Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets

A peaceful life, a planet in possession of an indigenous miracle, its inhabitants living harmoniously with their environment, excelling at sustaining life in symbiotic exhilaration, pure simplicity matched with subtle eloquence, resplendent tranquil nimble mores, Fiji!, Endor!, Pandora!, Europa?!, falls prey to expansionist greed, victimized to the brink of extinction, the memory of its free people quickly fading, into refined contested disputed intergalactic lore.

Adherences to historical records formally tricked into officially believing nothing happened, the survivors fittingly conceal themselves in emptiness, the possibility of their existence unconsciously haunting their betrayer, on a bustling multidimensional metropolis nestled in neurasthenic nevermore.

Whereupon young love is burgeoning, two youthful recruits risking everything to obtain mission objectives, competent and respected enough to brave seeking evidence that will condemn a superior officer, athletically gifted and intellectually endowed, capable of infinitesimally infiltrating while still pausing to appreciate art, a serendipitous synergy pursuing altruistic cardioaccruements, they generationally contend with that which is forbidden, mineralogically setting sail, into cyclones Vedic honed.

As a matter of conscience.

Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets heats up virtually, technologically, terrestrially, and subterraneanly inclined environments, metaphorically synthesizing a lifetime engaged ensemble, through the provocative art of proactive pioneer.

Within a multicultural conglomerate safely harbours species at risk, if they aren't systematically sought after, and can steadily remain undetected.

A compelling look at the evolution of social media, Valerian ascends to olympian symbolic heights while occasionally stalling on paths taken to reach them.

Recalling that fair solutions do present themselves when cultures negotiate in good faith, it celebrates youthful fair play backed up by regulatory checks and balances.

The naturalization of animosity grossly misrepresents cross-cultural social relations.

People often don't take comedic applications of glorified negligence seriously.

If they think about the situation.

Separate the sleaze from the discontinuity.

The Founder

The idea was to make a lot of money.

A lot of money.

He'd been at it for decades and had secured a modest living but still sought that vast immaculate neverending revenue stream, a potentially permanent enriching strike to help him bask in abundance and stretch-out bemused, selling milkshake machines meanwhile as he drifted thoughtfully from state to state, never ceasing even in decade number 6, nimble and agile, eyes open wide.

Catatonics.

Suddenly it was right there in front of him, the idea, the market, a tantalizing prospect replete with multidimensional opportunities for everyone involved, but his shortsighted eventual partners lacked his commercially expansionist vision, clutching their original take too tightly with static dismissive unshakeable vanilla.

Dubious discrediting. 

If Ray Kroc (Michael Keaton) was about to go national and create wealth for sundry individuals seeking greener pastures it made sense that he couldn't be shackled by ideas which crushed his bottom line.

Turmoil.

John Lee Hancock's The Founder asks whether or not he was a warm generous individual intent on seeing others prosper or a cold calculating self-obsessed insatiable prick.

I would argue that he tried to work within the codes established by partners Dick (Nick Offerman) and Mac MacDonald (John Carroll Lynch) but as his impact on the business gradually transformed it from burger joint into national sensation, he slowly gained more clout, which enabled him to wisely challenge the principles of his hastily signed contract.

Dick and Mac did nothing to expand the business and consistently blocked reasonable attempts to increase revenues not just for themselves, but for the hundreds of people who worked for Kroc's franchises.

According to the film, Kroc was finding jobs for earnest people looking for a break and as McDonald's expanded from one location to dozens nationwide new ideas were bound to challenge the design of the original concept.

But Dick and Mac didn't support Kroc, at all, they couldn't grasp this aspect of the business, and he in fact chose the good of the many as opposed to the few, and therefore wasn't being monstrous when he hostilely took over.

Still, always take the 1%.

His analysis of the name McDonald's within the film adds a cerebral characteristic to a chain whose intellectual merits are not often highly regarded.

