Three timelines incorporeally corresponding through the art of independent abstraction, drawing clever coherent parallels, as applied to married life.
Virginia Woolf (Nicole Kidman) struggles to find peace as she compellingly writes away, always desiring what she doesn't have even when possessing an idyllic life.
Laura Brown (Julianne Moore) looks after her husband (John C. Reilly as Dan Brown) who's just returned from World War II, but she's ill-suited to the lofty role traditionally assigned her gender.
Clarissa Vaughan (Meryl Streep) cares for a contemporary poet (Ed Harris as Richard Brown) who expresses gratitude with verbose criticism, their lives provocatively intertwined inasmuch as they seek individual expression.
Family provides creature comforts but they can't find solace in routine.
One husband admires his wife's gifts and provides everything to establish calm comforts, and desperately critiques itinerancy in declarations of hopeless l'amour.
Another remains unassuming in his picture perfect suburban life, blissfully unaware of her struggles to find something more compelling.
The third can't believe someone would love him and does everything he can to push her away.
Even after the awestruck age where desire imaginatively fades then vanishes.
A different world wherein which mobility is something less economically prohibitive, may have surmised novel alternatives to distract people from bland consistency.
If that's what they sought to escape, through inspiring enlivening motion.
I rather like public transit myself, and libraries and bookstores host so many wonders.
A strong network interconnecting dozens of cities and neighbourhoods provides all kinds of cultural know how, to be curiously explored at times without pattern or brochure or transcript.
But I don't know many people like me.
And there's often no relevant answer.
Sometimes honesty isn't an option if there's no outlet for resounding difference, and some people don't pick up on the signs if everything's going well for them.
Marriage is a wonderful institution that creates joys for sundry families, but it by no means works for everyone, and is perhaps too highly elevated at times.
Constant motion, always travelling, could perhaps provide a working remedy, you've just gotta find that job that facilitates working life.
The Hours presents strong heroines oppressed by guidelines demanding role play, who approach immersion from varying perspectives to express wholesome particularity.
Sometimes questions are more important than answers beyond practical working life.
Language learning can be invaluable.
If you're looking for instructive distraction.
Tuesday, June 30, 2020
Monday, June 29, 2020
Saturday, June 27, 2020
Debris
Exoteric jangly jumble
20 carat wrangled rumble
protoclerical undaunted
incontestable incont'nent
unintentional purée
sagacious extent waylaid
lapin voltaic frisky gumption
trending clairvoyant presumption
clad partitioned wainscot waiver
primed expedient soy savour
ripples ringlets gift rhapsodic
melodies cyberbiotic
crinkle scrunch alacrity
enchantments serendipity
by chance adrift aloe horizon
scintillating theorizin'
pulpy.
20 carat wrangled rumble
protoclerical undaunted
incontestable incont'nent
unintentional purée
sagacious extent waylaid
lapin voltaic frisky gumption
trending clairvoyant presumption
clad partitioned wainscot waiver
primed expedient soy savour
ripples ringlets gift rhapsodic
melodies cyberbiotic
crinkle scrunch alacrity
enchantments serendipity
by chance adrift aloe horizon
scintillating theorizin'
pulpy.
Friday, June 26, 2020
Tommaso
A caring romantic versatile actor intuitively attempts to settle into middle-age (Willem Dafoe as Tommaso), living in Italy at the moment, with his wife Nikki (Cristina Chiriac) and infant daughter.
He's recovering from an adventurous youth and is more in touch with routine than spontaneity, but Nikki's much younger than he is, and in possession of bold free spirits.
His warmhearted personality and wide-ranging depth of learning still generate friendship and opportunity, as he teaches from time to time and pursues vigorous Italian studies.
There's no shortage of work nor lack of inspiration in his multifaceted intriguing realm, in fact I'd argue moving somewhere new revitalizes the artistic life (as many others do too).
But he's becoming a bit more rigid, a little more convinced there's a way things should be, and he's much more willing to express his discontent at least at home when he's moody and hungry.
His family's non-traditional inasmuch as its roles aren't strictly typecast, not that he's looking for something that definitive, but he's also grown tired of loose-knit structures.
He's sensitive and hates being left out even if no slight was intended.
He feels like he's grown accustomed to neglect.
And tries to do something about it.
It's a pretty chill film for the most part, cool people living independent lives, creativity blossoming in the moment, relaxed agile thought and feeling.
Like Domicile conjugal, nevertheless, it has to introduce provocative conflict (without the comedy), which unfortunately transforms the synergies into something much less romantic.
Does there have to be a power struggle, do people have to try to take control?, I've met married couples who respect each other's boundaries and the results are often super fun.
I suppose narrative conflict's fundamental, one of the first things you consider when writing a script, but does that mean such narratives are fundamentalist, even when they're exploring unorthodox lives?
It doesn't, although you could see it that way if you grow tired of watching artistic films which embrace cataclysm, not that every art film should be laissez-faire, but it'd still be cool if it happened more often.
Isn't there realism in the laissez-faire as well, inasmuch as a lot of life isn't one big power struggle, beyond corporate trial and error, like a random ice cream sundae?
Is everyone just angry with everyone else (the Trump effect) and is it up to auteurs to serialize that angst, or do Degrassiesque ontologies persist like blanketed communal Zit Remedies?
Tommaso's a solid film but I was disappointed with the ending.
Would still watch it again though.
