumstance, which had allowed me to rapidly and prudently go about my business.

Dinner for Schmucks

Stacking awkward conversations and embarrassing situations upon harrowing miscommunications and mismanaged revitalizations, twisting it all up, and igniting a raging disorienting inferno, of comedy, Jay Roach's Dinner for Schmucks delivers a consistently progressing discomforting crescendo, within which Tim (Paul Rudd) must come to terms with Steve Carell's Barry. A prestigious promotion is within Tim's clutches if he can 'negotiate' a deal and impress his new contemporaries. At the same time, he must find an individual whose relationship with reality can be thought of as questionable and bring him or her to his boss's party. The party showcases representatives of the peculiar, the person possessing the most distance unknowingly winning the day. But when Tim's partner Julie (Stephanie Szostak) discovers this malevolent purpose, she forbids him from attending, throwing an ethical wrench into his professional plans. Conscience and economics then engendger a combustible quandary, which thoroughly complicates what it means to do the right thing.

Steve Carell shines and saturates Dinner for Schmucks with a cheerfully disconcerting other worldly constitution, whose gesticulating regulations coordinate comedic justice. I shook my head several times. Paul Rudd holds his own and soberly responds to Carell's offbeat harmonies. A light-hearted comedy filled with sandpaper and pith, Dinner for Schmucks will demand your attention if you don't mind sitting back to shiver and squirm. Here's hoping one day Carell finds his Dr. Strangelove. Excellent supporting performances from Zach Galifianakis and Jemaine Clement.

Easy A

The rumour patrol, derisively and intrusively guided by, well, everyone, in some little way, for abstract, practical, or theoretical purposes, always and forever. Will Gluck's Easy A examines the strengths and weaknesses of a malevolent high school rumour machine, full of invective and austerity, delineations and miscommunications, as it attempts to ruin the reputation of Olive Penderghast (Emma Stone). But Olive's smarter than your average bear, and she uses her classmate's curiosity and stereotypical subservience to elevate the social status of the downtrodden, while quietly accepting her scarlet letter. The film excels at presenting sensational subject matter in a subdued yet occasionally theatrical manner designed for young adult audiences yet containing enough elderly content to appeal to the middle-aged, and others, as well (this form subtly heralded by the coy opening credits). Olive's parents (Patricia Clarkson and Stanley Tucci) steal the show, but then Thomas Haden Church steals portions of their booty from them, while Stone herself makes off with a queen's ransom. An engaging examination of the potential horrors of high school distilled and distributed by an appealing 'iconoclast,' Easy A's case study suggests that the solution to overcoming ruthless gossip is to find true love, unless he or she is secretly unfaithful, which, I guess, is kind of saccharine. Good movie though.

La hérisson (The Hedgehog)

The film version of Muriel Barbary's L'elégance du hérisson (The Elegance of the Hedgehog) presents several of the novel's intriguing developments in a necessarily condensed form. Paloma (Garance Le Guillermic) still wishes to commit suicide and Renée Michel (Josiane Balasko) is still the secretly atypical concierge, reluctant to engage in personal social interactions with her clients. Screenwriter and director Mona Achache negotiates the tempestuous gulf providentially cultivated between a character's thoughts in a novel and their depiction in a film by having Paloma shoot and narrate a documentary throughout, thereby maximizing the number of literary ideas transmitted without relying to heavily on intrusive objective narration. The introduction of Mr. Ozu (Togo Igawa) is much more subtle in the novel and his perspicacious intuition comes across as somewhat larger than life (if not forgivably endearing). Paloma's acute perceptively dour psychological observations incisively and playfully occupy its forefront, while Renée's metamorphosis gradually picks up steam. Not sure what either Barbary or Achache are saying by having Renée die as soon as she begins to transcend her preoccupations with her thoroughly researched conceptions of her culture's general attitude concerning her personality as it relates to her job, apart from the fact that it dissuades Paloma from committing suicide, but that's another matter. Thoroughly entertaining, piquantly quizzical, and enigmatically enlightening, Achache's film compliments Barbary's novel even if their relationship could be a little less direct.