Ensuring that the animals who are eventually sold at McDonald's restaurants live comfortable lives beforehand and that hard-working employees are capable of earning enough income to support themselves does make a big difference to me as an occasional client, however, even if it means less profits.

McDonald's has taken steps to clean-up its supply chain in recent years, a potential reality which is quite impressive.

During a crazy 60 hour work week two years ago, I even stopped in for lunch and spent 20 dollars. 

That's a lot of McDonald's.

It may have been awesome.

Apart from all this, the film's good too, an accessible thought-provoking examination of a phenomenon I loved in my youth, which held my attention the whole way through thanks to its strong argumentative character driven paralysis. 

McSolid.

Driven, direct, frank, and bold, it never rests on its laurels, cleverly introduces new characters, and breaks things down with energetic distinction.

Make those burgers more healthy.

And it's crazy win win. 

Red Army

A different approach to the cultivation of sporting legends was adopted by the former Soviet Union.

Notably in regards to hockey, according to Gabe Polsky's new documentary Red Army.

Constant training, living together in isolation for 11 months of the year, severe punishments for failure, patronizing management of all aspects of a player's life, a rigid system demanding strict and unyielding obedience.

Under coach Tikhonov anyways.

Coach Anatoli Tarasov had a different style, much more gentlepersonly, focusing on the artistic nature of the sport, the application of progressive thought to cohesive teamwork, balance, to equanimous belonging.

Both coaches succeeded, one was despised, one loved.

I never realized how crazy about hockey the Soviet Union was until watching this film, it was like watching Canadians discuss hockey, I didn't know Russians loved the game so much.

Tikhnonov's torturous regime did produce results, the Soviets going undefeated for 2 years in the '80s, Red Army even including footage of Gretzky in awe of their prowess, during his prime, the Russian Five of this period referred to by many as the greatest line ever.

They still hated their whiplashy coach.

I always understood that it's a source of National pride that we defeated the Soviets in '72, but I wasn't alive at the time and only ever really highly respected it because everyone who was alive at that point regarded it as a nation building moment, something much more elevated than just another international hockey tournament.

After watching Red Army, I fully understand why.

Even if Polsky exaggerates the Soviet Union's obsession with hockey, it still rivals our own, and to think that we beat them, winning 3 in a row on Soviet home ice to win the series, against a team that trained religiously, no pun intended, is astounding.

I always thought the Soviets were more well rounded when it came to sport, because their population was so much larger than Canada's, Russia's still is, thinking that with such a large population their athletic interests would be more like those of the United States, although I do recall them winning quite a few medals whenever the Olympics were held and they attended, in my youth, but don't ever recall them playing football, basketball, or baseball.

In Fareed Zakaria's Post-American World, whose title is misleading, he points out that the American economy was/is so dynamically multifaceted that it could/can pursue multiple goals simultaneously, and effectively, while countries with smaller economies have had/had to focus on a smaller number of things, many of which they elegantly pursue/d, but in terms of sheer diversity of excellence, no one could/can compete with the United States.

Perhaps that's why the Soviets focused so much attention on hockey.

They did finish 4th in the World Cup of Soccer in 1966 as well.

I've read a depressing number of articles recently about the lack of high-paying permanent jobs in the United States however, and it would be nice to read about that possible trend disappearing.

Red Army uses the example of Viacheslav Fetisov to offer insights into an individual's growth within a collective system, examining the pros and cons of that system from his own testimony, and that of others, thereby investigating how things have changed in Russia since communism fell.

He's perhaps not the best example to use since he spent most of his life on top, although it was a much less glamorous life than that experienced by exceptional professional athletes in North America or non-Soviet Europe, he still wasn't starving or sent to the gulag, and could hold his head high being one of the best in the world.

He still had very little freedom.

He eventually did play in North America, winning a Stanley Cup in his late 30s playing on a Russian line for the Detroit Red Wings, with one teammate from his former Red Army line (Igor Larionov).

