Lockout

Never thought I'd see Guy Pearce playing a John McClanesque trash talking tough guy, but this is precisely what he does in the new science-fiction action flick Lockout, and he does it rather well.

An excessively violent turbulent purveyor of mitigated anxiety, Lockout's carefree kinetic hyperactive machismo doesn't fail to impress as it consistently delivers cheesy stubborn sarcastic lines with a heightened awareness of their formulaic frivolity.

It knows it's ridiculous and doesn't stray far from its commercial purpose while refusing to take itself seriously and seeming as if it's delivering its product reluctantly, thereby overflowing with the same rash confidence Snow (Pearce) needs to break into a maximum security prison located in space and save the president's daughter (Maggie Grace) from the recently escaped inmates.

The same daughter who was trying to improve their quality of life.

Not exactly the most socially progressive film, as many of its characters are seconds away from meeting their death or losing a loved one as they try and carve out a place for themselves within their culture's coercive climate (by taking extreme risks), but in terms of its own internal chemistry it works well as a blunt form of unabashed entertainment which willingly provides that which you would hope to expect with neither pretension nor a lack of effort.

In outer space.

We Need to Talk about Kevin

Demon spawn is birthed in Lynne Ramsay's We Need to Talk about Kevin and provided with access to a vindictive bow.  Eva Khatchadourian (Tilda Swinton) isn't the most outwardly loving mother/person and Kevin (Ezra Miller, Jasper Newell, Rock Duer) is by no means a happy responsive son. Seen through the lens of Eva's guilt ridden memories, being alive and eventually having to contribute to the continuing development of a community seems to have caused Kevin no end of pain. As he ages, this pain transforms into wickedness as he finds ways to disruptively take part. Possessing a bleak miserable cynical outlook, he flagitiously predicts the outcomes of various interactions with mom and does his best to ensure they flourish repeatedly.

All the while getting along well with his father (John C. Reilly) and enjoying the comforts of a suburban lifestyle.

The film itself is cunning, cutting, and challenging, generating pathos and humour within its sardonically stark yet traumatically playful frames. It juxtaposes parenting methodologies with communal judgments while stoically capturing a subject's helpless resolve as she formulaically attempts to domestically enact a traditional characterization of a mother's role while remaining unable to convincingly fake the requisite emotion. Kevin seemingly makes her pay for her dispassion by doing everything he can to provoke her rage. After one significant miscue, she retreats into an apathetic posture with the intent of never displaying her reckless anger again. Little Kevin becomes increasingly sinister, his dad maintains that boys will be boys, and dread tempered with disbelief crystallizes deep within her psyche.

We Need to Talk about Kevin uses the opposition established between demon spawn and reluctant mother to comic effect while making you feel guilty for finding parts of it funny. The bits of dark humour are intermittently interjected between the aftershocks of Kevin's calculated psychotic rampage which display Eva's unfortunate neighbourly predicament from multiple interpersonal angles. Hence, the mood shifts frequently and is orchestrated with a subtle expertise which disables one-dimensional attachments while still managing to sustain an appealing fluid uniformity (the mood creatively changes but as each scene takes on a life of its own they become united through the act of continuous non-chaotic formal diversification), these mood shifts reflecting the internal psychological dilemmas publicly banished from Eva's complacent demeanour.

It's well done.

Water for Elephants

Romance/youth contends with fidelity/age in Francis Lawrence's Water for Elephants as the young penniless Jacob Jankowski (Robert Pattinson) falls in love with his boss's wife. Jacob is lucky to have a job, having fortuitously jumped on a train in the middle of the night carrying a travelling circus to its next destination.  His veterinary skills soon prove useful although one of his diagnoses humanely disrupts the circus's most prominent act. Taking matters into his own hands against the protests of the volatile master of ceremonies (Christolph Waltz as August) almost leads to his dismissal, but August respects his firm convictions, even though they frustrate his fiery ego.

Thus we have a self-made person whose successfully made their living for decades in a fluctuating market willing to make sacrifices to accommodate a naive intelligent capable worker. Unfortunately the brutal manner in which he conducts his affairs leave his protégé with little to aspire to. An economic depression complicates matters as predictable revenues dry up and paranoia unleashes its maniacal tendrils. The introduction of a forbidden subject of desire does little to destabilize the frenetic tension.

When theories put into practice are validated by longevity their proponents undoubtably feel a sense of accomplishment. But if this sense of accomplishment leads both to an unyielding desire for order and vicious attempts to authoritatively manage the chaotic, its heralded methodology will likely engender internal miscalculations. If the alternatives which present themselves are met with the sword, its manufactured stability may lose its sustained truth-value and blindly obscure the forward thinking focus of its integrative synergies.

As that which they love most flutters away.

Wrath of the Titans

Didn't find many redeeming qualities in Wrath of the Titans.

It's one of the worst sequels I've ever seen.

Counting on the manufactured pop-cultural codes disinterestedly built into its tired formula to lethargically generate knee-jerk approvals and instantaneous wonder, it proceeds from one predictable banal scene to another while relying on constant fighting and trite dialogue to move things rapidly along.

There is a five minute interval where the film seems to recognize its stench at which point things become somewhat more appealing.

But this interval passes swiftly and then it's back to taking itself and its ancient subject matter far too seriously for another 45 minutes.

At which point it ends, thankfully after only a little more than an hour and a half.  

