Tuesday, November 6, 2018

Wolfe

Summations surmised in shock smothered sick suffering scorn.

Pronounced pertinent enriched bewilderment interrogative analytics revelations inconclusive.

Serial addendums.

Emotions recollected quixotic exhilaration scarlet iris peerless pathways authentic articles embraced innate pandemonium.

Mutual affection tempestuously tantalized whispers whirlwinds bliss.

Substitutions recitals realignments electrolysis solutes snickers flow, spastic momentum definitive increments narratively isolating cloyed vignettes.

Fortunes resentments antecedents exclamations.

An artist observing amongst them.

Discerning apt poetic reflections in pitched photogenic verse.

Much younger ignored pushed aside.

Still generating pith, catharsis.

Still secreting verdant environs.

Friends struggle to understand why a confidant takes her own life as an outsider questions them in Francis Bordeleau's Wolfe.

It unreels like less of a search for meaning than an attempt to obscure guilt.

It's like there was significance but they couldn't comprehend it and in a tragic attempt to provoke lucidity everything became much less clear.

Until an individual possessing true feeling honestly presented unabashed sincerity.

Wolfe subtly criticizes instinctual unreflective existence through experimental elucidation.

Unable to find resolutions, it suggests a lack of purpose can be overcome through artistic witness.

The violence the artist faces in the beginning fades as he befriends the two spirits also affected by its presumption.

A less depressing film might have solely focused on the good times, celebrating carefree creative progression as opposed to stark misfortune.

Presenting sundry outputs from local artists within.

Like a xylophone.

A soundboard.

A rainforest.

A café.

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