Overboard

Absolutely adapting grandiose manifest in synthetic conjunctive rigamarole, as bucolic mystery enigmatically sheathes ostentatious origins through disenchantment.

A new life exceedingly envelopes the opulent damsel with thrifty means, and previously underdeveloped expectations suddenly take on didactic schmooze. 

It's a trick of course her new husband and family disbelieving their luck, as the oblivious plutocrat who blindly cheated them randomly shows up with amnesia. 

It's a new era in their lives, constructively complete with domestic bearings, instantaneously overwhelmed with comatose conjecture and improvised charm.

The lighter touch and the less severe endemic countenances prove endearing, a natural fit bewilderingly unbeknownst to the heartfelt darling metamorphosized. 

Yet as her unconscious helplessly seeks a broader path upon which to exemplify, her waking hours embrace play with mesmerized mischief and sincere conjuring. 

Should she choose to stay if she wakes up with consciousness accrued?

Or munificently synthesize the disparate means?

With bold immiscibility.

And thoroughbred temper.

*Is that how you and mom met dad?

**Not exactly son, not exactly.

*Does that kind of thing happen a lot?

**I imagine so son, I imagine so.

*I guess there are all kinds of ways people meet, you've got to be ready for anything. 

**It's important, takes time and care. 

*Flexibility.

**Tidal tenses. 

*Ebb and flow.

**Mercurial routine. 

Trucks

Machinery has on awkward occasion posed philosophical questions while at work, the consistent use of fuel-powered-entities blended with distraction leading to hypotheses. 

Such theories no doubt imaginatively aided by consistently observing different narratives throughout life, the uncanny ludicrous application of televisual conceit to work and play.

But if oil and gas is eventually created as life inevitably dissolves, it was therefore once indubitably alive in possession of thought and spirit and appetite (Plato).

Machines inarguably seem inanimate when not turned on when lying dormant, with no fuel warmly generating power to encourage motion and requisite function. 

But when active does the fuel they burn once composed of life once again draw breath?, ontologically igniting ancient schematics blueprints attuned to reanimation. 

As the reignited organic material takes hold of the metallic construction, it nurtures different kinds of behaviour, which is why machines seem like they have personalities. 

Thus, one takes it easy with older machines less intimately acquainted with flexible immediacy, while it's fun to reasonably play with brand new constructions recently made.

Trucks takes things to the next level and gleefully removes the human factor, the trucks indeed suddenly turning on their once unsuspecting masters.

As they take over the small town of Bridgeton there's little that the lords can do.

Besides try to find a way to get out of there.

Before machine-kind embodies absolute rule. 

*Isn't this what you'd call crackpottery dad, machines coming to life and killing everyone?

**That's certainly an argument you can make son, although the off-kilter theory still mystifies.

*Tough to stop your mind from wandering when doing boring stuff, isn't it dad?

**It's helped to make so many cool stories.

*I still don't think machines are alive.

**You're probably right. But, really, who's to say? 

*Sigh. Okay, maybe driverless cars are a bad idea.

**Good to keep humans in the loop son.

*No doubt. I don't know what I was thinking.

**A.I can't freakin' drive cars. 

*Loved the station wagon. 

Field of Dreams

August absurdity ludicrously smitten unassumingly attempts to fulfill salient dreams, a mysterious voice, haunting and tantalizing, non-traditionally invoking spiritual temper.

The flamboyant drive to lackadaisically imagine random initiatives and residual endeavours, at times resounding with emphatic simplicity so ritualistically clear it sincerely baffles.

In the age of science and reason caution should no doubt effectively guide, otherworldly ambitions fantastically delineated feverishly according to blinding sights.

Nutrient rich celestial reckoning at times practically and concretely frowned upon, literary anguish liberating in sermon creative liturgies divinely improvised. 

Resonant collectivity or "group dynamics" can customarily achieve abstract enlightenment, like Deleuze's bewitching ethereal entities gallantly awaiting throughout the cosmos. 

The acquisition of neighbourly support for goals and objectives interdimensionally transmitted, may lead to athletic industrious "leg work" as disbelief awkwardly materializes. 

Within the transcendental realm as moderately applied to books and film, more cultural leaning may theoretically syndicate poetic jive and cerebral exhibition.

If only a mutually inclusive sociopolitical playing field indeed adopted, harmonious respect for its philosophical counterparts in terms of conscience and inherent curiosity. 

Would asylums then be less committed to the regular detention of debatable "madness", and more efficaciously attuned to cosmopolitan alternative life?

More resources could be spent on the viably insane and they could live in greater comfort, transitioning from one unbeknownst psychology to another and another and another through mental exercise. 