I meet her on Friday at school. She assists me and is of my type. On Saturday evening after leaving the movies I see someone in a car who looks like her waiting to turn right as I cross the street. I'm tempted to wave but think she may find me creepy if I'm staring at her while crossing the road so I just look in front of me. When I finish crossing she pulls away slowly, turns right and continues to drive away slowly. I look over and soon she is gone. I wonder if a chance to make a new friend has slipped away or if I'm simply over analyzing a mechanical situation.

It was a surprising comment insofar as it was brief and exclamatory, instinct suggesting that its author possesses a heightened sensitivity which I had never suspected, forcing me to reevaluate the ways in which I traditionally interact, even though I thought I was also quite polite.

The American

At first I thought The American was going to be a terrible film. The introductory scenes have a peculiar logic that doesn't make much sense and George Clooney's (Jack/Edward) performance within is anything but exceptional. But as it unreels and the motifs and situations percolate and blend, slowly and harmoniously disseminating character, philosophy, and metaphor, utilitarian and reflexive, frank yet cunning, a life force begins to shine forth, greater than the sum of its parts, as an assassin tries to escape his fate and freely retire from his cloak and dagger existence. For once a priest is shown to be an honourable man (Paolo Bonacelli), judgments regarding controversial occupations are suspended, mature desires coalesce with ubiquitous anxieties, and professional foresight outwits calculated terminations. Some of it's kitschy and sensational but these scenes often conclude with a sinisterly provocative resolution which reflects the subtleties of the predictable. A uniformly paced paranoid template within which a nocturnal narrative timorously pulsates and maneuvers, The American outwits expectations and undermines its overt manifestations. Directed by Anton Corbijn with an excellent performance from Mr. Clooney.

The Kids are All Right

Lisa Cholodenko's The Kids are All Right covers the volatile disruptions affecting a family of four after a married lesbian couple's two children seek out their biological father. His freewheeling bohemian ways conflict with the family's traditional order of things as he challenges, complicates, and reinvigorates their dynamic. Bourgeoisly examining themes such as child rearing, conjugal power struggles, friendship, ethnocentrism, adultery, philandering, and young adult relationships, The Kids are All Right has a multidimensional character which elevates its aesthetic. Effectively normalizing gay marriage for right wing audiences, while problematically making light of the harsh treatment of Mexican workers(thereby highlighting the phenomenon's unconscious cultural agency), The Kids are All Right successfully investigates manifold topics, presenting robust characters and humanized ideals.

Trois temps après la mort d'Anna (Mourning for Anna)

Presenting the harrowing struggles of a mother whose daughter is murdered in the prime of her youth, Catherine Martin's Trois temps après la mort d'Anna (Mourning for Anna) traumatically accentuates what it means to profoundly suffer. Stripping the narrative down to its bear essentials and rarely even moving the camera, Martin's portrait of Françoise's (Guylaine Tremblay) breakdown is desolate, poignant, and bleak. After her daughter's death, Françoise moves from Montréal to a remote family home in Kamouraska in order to confront her grief. Isolated, desperate, and alone, her mind begins to play tricks, and long lost family members suddenly appear. In a moment of despair, she collapses in a snowbank only to be rescued by a local painter (François Papineau as Edouard). As the film continues, Françoise subtly convalesces thanks to Edouard's patient kindness. Trois temps après la mort d'Anna substitutes landscapes and imagery for dialogue and action, illuminating a barren portrait of a mother's battle with spiritual destitution. Stark and lean yet vivacious and colourful, it directly submits a uniform thesis, leaving us free to respond with intuitive perceptions.

I love it when you tell a control freak that they're a control freak and then they try and control their image by doing everything they can to prove that they're not a control freak.

Highly recommend whale and seal watching in Tadoussac, Québec. I viewed minke, fin, and humpback whales three days ago and their vibrant spirits, boldly taking a breath before plunging back into the fathomless depths of their underwater domain, fill me with joy whenever their sprightly forms reemerge in my consciousness. Travelling out on the St. Lawrence in a zodiac, the brazen salt water indiscriminately saturating you with its corrosive magnanimity, before taking a brief tour of the Saguenay River, is also fun.

