Suffragette

A family.

A job.

A resolute drive to maintain the status quo and make ends meet within de/mobilizing socioeconomic circumstances.

Early twentieth century Britain.

Miserable times for female labourers. They work longer days than men for less money, have to put up with the sexual advances of their bosses to keep their positions, the law favours their husbands who have total control over their households and children, they don't have the right to vote, and can rarely enter male dominated professions; thus, they can't either elect representatives who sympathize with their plights, or provide upstanding examples of competent professional clarity.

The suffragette movement developed in response and the curious young previously unaware Maud Watts (Carey Mulligan) soon finds herself caught up in its momentum.

Suffragette uses her husband Sonny (Ben Whishaw) to accentuate the obstinate ironclad stereotypical dogma categorically dismissing women's rights, as he never even considers trying to understand suffragette outrage, and locks Maud out of their house, preventing her from seeing her son, after her civil disobedience is noted in the unforgiving press.

The authoritative policeperson (Brendan Gleeson as Inspector Arthur Steed) violently suppressing their movement which becomes more volatile after their right to vote is denied, does begin to consider the logic of their cause, during a powerful scene where Maud, having been thoroughly beaten down for her actions, still argumentatively upholds the rationality of universal suffrage, eyes almost glazing over with despondency, as she boldly reminds him that women make up 50% of the population.

He doesn't suddenly start supporting them, but the change in his demeanour suggests he may have been part of the establishment that eventually granted women freedoms similar to those enjoyed by British men.

Suffragette's about power, and the ways in which an unquestioning adherence to cultural codes of conduct can negatively minimize freedoms for large groups, those benefiting from the composition of the codes not willing to see them modified, those oppressed by them too frightened to speak out, some of them revelling in their advantages, to the point where they'll utilize brutal methods to ensure their authority endures.

It uses the example of a naive heartbreaking beautiful trapped reluctant ingénue and the group she befriends to emphasize their abuses.

It isn't the strongest film I've seen championing the rights of oppressed groups, because it focuses too intently on a small cross-section, and doesn't multidimensionally stratify its intense historical homage.

Nevertheless, by focusing intently on a small cross-section, it does tenderly yet intransigently present the need for gender balance, as well as rights within the workplace, in any time period, by not shying away from and humanizing specific harsh realities, which condescendingly define/d many prolonged historical epochs.

Worth checking out.

Vixen

Percolating pixie dust
a sugar plum bejewel encrust
ensconcements warm the huggable
enseasoned chuckles dainty droll

casserole.

The Martian

Accidentally left behind and isolated on planet Mars, Mark Watney (Matt Damon) digs in deep in order to robustly flourish against overwhelming interplanetary odds, his team rapidly travelling back to Earth, unaware, that he still lives.

Contact is soon made with NASA headquarters yet bureaucratic dillydallying prevents him from communicating with his unsuspecting teammates.

Forced to survive, he employs his botanical ingenuity to boldly cultivate nutritious potato crops, while strategic planning contemplates his rescue back home.

The odds are grim that he'll ever return alive.

Yet trash talk and contentious humour ensure his independence is universally dispersed.

Spatial tenacity.

Temporal quid pro quo.

The Martian, juxtaposing the intense public relations of executive decision making with the humble orchestrations of an astronaut tilling barren countryside, indoors, mathematical inclusivity, scientific parchment, necessitated artistic leisure, perplexing public speaking, it strictly operates within established timelines to generate a complicated sense of extraordinary repartee by directly laying it down without overlooking conflict or relaxation.

Within this dynamic frame collegiality heartwarms and action accelerates whether it be physical exclamations or tense cerebral intersects.

Shaking hands and deliberating, the script's tight and the direction excites, from multiple starstrikes, with collective and individual decision making, infinitesimally precise calculations, and plenty, plenty, of disco.

Not bad.

I didn't know Rudolph's nose was powered by the spirit of the Northern Lights.

That's super hardcore.

Brooklyn

The down home, the perspicacious, the loving, the transformative, a new life in Brooklyn awaits modest Eilis (Saoirse Ronan) as she leaves her hometown in Ireland in search of difference abroad, job prospects and alternative acquaintances expanding her conscientious integrity, homesickness and tedium challenging her burgeoning resolve.