The definitive embrace of elective alternatives seemed like the gold standard years ago, multivariably equating the seemingly incongruous with ephemeral substance and illusory charm.

Multidisciplinary integrity intergalactically fuming with geometric insight, never led to destructive wars or remarkable sudden increases in the price of fuel.

"Build it", indeed I say, "why not?", "there's probably nothing else to do".

Try to finish the project before December.

Then see what's up next year.

Could be fun.  

Cheminstrel

Incommunicado restless interlocutor

opaque isthmus crackling wood

baroque embellishment ludic verve

incessant antics quivering fletch

summited circa pinnacle plush

inordinate view symbiotic horizon

dazzling downpour gracious melody

leapfroggin' lacka ambient haze

cardiovascular decked out dygnashing

quizzical camper sandstriking smidge

fussy instructions aghast retinue

punctilious incline almond bitters

sawdust sucré atemporal flux

modest demeanour exemplary marrow

chestnutterance spitfire samosa

whiplash stampede 'tripetal blush

accelerant catalyst crucial consumption

jaundiced jaguar infinite loop

Danube dispiriting swollen embankments

didgerdeluge ominiondation

exotic sampler smithereens scoot 

vacillate vermint crafteaspoon critter

vanilla sedgling vehicular blinds

botanical blimsy tobaccolades

frenetic fissure frugallaghershwin

optimal nominal whole grain blather

tantamount treacle viscid supplication

invertebrate buzz infinite fleece

brittle consternation bewildering blasé

comatose stride sleepwalking sentience

dizzying drowsy succour shallot

labyrinthine strata lithe collocation

Morpheus mingle curious swagger

inchoate charm vouchsafing vessel

subconscious structure shapeshifting sands

elusive elocutus jocose jammin'

husky interlude cerebral paucity

juxtaposed lick rhythmic pulse

crescending sorcery glib diminuendo 

improvised guideline denouement stress

fitful romance disinclined thriller

comedic quark siesta sci-fi

meteoric magma galactic chemistry

soluble liquified coaxing unknown

enigmatic math eccentric equipoise 

garland sugargomellow enterprise

rooty microbe coagulate granule 

aggregate shade pebble bipedal

octane inducement incognito nebulae

'dromeda snorbit courageous descent

fugacious fauna feverish fruit

extracurricular unique venture

spawned.

Buena Vista

Ricochet mesmer slipstream succour

lavender lychee ostentatious bow,

glimmering glambit salient showcase

articulate amber forensic flutter.

Disputatious dimples congenial hoodwink

Cartesian ruse distracting artifice,

gatewaylaid fractal allegorical thrush

starboardroom stilts incensed interrogative.

Surmiserly summit plasticine perch

meteoric missive platonic pulse,

organic stature compatriot bling

mythicustardis rank collusion. 

Rubiks lexicubist heuristic hustle

postulate pulpit eloquent jams,

nasal synaptitude ‘cilious sights

budding gustation auracular spore.

Envisaged spawning clan osmosis

atypical tinkering noxious loci,

demstereo breadcrumbs stray emissions

Helios hummuster pampered queue.

Rowdy ‘curricular ringside hocus

glistening glide drenched composed,

sonorous speed pitchfork lightning

lathe immersion soothsaying’ chide.

Chomnibus chortle burlap burmagma

echohort hooting jubilant shade,

regal component emerald swirl

nominal bombast negligent girth.

Lazuuli thicket persnickety pomp

opalescent timber carcabijoux wood,

auriferous musée optical transmission

looseleaf insignia sierra grotto.

Embellietzsche wiz imputed signs

carnavalesque temper video highlights,

modest decorum macadamia crunch

glamorous Luscious haughty hardwire.

Eggstatic scramble dynamo rouse

emphatic clamber captious wrinkle,

revitalized cessation indicative lullaby

nutrient flux panjam’Alablam.

Cardinal construct tectonic willow

birchbarking mad-hasher dashery-doo,

mandolin rhythm sinewfoundlinger

scallop malaise recrudescent tread.

Cavalier cadeptation kalamuschmooze

otiose llama blesséd bray,

beure d’arachide dissimulacrum,

cyberspace sizzle bold conjecture. 

Many things taste better with salsa.

I like to just have the odd mouthful.

Spicy, but not too spicy. 

Variety begets temptation.  

Dogmesticikitty

The snow refused to charitably yield and continued falling for weeks on end, the resultant piles indeed insurmountable as commerce and education could no longer function.

Even the army was unable to clear the vast voluminous onslaught of flakes, and people were locked down in grim seclusion with no emancipating end in sight.