Note that many players don't play that well in their late 30s in the NHL.

An informative tripartite examination of ideology, politics and sport, Red Army delivers a chilling look at objective efficiencies, the value of teamwork, and personal strength.

Unbelievable how many awards Fetisov won.

Good companion film for Foxcatcher.

Cosmopolis

A brilliant young billionaire, having maintained his fortune by grammatically applying the mathematical rhythms of nature to the metaphorical constructs of his social interactions, something like that, philosophically travels throughout New York in his cork-lined limo, calmly discussing various subjects with his astute personnel, occasionally stopping to chat with his literary wife, protests pulsating outside, historical echoes allusively gyrating, definitive risks annihilating his wealth, the pursuit of pleasure conjugally detected, security forces requiring guidance, meaning, substantially, trying to break its way through.

On his way to have his hair cut.

Operating within a conscious surrealistic intellectual structure spatially adorned with sudden startlingly ephemeral enactments (momentary dreamlike logical displacements), wherein questions of tangibility become remarkably fluid before alternatively reverting to their previous states, David Cronenberg's Cosmopolis examines an individual's steady response to a shockingly increasing barrage of multilayered financial, cultural, and, derivatively, psychological derailments, whose consequent disruptions cannot be experientially sublimated.

Mr. Packer's (Robert Pattinson) unaffected emancipated solution attaches a horrific qualification to the concept of freedom.

Even when Cronenberg zeroes in on the cerebral, he can still find other ways of exemplifying his roots.

Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows

Wasn't as impressed with Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows as I was with Guy Ritchie's first instalment. Holmes's (Robert Downey Jr.) remarkable wit and resilient problem solving skills are once again prominently on display and his whimsical interactions with Dr. Watson (Jude Law) continue to entertain. The fast paced reactive comedic drama moves the plot along with picturesque pinpoint precision. An erudite athletic warrior who constantly goes out of his way to massage his own ego still seeks to prevent the masters of war from obtaining their goals. And the meticulous attention to detail worked into his split second evaluations commands a heightened degree of respect as the concept of awareness receives a veraciously sharp intrepid exposition.

But these elements aren't tied together particularly well.

Professor Moriarty (Jared Harris) struggles to maintain Holmes's level of acute alacrity. Some of the novelties which worked well in the first film such as Holmes's pugilistic propensities take up too much time in Game of Shadows to the detriment of his observational acumen. While the dialogue energetically motivates the action while hypothesizing/researching/analyzing/synthesizing the script seems like it was written with an equal degree of haste and more care could have been taken to include harmonious linguistic formulations (some incredible synergies would have resulted had these been in place)(linguistic formulations whose appealing character could have matched the intellectual intensity of the action). Having Holmes attempt to halt the escalation of a major European war places him in a position too grandiose for the execution of a successful first sequel (it's too over the top). And the female characters become static cardboard cutouts as the action progresses, Irene Adler (Rachel McAdams) having been poisoned in the opening moments.

While exciting enough and possessing a rationalized frenetic frequency, Game of Shadows attempts to move beyond the constructs of its predecessor too quickly while relying on them too strictly, and comes across as rash rather than bold, violently crashing into the sun.

The Couch Trip

Some solid ideas are in place.

John W. Burns, Jr. (Dan Aykroyd) is causing trouble for his lacklustre psychiatrist, Lawrence Baird (David Clennon). But just as he is about to be transferred back to prison, he intercepts a phone call offering Baird a position as a psychological radio host in Los Angeles, sitting in for one George Maitlin (Charles Grodin), which he promptly accepts. All he needs to do is escape from the ward, fly to LA, convince a shrewd lawyer that he is a trained professional, and dispense beneficial practical wisdom live with the electric confidence of a warm and friendly person of the people. But before he can get his act in place, another individual with a somewhat skewed relationship with 1980s socio-cultural sublimations catches instinctual wind of his former identity (Walter Matthau as Donald Becker), and decides that it's time to cash in on his disenfranchised observations as well.