It's a feel good tale, moving along at a brisk pace, Eilis's self-sacrifices endearing her to those she meets, who respond by opening doors which she resoundingly walks through.

There's character development but it's sparse and fixated, every aspect of the script calculated to polish stock responses, the polish heartwarmingly uplifting and consistent nevertheless, as every chance interaction collocates constitutional blooms.

A straight shooter, consummately conflicted when she returns home for a funeral, an idyllic pastoral future suddenly materializing, chanting out between worlds, delicately torn asunder.

If Brooklyn's momentum had occasionally paused, swayed, reflected, something more profound could have perhaps been stated, a visceral dimension arising from the resultant contemplations, a judicious milky way transcendentalizing urban and rural.

It's not concerned with such interstellar abstractions however, and competently accomplishes what it sets out to do, a straightforward yet enticing examination of goodwill, restricted yet nimble, acquiesced to trouble making.

This style of filmmaking makes the accomplishment of hard fought goals seem far too easy by reducing devastating complexities to a collection of brief highly saturated moonbeams.

Still, it's nice to see positive films that mildly if not naively celebrate change in flux.

Like roses or a box of chocolates.

Maple syrup.

Caramel.

Jangle

Bustling streets in snowflake shadow
generosity's a hallowed
bright insight the shade's cascade
defined beneath the lantern's aged

suspension glittering infused
spry independence each induced
impassioned spirited serene,
individuality

enriched in its communal bower
seasoned pluck the elfin hour
carolling ensweetened sprites
the frosty reins endearing nights

Was waiting by the chestnut pinto
when I saw her by the window;
she waved and then slipped out of sight;
I blushed in secret coy delight.

Carol

Longevity, expectations, accepting who people are as opposed to who you want them to be, appreciating it as they change independently, organically, rather than as a result of the imposition of deductive logic, stereotypes, roles, baby dolls, damsels in distress, it works for some I suppose, for intervals, at times, blunt force and supple misgivings, dialogues constructed, abbreviated, expanded upon, which examine how the masculine robotically initiates, how the feminine submissively emerges, I don't know many couples like this but I see them in movies and read about them in books, often, the man not in love with the woman herself but how she looks believing it's his duty to dogmatically define her, to make her his radiant reflection, consumed by his strength, obsessed with his aura, vice versa, which may work for a time, inspiring passion and humour fuelled by traditional adherences, admittances, basic conceptions of the natural, the good, the permanent, until predictability sets in, not many able to exist for another exclusively, whether husband, wife, servant, manager, or concubine, and as time shifts and moments fade the desire for individuality, for organizational renaissance, eclipses established power dynamics, and authoritative constructs engender prolonged disputes if love can't compensate, can't cooperate, endure.

Carol Aird's (Cate Blanchett) husband can't accept who she is, and, thoroughly versed in chivalry, can only truly love her if she innocently obeys.

Yields to his will.

About to travel down the same path, Therese Belivet (Rooney Mara) meets Carol one day at a department store, an electric fascination etherealizing their conversation, gloves forgotten encouraging future meetings, trips to the country, unheralded destinations.

Free love.

Carol gently explores and patiently navigates disparate domains to timidly yet vividly explore ecstasy in bloom, critiquing those who too rigidly seek consensus, while celebrating the joys inherent in true romance.

Refreshingly unobtrusive, it modestly presents the facts and gracefully frees from guilt the tender.

Without seeming like it's trying to do anything at all.

Sensitive sweetly flowing wisdom.

I usually don't take note of costume design, but there's a cool scene where Abby Gerhard's (Sarah Paulson) dress suavely matches the chair she's sitting on.

Struck me anyways.

Costume design by Sandy Powell.

Art decoration by Jesse Rosenthal.

I think you're supposed to revel in the power struggle.

I always thought that path led to the dark side.

In love, anyways.

Legend

Underground prestige, the lure of the incorrigibly irascible, sophisticated in its blunt obstinacy, thrilling in its inexhaustible excess, a young girl, fascinated by the criminal underworld, scooped up by a smooth talking gangster, lives the life of an espoused sensation, freed from her drab impoverished prospects, shackled by overwhelming instabilities.

Fears.