Sandy Beach

Substantial sigh
as circumstances
present untenable options.

St. Patrick's and Les Yeux Bleu

Youthful smile
cheerful confidence
subdued sarcasm
international conversation.

Musical Break

Get out of my head
over and over again
condensed cloyed chorus.

Animal Kingdom

Dialectically delineating the thin line separating criminals from officers of the law, David Michôd's Animal Kingdom introduces us to a family of professional malefactors as they tempestuously coexist with their surrounding community. The Cody family is fucked, although their commitment to one another, idealized by their cheerful and sweet mother (Jackie Weaver), is unwavering, assuming you don't mess with the cops. Josh Cody's (James Frecheville) mother wanted him to have nothing to do with her explosive family and remained distant from their activities for many years. But after she dies of a heroin overdose, Josh is thrust into their entropic den of depravity. Michôd's depiction of the police isn't any more uplifting as they shoot unarmed citizens merely suspected of crimes and make a profit off the fruits of their narcotics operations. The inhabitants of Animal Kingdom starkly develop intriguing personalities, Michôd's hard-boiled script and astute direction giving everyone involved the chance to distinctly stake their artistic territory. The atmosphere of psychological terror affectively cultivated by Ben Mendelsohn's psychotic portrait of Andrew 'Pope' Cody integrally structures the film's ambience. Animal Kingdom maintains a bizarre relationship with right-wing politics insofar as the Cody's are destined for prison while functioning as an iconic, albeit troubled, loving family. At the same time, while individual cops seek communal justice (Guy Pearce as Officer Leckie), the legal system presented is thoroughly corrupt. Josh must decide how to roll with the punches if he's to symbolically represent Australia's political future. A coming of age tale cloaked in a paranoid blanket of fear and tension, Animal Kingdom boldly interrogates the 'underworld' while offering a solution which does what it must to survive.

The Death of Alice Blue: Part 1, The Bloodsucking Vampires of Advertising

Really enjoyed Park Bench's The Death of Alice Blue: Part 1, The Bloodsucking Vampires of Advertising. It's creative, self-reflexive, energetic, well written, consistently comfortably awkward, intertextual, and hilarious. Several scenes exist as part of the general narrative while hovering above and developing an existential life of their own. Studying the innovative ways in which Bench comedically uses repetition should be high on the list of every up and coming filmmaker. Parts of the film even reminded me of David Lynch (particularly not generally). Bench's uniform and self-indulgently irresistible aesthetic effectively works with classics such as Re-Animator while moving beyond them in terms of depth and style. Overtly, it's as if we're watching an extremely low budget film with a terrible script, questionable performances, and "I don't give a shit writing." But Bench is well aware of these dimensions and he plays with and molds them into a scintillating, dark, jaunty cocked eyebrow, continually progressing and self-effacing from start to finish. It gets to the point where many of the myriad plot twists go nowhere but you don't care because what's happening in the moment is so compelling. There's no need for things to make sense or for there to be closure or an explanation or an explanation that makes sense. While the set is generally stark, particular scenes and random devices are meticulously and originally crafted, like a structural tribute to an engaging and unpredictable individuality, creating a wild, evenly paced, ridiculously sublime crescendo. Its desolate and superficial depiction of the general advertising world (and Raven Advertising's 12 cabals) boldly yet modestly calls into question mainstream post-modern cultural coordinates, while redesigning and elevating them in a productively haphazard and unconcerned manner. It's really well done and I was glad to have the chance to see it in Toronto theatres considering that it's Canadian and situated and shot in Toronto. Wish there had been more than two people other than me in the theatre but what can you do. Alex Appel performs exceptionally well, her multidimensional talent showcased in the same manner as the production design (long evocatively mundane stretches broken up by momentary flashes of brilliance [until the last twenty minutes where their powers are unleashed]), and my favourite scenes were those she shared with Detective McGregor (Conrad Coates). Production design by Anthony Morassutti.