Abel Ferrara's still got it.
He's recovering from an adventurous youth and is more in touch with routine than spontaneity, but Nikki's much younger than he is, and in possession of bold free spirits.
His warmhearted personality and wide-ranging depth of learning still generate friendship and opportunity, as he teaches from time to time and pursues vigorous Italian studies.
There's no shortage of work nor lack of inspiration in his multifaceted intriguing realm, in fact I'd argue moving somewhere new revitalizes the artistic life (as many others do too).
But he's becoming a bit more rigid, a little more convinced there's a way things should be, and he's much more willing to express his discontent at least at home when he's moody and hungry.
His family's non-traditional inasmuch as its roles aren't strictly typecast, not that he's looking for something that definitive, but he's also grown tired of loose-knit structures.
He's sensitive and hates being left out even if no slight was intended.
He feels like he's grown accustomed to neglect.
And tries to do something about it.
It's a pretty chill film for the most part, cool people living independent lives, creativity blossoming in the moment, relaxed agile thought and feeling.
Like Domicile conjugal, nevertheless, it has to introduce provocative conflict (without the comedy), which unfortunately transforms the synergies into something much less romantic.
Does there have to be a power struggle, do people have to try to take control?, I've met married couples who respect each other's boundaries and the results are often super fun.
I suppose narrative conflict's fundamental, one of the first things you consider when writing a script, but does that mean such narratives are fundamentalist, even when they're exploring unorthodox lives?
It doesn't, although you could see it that way if you grow tired of watching artistic films which embrace cataclysm, not that every art film should be laissez-faire, but it'd still be cool if it happened more often.
Isn't there realism in the laissez-faire as well, inasmuch as a lot of life isn't one big power struggle, beyond corporate trial and error, like a random ice cream sundae?
Is everyone just angry with everyone else (the Trump effect) and is it up to auteurs to serialize that angst, or do Degrassiesque ontologies persist like blanketed communal Zit Remedies?
Tommaso's a solid film but I was disappointed with the ending.
Would still watch it again though.
Abel Ferrara's still got it.
Thursday, June 25, 2020
Tuesday, June 23, 2020
L'Extraordinaire voyage de Marona
A bold and adventurous canine finds herself navigating capricious industry, as she moves amongst the humans, in L'Extraordinaire voyage de Marona.
Somewhat hardboiled for a children's fantasy, it still animates resilient life, as it critiques yet rests resigned, to dependence on constant flux.
Marona's (Lizzie Brocheré) tough, undaunted, full of observant pluck and tenacity, well aware of materialistic necessity, yet still abounding with versatile spirit.
She was born in a litter of 9, full of multifaceted depth of character, but alas they could not stay together, as quotidian confines swiftly closed in.
Her first owner was a lively acrobat seeking to make his own way on the stage, hardworking, dynamic, and flexible, determined to intensely make the grade.
She then moves on to the world of construction to embrace kind-hearted tectonic l'amour, but a new partner just doesn't like dogs, and she's let go cold insecure.
She finally finds a steady family after a youth discovers her alone in a park, and decides to adopt the role of caretaker, mom and grandpa's tolls permitting.
But as the years pass the youth grows older and has less time for lighthearted play.
Marona still follows her around bustling Paris.
Vehicular immobility notwithstanding.
Canine perspectives wisely evolve as the film reflects on eclectic pet ownership, things would have been simpler with a common language, and stronger desires to enliven understanding.
For longer periods of time.
Can dogs smell emotion?
Animals often seem to know what's up. Perhaps not the intricate details of abstract thought, but they seem well-attuned to food shelter and play.
Should you remember to care for your pets as you age?
I would argue, "most definitely".
They depend so much on your overflowing love, and something's lost if there's no time for essentials.
There's no doubt that Marona's full of love even if her candour's somewhat forlorn.
Owning pets is a wonderful thing and it's important to commit to their continuous care.
L'Extraordinaire voyage de Marona bizarrely blends innocence with consistent distress, to present an appealing realistic collage of witty variable situations and characters.
Writers Damian do a wonderful job theorizing life from a dog's point of view, working in generalities that are perhaps nondescript if they relate to nothing too wild in particular.
If you want a pet I recommend sticking with it, never letting them go in a park.
It must be so worth it to have them around.
Faithful companions.
Inveterate mischief.
Somewhat hardboiled for a children's fantasy, it still animates resilient life, as it critiques yet rests resigned, to dependence on constant flux.
Marona's (Lizzie Brocheré) tough, undaunted, full of observant pluck and tenacity, well aware of materialistic necessity, yet still abounding with versatile spirit.
She was born in a litter of 9, full of multifaceted depth of character, but alas they could not stay together, as quotidian confines swiftly closed in.
Her first owner was a lively acrobat seeking to make his own way on the stage, hardworking, dynamic, and flexible, determined to intensely make the grade.
She then moves on to the world of construction to embrace kind-hearted tectonic l'amour, but a new partner just doesn't like dogs, and she's let go cold insecure.
She finally finds a steady family after a youth discovers her alone in a park, and decides to adopt the role of caretaker, mom and grandpa's tolls permitting.
But as the years pass the youth grows older and has less time for lighthearted play.
Marona still follows her around bustling Paris.
Vehicular immobility notwithstanding.
Canine perspectives wisely evolve as the film reflects on eclectic pet ownership, things would have been simpler with a common language, and stronger desires to enliven understanding.