The Kray twins (Tom Hardy) dialectically indoctrinate with either a suave well-groomed authenticity or an insatiably psychotic rage, depending on which one is in prison or who commands more clout, Leslie Payne (David Thewlis) efficiently bookkeeping as Ronald's hatred for him slowly grows.

Ronald's indiscretions multiply erratically as time passes and his violent caprice threatens their organization's fundamentals.

Frances Shea (Emily Browning) marries Reggie who has the restrained brains to keep afloat but can't shyly tread while Ronald is intent on drowning.

Active invincibility mortally wounded.

Frances suffocated by the madness.

The Legend, boldly applying a feminine conscience through narration to a gangster film in order to examine chaotic crime through the oft overlooked perspective of an observant non-combatant.

It doesn't work very well, the film struggling to assert itself as either a corrupt frenzy or a righteous indignation, the polarized dialogue thereby generated between both the Krays themselves and the Krays and Frances resultantly muddled and incoherent.

It's possible to successfully pull something like that off but I would argue it requires a less straightforward approach, one which utilizes formal cerebral charm to artistically blend fraternal factions.

Legend's so focused on differentiating the Krays (which it does well) that the secondary material, that which would have transported it to another level, staggers in stagnant inadmissibility.

There are several minor characters of note and the script is quite diverse but hardly any of them develop much personality as the Krays engage in reckless gangstering.

Still, there's a great line equating the underworld and the aristocracy.

A strong effort from the filmmaking team, flush with future potential.

Cat Watches Christmas Lights Being Put Up Outside

Meow meow stretched out from left to right
this twiney pine seems out of sight!
Why do you fasten it in varied
staggering contortions berried

blue and cloud and rasp a bushel
haystacks packed relax the push I'll
sway and swerve and pitch and pounce
the fumble rumbled unpronounced

I count one clip it's grip a session
toiled to shine in kind procession
presence like a tasty treat
a' shimmering with tactile beats

replete the switch a' flicked endawned
a mesmerizing pantheon
these lights requite like surreal sugar
cinnamon and candied sherbet

swirling.

Krampus

Take heed for the information contained herewith concerns spirits of a different kind, whose purpose in regards to Christmas is to malevolently punish and ruin those who disrespect its sincere generosity, arising from the fiery depths of ancient lore to assert his rank as naughtiest, Krampus the unforgiving unleashes his supernatural wrath, the postmodern world unaware of his vengeful agenda and Saint Nicholas unable to counter his chaotic disdain, a heartfelt letter warmly written with tender loving care representative of the true spirit of Christmas is torn to pieces after its author is ritualistically humiliated, said humiliation having cauterized the mutual contempt two related families hold for one another as they attempt to bond over the holidays, in a searing transcendent sweltering condemnation, the wealthier family unimpressed with the gruff pretensions of their less affluent cousins, the less affluent cousins none to subservient to the airs of their relatives, common decency misplaced as they assemble to dine, discourses of purity belittling the times, the letter is torn and they must maintain a united front to defend their families against Krampus's rancour, Omi (Krista Stadler) having met him before, inasmuch as her warnings demand that they exercise extreme caution, lassitude sets in and Krampus's minions infiltrate freely, the Christmas spirit revitalizing their familial fervency as they boldly defend their own, but Krampus is not prone to listen once he has risen, a desperate confrontation ensuing with the festively spiritual maladroitly abandoned, as Krampus reminds them that Christmas requires thanksgiving through his harsh and gratuitous penalties, necrobatically assigned by harbingers of the ungrateful, the absurdity of it all oddly upholding pleasantries like amazement and wonder, the gross infernal exaggerations, the total and complete lack of goodwill, grotesquely generating feelings to the contrary, to the contemporary, insensitively and unconsciously underscoring virtuous contemplations of both bounty and cheer, the beautiful communal ties of the season, rejoicing through the act of gift giving, celebrating life with family and friends, to renew a sense of endearing well being, a mirthful maturation, amusing in solace and laughter.

Trumbo

They actually did it, Hollywood actually made a mainstream film that rationally discusses an individual's right to be politically active on the left, even if you're a communist, the communists are heroes in Trumbo, and those who blacklisted them during the McCarthy era, even John Wayne (David James Elliot), undeniable villains, using their power and influence to prevent hard working Americans from working because they held alternative political views, even going so far as to send them to prison for accessing fundamental American freedoms, while living fundamentally American lives.