The Couch Trip's form is well thought out. If I was in charge of deciding which pitches receive the opportunity to be fleshed out whimsically I definitely would have given that for the The Couch Trip the green light. But unfortunately, while gathering critical creative support, unable to sustain the potential of its expectations, it ironically suffers a nervous breakdown, from which it rarely recovers.

When you have an over-the-top idea which requires a sharp degree of energetic immediacy, one impossible situation to overcome after another, the ways in which that energetic immediacy is galvanized must be sensationally plausible while seeming run of the mill. And The Couch Trip's script, boldly defended by Dan Aykroyd, lacks the wherewithal needed to project even a paltry degree of plausibility, and therefore only transmits a mediocre current.

Walter Matthau does save the day from time to time, and the script is deep, establishing multiple subplots and providing several characters with room to flow. But the material with which said characters are provided falls consistently flat, and although the idea of John W. Burns, Jr. works for me on every level, the predicates and commentaries used to build up his rhetorical flexibility do not, at least in terms of making a film entertaining.

The Light Thief

As Krygyzstan adjusts to post-Soviet realities and workers continue to enjoy their lives even though basic food items are difficult to come by, one person of the people continues to function as a link between the haves and have nots, risking his prestigious position to faithfully restore the light. A courageous film from director Aktan Abdykalykov, The Light Thief presents an impoverished rural town struggling to maintain its identity as political currents redefine the ways in which its country is managed. The mayor who fought for the rights of his people is dead and those seeking to obtain their land have replaced him with a naive relative whose loyalty is individualistic and up for sale. Those with capital are willing to potentially finance experimental projects but strict respect must first be paid to their patriarchal order. Svet-Ake (Aktan Abdykalykov) holds his ideals close to heart and isn't willing to sacrifice them. If a family can no longer pay their electric bill, he reconnects their system to keep them attached to the grid. When offered the opportunity to establish a wind farm, he discusses his plans in a state of respectful disbelief. But its creation is necessitated upon the retooling of his ethical code, a personal transformation he is unable to make.

Old World meets New World in The Light Thief's subtly turbulent narrative. Capital is required to refurbish but the only source of its generation is the only asset the people have left. The outlets for negotiations and collaborations are destabilized as technological advances role in. The voice established by the working class is in danger of being silenced.

Boldly championing the dignity of the people while sharply pointing out what's at stake if that dignity is sacrificed, The Light Thief accentuates what it means to take risks as a matter of principle. Focusing to much overt attention on Svet-Ake and not enough on developing minor characters, it still slyly highlights the ingenuity of the town's impoverished youth while suggesting that that ingenuity is threatened.

Thieves' Highway

Can sheer will and determination enable an idealistic man's pursuit of justice in the underground world of fruit and vegetable exchange, or will they leave him distraught, broke and bedridden? Jules Dassin's Thieves' Highway examines this question and anxiously offers an unexpected solution. Nick Garcos (Richard Conte) returns home after years of working and saving his hard earned cash. Only to discover that his father (Morris Carnovsky) no longer has working legs after an accident coordinated by a crooked produce distributor (Lee J. Cobb as Mike Figlia). This upsets Garcos who immediately sets out to avenge his dad by cutting a deal with a shifty trucker named Ed Kinney (Millard Mitchell). Ed knows the whereabouts of an overflowing apple orchard whose gold and delicious bounty is ready for sale. The two strike up an agreement and purchase a truckload of apples each bound for sale to the aforementioned crook. But along the way, Ed's weathered universal slows his pace and young Nick must learn to negotiate deals with hardened thugs who don't believe in fair play.

On his own.