Cats and Dogs: The Revenge of Kitty Galore

Dogs often do not get along well with cats. And cats seem to be consistently hostile concerning dogs. These facts form the foundation of Brad Peyton's Cats and Dogs: The Revenge of Kitty Galore, a family friendly adventure film wherein cats and dogs must work together. A rogue hairless cat named Kitty Galore (Bette Midler) is determined to transmit The Call of the Wild across planet Earth via satellite in order to cause dogs everywhere to react violently towards humans. But trailing her are Diggs (James Marsden) and Butch (Nick Nolte), two mismatched canines who need to learn to work together if they're to foil Kitty's dastardly plans. Initially unsuccessful, Diggs and Butch discover they need the help of a cat named Catherine (Christina Applegate) if they are to defeat their foe. Can cats and dogs professionally learn to competently overcome their eternal apprehensions, or will Kitty Galore disseminate her sinister message, thereby destroying everything dogs have worked for since the beginning of time?

Wasn't the hugest fan of Cats and Dogs 2. Didn't think many of the jokes were funny, thought most of the situations were ridiculously over the top (not the good kind of ridiculously over the top), and couldn't stop myself from taking a quick nap after the first 45 minutes. And what's Catherine doing at Dog Headquarters at the end of the film? Shouldn't she back at MEOWS taking care of cat related business? The youngsters in the theatre seemed to enjoy everything however, and clapped and laughed throughout. Not as deep as say Disney's Hercules, but still possessing enough childish wit to entertain its target audience, Cats and Dogs 2 won't likely find many parents wishing to view it for a second time, but will likely maintain a special place in the hearts of enthusiastic children.

Greenberg

Presenting one of the most cohesive and uniform portraits of a self-centered asinine son of a bitch, Noah Baumbach's Greenberg is a blunt, comedic character study of a troubled messed up individual. Completely unaware and unconcerned with the social ramifications of causes and effects, Roger Greenberg (Ben Stiller) problematically engages with the outside world according to his own set of unpredictable and obsessive rules. Enter Florence Marr (Greta Gerwig), a helpful confused relaxed yet energetic housekeeper with a big heart and a cheerful disposition. She meets Greenberg when his brother (Chris Messina) asks him to look after his place in Los Angeles for a couple of weeks while he travels throughout Vietnam. The two quickly commence an offbeat association and the film generally focuses on their mischievous miscues. You'll likely spend a lot of time wondering how she could possibly put up with Greenberg, as he consistently screws up every situation within which they happen to find themselves. In fact, Greenberg's strength lies in the lack of sympathy it develops for its title character. Baumbach crafts scene after scene where Greenberg lets his fabricated hang ups ruin the social interaction. But Florence sees something within which no one else can and keeps coming back time and time again, often reluctantly, always ready to give him a seventh or eighth chance. And through her devotion one learns to love (or at least tolerate) pesky Greenberg as he rashly applies his determination to whatever spur of the moment idea he suddenly considers compelling.

My favourite thing about insomnia is not sleeping.

The Harder They Come

Peter Henzell's The Harder They Come presents a non-traditional character study of an ambitious musician who tries to build Rome in a day. The character's identity is established firmly on the basis of contemporary action rather than personal history as he reacts to his culture's power structures audaciously. Ivanhoe Martin (Jimmy Cliff) moves from the country to Kingston, Jamaica, in search of a job. His only significant talent is musical and although he cuts a hit single, it isn't enough to pay the bills. Frustrated by having to sign away the rights to his music, he tries to distribute it on his own only to be stonewalled by the system's monopolistic designs. Underground jobs and retributive punishments follow as he tries to fight for a better wage against the fat cats who control the city. After shooting at both police and fellow marijuana distributors in the same week, he soon gains the notorious public image of reckless fugitive and cult hero.

Ivanhoe Martin reacts violently to the barriers in place concerning his personal advancement. Not content to sit back and let the idle few receive the majority of the fruit harvested by the ingenuity of the many, he takes on the system by any means necessary. It's fun watching a wildperson throw caution to the wind and stick up for his idealized rights, and since he survives, the perennially dispossessed begin to revere and love him. As time passes, those in control try to suffocate the network feeding and housing Martin, and the results are as actively ineffective as they are passively revolutionary.