For some, it was plain old February the dead of winter putrid and zombified, it was just a matter of one more board game before the resolute sun would resplendently shine.

But this time it didn't, the unabashed snow snidely fell with blanketing tempestuousness, as emphatic worries gradually increased with distressing implacable disregard. 

It felt like the time of the caveman as cloistered hysterics began to erupt, and too much time had awkwardly passed to relieve the tension with play and song.

When, to make matters worse, domestic cats and dogs revolted. 

And forged wild hunting parties of their own. 

From which safe refuge could not be found.

It's utterly absurd.

Like our cherished pets would ever wildly revolt against us!

It doesn't make sense if contemporary logic is keenly taken into universal account.

Still, the scene where the gigantic pack of dogs vehemently descended on the ________ team, was crazy intense and filled with emotion through the creative use of traditional plays. 

I suppose it was a bit cliché to have the army taken out first, to make the film that much more harrowing as the snow continued to fall.

The battle at the sequestered nunnery between the sisters and the barrage of cats, was spiritually sinister in its death-defying bedlam, no doubt ill-suited to Sunday school.

Throughout, the bewildered Trundle family oddly observes the ancient imbroglio, scholastically endowed and academically inclined they can't explain the pestilent reckoning.

I loved how the hibernating animals emerged from their slumber to save the town, passionately criticizing the dogs and cats for casting off their traditional domesticity. 

Ending the film with the bucolic, Just another god damn February, left me somewhat overcome with joy, the bizarro crisis having been averted, not bad for animation. 

Good Morning

Dashing undulation conundrum vibration distinct deconstruction anomalous motif, excessive earthenware tropical seclusion haphazard happenstance lithe resuscitation. 

Breathtaking burnish animate intake sedulous smarm audible iota, siesta cistern ebullient scowl treasure cheshire churl Romeow kowtow. 

Volcanic indigo luscious lugubrity exultant quake tornado traction, swirling sophisticates Socrates sojourn dialecTuring torpiddly testude. 

Dartnel doozy seditious clench incorrigible artifice flayed gesticulation, infinitesimal thrift iridescent moonshine engaged narcoleptic sugarbeet swoop.

Dissonant diletante brisk encapsulation pandromeda malt salubrious scion, steadfast ellipsis stalwart lobe omega maestro marigold slur. 

Palimpsest postulate discursive allegory improvised bulletin Nantucket news, wilderness waffling cerebral sentiment mortisane rigour halélélou. 

Seductive synergies ola oasis picturesque paradise celestial cruise, vehicular voisin soluble circuit erratic decompression hark carbone. 

Nimble encampment forested Fresca feverish fireside mountainous 'mallow, abeyance alight solace configured cavalcade coastline balustrade buzz. 

Singsong serenade innocuous utter aquifer 'ology haberdash swank, detailed disinterest commodified coda koala catalyst saffron luge. 

Heretofore halcyon auriferous yolk toastie taberknickknack fi-fye-foamfries, stately indifference complacent coaxing cajoled consignment indefinite flamb.

Stifling staccato pinpointed mottle cranberry twizzler doting dust-devil, transmutated transience simmering broth renaislàinte 'beration ursignatory. 

Lay back.

Give a demonstration. 

Casually observe.

Reiterate. 

Testudinosaur

A young foolish eager adult who enjoys walking through the woods, notes the changes in the forest as the vigilant years distend.

His mother wonders why he's so obsessed with taking photos in the woods, but kindly notes the intuitive goodwill curiously in touch with his endeavours.

He's able to find work which often keeps him strictly occupied, the crafting of exceptional texts first and foremost on his mind.

Unconcerned with traditional appearances or the usual ways in which people act, he compiles a vast collection of eclectic novel bric-a-brac.

As time passes, the resident animals become more accustomed to his presence, and stop worrying when he shows up at the local marsh to take his pictures.

In tune with local wilderness rhythms, he begins to notice turtles on the tracks, engaged in humble exploratory actions as they carelessly observe and note and wander.

As trains often use the very same routes to conduct their commercial affairs, the artist becomes alert and watchful in his cataloguing of the turtles. 

Then one day, a train approaching, he sees a turtle on the tracks, and moves quickly to swiftly move him/her to a safe location in the forest.

His timing is somewhat off and he arrives too late however.

Only to miraculously emerge.

In the supernatural land of turtles. 

With a larger budget the land of the turtle may have seemed more convincing, not that it doesn't have its unique features which encourage light compelling applause.

I liked how the turtles he moved off the tracks were pissed when they saw him in their land, and vented their sublime frustration with grizzled undisciplined nonchalance. 