For longer periods of time.
Can dogs smell emotion?
Animals often seem to know what's up. Perhaps not the intricate details of abstract thought, but they seem well-attuned to food shelter and play.
Should you remember to care for your pets as you age?
I would argue, "most definitely".
They depend so much on your overflowing love, and something's lost if there's no time for essentials.
There's no doubt that Marona's full of love even if her candour's somewhat forlorn.
Owning pets is a wonderful thing and it's important to commit to their continuous care.
L'Extraordinaire voyage de Marona bizarrely blends innocence with consistent distress, to present an appealing realistic collage of witty variable situations and characters.
Writers Damian do a wonderful job theorizing life from a dog's point of view, working in generalities that are perhaps nondescript if they relate to nothing too wild in particular.
If you want a pet I recommend sticking with it, never letting them go in a park.
It must be so worth it to have them around.
Faithful companions.
Inveterate mischief.
Monday, June 22, 2020
Saturday, June 20, 2020
Basting
Calm relaxing understanding
versatile impacting dangling
light and mellow short responses
turtle wax them crafty paunches
glisten shimmer scintillate
a drum roll rapid yet sedate
a jigglin' jammin' jaunty jounce
the wayward all-dressed ruffled pounce
each ridge a perky promontory
circumnavigated portly
eloquence surpassed denoted
frosty effervescent bloated
dribble breezy fastenings
perpetual remastering
marooned romantic saucy flutter
succulent enriching buttered
trimmings.
versatile impacting dangling
light and mellow short responses
turtle wax them crafty paunches
glisten shimmer scintillate
a drum roll rapid yet sedate
a jigglin' jammin' jaunty jounce
the wayward all-dressed ruffled pounce
each ridge a perky promontory
circumnavigated portly
eloquence surpassed denoted
frosty effervescent bloated
dribble breezy fastenings
perpetual remastering
marooned romantic saucy flutter
succulent enriching buttered
trimmings.
Friday, June 19, 2020
Capital in the Twenty-First Century
Justin Pemberton's documentary Capital in the Twenty-First Century briefly examines striking differences between 19th, 20th, and 21st century economics, or the ways in which capital was or has been amassed during these periods according to remarkably different socioeconomic realities.
It emphasizes that after World War II the middle-classes in the Western World accumulated vast riches and became powerful political players, as their reach and influence expanded due to a much more level financial playing field.
Such wealth lead to significant political reforms (universal healthcare, public education, mass public transportation networks, retirement pensions, . . .) that sharply contrasted 19th century institutions, wherein which, as the film relates, a tiny fraction of the population possessed most of a country's wealth and power, and went about creating political systems that ensured they perennially held on to it.
The documentary suggests that the 21st century's economic realities thus far resemble the 19th's much more closely than the 20th's, insofar as tiny fractions of the population currently possess huge shares of their nations' wealth, as the power of related middle-classes has seriously declined in recent decades.
A contributing factor to this decline which the film examines is the current availability of tax resources.
I don't know how precise its figures are, documentaries are more like cool short essays than lengthy books, but it's clear from the data presented that a lot of international businesses that have arisen in recent years don't pay that much in tax, and if they did the public purse would have a lot more funds for roads, schools, transport, and hospitals.
The idea of healthy communities possessing disposable incomes to develop a wide variety of supplementary goods and services is an appealing one, inasmuch as a greater distribution of wealth and taxation leads to less poverty and crime.
Is it not preferable to sustain moderately happy employed communities wherein which there's a general sense of well-being, to networks of distressed fearful impoverished ones who can't afford to buy what you're trying to sell them?
Don't disposable incomes make the wealthy even more wealthy while keeping the rest of the population secure, so people don't have to worry about what neighbourhood they're in or hire private security?
Isn't a social sphere wherein which you can safely visit every neighbourhood or small town and see what creative things they have to offer preferable to avoiding certain towns and neighbourhoods while travelling around with heavily armed guards?
If manufacturing jobs return in abundance with reduced wages, don't prices have to decrease, to avoid economic collapses brought about by credit bubbles?
Doesn't the flourishing of well-financed public schools make for better general conversation and more stimulating books and films, as diverse multifaceted local voices find inquisitive global audiences?
Isn't curiosity preferable to contempt amongst different demographic groups?
The exchange of intriguing difference?
The development of more energy efficient technologies?
It emphasizes that after World War II the middle-classes in the Western World accumulated vast riches and became powerful political players, as their reach and influence expanded due to a much more level financial playing field.
Such wealth lead to significant political reforms (universal healthcare, public education, mass public transportation networks, retirement pensions, . . .) that sharply contrasted 19th century institutions, wherein which, as the film relates, a tiny fraction of the population possessed most of a country's wealth and power, and went about creating political systems that ensured they perennially held on to it.
The documentary suggests that the 21st century's economic realities thus far resemble the 19th's much more closely than the 20th's, insofar as tiny fractions of the population currently possess huge shares of their nations' wealth, as the power of related middle-classes has seriously declined in recent decades.
A contributing factor to this decline which the film examines is the current availability of tax resources.
I don't know how precise its figures are, documentaries are more like cool short essays than lengthy books, but it's clear from the data presented that a lot of international businesses that have arisen in recent years don't pay that much in tax, and if they did the public purse would have a lot more funds for roads, schools, transport, and hospitals.
