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. 

Never Eat Alone

Some days I'm pretty busy, there's a lot of stuff to do, but I always try to reserve some time for loved ones, so they don't spend the whole day by themselves.

By so doing, I get updates on the day's events and share observations about my work and studies, while appreciating an alternative way of life which once flourished in yesteryear. 

Sofia Bohdanowicz's Never Eat Alone captures a nimble Canadian ethos, a light yet edgy thoughtful look at something wholesome that isn't austere. 

It reminded me of some of the best programming I used to see on the CBC in my youth, entertainment that was also instructive without making you feel like you were learning.

I know it's difficult for Anglo-Canadian films to compete with American ones in domestic markets, from conducting a bit of research it seems that even the most popular struggle to turn a profit.

I believe it doesn't have to be that way though because I've seen what they've done in Australia and Québec, similar markets where American films are also shown on a regular basis.

That's one of the coolest things about Québec, the minimalized American influence, it's so much less intense than you find elsewhere in the country, a remarkable break from an imposing character.

With the minimalized American influence and a strong focus on supporting local artists, Québec actually developed markets for their films which consistently play in local theatres. 

Talk to the people in Québec and you'll find they have a strong working knowledge of their celebrities as well, like Anglo-Canadians have of American and British ones, it's really quite impressive.

It came about when the Parti Québecois starting financing culture in the 1970s, the government started investing heavily in film etc. and people loved it - the industry took off.

The same thing can happen in English Canada if governments follow the Québecois lead, we can develop markets throughout the country that keep homegrown talent from moving away.

I mention this not only because this seems like the perfect time (this is the perfect time) but also because Australia did the same thing, their government started investing heavily in culture and they made so many incredible films.

Canada is quite similar to Australia in terms of size and population, it isn't on its own in another part of the world far away from the United States however. 

You would think that if the United States was your neighbour you would have an incredible local film industry, like Germany's rivalry with France, with theatres packed every single weekend.

I love English Canadian films like Never Eat Alone because they're creative and heartfelt and loving, if they had a larger market it would no doubt be outstanding.

Look at what Australia has done (see the Australian New Wave) and what Québec has done as well.

Seek out political candidates who would cultivate the same in English Canada.

Create tens of thousands of jobs for local artists.

Note: people always complain about how terrible American films are. Do something about it! Help create a climate where we make even better ones here! When people say it will never work tell them to look at Australia and Québec. It didn't happen overnight. But with support, it did eventually happen.

Criterion keyword: Canada.

*P.S - when I talk about Canadian actors, I don't mean the ones working in the United States or Britain. I mean the ones who have spent most of their careers living and working in Canada. Let's create a more prominent film industry for them. There's no doubt they totally deserve it. 

Here

Bas Devos's Here brought back fond memories while also nurturing dreams for the future, Stefan's modest immigration experience humbly encouraging unorthodox travel.

The film follows a laidback worker who has spent some time living in Belgium, as he finishes his last shift and solemnly prepares for a month long vacation back in his homeland. 

As he walks about town casually observing things I was pleasantly reminded of life in the city, and the manifold options routinely available as you variably concoct thematic experiences. 

When he enters a restaurant for instance to get out of the pouring rain, and finds himself suddenly conversing in French with someone who speaks the language fluently.

As he tries his best to understand he knows he has to respond with something, and adamantly hopes it directly applies to the specific topic under examination.

But he gets it wrong he's misunderstood the dialogue halts it's insufficient, but he doesn't take it as a sign to stop speaking he continues onwards with verbal gusto.

By doing so, he actively demonstrates there are lots of words he can turn into sentences, and hopes his curious interlocutor instinctually respects that and keeps on talking.

In the best case scenario, they understand you're learning and that your positive attitude demonstrates you want to be there. 

If they continue the conversation using a less intricate in/formal vocabulary, it's a great opportunity for learning that can lead to chillaxed friendship (miss you).

I understood the old "fridge-clean-out" as well when you throw most of what you've got into a pot, and slowly cook it with spices and liquids until you've created something unique and edible. 

By doing so, you have several meals and fortunately nothing goes to waste, and you can share it with your friends as well as modest Stefan does in the movie.

Nature also figures prominently as he walks from place to place since his car's in the shop, the extant forest he freely travels through bringing on carefree thoughts and nascent wonder.

It's so important as cities expand and depressing sprawl creates a concrete jungle, to remember to plan intermittent green spaces throughout the urban landscape like they do in Québec.

Nice places for lunch or to spot local wildlife or even make a career studying mosses or lichen.

I'm usually careful not to disturb moss in the forest.

Although it does make a comfy place to lie down! 

*Criterion keyword: gossamer. 

Border Radio

A rock journalist and a musician engage in staple domestic tomfoolery, perhaps committed to sustaining the vital should meticulous mayhem materialize. 

In the meantime, for the husband, it's off down south after an act of theft, where he celebrates his unabashed freedom with expert chillin' and self-absorbed calm.

His wife's none too impressed but still must admit she wants to find him, steadily sleuthing viaduct volatility with mutual friends intuitive scorn.