Positive things are said about communism within. Trumbo uses the word communist. It's about a bunch of vilified commie writers. The plight of the worker isn't lampooned or infantilized.

I don't believe in communism, or at least am quite skeptical in regards to its practical application or ideas like the permanent surplus, but it is still remarkable to see its proponents championed in a film made in the United States (said proponents weren't as familiar with forced labour during Trumbo's time I'm assuming[the forced labour is supposed to disappear because communism is supposed to arise out of the bounty of hyper-capitalism but history seems to have proven that if you try to adopt communism without the bounty of hyper-capitalism forced labour and limited freedoms abound{unless you're one of the elite few/it's possible that China is trying to create hyper-capitalist conditions to achieve communistic goals but I think it's dangerous to think that way\}]).

I've been wondering how Trumbo managed to see the light of day and it reminded me of some ideas from Richard Wilkinson and Kate Pickett's more social democratic The Spirit Level: Why Equality is Better for Everyone, which is a level-headed comparison of statistical data sets from the world's richest countries that suggests inequality is detrimentally effecting the free world's health and well-being, nations like Sweden and Japan scoring high points, countries such as the U.S and Britain not faring so well.

This isn't a book review although I do highly recommend reading the book, but Wilkinson and Pickett do examine the relationship between popularity and governmental initiatives, rationally proving how initiatives which promote a higher degree of equality have brought about monumental changes in various societies when they have been accompanied by popular support, or a logical need to effectively implement them.

One way of looking at this in the anglosphere is to ask the question, "how can we make a more equal society by cashing in on equality?", although that probably isn't how Wilkinson and Pickett would have phrased it. It depends on what you mean by "cash in."

Japan and Sweden apparently have adopted completely different approaches to "cashing in" and both nations enjoy a high degree of prosperous equality, Sweden preferring a system with high taxes which level out the playing field through the provision of governmental social services etc., Japan preferring to ensure that wages are more equal so that more people take home more money and therefore have more money to spend on services that the government would otherwise provide through taxation.

In regards to Trumbo, I'm wondering if its availability is the product of the movements I've been reading about in the U.S at the Huffington Post, American movements which seek a higher degree of social equality, presidential hopeful Bernie Sanders recognized as their feisty factotum.

It's not that I don't think there are plenty of socially responsible films being made in Hollywood, I think I've proven that Hollywood definitely still has (and always has had) a strong socially constructive urge.

It's more that Trumbo doesn't demonize those who in the past advocated for communism specifically, that it in fact celebrates them, while actually discussing communism, in a gentle somewhat naive way, that heartwarmingly surprised me.

There are too many examples of corrupt communistic bureaucracies for me to think positively about its results in the field, but its goals can influence other discourses on the left who take a less radical approach to fighting poverty and improving standards of living.

It shouldn't be categorically dismissed.

Trumbo boldly presents a life of dedicated action and incredible resolve blended with exceptional ability and tender humanity.

Dalton Trumbo (Bryan Cranston) even falls into the trap of taking himself too seriously and managing his labour force too demandingly, which is a trap that scant resources often creates, which is why the right profits from inequality, such psychological profits earned by first not allowing its opposition to financially tread water and then humiliating it afterwards as a lack of resources challenges the practical application of its ideas.

Japan has low taxes but generally high incomes, that's why Japan is excelling according to The Spirit Level.

If you don't have a disposable income, it's harder to donate to political parties that want to help you acquire a disposable income for instance.

Trumbo's the real deal however, and adjusts his approach as it becomes too overbearing, listening to and understanding his wife's (Diane Lane as Cleo Trumbo) reasonably worried critique.

There's a tendency in some films which examine the past, great men of the past, to focus most of their energy on the husband, their wives often complacently managing the home in the background.

Bridge of Spies does this anyways.

Perhaps this is just the result of specific historical relationships, but it's also a way to normalize stereotypical gender relations without seeming culturally insensitive.

Trumbo is somewhat light for a film that looks at many lives that were ruined by a zealous adherence to a specific point of view.

But it does warmly present the commie point of view while pointing out that it was an American point of view at one time, and that Americans shouldn't be sent to prison for exercising their fundamental freedoms, at any time, that line of thinking corresponding directly to Stalinist or Naziesque approaches (why am I suddenly thinking of the ways in which Donald Trump uses his freedoms?).