The idea of healthy communities possessing disposable incomes to develop a wide variety of supplementary goods and services is an appealing one, inasmuch as a greater distribution of wealth and taxation leads to less poverty and crime.
Is it not preferable to sustain moderately happy employed communities wherein which there's a general sense of well-being, to networks of distressed fearful impoverished ones who can't afford to buy what you're trying to sell them?
Don't disposable incomes make the wealthy even more wealthy while keeping the rest of the population secure, so people don't have to worry about what neighbourhood they're in or hire private security?
Isn't a social sphere wherein which you can safely visit every neighbourhood or small town and see what creative things they have to offer preferable to avoiding certain towns and neighbourhoods while travelling around with heavily armed guards?
If manufacturing jobs return in abundance with reduced wages, don't prices have to decrease, to avoid economic collapses brought about by credit bubbles?
Doesn't the flourishing of well-financed public schools make for better general conversation and more stimulating books and films, as diverse multifaceted local voices find inquisitive global audiences?
Isn't curiosity preferable to contempt amongst different demographic groups?
The exchange of intriguing difference?
The development of more energy efficient technologies?
Thursday, June 18, 2020
If Justin Trudeau is ruling Canada like a King, he's certainly a very generous one.
He's sort of like Auda Abu Tayi in Lawrence of Arabia, who led his people as a poor man, because he shared his riches with them like a flowing river.
There's no doubt he cares about Canada and Québec and is doing his best to help out during these difficult times.
I'd prefer not to have a King.
But if they were all like Trudeau, who'd complain?
He's sort of like Auda Abu Tayi in Lawrence of Arabia, who led his people as a poor man, because he shared his riches with them like a flowing river.
There's no doubt he cares about Canada and Québec and is doing his best to help out during these difficult times.
I'd prefer not to have a King.
But if they were all like Trudeau, who'd complain?
Wednesday, June 17, 2020
Tuesday, June 16, 2020
La Casa Lobo (The Wolf House)
A small village in the Chilean countryside produces honey while Pinochet reigns, every aspect of its communal existence preconceived and strictly monitored.
Membership is clad eternal, there's no straying from the austere flock, misunderstandings engendering punishment, belittling and quite severe.
Maria is independent and cares not for the steady routine, her daydreams encouraging sharp reprimands as she counterintuitively seeks expression.
One day she sets off into the forbidding forested horizon, determined to vigorously make it, her wits attuned to the luscious wilderness.
She locates an abandoned house wherein which emancipated pigs survive, who soon become her dearest friends, cherished reliant agreeable confidants.
But a wolf haunts the exterior terrain with fierce frightening ravenous omnipresence, their harmonious improvised alternative shyly persisting under hostile constraint.
They endure and emphatically matriculate.
Maria sharing her knowledge.
For a time it's quite idyllic.
Until provisions start to run out.
A chilling parable harrowingly composed to accentuate psychology torn asunder, La Casa Lobo (The Wolf House) smotheringly provokes consternation as it stifles difference.
A rigid blueprint rigorously scripted to ensure precise uncompromised obedience, with neither tolerance nor mediation written into its prescriptive views.
As individuality materializes it must be situated within specific limitations, to ensure no one is ever distracted from the necessary work at hand.
Maria loosens the fatalistic fastenings through the elevation of critical spirits, whose ethereal intangible substance slowly fades when faced with hunger.
The paranoia through which she's been nurtured then manifests itself in menace, deconstructing heartfelt amelioration with crazed drab bitter anxious conformity.
The pigs are no longer her friends.
They are trying to duplicitously subvert her.
She can no longer teach them new things.
She must adopt a less subversive role.
Aligning aggrieved spiritual discontent with physical unsettling pressures, La Casa Lobo presents totalitarianism to distressingly shock anew.
Imagining what things would be like if there was nowhere else to go, and you didn't fit in, it laments the loss of wonder as genius evokes in flower.
The most visually stunning film I've seen since Loving Vincent, its form brilliantly defies the wolf while its content solemnizes desperation.
One part distraught exposition, another typical of insular world views, it magnifies ideological indoctrination, with grim innocent startling despondency.
Membership is clad eternal, there's no straying from the austere flock, misunderstandings engendering punishment, belittling and quite severe.
Maria is independent and cares not for the steady routine, her daydreams encouraging sharp reprimands as she counterintuitively seeks expression.
One day she sets off into the forbidding forested horizon, determined to vigorously make it, her wits attuned to the luscious wilderness.
She locates an abandoned house wherein which emancipated pigs survive, who soon become her dearest friends, cherished reliant agreeable confidants.
But a wolf haunts the exterior terrain with fierce frightening ravenous omnipresence, their harmonious improvised alternative shyly persisting under hostile constraint.
They endure and emphatically matriculate.
Maria sharing her knowledge.
For a time it's quite idyllic.
Until provisions start to run out.
A chilling parable harrowingly composed to accentuate psychology torn asunder, La Casa Lobo (The Wolf House) smotheringly provokes consternation as it stifles difference.
A rigid blueprint rigorously scripted to ensure precise uncompromised obedience, with neither tolerance nor mediation written into its prescriptive views.
As individuality materializes it must be situated within specific limitations, to ensure no one is ever distracted from the necessary work at hand.
Maria loosens the fatalistic fastenings through the elevation of critical spirits, whose ethereal intangible substance slowly fades when faced with hunger.