Using real turtles in the crafting of the intricate scenes may have been frustrating, if they weren't incredibly adorable and innately attuned to all things cinema.

Theresa Montesque naturally shines as the helpful mom, who takes a modest interest in her son's work while trying not to be overbearing.

Who knew that turtles were using the tracks to secretly travel between dimensions?

As the sun beats down with wild intensity.

Throughout the typical working day.

*The voyage back to the forest is cool as well. 

**Never play around train tracks. You never know when the train might show up.

Gandahar

Lost in the peaceful elegant simplicity of humble distinct village life, the people have neither want nor vehement complaint as the carefree millennia fruitfully merge. 

Living harmoniously with nature they have all they need to frolic and gambol, the matriarchal realm organically constructed in heartfelt sonorous temperate melody. 

Yet strange occurrences begin to take place as villagers on the outskirts are found turned to stone, with no indications as to what's going on the mystery confounding the Council of Elders.

The leading matriarch's impetuous son is reluctantly chosen to swiftly investigate, quickly heading out on a winged steed to the unknown reaches of illustrious Gandahar.

After being attacked in the sky, he is sympathetically taken in by Dickensian outcasts, sublime survivors of a different regime which embraced fascist experiment to achieve mad objectives. 

Longing to return to their former city they use special powers to aid the warrior, who continues on his industrious journey with resolute courage and resourceful knowhow.

Only to discover a villainous plot whereby an army of hostile robots.

Is being lead by a murderous brain. 

With the hopes of condemning his people to oblivion. 

If industrial and technological revolutions hadn't utterly transformed existence, would the mellifluous state of organic nature not be more reliable still?

Life may be shorter with less creature comforts and useful medicines may be hard to come by, but would there be as much of a need for them if disease itself hadn't critically evolved?

We did live this way for thousands of years and even if people did fight amongst themselves, was the health of the planet still largely unaffected and were many animal species not driven to extinction?

If oil runs out, the consistency of the future will no doubt be mired in fluctuating uncertainty, will organic technologies emerge to sustain the infrastructure, or will the advanced lock the remnants of civilization down in gated communities? 

So many forecasts, potential disillusion, so much to learn, variants and mutations. 

More chill to settle into the Holiday Season. 

Friends and family, warmth and magic. 

The Blob

A quiet night in the peaceful countryside picturesque and romantic, delicate and adoring, a young couple familiarizes itself with the night sky through active stargazing and vigilant discernment.

When a gigantic meteor from deep within space suddenly lands nonchalantly nearby, a local woodsman out for a stroll in the vicinity taking a closer look.

At first everything seems fine it's just a rock harmless and nondescript, but after it cracks open a translucent goo gesticulates and wavers with distressing undulation. 

The woodsman picks it up with a stick and then brings it to his hand for closer inspection, where it smothers his skin and absorbs his bones with greedy invasive absolutist hunger.

The young couple arrives to find him overwhelmed with pain and helpless frustration, they immediately agree to give him a ride to a local doctor who agrees to see him.

Back in town everything seems fine shenanigans alight - a dull even intensifies.

As the encumbering goo increasingly expands.

Aggressively digesting.

Every human it encounters.

It's clear that imminent space danger is posing a limitless unprecedented threat, and the grandiose resources of the entire world should be excessively deployed as a countermeasure. 

A giant interconnected web of satellites should gallantly cloak the world complete, to boldly save our economic interests and definitively ensure that nothing gets through.

If North America, in consultation with the United Nations, comes up with the imposing ubiquitous design, aesthetically vetted by Québec, and humorously lampooned by Ontario, the effective blueprints should be ready in a fortnight, after which security will be impeccable. 

Threats from space should only modestly take up around 3.5% of global budgets, and should we hunker down and buckle up there's no freakin' tellin' how much "ground" we'll cover.

I used to think the night sky was just a peaceful tranquil dome, effortlessly excelling at facilitating dreams and coordinating wise immaculate dominion.

But with the tangible threat of the enemy it casually obscures it must be tamed.

Like the frontier from The Last Starfighter.

Let's get 'er done!

Just in time for Christmas.

Zatoichi and the Fugitives

Lonely travels honourable service distinguished expertise impassive unbound, moderate spirits laidback luminosity chillaxed script amicable spawning. 

Village after village undaunted impressions heuristic avenue versatile innocence, thunderous sympathy locked-down elusivity courageous thirst impish bearings.

Synchronous senses volatile venom meticulous maestro macabre maelstrom, jalapẽnned halo vehement vortex invaluable lotus reticent mamba.

Temperate treasure humble happenstance modest mavenlea generous gremlin, supersonic simplicity salt-of-the-earth tenaciously tilled formidably fastened.