It's unfortunate that in the free world people accept unjust methods such as the ones depicted in Trumbo to starve and assault their political adversaries; I'm reminded of the ways in which the Harper government recently vilified environmentalists as an example.

In Trumbo, they illegally take everything away from the opposition and then call the resultant protesters whiners or babies when they legitimately complain, the culprits revelling in their corruption thereafter.

Dalton Trumbo never stopped protesting, and picked his battles wisely. It had a harsh affect on his family for a time, but he recognized his errors and became the person he wanted to be.

A role model for conscientious film writing.

With another outstanding performance by John Goodman (Frank King). There's a hilarious discussion of advocating for working class rights in B movies.

Hey, maybe they just decided to make a film celebrating great writers of the past who happened to be communists. You're free to do that in a free country. Regardless of the political climate.

Don't forget about Project Everyone at the 2015 United Nations Climate Change Conference.

Or The Leap Manifesto.

The goals may seem lofty, but if everyone takes the time to act in an environmentally responsible way at the local level, recycling a bit more, thinking a bit more about alternative energy sources, reusing things instead of replacing them, taking things like the mediterranean diet into consideration, using public transit from time to time, then they can constructively start reaching enormous heights, day by day, one step at a time.

It's about sustainability.

Taking care of things.

Throw a bit of love in there.

Try something organic.

I used to eat meat all the time until I had this job for years working in a labour camp of sorts where they fed me really well. Every night there was a meat option and a vegetarian option and eventually I started eating both options every night. By doing this, I discovered that vegetarian cooking was worthwhile and recently I started cooking dishes without meat, substituting different vegetables for the meat I would normally add. I still often eat meat, but it's small steps like these that can make a big difference when millions of people start taking them.

What's your step?

You don't have to wait for people to start recommending things, you can just start doing things yourself, every other day.

That's what individualistic democratic agency is all about.

Make some chilli.

Secret in their Eyes

Crushing unconscionable all-consuming guilt frenetically drives Ray Kasten (Chiwetel Ejiofor) to hunt down a vicious killer, his life having been rigidly repressed ever since he missed an appointment 13 years ago.

Defined by this moment, and the professional relationships he developed therein, he will not yield in his pursuit, and after years of struggling to surface, has finally found a constructive lead.

She still loves him.

And he still loves her, codes of conduct having sublimated their longing for unity, the flame still burns, impassioned by the meaninglessness of time.

What awaits them is what they least suspected, nocturnal netherwhirls soiled and crested, reciprocal tortuous incarcerated plumes, valiantly embittered, confiscated in ruin.

A loving team, a gregarious group, punctually paralyzed through unremitting strife.

Secret in their Eyes.

The film blends the past with the present to accentuate an atemporal thrust for resolution, and although this creates a dismal opaque omnibus, it still aptly reflects a desperate psychological sterility.

It also asks tough questions regarding the war on terror, nationally juxtaposing the private with the cultural, to add a chilling layer of vengeful domestic inquiry.

The darkness is counterbalanced by the mainstream cast whose subdued supplementary teamwork collegially cultivates the light.

Well done but missing something, Secret in their Eyes punishes to persevere, ethics timelessly emboldened, obsessive displaced haunts, enervating in its resolve.

Looking Along Belmont Street, Ethel Seath

To retrofit and quaintly canter
streets the wit the glaze the banter
treetops spied their nestled worn
a' slumbering enchanted shorn

revisions reveries in edits
manifested mansioned credits
warmth beneath the snowflake zest
the blankets grumbling nimble nests

acrested merry eiderdown
the dreamlike cherry pastis round,
brittle animated rations
hibernation sworn compassion

unfastened.

The Night Before

3 confidants, and an annual tradition, a' revelling on Christmas Eve to the tune of friendship and jocularity, rekindling the strength of their amicable bonds each and every year to celebrate the intensity of camaraderous humour, age having decreed that due to the build-up of maturing responsibilities this will be their last irreverent outing, itinerary set, rejuvenating synergies pending.

As an added bonus this year, three tickets have been acquired to attend a secretive party, known for its legendary merriment, coveted by young, old and middle-aged alike.

Will the mysterious counsel of a local pot dealer enlighteningly guide their way as they descend into the night and encounter both shenanigans and loves lost?