Not sure if Thieves' Highway is a film-noir or not but some of the classic tropes are in place. Anxiety exists although it's perforated with moments of happiness and peaceful calm. The majority of the film's action takes place in the underground but this underground isn't predominantly destitute. Some members of the police force are honourable, there's a lack of jazz music, the straight-and-narrow fiancé (Barbara Lawrence) turns out to be the femme fatale, and the femme fatale (Valentina Cortese) has a definitive change of heart. Does she only have this change of heart because Garcos represents the second generation of an immigrant family, integrated and successful, and is Dassin saying that only film-noir heroes from ethnic backgrounds can save the troubled femme fatale?

There's a lot going on behind and in-between the scenes in Thieves' Highway and some of the logic's somewhat bizarre. I suppose there's a plot, an internal relationship between the different components maintaining the plot's structure, an external relationship between the plot's structure and established film noir conventions, and another external relationship between the director's interpretation of these conventions (what he's trying to say by employing them in this or that fashion) and the ways in which he uses them to reflect his culture. Things often don't make sense. Check. People like to believe in the integrity of the law. Bingo. A strong constitution will achieve results eventually. Strike. Things can work out between a man and a woman. Cheerio.

Unless Dassin is noiring film-noir by turning its conventions upside down to deconstruct its pretensions and shine a light through its constructive darkness, Thieves' Highway doesn't strike me as making a good fit with the definition I was taught to consider to be ridiculous years ago. Perhaps it's just a comedic film-noir where everything works out in the end. Perhaps it's about role-playing.

Masculin féminin: 15 faits précis

Answers and questions. Definitions and commitment. Meaning and possibility. Love. Jean-Luc Godard's Masculin féminin situates and interrogates his uncertain conception of Parisian ideology within a diverse realistic quotidian brand of surrealism which effectively simulates a dynamically fluctuating resolution. Practically searching for truths and realizations in accordance with predetermined principles can have a disillusioning affect when trying to place them within one's expectations of an other, based upon interpretations of historical interactions, especially when such principles are being simultaneously synthetically analyzed. But this doesn't prevent Paul (Jean-Pierre Léaud) from continuing to interact with and observe his community as partner Madeleine (Chantal Goya) becomes a pop star. Many scenes are robust, showcasing differing points of view quickly and acutely yet calmly and pensively, while eating breakfast in a café for instance, the actors eating and drinking throughout, like a well-executed preplanned orchestration of randomly improvised daily life, with just enough absurd happenings to make sure it isn't taking itself to seriously. Stop analyzing things and you may have an easier time unless analyzing things makes you happy (assuming happiness is a possibility). Cultural tropes (interviews for pop magazines . . .) are subtly satirized and recast to reelevate their "insert your adjective" recognitions. I have no idea what this film is about. And I used a lot of big words.

Mao's Last Dancer

Bruce Beresford's Mao's Last Dancer presents the defection of Chinese dancer Li Cunxin (Chi Cao, Chengwu Guo, and Wen Bin Huang) to the United States during the 1980s. Raised on communist ideology, Li is grateful for the opportunities granted to him as a child but fearful of his government's attitude regarding criticism. He is born in a remote village and one day fortunately granted the opportunity to move to Beijing and study ballet. His resolve is determined and his attitude strict and even though he possesses less strength than his counterparts, he puts in the extra work necessary to be competitive. In 1980, Ben Stevenson (Bruce Greenwood) from the Houston Ballet visits his school and is impressed by his work, which he notes for being more fluid than the other dancers. He then convinces the Chinese Government to allow one of their dancers to come to Houston for a summer and study American techniques; fortunately, Li is chosen. Li begins his cultural studies with a distrustful eye, but after discovering that social codes are more lenient in the States (and falling in love), he marries his partner (Amanda Schull as Elizabeth Mackey) and refuses to return home. Afterwards, he must accept the consequences of having made a hasty marriage in a foreign country while making ends meet as a contract dancer.