Oriole opposition fujitsu fugitives underling unction bellicose bandits, ancillary antennae undisciplined dogma D'artagnan deaconstruct awkward aversion.

Duplicitous deputy calibrated collusion impractical inspection neoclassical nerve, dandelion dodgeball rutabaga ruse cattail collaboration milkweed wham-o.

Humorous doctor fertilized friendship salubrious saki voluminous laughter, adequate slodgings ambient vertices virtuous Vermeer elegant portrait. 

Cacophonous clash macroscopic orchestrations indefinite delineations tsunami surge, Benedictine blade multifaceted mugwamp magnanimusterings trailblazing munificence. 

Despotic dissonance impulsive embarkation rash reorganization insipid rearrangements, woebegone brinkmanship feverish fortitude bold distillations audacious implosion.

The Zatoichi Zephyr freeform and honest carefree caregiving sensational soil, erudite dissections innovative fair play intuitive bravery inherent stewardship.

Consequent wandering itinerant roll call forensic righteousness playful politesse, omniscient albatross farseeing fulcrum compassionate grizzly acute democracy.

Feudal ferocity.

Immortal sympathy.

Cerebral composition.

Heartfelt hommages. 

*A more intricate Zatoichi. With multiple stakes. And tragic final blows. 

Blood Simple

Ligament liturgy ecstatic entropy impassioned unleashed covert clandestine captions, fledgling fervour innocuous oater newfound necessities cradle crunch.

Resigned shamanatee hesitant harbinger grotesque gumption supine shutterbug, despotic disclosure tragic forbearance reluctant ransom accurséd accounts.

Vigorous fury toxic engagement outcomes unexpected incipient fugue, disgruntled affection fusillade photoshop disclaimed deceptions demonstrative nerve.

Serendipitous enterprise curmudgeon cashew expedient itinerary audacious embrasure, scurrilous sand-wedge lugubrious sigma gossamer getaway gallantine grief.

Accidental discovery mynock misfortune despondent discomfiture hyena hysterics, improvised onrush maladroit excavation environs entombed disconsolate guava.

Awkward ubiquity psychotic stern renegade reanimation potentate pulse, egregious centigrade uncharacteristic bellicose burmeasles inspired feeling.

Reticent explanation hardboiled anxiety encrypted confusion illiterate torque, bewildered bombastic diagnostic distress unwitting algorhythmic detrital spunk. 

Spontaneous chase forensic foreknowledge oblique discretion carcinogen clambake, ambivalent aloha nebulous necromancy beguiling glenigma otiose oblivion.

Gruesome unsettling ominous scenarios borderline barking mendacious maestros, frigid and frozen fugacious fumigation albeit squishy traumatic high tide.

To stay so dismally determined calabrese calculation pervasive ghouls, hemorrhaged matrimony unyielding formulae enervating exotic tollgate truncheon.

To go so wild and spirited jocose rejuvenation on the road, rekindled rebirth exuberant partner uncertain finances chillaxed extolled. 

Obsessive disabled bleak bland envy power-mad meticulous critical observation, lascivious lifestyle no curious family routine remonstrance dull disquietude. 

Darkly comic embalmed compulsion exhaled disillusion cadaverous consignments, concrete contusions objective misalignments worthwhile macabre mordant malaise.

Inchoate gambit excessively beloved calibrated careers acclaimed and distinguished, varicose variety perpetual motion delirious decades homegrown Americana.

*This is the Coen Brothers's first film.

**Noiresque. Worth checking out. 

Gypsy 83

Bucolic fashions habitually annoy Gypsy Vale as she randomly fluctuates, moving more style to quip to inspiration as concrete dissonance mundanely obscures.

Her friend Clive offers flamboyant accompaniment as they shoot videos and intuitively experiment, their cohesive bond actively facilitating insouciant fun and alternative brokerage. 

One day they learn of an upcoming talent show to be exotically held in New York City, where they've unfortunately never been but would love to energetically check out.

Gypsy's mom couldn't handle the 'burbs and reluctantly moved there years ago, Gypsy hoping to somehow reestablish contact during the voyage although she's still rather angry.

Their road trip adventure spontaneously begins and they soon find themselves travelling state to state, with improvised stops and inconclusive reckonings emergently enabling freeform postures. 

Their keen choice of clothes and elaborate makeup lead to complications as they flourish.

In a world inarticulately composed.

Foolishly observed with dismissive resonance (they run into a lot of flack). 

Good vibes and genuine friendship impressionably motivate in Gypsy 83, as creative sincere individuals find expression through play and fantasy.