Assistance is readily provided although outcome perusal remains rather suspect, socializing having-something-to-do spontaneously lithe indelible induction.

Like a lovelorn lullaby relapse cervezatude cut economic nausea, an uncertain arrhythmic frequency effervescently tempers said grizzly innocence. 

Pervasive contemporary impenitent prognosis picturesquely pioneering meaningless mercy, a sense of indisposed primordial justice lacking formal judicial concern.

Prevalent protruding prolonged distractions sporadically instigate tranquil harmonies, like you're young with nothing to do and it's the summer and warm outside.

Disjointed realities then suddenly reasserted with a dutiful sense of improvised propriety, as if they're finally gettin' 'round to it as the lickspittle lackadaisically loiters.

With instances of distressed imposition diversifying resonant mischievous solace, at times the discontinuous gravity hauntingly strives to riff somnambulized. 

But holistic freedom's afoot, the cast permitted to add waylaid surety, a randomized reclusive carnivalesque germination engendering manifest familiar disarray. 

From 1987, an early progenitor of the mockumentary style more profuse in later years, still a wonderful way to tell a story, I'll certainly never grow tired of it.

Border Radio doesn't pose any questions anyone's been meaning to ask.

To develop an authentic visceral perspective.

Extemporaneously its own. 

When Pigs Fly

Although I lean heavily towards the non-existence of ghosts, I have been eagerly taught to keep an open-mind, meaning that while most of the recorded attempts I've seen on television to capture ghosts seem rather suspect, I still can't categorically dismiss them, as if there's absolutely no possibility of their existence.

As to the existence of the coronavirus, I'm 100% certain that it exists, and think positions to the contrary are oddly ignoring vast swaths of evidence. As to the origins of the virus, they're certainly debatable, but there's no doubt that the virus exists and that vaccinating yourself against it is a solid option.

Should I ignore the vast swaths of evidence which suggest ghosts don't exist as well, and engage in quizzical quantum quackery out of supernatural fascination?

I suppose if a movement caught on which definitively upheld the existence of ghosts, and this movement gained political power, and used its power to promote ghostly endeavours with unsubstantiated reckoning, in some kind of unproductive bizarro way that had seriously negative effects on the economy and the environment, then I would have to deny the existence of ghosts, and embrace distasteful categorical dismissal. 

But that example's absurd and worrying about such possibilities a waste of time (unless you're writing fantasy).

The existence of the coronavirus is not absurd.

And it's claimed millions of lives worldwide.

When Pigs Fly examines an underemployed musician who meets two playful ghosts (Alfred Molina as Marty), and agrees to help them cause cheeky mischief as they embrace various pastimes.

It possesses an endearing lighthearted spirit concerned with stern avenging intrigue, shenanigans erupting with animate requisition as projections pique and premonitions postulate.

It was great to see Sara Driver dedicate her film to ghosts in general, I can't verify if any of them have seen it, but would wager they would have been appreciative if they had.

I'll lend an ear if there's something haunting or enigmatic even that's caught your eye, I don't know how seriously I'll take what you say, but I won't dismiss it, unless you want tons of money. 

That's how so many great fantasies find themselves blockbusting at different times.

Someone had an otherworldly impression, real or imagined, and people listened as the idea took shape.

Do fantasies have utilitarian value, I'd vehemently argue they do. They promote courage, daring, wisdom and modesty, in a manner that isn't stale or antiseptic. 

Spending too much time watching or reading them may occlude practical professional decision making.

Or perhaps not, depending on the industry.

As to motivations, who's to say?

Neko to Shôzô to futari no onna (Shozo, A Cat and Two Women)

Lazy Shôzô (Hisaya Morishige) catches a break when his lacklustre relationship suddenly dissolves, much to his mother's (Yuko Minami) delight, and perhaps also that of his cat.

He's seeing someone else who's not adverse to domestic subversion, but she's somewhat younger than he is, and prone to fits of righteous outrage (Kyôko Kagawa).

She's quite rich however so Shôzô's mom adores the match, and counsels thoughtful feeling as opposed to obtuse thatch.

But Shôzô's wife (Isuzu Yamada) soon strives aggrieved to reverse the situation, for her sister isn't too enthused with providing accommodation. 

Another seeks to rent the room and will pay three times as much, so she needs swift clever calculation manipulatively clutched.

She knows of one thing Shôzô loves more than anything at that, his distant furtive purcolating agile nimble cat.

Even more than escapading, even more than sleeping in, he loves his tactile independent erudite unhinged.

Cat. 

He loves his cat and his ex-wife knows it and wants to live somewhere less packed, so she tempts her newfound rival to consider devote paths.

She declares to lazy Shôzô that he must freely chose, betwixt his age old loving feline and his cherished muse.

Mother pleads and even begs he listen to her sweetly, the rent is due their business through she explains quite discreetly.

But he's determined unabashed to abide by no one's will, other than that which surmises lackadaisic chill.

It's an odd sort of comedy that boldly theorizes what life would be like for someone who's never sought to do anything at all, whom the opposite sex still finds irresistible.