The paranoia through which she's been nurtured then manifests itself in menace, deconstructing heartfelt amelioration with crazed drab bitter anxious conformity.
The pigs are no longer her friends.
They are trying to duplicitously subvert her.
She can no longer teach them new things.
She must adopt a less subversive role.
Aligning aggrieved spiritual discontent with physical unsettling pressures, La Casa Lobo presents totalitarianism to distressingly shock anew.
Imagining what things would be like if there was nowhere else to go, and you didn't fit in, it laments the loss of wonder as genius evokes in flower.
The most visually stunning film I've seen since Loving Vincent, its form brilliantly defies the wolf while its content solemnizes desperation.
One part distraught exposition, another typical of insular world views, it magnifies ideological indoctrination, with grim innocent startling despondency.
Monday, June 15, 2020
Saturday, June 13, 2020
Leaflet
So cool to meet so many people
multifaceted and equal
far beyond questions of race
the hatred gone without a trace
just listen take in what you find
inquisitive free states of mind
their observations escapading
cultural daydreams cascading
mesmerized diversity
impacting soulful symphony
alternatives distract in bloom
from disputatious shocks entombed
it's not that hard to simply be
chill fair and sympathetically
composed through thoughtful understanding
caring heartfelt nimble planning
peace.
multifaceted and equal
far beyond questions of race
the hatred gone without a trace
just listen take in what you find
inquisitive free states of mind
their observations escapading
cultural daydreams cascading
mesmerized diversity
impacting soulful symphony
alternatives distract in bloom
from disputatious shocks entombed
it's not that hard to simply be
chill fair and sympathetically
composed through thoughtful understanding
caring heartfelt nimble planning
peace.
Friday, June 12, 2020
License to Drive
The unyielding desire to get out and drive, to head out on the road, to deck out your ride.
It motivates Les Anderson (Corey Haim) in Greg Beeman's License to Drive, who has yet to obtain his driver's license, yet boldly seeks to apply himself vehicularly, and then drive his eager friends around town.
A car is available should he pass the crucial test, and Mercedes Lane (Heather Graham) has agreed to date him, having just broken up with her conceited boyfriend (M.A Nickles as Paolo), whose chauvinism was rather enraging.
There's just one problem.
Perhaps several problems.
Les falls asleep during driver's ed class and fails to acquire vital tidbits of information, which leads to him failing the written portion of his exam, since he's unable to guess the right answers.
But as fate would have it, the computers suddenly break down, his results remaining unknown, and since his twin sister (Nina Siemaszko as Natalie Anderson) passed beforehand, he's given encouraging motivation.
He passes the in-car portion of the exam under unorthodox forbidding circumstances, and returns to the examination centre full of upbeat pluck and resolve.
But his written results have been retrieved, his newfound prosperity instantly nullified.
Yet he still has a date that evening.
And friends who rely upon him.
Trouble abounds after he steals his grandfather's (Parley Baer) Caddy and Mercedes drinks way too much.
But Corey Feldman and Charles (Michael Manasseri) show no hesitation: they're still up for a bombastic drive.
Ah well.
I was hoping for so much more from License to Drive. It didn't have much of a buzz when I was growing up, but there's so much from way back when that I'm sure I must have missed out on.
It's cool to see Corey Haim and Corey Feldman engaged in shenanigans again, and Heather Graham, Carol Kane (Mrs. Anderson), Richard Masur (Mr. Anderson), and James Avery (Les's DMV Examiner) make the most of it; there's no slouching in the face of spasticity.
It promotes driving and the urge to drive with driven adolescent wonder, and sets up a variety of traditional incidents which perhaps still widely resonate.
But protestors and activists are vilified, as are the minority boyfriends of its lasses, and drinking and driving is whitewashed, and I couldn't find a classic '80s moment.
Too high of an elevation of slacking, not enough respect for book smarts, it tries to take things to uninhibited extremes, without ever really kicking into gear.
It motivates Les Anderson (Corey Haim) in Greg Beeman's License to Drive, who has yet to obtain his driver's license, yet boldly seeks to apply himself vehicularly, and then drive his eager friends around town.
A car is available should he pass the crucial test, and Mercedes Lane (Heather Graham) has agreed to date him, having just broken up with her conceited boyfriend (M.A Nickles as Paolo), whose chauvinism was rather enraging.
There's just one problem.
Perhaps several problems.
Les falls asleep during driver's ed class and fails to acquire vital tidbits of information, which leads to him failing the written portion of his exam, since he's unable to guess the right answers.
But as fate would have it, the computers suddenly break down, his results remaining unknown, and since his twin sister (Nina Siemaszko as Natalie Anderson) passed beforehand, he's given encouraging motivation.
He passes the in-car portion of the exam under unorthodox forbidding circumstances, and returns to the examination centre full of upbeat pluck and resolve.
But his written results have been retrieved, his newfound prosperity instantly nullified.
Yet he still has a date that evening.
And friends who rely upon him.
Trouble abounds after he steals his grandfather's (Parley Baer) Caddy and Mercedes drinks way too much.
But Corey Feldman and Charles (Michael Manasseri) show no hesitation: they're still up for a bombastic drive.
Ah well.
I was hoping for so much more from License to Drive. It didn't have much of a buzz when I was growing up, but there's so much from way back when that I'm sure I must have missed out on.