Li is lucky enough to find a suitable job and maintain a healthy standard of living. His personal struggles are presented, but, like most of the issues brought up in broad biographies, don't receive sustained critical analysis (so much information must be condensed into brief scenes that a lot of the potential drama unreels superficially). A scene where Li discovers his good fortune after encountering similarly talented Chinese immigrants who weren't so successful would have been more realistic. The Chinese are depicted as being overly obsessed concerning the maintenance of a prominent cultural place for Mao's revolution (dancing must be political for instance), and an atmosphere of tension permeates their scenes. At the same time, the punishments you would expect to be draconian are antiseptic and the non-governmental social interactions are generally innocuous. Mao's Last Dancer is a family friendly film, gingerly presenting the ways in which a youthful artist audaciously if not rashly follows his heart and lives a troubled yet successful life as a consequence. Nevertheless, prominent issues such as racism, cross cultural integration, economic destitution, and political reconstitutions are not adequately interrogated within, and the film would have been stronger if another hour had been added to provide these dimensions with more serious attention.

Chernaya Molniya (Black Lightning) (Fantasia Fest 2010)

You're in university, hard working, dreaming of a better life, studious, intelligent, determined. Your parents have sacrificed and saved enough to give you a shot and you're respectful of what they've done for you. But suddenly you're tempted by the capitalistic individualist dream, wherein one helps only themselves looking out solely for their own interests. Little do you know that the professor whose lecture you've taken to heart has created a massive drill and is trying to mine diamonds located at the centre of Moscow's geological foundation, in order to supplement his astronomical wealth at the expense of Russia's most fabled city. You embrace an ideology that doesn't gel with your constitution and wind up losing your life's most important role model, feeling destitute and barren in the aftermath. But you have one saving grace: your new car, a volga from the Soviet-era, is powered by the most advanced technology on the planet, converting regular gasoline into a potent super fuel, and can fly. Hence, there's only one solution: turn that flying car into a robust dispenser of justice and become Moscow's leading super hero.

Once you get over the fact that no one ever notices the volga suddenly taking off and flying into the air, Dmitriy Kiselev and Aleksandr Talal's Chernaya Molniya (Black Lightning) becomes a contemporary old world heroic delicacy, cured with a Russian comedic sensibility. The film calls upon the younger generation of Russians to remember the positive characteristics of communist ideals (helping people out, access and opportunity for all) (represented by Dima's Father [Sergey Garmash]) and use them to strike down rapacious capitalists (Victor Kuptsov played by Viktor Verzhbitskiy) and forge a more ethical economic infrastructure. Will Dima (Grigoriy Dobrygin) be able to use Black Lightning to stop Kuptsov's drill, thereby saving Moscow just in time for this new socially responsible space to develop, or will Kuptsov's immutable greed destroy Russia's historical integrity and send them spiralling down an oligarchic Republican path? The showdown takes place in Red Square on New Year's Eve.

Capitalism

Manager X finds themself in situation K where things are running smoothly. Yet manager X needs to change things in order for their CV to keep progressing. Manager X does change things which disrupts situation K's harmony. Staff quit, customers are confused, Manager X is promoted.

I suppose communists are pissed off while living in a capitalist system because that system turns them into the ultimate ironic expression of individuality, by making them objects of loathing (pursuing communist political objectives while being so despised is a productive form of individuality). And capitalists are pissed off while living in a communist system because that system turns them into the ultimate ironic expression of community, by making them objects of ridicule (and murdering them) even though they possess the charisma necessary to unite large groups of people.

Do Communists Have Better Sex?

André Meier's “Do Communists Have Better Sex?” playfully examines the cold war sexual dynamics of Eastern and Western Germany. The film consists of interviews with prominent intellectuals, newscasts, theoretical observations regarding the ideological motivations promoting different sexual attitudes within the two countries, propaganda, and contrasting Christian and Trade Union viewpoints concerning birth control (with comedic cartoons interspersed throughout). The contrasts are strikingly manufactured and Meier's film doesn’t try to solve anything. Instead, it places different approaches within a light-hearted yet provocative frame that gives both sides the chance to display their motivations. In the East, there isn't as much to buy, but there's all kinds of room for the development of one's imagination.