Mirror Mirror

Possessing a self-aware mischievous aloofly focused reflexivity which takes interpretive postures narratively to heart, Tarsem Singh's Mirror Mirror playfully reimagines Snow White and infuses it with lighthearted billowing charm. The Queen (Julia Roberts) is certainly wicked, the princess (Lily Collins), beautiful. Prince Alcott (Armie Hammer) bumbles along unwittingly thrust between the two and the seven dwarves provide voyeuristic commentary and transformative benignity which constructively pluralizes the action by creating an audience within an audience.

It's totally web 2.0.

Economic matters haunt the film as the Queen brutally taxes her subjects to pay for her ostentatious whims. The dwarves have taken to robbing those who pass through their section of the forest due to the fact that they were expelled from the village because the Queen found them ugly. The villagers didn't stand up for the dwarves which has lead to resentment. When they rob a royal coach carrying funds obtained through taxation they therefore have no desire to return them. But Snow White sees things differently and returns the levies and gives the dwarves the credit.

Thus we have a situation where a capricious exception was made which divided the struggling populace. Feeling helpless and seeing no way of securing a lasting productive solution on their own, this exception lapsed into criminal activity. Then, after taking into their care a royal outcast, a solution presents itself necessitated by the underhanded activities they were forced to engage in.

Unfortunately, this solution was brokered by the outcasted royal rather than the people themselves. Had they remained united, perhaps they could have taken steps to frustrate the villainous Queen and would not have had to rely upon accidental august interventions.

A Dangerous Method

Usually I'm a big fan of David Cronenberg's films but A Dangerous Method didn't work for me. Which is surprising considering that if someone had suggested that I could go see a movie that blends Sense and Sensibility with Blue Velvet I would have responded with glee and eagerly anticipated an upcoming screening.

Oh well.

While Sigmund Freud (Viggo Mortensen) and Carl Jung (Michael Fassbender) become acquainted with one another their dialogues are sound enough. Both are working within a traditional framework and trying to modify its rigidity in order to make room for modern theories. Freud's disciplined innovative approach is contrasted with Jung's emphasis on the hyper-experimental and both confidently support their differing yet supportive points of view (they're working within a new theoretical paradigm which calls into question various institutional bulwarks but coming at it from different practical angles). Their analytic proclivities and formidable egos squander the potential of a prolonged working relationship, however, and eventually their productive bond is ruptured.

The main problem with the film comes from the interactions between the two and patient/student/love interest/colleague Sabina Spielrein (Keira Knightley). As her and Jung start having an affair, the dialogue becomes increasingly maudlin and precludes any chance of a sharp unifying disruptive climax. When it suddenly jumps to scenes displaying their raucous lovemaking, the movie takes on a comedic aspect whose carnally cerebral concupiscent dexterity playfully problematizes/extends its focus on professionalism.

Classic Cronenberg.

But while the rigorous carnivalesque dreamlike fortitude radiates Method's formal elements, the melodramatic sentimental tedious exchanges surficially complicate things.

Perhaps Cronenberg is simply trying to say that it's the dreamwork that's more important?

Who knows.

La théorie du tout

Travelling throughout the Québecois countryside, Céline Baril presents the thoughts and observations of a wide variety of local points of view in her documentary La théorie du tout. The countryside is indirectly compared to a musical instrument that needs to be played in order to maintain its jaunty fluidity. Providing work for rural areas enables them to similarly maintain their communal vitality. But over production and obsessions with continually increasing profits have decimated resources that could have indefinitely supported them.

Changing technologies are lamented as a worker who has spent decades operating a specific machine must learn a new set of skills.

A young adult attached to her town wants to stay but her journalistic ambitions leave her with few employment opportunities.

Some individuals adapt and move from one industry to another as mining rejuvenates a struggling economy.

An ominous sense of anxiety pervades thoughts concerning the future of various fisheries as overflowing populations have been reduced to a fraction of their former plenitude.

The emphasis on providing rural workers/job seekers/small business owners/ . . . with the chance to voice their ideas and share their knowledge establishes a bucolic social democratic aesthetic which modestly illustrates sustainable development alternatives to the rapacious bottom line of 'moving forward' capitalists (without using the phrase).

A lot of people don't want to leave the town where they grew up or have lived and worked for most their lives. Sustainable development offers them with symphonic methodologies to orchestrate their futures along harmonic pastoral lines possessing environmentally sound melodies.

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

Delicate operations requiring providential mnemonic triggers and creative conditional calculations present themselves to retired intelligence agent George Smiley (Gary Oldman) as he attempts to identify a Russian spy. Having infiltrated the highest level of the British Secret Intelligence Service (MI6), this spy is well positioned to discretely disseminate significant flourishes of information to his superiors in the Soviet Union. Tacit knowledge, social and institutional information management, and the threat of death play integral roles in Smiley's clandestinely profitable wagers. The stakes are high and the opposition fierce as he descends into the labyrinthine foundations of memory, availability, and time.

In the interests of precision.

Taking ordinary research and adorning it with a strict lethal sense of provocative immediacy, Tomas Alfredson's Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy tantalizes the inquisitive faculties while proceeding staggeringly from point A to point B in a laconic linear warp.

Like an indirect salute to editorial predilections.

Trying to unearth the hidden adhesive catalyst whose motivational propulsion will synthesize his pensive analytic re/formulations, George Smiley pursues his subject with a cunningly subtle rigour which wisely sublimates feelings of joy.

While occasionally permitting its ephemeral presence.

In order to thwart bureaucratic instabilities.