Although woe does abound and wherever they go criticisms arise, their inevitable championing of the blasé reverberates dependable amicable rhythms. 

Even amongst their fellow misfits dispiriting vitriol enervatingly erupts, the critical world fraught with intense snobbery which is often more destructive than lowbrow ignorance. 

The Amish hitchhiker adds some flare as they enthusiastically drive along, with complications eventually devastating the inaugural window harmless and playful.

So irritating that so much sadness has to consistently be resiliently overcome, a less vituperative cultural consensus open-mindedly applied leading to less bitterness.

An active life helps the criticisms fade while tenderly engaged in novel exploration.

Tough to believe in a country as dynamic as the U.S.

There aren't more than a handful of chill cities to live in.

Excluding contemporary times. 

*Criterion keyword: lounge.

Silkwood

A difficult life tempestuously driven by the sincere desire to share bold reckonings, dynamic friendships and bohemian protocols keeping things multilaterally attuned.

Work at the fuel fabrication site where she makes rods for nuclear reactors, has its life-threatening ups and downs while employees maintain a chillaxed atmosphere.

What to do when there isn't any work and you don't want to move far away from home, the overt danger seeming much less perilous when the steady paychecks start rolling in.

But day in day out as people get sick or find themselves exposed to cancer generating elements, builds up the tension and ensures the union actively engages on their behalves.

Trouble intensifies for Ms. Silkwood after she agrees to go undercover, and obtain photos of a technicians's alterations to definitive indicative core sample negatives.

Her partner leaves her after she takes on the increasing clandestine covert responsibilities, and problems get much much much worse to the point where she's left on her own recognizance.

The life of an activist hardships incumbent serialized dilemmas consistently challenging, the disappearance of networks and friends and colleagues as the stealthy work boldly intensifies.

With the union helping to coordinate hardworking team-based initiatives however, effective groups of likeminded people can efficiently criticize industrious greed.

I've never been a fan of nuclear power I imagine I've mentioned this before, it's certainly convenient if you can't build massive dams but still leaves an ominous environmental footprint.

Nuclear material takes thousands of years to gradually break down into harmless components, that's a long time to have to monitor deteriorating waste at different sites.

You'd have to outlast the Roman Empire have a much longer run than The Simpsons or Frasier, how can you guarantee the monitoring of such sites for the non-foreseeable future over the years?

It's easier to do what Hydro Québec has effectively done in La Belle Province, are there not massive rivers in Northern Ontario or Manitoba or Alberta that can also be dammed?

Working with local First Nations to facilitate smooth beneficial transitions, is hydroelectric power not more reliable than nuclear, and respectfully characteristic of a sustainable future?

*I don't want to argue with the people who don't like hydroelectric power either. We're on the same side at the end of the day. Hydro Québec just makes so much more sense to me. 

Grumpy Old Men

The interminable rivalry delicately strewn with intermittent trust, effectively laidback with chaotic eruptions effacing moments of inspired tranquility. 

They grew up together as envious children and both lived their lives in the same small town, never venturing forth across the land but rather obsessing about local change.

One grew up to teach history and had a steady job for many a year, the other fixing broken down televisions at a time when that was still quite profitable.

In retirement, they quarrel and fish and keep a close eye on the slumbering block, their children stopping by to visit at times with vivid success stories and marital dilemmas.

Compulsively nickling and diming they dynamically forge economic blockades, the intricate precise observant conversation correspondingly generated with grouchy gusto.

When a beautiful belle aging in years suddenly moves in across the street.

With new ideas and jaunty bold reckonings.

Seeking companionship. 

Vehement magnitude.

I wonder how Grumpy Old Men has viscerally aged for the last thirty years, is it still talked about in film-loving circles or has it faded with the passage of time?

It was incredibly popular in the early '90s when it first came out, since it showcased well-known cantankerous belovéd old school household names.

Walter Matthau and Jack Lemmon had brilliantly dazzled for many a year, especially in a well-regarded film my father loved known as The Odd Couple.

It's younger audience had aged since then and was in their twilight years when Grumpy Old Men came out, a brilliant bit of industrious casting also to be found in the Terminator films.

They deliver the curmudgeony goods and directly excel at provoking one another, with agile learnéd indelicate remonstrance wildly engaging in diligent bemusement. 

Are these films really just the subject of history choosing which films to watch is different these days?, with Netflix etc. eclipsing television the old school references may be somewhat archaic.

But information is available online for the curious film buff looking to learn more.

We didn't have Wikipedia thirty years ago.

Academically complemented with online encyclopedias. 

Malone

Endurance.

Strength.

Confidence.

Reliability.