It's cool to see Corey Haim and Corey Feldman engaged in shenanigans again, and Heather Graham, Carol Kane (Mrs. Anderson), Richard Masur (Mr. Anderson), and James Avery (Les's DMV Examiner) make the most of it; there's no slouching in the face of spasticity.
It promotes driving and the urge to drive with driven adolescent wonder, and sets up a variety of traditional incidents which perhaps still widely resonate.
But protestors and activists are vilified, as are the minority boyfriends of its lasses, and drinking and driving is whitewashed, and I couldn't find a classic '80s moment.
Too high of an elevation of slacking, not enough respect for book smarts, it tries to take things to uninhibited extremes, without ever really kicking into gear.
Thursday, June 11, 2020
Wednesday, June 10, 2020
Tuesday, June 9, 2020
The Etruscan Smile
Stubborn differences of opinion lead to a prolonged estrangement before a father embraces diplomacy in the grouchy Etruscan Smile.
Practically nothing could ever convince Rory MacNeil (Brian Cox) to leave his remote island home, but local doctors can't diagnose what ails him, and recommend he seek medical advice abroad.
His son Ian (JJ Feild) lives in San Francisco, across the pond in another dimension, with his wife Emily (Thora Birch) and infant son, where he pursues the culinary arts.
Rory's happy to meet his grandchild but isn't hip to new age parenting, or anything that doesn't snuggly fit within a rigid conception of manhood.
His son is moderately successful as is his resourceful wife, his father-in-law (Treat Williams as Frank Barron) offering him the opportunity to open his own chill restaurant.
But in order to so he must compromise, his newfound freedom clad in obedience, contesting tried and true dependable methods, which are highly suspicious of unheralded novelty.
His father is none too impressed with the deals that have to be made, and expresses himself to the contentious contrary, their age old argument flaring up, even after so many lost years.
Sometimes a simpler approach can clarify things or perhaps even save years of time, complicated procedures and multiple-egos standing in the way of unprecedented conception.
The Etruscan Smile celebrates direct communication within a prescriptive environment, all the while asking, "who's more uptight?", to generate critical sufferance.
Bucolic candour playfully contends as politesse loses its joyful direction, urban characters finding Rory endearing, since he isn't racist or vulgar or violent.
It's an innocent freespirited look at sharp alternatives begrudgingly blended, reminding peeps not to forget their roots, even in the midst of intense abstraction.
I don't know, if someone's willing to finance your own restaurant, you'd think you'd compromise a bit on the menu, until such a time as it's turning a profit, after which you could add unique spices.
But where to draw the line on compromise?, that's a tricky business.
I imagine success is more rewarding if you do things your own way, but how do you ever accomplish anything working on your own?
Rory never left his isolated island. Where he owned property and never had to change.
Where going to the pub sufficed.
And nothing passed by unnoticed.
His adventure to San Francisco is still enlivening and full of pluck, an elevation of blunt distinction that doesn't come across as reckless.
Too reckless. 😌
If unfiltered wild rapscallions can adjust so can upscale pride.
But they both have to be willing to adjust.
Perhaps Biden can make it happen.
With Rosanna Arquette (Claudia), Peter Coyote (the Professor), and Tim Matheson (Weiss).
A bit farfetched.
But held together well.
Practically nothing could ever convince Rory MacNeil (Brian Cox) to leave his remote island home, but local doctors can't diagnose what ails him, and recommend he seek medical advice abroad.
His son Ian (JJ Feild) lives in San Francisco, across the pond in another dimension, with his wife Emily (Thora Birch) and infant son, where he pursues the culinary arts.
Rory's happy to meet his grandchild but isn't hip to new age parenting, or anything that doesn't snuggly fit within a rigid conception of manhood.
His son is moderately successful as is his resourceful wife, his father-in-law (Treat Williams as Frank Barron) offering him the opportunity to open his own chill restaurant.
But in order to so he must compromise, his newfound freedom clad in obedience, contesting tried and true dependable methods, which are highly suspicious of unheralded novelty.
His father is none too impressed with the deals that have to be made, and expresses himself to the contentious contrary, their age old argument flaring up, even after so many lost years.
Sometimes a simpler approach can clarify things or perhaps even save years of time, complicated procedures and multiple-egos standing in the way of unprecedented conception.
The Etruscan Smile celebrates direct communication within a prescriptive environment, all the while asking, "who's more uptight?", to generate critical sufferance.
Bucolic candour playfully contends as politesse loses its joyful direction, urban characters finding Rory endearing, since he isn't racist or vulgar or violent.
It's an innocent freespirited look at sharp alternatives begrudgingly blended, reminding peeps not to forget their roots, even in the midst of intense abstraction.
I don't know, if someone's willing to finance your own restaurant, you'd think you'd compromise a bit on the menu, until such a time as it's turning a profit, after which you could add unique spices.
But where to draw the line on compromise?, that's a tricky business.
I imagine success is more rewarding if you do things your own way, but how do you ever accomplish anything working on your own?
Rory never left his isolated island. Where he owned property and never had to change.
Where going to the pub sufficed.
And nothing passed by unnoticed.
His adventure to San Francisco is still enlivening and full of pluck, an elevation of blunt distinction that doesn't come across as reckless.
Too reckless. 😌
If unfiltered wild rapscallions can adjust so can upscale pride.
But they both have to be willing to adjust.