Relaxed. There's a job interview in under an hour, why so relaxed? Thoughts speech prepared static protest: you should be nervous. Why don't they have their address on their website? Alouettes game and Schwartz's later but it's to early to think about such things. Should have written it then but I had a job interview that I was supposed to be nervous about at the time and had to stress about not being nervous instead. There's really no way to precisely prepare. You don't know what they'll ask and if you aren't interviewed frequently you can't prepare answers for the questions you've already been asked. You're excited by what she says but remember not to cut her off. Miles Davis's music consistently progressed because he always lived in the present, constantly reevaluating and reinterpreting. I'd be more nervous if I wasn't on vacation. Elastic riveting contracted announcement: successful propaganda. Little sticks and pebbles and weeds and ants. Different sources say there are somewhere between 250,000 and 900,000 black bears in Canada. That's a pretty serious discrepancy. It's hard to learn the dialect of a language in the beginning if you're not gifted linguistically. They don't use the forms you're presented with in class in the street. It's tough to progress because you have to try and generate meaning from fragments and tone and you can never be sure if you've understood correctly and can't have your only contributions to the conversation being points of semantic clarification but need to say something so as not to appear awkward, that something that you need to say often being awkward. This job pays really well. We're not meeting in person and I like the distance. That question's too basic, that one's alright, that one, asinine. Like walking through 17th century buildings. There's nothing that I can recall from In Search of Lost Time that covers job interviews but I read a couple of pages still. In the office now waiting to be shown to my videoconference room. Someone is having their picture taken professionally. The person next to me's suit is worth more than I made last year and he regards me with disbelief. Expectations simmering, hypothetical projections reverberating, non-related thoughts presenting themselves, chair, comfortable, receptionist, cute, reaction, volatile, sure, I'll watch you hula hoop for twenty minutes, wild boar-cerf-bison burgers, should have brought some water, looking forward to the film Machete, bubbles, that's the word I was searching for, be precise yet comprehensive, enjoy yourself, poker's a good way to test your intuition, they didn't give you much time to prepare, rules, regulations, should have said "hi," you're on vacation, cataracts and seamless tact, moving towards the room, sitting down, the screen will eventually light up with 4 people asking professional life altering questions to which I must spontaneously provide well rounded incisive answers. Oscillating arguments integrated tenements hope he found his way back; you'll be on display, every syllable judged, every movement taken note of, the painting to my left is dull, wandering, investigating, inquiring, cat friends scoot past, pyrotechnics, eclectic skeptics, this job could lead to a house if I play my cards right, you've prepared and have done this before, you can't categorize objective uncertainty in this instance, the movie was good, a lighthearted entertaining romantic comedy; there's a football game later plus Schwartz's, you tried the Malédiction at Le Saint Bock, you found a place rent free, you're in a city with a theatre and a métro and it's a beautiful day. First question: "tell us something about yourself that isn't mentioned in your resumé." Deep breath, synthesize, focus on the moment at hand, and speak.

A bottle of wine. She had said we would do so many things as so many people often do, and it's rare if you actually end up doing any of them. This has been my experience anyways. If something's appealing I'll mention it twice, perhaps three times, modestly, so as not to appear too interested. Hence, when she mentioned that we should drink one of her bottles of wine, a suggestion which was synthesized with so many others, I figured she was somewhat serious but would not be upset if she was sleeping when I returned home and I proceeded to drink some wine without her. After all, there were 15 bottles, meaning that we could easily drink another one at another point. Yet suddenly she was upset, I had disintegrated the purity of her original suggestion by drinking my first glass of her wine without her, and now had to purchase a fresh bottle, which, perhaps, we would one day drink together. But to drink her wine with me, this she would no longer do, for of the many suggestions she had made, many in passing which had already been forgotten, this is the one that bore the most prominence.

It's important to critically evaluate your mannerisms etc. in order to change over time, but such evaluations must be balanced by a conscious respect for quotidian conventions in order to function in the real world (and not spend all your time thinking about what you're thinking about).