And will the magic of Christmas single-maltly convince them that the bonds they have forged congenially transcend time?

As a matter introspective.

A fun thought provoking feelings evoking tenderly rowdy illumination of adult aspirations, The Night Before suspends pretensions of the rational to festively define what is sane.

Note that its definition bizarrely blends the buddy comedy and the Christmas classic to hazily establish a disjointed sense of the revelatory.

But when form aptly reflects content, our role models evolving over the course of an evening of regenerative confusion, who I am to argue with logistics merry making?

Jingle, bells.

Miley Cyrus impresses.

Creed

Driven by an intense desire to prove himself in the ring, Apollo Creed's son Adonis (Michael B. Jordan) quits his steady job and embarks in search of training.

His privileged upbringing and headstrong individualistic nature don't smoothly fit in the grizzled pugilistic realms in which he must flourish however.

Unable to find a trainer in L.A, he soon flies to Philadelphia to court a legend who may be willing to take him on.

But Rocky's (Sylvester Stallone) been retired for many a year, and doesn't take to Adonis's ultraconfident approach, until he remembers the chance Apollo Creed once gave him, and decides to once again professionally serve.

The talented intent savvy well educated rich young upstart must acclimatize himself to Rocky's strict streetwise regimen in order to become a contender.

Rocky has the knowledge he requires.

And is willing to keep his identity secret, to respect his desire to make a name of his own.

Creed struggles with one of its most difficult inherent weaknesses well; it was easy to generate sympathy for Rocky, even in Rocky IV, but not so easy to sympathize with Adonis.

Not that it isn't easy to sympathize with his desire to succeed, it's just that when you see him trying to control things with attitudes his humbler less affluent competitors rarely adopt, it is somewhat grinding.

His desire to make a name for himself and the respect he shows Rocky spar with this point of irritation however, and at least establish that he wants to be humbler, he wants to integrate, it's just quite difficult for him to do so due to his enriched psychology.

It's still his dream and it's inspiring as he follows it regardless, making sacrifices in its pursuit, even if he always has the silver spoon sustaining him.

The finished product may be frustrating for Michael B. Jordan though, Stallone having stolen so many scenes that you leave the theatre thinking more about how his character progressed than how Adonis's was crafted.

Younger generations might not care about Rocky so much.

Best Supporting Actor nomination?

At the same time the script seems to be self-reflexively chiding the franchise as Rocky trains Adonis while undergoing chemotherapy, the balance between rejuvenation and tradition simultaneously excelling while convalescing.

Things are too easy for Adonis in Creed, trainer, beautiful partner, and title fight all falling into his lap without a back breaking struggle sincerely belittling him.

Nevertheless, I enjoyed Creed as it followed Adonis on his journey of self-discovery, even if it's not as heartwarming as Rocky, he still dedicatedly perseveres and does his best to cultivate his gifts.

If the film had focused on his Mexican fights and he had not met Rocky until the end, it may have been stronger.

Room

A different kind of malevolence, like a sick experiment a demented philosopher would subject his or her family to in order to study the isolated innocence of the nascent imagination.

Solitary semantics.

Ontological incarceration.

A mother and son locked away for years in a shed, never leaving, never seeing the outside world.

The child, Jack (Jacob Tremblay), having spent his entire life in the shed, imaginatively tries to make sense of existence, while his Ma (Brie Larson) attempts to define the outside world.

It's difficult for him to comprehend, and his creative energies, as applied to his confined explorations, idealize the passionate curiosity of youth, his desire to learn more stifled by a lack of resources.

Escape cunningly presents itself and the real world suddenly emerges, but emerging into a hyper-reactive media sensation contrasts monstrous plans with excessive exposure.

It's too much for his overwhelmed mom, as it would be for anyone, but familial strength steps up as required, to cuddle in consultation, and placate emotionally complex obsessions.

Tough film, Lenny Abrahamson's Room, juxtaposing different pressurized extremes and their belittling affects on a severely traumatized family.

Those are the tough questions you don't ask.

Jack's lack of knowledge saves him from the psychological torments disintegrating his mother, his attempts to simply be profound in their hesitant wonder, the compassionate easing the transition for both of them, trust contra control, revelations of an inchoate spirituality.