His shop doesn't make money, he doesn't even know what to charge for the items he sells, he sleeps half the day and loves to spend time at the beach, and his mother's stuck coming up with the rent, yet he's still sought after and even fought for due perhaps to bucolic notoriety. 

Shôzô, even though he has lived as an adult for quite some time, still knows nothing of worldly affairs that don't facilitate relaxation.

Yet he still loves, he loves spending time with his cat: should this loyal devotion be criticized?

Should he be reprimanded or even assailed for living an honest life?

Never feeling lash nor censure?

Boldly sought after.

Loved?

Matthias & Maxime

Friends gather to celebrate life within secluded surroundings, artistic expression boldly reconstituting unspoken sublimated desire, an accord harmlessly struck, a shock recomposed endeavours, worst case in light of expectations, shy protests crafting haunts.

A return to urban routines, mild vast driven stoked responsibilities, one friend making ends meet in a bar, another focused on strict legalese.

Not that simple, neither cradled nor binary, distinct multiple clasped characterizations, intermingling nuanced intermediaries, conscious delegates a crew a neighbourhood.

Young adult cultural instinct, twenty something perspicacious reflexivity, not the fight like I've come to understand it, less jagged, less aggressive, less blunt.

A son struggles to take care of a parent who's recovering from drug addiction.

Lofty heights beckon as a visitor hails difference.

Lighthearted yet solemn and serious.

Exploration, presumption, discovery.

Matthias & Maxime, Xavier Dolan's latest, more in touch with something real, less volatile than Mommy or Tom à la ferme, but more impacting than Fin du monde or John F. Donovan.

I was hoping he'd make a film like this, a transition to something new, not that similar themes don't abound, it's just less wild, less chaotic, less psycho.

He does psycho well, but it started to seem like most of his films were going to be about nutters expressing themselves violently, so it's nice to see something laidback and chill, something relatable, something frisky, something calm.

It's not bourgeois by any means, although it has sure and steady elements, his characters still struggling to define themselves even if they aren't concerned with identity politics.

Exist is perhaps a better word, the film's concerned with thoughtful experimental existence, as threadbare as it is brisk and versatile, quite practical for something so imaginative.

I mean there aren't many bells and whistles, its sets more quotidian, less ornately endowed, characters spiritually composed and thriving in clever situations that don't overtly display intellect, don't draw attention to their value-added observations, just converse like they aren't trying to say something, the western character for example.

Matthias & Maxime (don't like the title) opens up fertile narrative ground that no other filmmaker is traversing, that can't be as easily criticized for being over the top, and requires more hands-on subtle innovations.

Still bet he could make one hell of a horror film.

Note: Québec could use more sci-fi.

It's great to watch films made by directors who care about their characters.

And work sympathy into their stories.

Introducing unexpected impulse.

Solid grizzled and gritty romanticism.

Mad Dog Labine

Left to fend for herself after her family takes off for the bush, Lindsay Labine (Ève-Marie Martin) shyly chills with her closest friend.

Things are quite lax in their small Northern town, since most of the residents are in fact gone.

A certain carefree yet hesitant innocent composure qualifies Lindsay's investigations, as if she's upset yet sure and steady, and finds herself generally unsupervised.

Free to explore what she will.

The people who have stuck around forge an eccentric free form instinctually unorthodox eclective of sorts, sincerely expressing themselves beyond the cold master narrative.

Unrestrained movements and cheeky proclamations intermingle with articulate considerations, as if the particular is joyously asserting itself unobserved, and it's not just the adherents of discipline and punishment who claim to respect alternative lifestyles decompressing, they're gone too, in fact it's more like the people actually living alternative lifestyles are no longer weighed down by generic prescriptions, at all, as if gasoline's been replaced with bird song, or the poets gracefully control The Republic.

Temperate freelance watershed inkling.

Like everyone's self-employed.

Or things are way more raccoon than cat or dog.

Labine's town's suddenly like an unscripted curious jocose home on the range, with a library for city hall, its stories blooming with vibrant life.

Traditional outlets for order and authority no longer unconsciously coordinate, as random ideas seek novel justifications.

A peaceful sense of lighthearted relaxation begins to permeate concrete conditionals, as if experimentation can creatively sojourn, regardless of old school superstition.

Lindsay's somewhat shy but actively takes part.

It's quite sad when she's tricked in the beginning, but she's resilient, she bounces back without hesitation.

Look for the moment when she overcomes her shyness and joins in with the revelry around the campfire.

You'll see a beautiful, timid, elfin spirit, who has trouble fitting in, wondrously expressing herself.

The moment's rich with belonging.

Like electric jade.

Compositionally ground with hug power.

Cool film.

*The situation in Mad Dog Labine is quite different from that which may arise from a flood. In the case of a flood, if authorities do suggest you leave your home, it's probably in your best interests to do so, since they likely know what they're talking about. And floods can be very dangerous.

Aggression shouldn't be automatically equated with higher intelligence.

Lots of chill people be bright.

Just a matter of perspective.