Found myself in a poker showdown the other night, my friend P_______ and I being the last 2 standing in a 9 person game. Luck had played a significant role in my success. I had tied two hands, folded at the right moments, and won just often enough to stay alive. Suddenly, I found myself with the majority of chips and likely would have won if I had played things tight. But we'd been playing for 6 hours, my friend M_______ at whose flat I was crashing had passed out and had to work at 9:30 (it was 3:15), and everyone wanted to leave. So I figured I'd play it cool, one more hand, all or nothing, or, in this case, $40 dollars. My opponent respected my generosity and awarded me the decision to choose to take either the first or second card. I wasn't sure which card to take but in the NFL the team winning the coin toss usually chooses to receive, so I decided to take the first card. They were dealt and I was unfortunately defeated, two 5s to a pair of 3s. Still though, I wouldn't have had it any other way.

Mao's Last Dancer

Bruce Beresford's Mao's Last Dancer presents the defection of Chinese dancer Li Cunxin (Chi Cao, Chengwu Guo, and Wen Bin Huang) to the United States during the 1980s. Raised on communist ideology, Li is grateful for the opportunities granted to him as a child but fearful of his government's attitude regarding criticism. He is born in a remote village and one day fortunately granted the opportunity to move to Beijing and study ballet. His resolve is determined and his attitude strict and even though he possesses less strength than his counterparts, he puts in the extra work necessary to be competitive. In 1980, Ben Stevenson (Bruce Greenwood) from the Houston Ballet visits his school and is impressed by his work, which he notes for being more fluid than the other dancers. He then convinces the Chinese Government to allow one of their dancers to come to Houston for a summer and study American techniques; fortunately, Li is chosen. Li begins his cultural studies with a distrustful eye, but after discovering that social codes are more lenient in the States (and falling in love), he marries his partner (Amanda Schull as Elizabeth Mackey) and refuses to return home. Afterwards, he must accept the consequences of having made a hasty marriage in a foreign country while making ends meet as a contract dancer.

Li is lucky enough to find a suitable job and maintain a healthy standard of living. His personal struggles are presented, but, like most of the issues brought up in broad biographies, don't receive sustained critical analysis (so much information must be condensed into brief scenes that a lot of the potential drama unreels superficially). A scene where Li discovers his good fortune after encountering similarly talented Chinese immigrants who weren't so successful would have been more realistic. The Chinese are depicted as being overly obsessed concerning the maintenance of a prominent cultural place for Mao's revolution (dancing must be political for instance), and an atmosphere of tension permeates their scenes. At the same time, the punishments you would expect to be draconian are antiseptic and the non-governmental social interactions are generally innocuous. Mao's Last Dancer is a family friendly film, gingerly presenting the ways in which a youthful artist audaciously if not rashly follows his heart and lives a troubled yet successful life as a consequence. Nevertheless, prominent issues such as racism, cross cultural integration, economic destitution, and political reconstitutions are not adequately interrogated within, and the film would have been stronger if another hour had been added to provide these dimensions with more serious attention.

Les amours imaginaires (Heartbeats)

Orchestrating his coordinated artistic skill while saturating it with an intuitively insightful sensibility, Xavier Dolan's second feature film Les amours imaginaires (Heartbeats) agilely elevates romantic suffering. Nothing's worse than being in love, and Francis (Xavier Dolan) and Marie (Monia Chokri) have both fallen for the free-spirited Nicolas (Niels Schneider) and his characteristic seductive charm. They buy him gifts, praise his foresight, eagerly anticipate each and every encounter, and will quickly change their plans in order to indulge his slightest whim. But Nicolas doesn't get it, or doesn't care at least, and can't find it in his heart to simply set up relationships with both of them so that things can get better before they get worse. The enduring friendship forged between Francis and Marie deteriorates as a consequence and jealous motivations extricate their cohesive bond.

I heard Dolan's still a teenager and can't believe that someone that young is capable of pulling off a film with this much presence. His timing's thoughtful, the variety of different shots and situations playfully curious, some of the songs he chooses reminded me of choices made by Tarantino (spellbinding ingratiating novel works which imbue the corresponding setting with a quasi-mythical quality [although Dolan uses Sheila's "Bang Bang" to often]), and the situations presented are plausible enough. I would have liked to have seen more spur-of-the-moment shots of the surrounding scenery but there are quite a few nonetheless including the sudden introduction and disappearance of a cat. If Xavier is really still a teenager, and he doesn't become to commercial with the passage of time (although many prominent directors work well within the commercial system, Christopher Nolan's Inception for instance), and he continues to critically and prolifically cultivate his art, he could become a prominent auteur and be mentioned in the same breath as Almodóvar or Godard. He has serious potential and the temperament to back it up and I look forward to seeing J'ai tué ma mère hopefully sooner than later.