Perhaps Biden can make it happen.
With Rosanna Arquette (Claudia), Peter Coyote (the Professor), and Tim Matheson (Weiss).
A bit farfetched.
But held together well.
Monday, June 8, 2020
Sunday, June 7, 2020
Saturday, June 6, 2020
Keepsake
Omega minstrel moraine maven
microscopic incantatin'
shimmering bemuled 'clinations
pitched circuitous elation
flayed phantasmagorical
encapsulated cortical
enthused inordinate transistin'
clasped synthetic joys betwixtin'
succulent irradiating
thermal hydroglyphic plating
granular backbeat accented
incommavocado scented
like to play the logic game
inherent rhythms can't explain
reverberating awkward sound
shy tantalizing eiderdown
swelter.
microscopic incantatin'
shimmering bemuled 'clinations
pitched circuitous elation
flayed phantasmagorical
encapsulated cortical
enthused inordinate transistin'
clasped synthetic joys betwixtin'
succulent irradiating
thermal hydroglyphic plating
granular backbeat accented
incommavocado scented
like to play the logic game
inherent rhythms can't explain
reverberating awkward sound
shy tantalizing eiderdown
swelter.
Friday, June 5, 2020
The Condor & The Eagle
It's a shame other ways can't be found to generate mass profits for businesses and people, the question being, why does oil and gas and mineral exploration generate so much cash, while so many other industries simply can't compare?
During the last Federal election campaign, Elizabeth May claimed there were hundreds if not thousands of decent green jobs waiting to be created, if I remember correctly, an idea stated by the Leap Manifesto as well I believe, I'd like to learn more about this potentiality if there are related books available, bustling economies are a wonderful thing, and if the potential for green economies is reasonable, why aren't politicians doing more to create them?
I'm not looking to replace the mineral resources sector with green economies until a genius comes along who can make dependable coffee makers out of fruits and vegetables, although reducing their environmental impacts is always a top priority, and I'm hoping that idea isn't as far-fetched as it sounds (hemp perhaps?), as we continue to find ways to combat global warming.
We're too heavily reliant on oil and metal to stop seeking new sources in the moment, and too many people's livelihoods depend on them to write them off without much forethought.
Oil's become much harder to extract, however, and vulnerable remote ecosystems are being heavily relied upon, with disastrous ecological effects, and none too comfy hard-edged working environments.
Far away from home.
And the remote locations are sometimes home to thousands of people who would rather not develop oil and gas resources.
If they say "no", it should mean "no".
Another location should be found.
But other locations aren't found and the issues interminably proliferate in the media, often reaching a dire conclusion, if objective fair play isn't judicially leveraged.
The Condor & The Eagle presents many activists fighting to save their lands on the combative frontlines.
Their stories are courageous and inspiring, as they fight back with neither time nor resources.
I've said it before, and others have too, how do you get a group of highly specialized academics or scientists to agree about anything, no matter how insignificant?, but even with all that compelling individuality, the vast majority of them firmly believe in climate change.
And have proof to back up their claims which so often fall on deaf ears.
You would think resource extraction would be more environmentally sound since they've had so much time to develop green methodologies, but nothing's as simple as these variable ideas relate.
If someone did find a way to mass market pure biotechnology, they'd probably be locked-up for life.
But it's clear that we need to transition away from oil and gas and likely should have started some time ago.
It goes without saying that it's dangerous to be so reliant on one energy source (so many "ages" came to an end).
We have the means to start transitioning.
Why don't oil and gas producers find a way to capitalize on them?
While decreasing highly dangerous and questionable expenditures?
During the last Federal election campaign, Elizabeth May claimed there were hundreds if not thousands of decent green jobs waiting to be created, if I remember correctly, an idea stated by the Leap Manifesto as well I believe, I'd like to learn more about this potentiality if there are related books available, bustling economies are a wonderful thing, and if the potential for green economies is reasonable, why aren't politicians doing more to create them?
I'm not looking to replace the mineral resources sector with green economies until a genius comes along who can make dependable coffee makers out of fruits and vegetables, although reducing their environmental impacts is always a top priority, and I'm hoping that idea isn't as far-fetched as it sounds (hemp perhaps?), as we continue to find ways to combat global warming.
We're too heavily reliant on oil and metal to stop seeking new sources in the moment, and too many people's livelihoods depend on them to write them off without much forethought.
Oil's become much harder to extract, however, and vulnerable remote ecosystems are being heavily relied upon, with disastrous ecological effects, and none too comfy hard-edged working environments.
Far away from home.
And the remote locations are sometimes home to thousands of people who would rather not develop oil and gas resources.
If they say "no", it should mean "no".
Another location should be found.
But other locations aren't found and the issues interminably proliferate in the media, often reaching a dire conclusion, if objective fair play isn't judicially leveraged.
The Condor & The Eagle presents many activists fighting to save their lands on the combative frontlines.
Their stories are courageous and inspiring, as they fight back with neither time nor resources.
I've said it before, and others have too, how do you get a group of highly specialized academics or scientists to agree about anything, no matter how insignificant?, but even with all that compelling individuality, the vast majority of them firmly believe in climate change.
And have proof to back up their claims which so often fall on deaf ears.
You would think resource extraction would be more environmentally sound since they've had so much time to develop green methodologies, but nothing's as simple as these variable ideas relate.