The screening I viewed at Cinema du Parc was followed by two American educational films. In the first, an Italian who speaks English with an accent awaits the birth of his child. However, his child is born dead and his purebred American doctor (who speaks perfect English) informs him that the cause of death was syphilis (purebred Americans never get syphilis!). Fortunately for this noble savage, a cure for syphilis exists, enabling him and his wife to have more children in the future. The end of the film vilifies brothels and who is shown operating these brothels but an African American woman? Racist ethnocentric propaganda at its best cunningly indoctrinating the land of the free. No mention is made of the costs associated with the required medical treatment. Fortunately, this humble Italian-American baker was likely free to receive an additional mortgage.

The second video chronicles the sexual development of a caucasian American teenage girl. She is interested in sex but confused. Her father has no advice and quietly reads the paper while his wife cooks dinner and takes care of the family. After a disastrous encounter with a nogoodnik who is only interested in one thing, she falls for a beautiful caucasian American boy. The quarterback of their high school football team no doubt! Afterwards, their relationship flourishes because they decide to have their sexual union sanitized by the bonds of marriage, legitimizing the purity of their future. Note that they come from the same social class, revel in their popularity (in moderation), and only have jealousy confronting their happiness. No mention is made of material sexual realities because everything is perfect, and only people who have something wrong with them could possibly not know how to naturally engage in healthy sexual activity. Propagandistic drivel, straight from the puritanical pulpit, idealistically scoring another touchdown for one-dimensional conservative points of view. Came close to throwing up my popcorn. With laughter!

Capitalism: A Love Story

Michael Moore, filmmaker, social activist, practical idealist, prominent voice. For twenty years he's been crafting socially conscious films which subvert the wealthy American elite in a playful, satirical fashion, and Capitalism: A Love Story once again displays his characteristic dynamic wit. Within, he uses conservative tropes to convey his liberal message to a wider audience. He interviews progressive Catholic thinkers to reestablish the left wing religious dimension (not to say that said dimension is exclusively Catholic, Moore just happens to have been raised Catholic so he interviews Catholic priests primarily). He focuses on his home town of Flint Michigan and includes a scene shot with his dad. He seeks unionized social justice with the degree of confident bravado you'd expect from a small town Western sheriff (masked by a subdued delivery). And he clearly indicates who the American villains are, to the best of his abilities, thereby utilizing the Republican political form and revitalizing it with ethical Democratic content (while simultaneously highlighting Democratic disappointments). He uncovers Citigroup documents which indicate that 1% of the population has more wealth than 95% of the American people combined; he points out that the majority of Americans have no hope of becoming one of the lucky few and could benefit from forming labour unions; he presents codetermination worker cooperatives (California's Alvarado Street Bakery and Wisconsin's Isthmus Engineering) which actually use democratic ideals to structure their business "hierarchies" as well as Vermont's socially democratic Senator Bernie Sanders; he includes footage of how Franklin D. Roosevelt supported the Flint Sit-Down Strike (1936) by sending in the military to protect striking workers; and he suggests that some German businesses have adopted social democratic practices which allow workers to elect members of their company's board of directors. He points out a lot of things and it's a film so the level of analysis is often terse and sentimental, quickly jumping from one scene to the next, presenting a wide variety of possibilities without offering a sincere degree of reflection. And it's also a film inasmuch as it's symphonically built with crescendoes and diminuendos, good guys and bad guys, ambiguity, and a compelling climax. Moore mentions that the one thing which frightens the plutocrats the most is that every American citizen has a vote and can theoretically elect individuals who threaten their capitalistic monopoly with progressive universal legislation. In presenting Barak Obama, Moore cleverly suggests that perhaps he is the person America's been waiting for while carefully enumerating his corporate sponsors.

The indoctrinated capitalist cares about everyone by only caring about him or herself.

The indoctrinated socialist cares about themself by caring for everyone else.