Salt

Phillip Noyce's Salt works as a mildly entertaining energetic action flick, timing and designing its multiple chase/escape scenes effectively. But it isn't much more than that. A Russian spy agency has been raising invincible ideological humanoid weapons and they are on the loose in the United States. Hoping to assassinate both the American and Russian presidents in order to start a nuclear war from which Russia will rise victorious, Russian spymaster Orlov (Daniel Olbrychski) sets the wheels in motion, confidently trusting his stunning white tiger, Evelyn Salt (Angelina Jolie).

But he didn't count on the power of love.

Evelyn has fallen deeply in love with her husband (Inglourious Basterds's August Diehl as Mike Krause) and is letting her feelings get in the way of unleashing global armageddon. Oddly, this multitalented independent well-educated sexy professional is committed to her husband, sort of like the anti-femme fatale. She is consequently rewarded by being used and abused by the system which casts her out and leaves her to hunt down Russian spies on American soil alone and by herself. I'm personally hoping that in the sequel she runs into the A-Team and falls for Murdock and they crack some serious heads after learning to surf.

Vampires (Fantasia Fest 2010)

Presenting documentary evidence regarding the life and times of a community of nosferatu, Vincent Lannoo's Vampires comedically chronicles the social, familial, educational, and political practices of the Belgian undead. Focusing on one specific family and their peculiar dissatisfied neighbours, we meet George (Carlo Ferrante), an aristocratic disaffected patriarch, his eccentric wife (Vera van Dooren), their son Samson (Pierre Lognay), whose laissez-faire ways cause them to be exiled, and daughter Grace (Fleur Lise Heuet), who likes to play suicide and wishes she was human. These vampires can be serious: they have their own school, leader, and legal code, all of which coalesce to provide them with a particularized sense of communal individuality. But their concerns are generally care free, and apart from sticklers who meticulously follow the rules, their lives are blissfully discharged at a carnivalesque pace. The film's really funny, using vampires to lightheartedly satirize and elevate Belgian cultural codes, while the larger-than-life cast apathetically yet energetically discusses the quirks of their daily lives. Internal questions persist concerning the ease with which these vampires conduct their activities, different vampire communities live remarkably divergent lifestyles, and it's high times for the coffin business. The most creative and dynamic vampire film I've seen in a while, Lannoo's offbeat mockumentary will have you consistently laughing and cringing while you try to relax and suck back that slushy.

Black Death (Fantasia Fest 2010)

The year is 1348. A plague is ravaging England and it is unknown whether or not it has been cast by God or Satan. Religious theories abound and moral avengers seek out necromancers to curtail their moribund pursuits. Enter a young monk searching for divine revelation to guide him on the just path (Eddie Redmayne as Osmund). A sign is granted and he sets out on a journey to cleanse a village of heathens while trying to maintain a relationship with his beloved Averill (Kimberley Nixon). Ulric (Sean Bean) and his band of mercenaries are grateful for his guidance as they brazenly traverse the countryside acting in a Bishop's name.

Christopher Smith's Black Death is an intelligent gothic horror film which presents sober and realistically fantastical reflections concerning medieval subject matter from a wide variety of angles (Smith showed up and answered questions at the Fantasia Fest screening which was nice). Rigorously researched by screenwriter Dario Poloni and shot in Eastern Germany, Black Death demonstrates that the division between spiritual inspiration and quotidian realizations can be maddening to say the least, and as heroes come of age they can oddly cast their mettle in stone. Both sides of the spectrum are treated to an ambivalently therapeutic analysis while confidently presenting their positions, and beautiful witch Langiva (Carice van Houten) is tantalizing if not infuriating. Definitely an engaging representative of horror, Black Death subtly illustrates its motivations while directly enlivening their inspirations.