If someone did find a way to mass market pure biotechnology, they'd probably be locked-up for life.
But it's clear that we need to transition away from oil and gas and likely should have started some time ago.
It goes without saying that it's dangerous to be so reliant on one energy source (so many "ages" came to an end).
We have the means to start transitioning.
Why don't oil and gas producers find a way to capitalize on them?
While decreasing highly dangerous and questionable expenditures?
Thursday, June 4, 2020
Wednesday, June 3, 2020
The Out-of-Towners
Prospects are good.
A new job with a higher salary awaits George Kellerman (Jack Lemmon) in New York, if he can only get there for an early morning interview that's little more than a formality.
His company's booked a nice room for him and his wife Gwen (Sandy Dennis) at the Waldorf-Astoria, and dinner reservations have been made for something tasty at a well-known restaurant.
George is rather high strung and used to smooth procedures, and Gwen comfortably contributes as the moment tightly clarifies.
If things go well, or fine and dandy, it's coveted routine amelioration, complete with collegial rewards to animate prim neutrality.
They've been picket fenced for quite some time in a quiet and peaceful suburb, not that they aren't capable of jazzing things up, it's just been awhile since they've wildly departed.
Unfortunately, they can't land in New York and are rerouted to Boston after a lengthy delay (also a cool city [Montréal's cooler!]), circling the city aggrieved overhead, without even a cold cup of coffee.
There's a train they can take if they make it on time to ensure all's not lost in the shuffle, but they arrive just a wee bit too late without patience or tolerance or luggage.
Nerve though, they've got plenty of nerve, and where they're going they'll surely need it, what follows is a disastrous set of circumstances, dire perseverance firmly necessitated.
Your mood is bound to improve.
Like Planes, Trains & Automobiles without the light touch.
Neil Simon's script spares no indignity as the Kellerman's attempt to settle in, constant frustrating incredible discomfort constantly seeking haywire dysfunction.
An analysis of blood pressure resolutely surging and disbelief grimly wallowing unpronounced, proceeds unabashed and assuming sans relief disenchanting throughout.
There's the wolf joke from The Lobster that sees things through to wanton implosion, and then there's the entire script from The Out-of-Towners that presents supreme unadulterated disillusionment.
After viewing it the whole things sounds nuts but it's convincing and practical in the moment, every mishap leaving just the slightest thread of hope, to which they cling with begrudged disquietude.
Perfect role for the uptight Lemmon who proclaims with paramount dissonance, and Sandy Dennis impresses as well, as she becomes more and more disengaged.
I was hoping the virus would let up as nicer weather quietly blossomed, but things aren't improving that much, and it's difficult to know what not to be frustrated about.
The Out-of-Towners bluntly distracts from COVID-19's global grasp, nevertheless.
I highly recommend it.
For a bit of humorous distraction.
*The release of this review was postponed out of respect for #BlackLivesMatter, #BlackoutTuesday, #TheShowMustBePaused, and the peaceful George Floyd protests.
A new job with a higher salary awaits George Kellerman (Jack Lemmon) in New York, if he can only get there for an early morning interview that's little more than a formality.
His company's booked a nice room for him and his wife Gwen (Sandy Dennis) at the Waldorf-Astoria, and dinner reservations have been made for something tasty at a well-known restaurant.
George is rather high strung and used to smooth procedures, and Gwen comfortably contributes as the moment tightly clarifies.
If things go well, or fine and dandy, it's coveted routine amelioration, complete with collegial rewards to animate prim neutrality.
They've been picket fenced for quite some time in a quiet and peaceful suburb, not that they aren't capable of jazzing things up, it's just been awhile since they've wildly departed.
Unfortunately, they can't land in New York and are rerouted to Boston after a lengthy delay (also a cool city [Montréal's cooler!]), circling the city aggrieved overhead, without even a cold cup of coffee.
There's a train they can take if they make it on time to ensure all's not lost in the shuffle, but they arrive just a wee bit too late without patience or tolerance or luggage.
Nerve though, they've got plenty of nerve, and where they're going they'll surely need it, what follows is a disastrous set of circumstances, dire perseverance firmly necessitated.
Your mood is bound to improve.
Like Planes, Trains & Automobiles without the light touch.
Neil Simon's script spares no indignity as the Kellerman's attempt to settle in, constant frustrating incredible discomfort constantly seeking haywire dysfunction.
An analysis of blood pressure resolutely surging and disbelief grimly wallowing unpronounced, proceeds unabashed and assuming sans relief disenchanting throughout.
There's the wolf joke from The Lobster that sees things through to wanton implosion, and then there's the entire script from The Out-of-Towners that presents supreme unadulterated disillusionment.
After viewing it the whole things sounds nuts but it's convincing and practical in the moment, every mishap leaving just the slightest thread of hope, to which they cling with begrudged disquietude.
Perfect role for the uptight Lemmon who proclaims with paramount dissonance, and Sandy Dennis impresses as well, as she becomes more and more disengaged.
I was hoping the virus would let up as nicer weather quietly blossomed, but things aren't improving that much, and it's difficult to know what not to be frustrated about.
The Out-of-Towners bluntly distracts from COVID-19's global grasp, nevertheless.
I highly recommend it.
For a bit of humorous distraction.
*The release of this review was postponed out of respect for #BlackLivesMatter, #BlackoutTuesday, #TheShowMustBePaused, and the peaceful George Floyd protests.
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