The airtight Malone sees the introduction of a hard-boiled trusted dependable soldier, who's worked covert operations for many a year and finally decided it's time to retire.

But it's a job you can't walk away from he knows too much and is much too valuable, his old school no-nonsense management team unwilling to simply let him go.

He's been in the service for decades and has finally started to find murder distasteful, even if he's taking out scurrilous atrocities he's no longer thrilled to surgically discombobulate. 

Unfortunately his car breaks down in a beautiful small town as he tries to disappear, a town which is slowly being bought up by a jingoistic millionaire with fascist dreams.

The people were initially glad when he arrived because they thought he would reopen the mine, but after he pushed so many off their land grand disillusion distressingly set in.

Malone just tries to peacefully exist but the plutocrat's goons try to push him around.

Even after they realize they're far outmatched.

Bring on the classic 1980s ending.

Malone offers an entertaining case study in different conceptions of the man's man, the one brutal and monopolizing, the other fierce but kind at heart.

With good intentions, the well-meaning man seeks integration within his community, and to peacefully exist alongside others generally seeking communal development.

He's confident and trustworthy but can still be hurt if caught off guard, diligent and steady, rigorous and bold, but not full-on invincible.

Thought to potentially be a huge dickhole by people worried he'll seek absolute control, but more attuned to mutual cooperation and the democratic rights of the individual.

Not such a bad ideal to live up to if you ever consider tempestuous codes.

A cool old school traditional action film.

Modest and endearing.

Inherently wild.

The Milagro Beanfield War

Competing interests divergently envision the possible future of a rural town, one striving to see the local populace flourish, the other secretly leaving them behind.

A family man hardworking and fed up decides to irrigate his land with forbidden water, suddenly changing the fortunes of the town as the impoverished people line up behind him.

The water had been reallocated for the lavish construction of a new land development, many residents having already sold out to the vested interests and swiftly left.

So many people don't want to leave though and dig in deep to defend their rights, seeking employment and inclusive strategies which sincerely enable lifelong habitation. 

They're old friends and newfound companions who have already found where they want to live, there's no desire to pick up and go to a different town and then start over.

Why not find steady jobs for them and dynamically include them in strategic plans, finding a place for schools and hospitals the next generation of crafty citizens?

Those kinds of leaders deserve respect the ones who genuinely care for the people of their town, and holistically look far ahead to a future that substantially includes them and their families.

The Milagro Beanfield War offers a crash course in multilateral civil conflict (there's even a sociologist), when the interests of struggling people are smugly dismissed with hard-hearted unconcern.

A former lawyer who became a journalist attempts to lead them even though he's jaded, a determined feisty knowledgeable mechanic consistently encouraging his strict resolve.

Imagine cutting off the water supply from impoverished farmers trying to feed their families, it's a bona fide human rights disaster so often ignored with lofty disgrace.

The well-financed powers-that-be are hoping they'll ignore the distressing changes, and won't exercise their democratic rights to firmly hold onto their courageous town.

Mutual respect for the townspeople and the developers can lead to sustainable economic interests, if people aren't trying to cheat one another and honestly agree to progressively work together.

Too bad so much of everything is inefficiently structured along distrustful lines, conversation, books, the cinema, religious differences, shopping, the news. 

There are times when things are less bitter and collective involvement leads to great change.

Like public schools and universal healthcare.

Democratic governments. 

Universal dynamism. 

All the Little Animals

The loss of a loved one lugubriously leads to a new set of rigid familial schematics, and whereas his mother was kind and generous, Bobby's intimidating step-father's acrimonious.

He hurt his head as a child and grew up differently thereinafter, homeschooled in isolation yet still loving and chill and fond.

Not very worldly indeed and wholeheartedly despairing of mature procedures, with hardly any of the requisite knowledge temperamentally toned through objective realism.

His step-father wants his share of the business and all he really knows is not to sign anything, dear old dad threatening a secluded lifetime in a mental institution if he doesn't play ball.

He makes an awkward break for it and soon finds himself hitchhiking across the country, with Cornwall as his destination without any money or clothes or friends.

Yet fate lends a gentle hand after he escapes a life-threatening situation, and meets an eccentric lonesome wanderer who delicately spends his free time administering.

Not a business or office or government but the deceased animals found throughout the countryside.

Whom he gingerly finds and buries.

As he comes across them in his travels. 

Logic and reason and management and consequence take on alternative hues in All the Little Animals, where the most unlikely of protagonists exceedingly champion magnanimous essentials.

There's no doubt that life in all its forms deserves to flourish for the time it's given, but it's not that often you discover the cinema courageously celebrating badgers and moths.

It's not a children's film although they may find it quite endearing, it resolutely adores all animal life and was even made in animal-hating Britain.

I'm even trying not to step on the shoots enthusiastically sprouting from the ground at the moment, hoping not to prevent the dynamic emergence of blooming nimble evergreen plant life.

Inasmuch as I've never seen anything like All the Little Animals before, I have to admit to remaining spellbound regarding its altruistic import.

It's like David Suzuki or David Attenborough asked one of their grandchildren to write a movie.

And somehow it actually got commercially made.

With a stellar cast.

Love for books and animals. 

*I mean to say that it's incredible that this film was made and it would be great if there were more films like it.

**There must be many British people who like animals, all I know is bears went extinct there thousands of years ago (according to Google and a Bears book I read years ago). 

***Islands. 

Yearning

*Spolier Alert

A dedicated daughter-in-law spends her life managing her new family's business, her intricate savvy and reflexive know-how having saved it from ruin during World War II.

Her husband passed in the war though and she sadly never married again, although she honourably cherishes his memory with devout respect and wholesome dignity. 

A new supermarket opens in town and starts undercutting their trusted prices, leaving her in-laws in a difficult spot which they need to manage with nimble moxy. 

It's decided to expand the business and boldly open a much larger store, but the loyal intuitive multifaceted manager is initially denied a leading role. 

It's thought that she should remarry and a suitable candidate is wisely chosen, 17.5 years having gone by since her husband passed, the idea perhaps not that socially awkward.

But she refuses out of heartfelt devotion and eventually decides to return to her home.

But not before she distressingly discovers.

That her deceased husband's younger brother is madly in love with her.

The ending's a brilliant illustration of the conflicting post-war attitudes in volatile Japan, the younger less rigid experimental viewpoints and the older more orthodox sociocultural rules. 

Reiko has to admit that she has feelings for Koji and that she's felt amazing since she learned of his passion, yet still feels determinably duty bound to her old husband's stately ultimate sacrifice. 

She's also much older than Koji and it's a bit weird marrying two brothers from the same family, but that doesn't mean she isn't tempted to continue living in the world she's created.

Unfortunately, while travelling home Koji follows her upon the train, and in their confusion they depart somewhat early and get a hotel just to think for the night.

Koji goes for a walk after another heated argument morosely breaks down, and gets too close to a haunting cliff's edge and earth-shatteringly falls to his unrequited end.

But is the film condemning Koji for having tried to break with the old conservative ways?

Or modest Reiko for not having embraced the newfound less severe liberal ideology?

It's classic obscured ambiguity which likely still generates debate amongst film fans.

A genuine tragedy embroiled in conflict.

Much too serious or excessively light. 

Sanjuro

The improvised planning of the itinerant samurai much more fluid in the cerebral Sanjuro, after a group of younger emboldened citizens discover a plot to dispose of an elder.

The samurai meets them by chance on a world-weary voyage leading to their door, where they innocently plan their audacious activities with impulsive daring and simplistic fortitude. 

Little do they know, they're being surrounded by the very same scoundrels they hope to challenge, who have brought at least 100 men to unceremoniously ambush them.

The samurai uncovers the plot and quickly overcomes his habitual boredom, immediately employing his requisite cunning like a grand-chess-master to outmaneuver the danger.

He swiftly realizes the group is honourable and therefore decides to offer his protection, putting advanced logic and reason to work in the adventurous aid of the sublime do-gooders.

But his lacklustre bearing his indolent mood doesn't quickly win over their skeptical hearts, especially since he drinks too much saké and at crucial times seems distant and irritated. 

They find when they listen to his strategic counsel they usually outwit their foes nevertheless.

And after much heated arguing amongst themselves, eventually agree to suffer his temper.

Not as explosive as many a chaotic borderline reckless wild samurai movie, but still quite endearing to strategic minds who truly love spur-of-the-moment planning.

Truly like an active chess game where each single move must be delicately balanced, the hardboiled yet caring demonstrative leader entertaining his students while refuting their folly (like the opposite of Trump's daily antics).

It's fun to watch as they impudently quarrel with the wise honest master lending a hand, alas no matter how many times he saves them they still adamantly doubt his chill erudition. 

The samurai is thrilling to watch if you like free confident ingenious odd heroes, whose skills are so genuinely imposing they take spectacular risks as if they were simply gardening (with bears).

Like a formidable saviour guarding the just from bellicose foolishness in corrupt mortal lands, the warrior proceeds with ethical daring even though he could have kept wandering alone.

From village to village the unruly countryside curiously wondering who will suddenly show up.

And add some spice to bucolic life.

At times routine, yet never overdone.