Barbarosa

In the scorching hot wilderness carefreely straddling the border between Texas and Mexico, a survivalist bandit with retirement in sight makes a controversial living after his banishment. 

Ostracized since the beautiful daughter of a wealthy landowner took his hand, he's forever chased by incessant honchos culturally obsessed with pleasing their lord.

An awkward innocent tragic fool finds himself alone and hunted one day, after he accidentally murders his brother-in-law and his immediate family totally freaks. 

He's fortunate to meet Barbarosa who reluctantly takes him in, and shows him how to make an honest living when rudely cast out by kith and kin.

He's new to the hardboiled countryside and proceeds in error most of the time, Barbarosa arriving at opportune moments to offer benevolent aid to the clueless youngster. 

Simultaneously, the lad refuses to offer his help when Barbarosa goes too far, presenting an idealistic foil to his age-old grumpy thieving shenanigans. 

He slowly unravels Barbarosa's tale until sincere sympathy sedulously emerges. 

As they forge a legendary team.

Boldly traversing the unsung badlands. 

*Would Barbarosa's marriage have been more successful if he had asked his wife's father for permission beforehand, dad?

**Well, here it's one of those old school situations where her father may have never allowed her to marry anyone, let alone Barbarosa, like in Scarface, so if they wanted to be together, they had to go it alone.

*Awkward, I'd say.

**Yes son, no doubt.

*I guess he had to shoot his father--in-law's leg off after he had his ears cut off, but didn't that just make a haunting situation even more menacing?

**There's really no solution to problems like these son, all the individuals involved are much too stubborn.

*Like when the kid falls for Barbarosa's daughter?

**That's right son, very observant. 

*I guess everyone just kind of marries whomever these days, eh dad?

**Yes son, our communities have become quite diverse. 

*I'm a huge fan of variability.

**That's good to hear son, so am I. 

Santa Claus is Comin' to Town

A helpless child strategically abandoned at the imposing home of a local magistrate, who has no time for unexpected complications and quickly sends the infant away. 

But as it's transported to its new lodging a mighty wind serendipitously picks up, and wildly blows it into the forest where the resident animals note its landing.

They swiftly aid the oblivious child and beatifically bring it to a new dwelling, where the jolly inhabitants warmly welcome their newfound friend with fly enthusiasm. 

Delicate toy makers by trade, they're able to teach the young learner their craft, while also emphasizing useful subjects to encourage flourishing knowledgeable industry (the animals also help out).

They've been making toys for some time but have been unable to share them, since they can't move them across the mountain which the Winter Warlock haunts. 

On the other side of the mountain lies gloomy morose Sombretown, which keeps things unexceptional without much colour, spice, or flavour. 

The baby all grown up, he decides to defy the Warlock and bring the toys to Sombretown. 

Just as they mayor madly decrees. 

That toys from now on are forbidden. 

Kind-hearted wisdom innocently tasked with fluently delivering joy and wonder, his candid pluck widely overflowing with resourceful freeform humble simplicity. 

One of my favourite depictions of Santa which I didn't discover until recently, Arthur Rankin Jr. and Jules Bass at their best as they freely conjure childlike imagination. 

If more people thought like this Santa and loved and lived spontaneous play, kinder hearts would likely cultivate a much less cold and calculating aesthetic. 

His flight likely already having begun, the tantalized world vehemently awaiting his gifts. 

Miraculous speed, transformative knowhow.

Nothing quite like it.

Blessed artistry. 

*Merry Christmas / Joyeux Noël / Happy Holidays!

My Secret Santa

Takin' care of the young one, hard work and responsibility, definitively tuned to age old custom, difficulties compounded, by an absent husband.

On the freakin' flip side, a trust fund wildcat causes damage, his father increasingly fed up with his lack of discipline and wild expenditure.

They meet in a record store one day where she's selling her collection to pay the rent, her candid suitor instantly recognizing her as the singer from The Screaming Kittens.

Her daughter seeks enrolment in a coveted nearby snowboarding school, and since she's just been fired by the cookie factory, coming up with the tuition seems impossible.

Nevertheless, if she can find work at the local ski resort which houses the school, the tuition fee will be cut in half and she'll also chill in a cool environment. 

The only job available however is that of Santa Claus himself, and she's uncertain if they'll consider her if she doesn't have the right disguise. 

It works, she's able to trick them and find gainful employment on the fitful mountain.

The suitor from the record store taking note.

As she lithely brokers hopes and dreams. 

My Secret Santa charmingly enchants with tenacious grit and hardworking solemnity, the advice offered by the newfound Santa helping kids deal with difficult times. 

Not only taking in gift suggestions but dispensing that meaningful advice as well, the Spirit of Christmas resplendently shines through with peaceful vigour and exultant understanding.

Like in Miracle on 34th Street, the real world critiques the upright bearings, and can't reasonably handle a compassionate Santa who smoothly delivers honest decent labour.

But she isn't sent to a mental institution, although there's complications and she has to deal. 

As the impact of wise hands-on knowhow.

Reflectively envelopes communal elasticity. 

The Good Dinosaur

The adventure quest, out on your own, suddenly dealin' with inherent chaos, the wilderness hostile, your family long gone, evergreen boughs, improvised discipline. 

A young dinosaur falls into a river and is wildly washed away downstream, achingly awaking the next dismal morning to find his lonely self in a far distant land.

He isn't blessed with survival skills and is wholeheartedly fearful of everyone he meets, habitually shy and awkwardly candid he haphazardly strives on down the line.

Fortunately, a young "critter" whom his father tried to get him to kill, efficaciously rewards him for letting him go and industriously comes to his nimble aid.

Intuitively timorous, the young dinosaur recoils, but as time passes finds himself more at ease, life-threatening encounters consistently emerging which encourage growth and hearty mettle. 

With intermittent intervals of mischief and play, the adventure takes on open-hearted multiplicities. 

Debonair reflexes in bloom. 

On the trek through nebulous lands. 

Treeplanting was probably the closest thing I ever did to something like this, it was brutal and harsh and difficult a substantial challenge to be confronted. 

I planted around 75 trees on my first day and made around $7.00, and since it cost $25 to stay in camp (the food was bountiful and amazing), I was functioning with a serious deficit. 

I had spent $800 on gear and had to pay that off as well, and it rained every day for the first week, and after that the bugs were totalitarian. 

Thus, it was either do nothing, make no money, and sit around getting soaked or eaten by bugs, or learn how to do it and make some cash and return home with money for the winter.

I therefore worked while it was raining and resiliently defied the legions of mosquitoes, and planted 1,007 trees on my 6th day, hitting 3,000 4 or 5 weeks later.

I was 140 pounds forever before that spring but I ate so much I've never gone below 160 since.

Treeplantings like the army for environmentalists.

So many insane days. 

And cool animal encounters. 

*You can make a ton of money if you work hard. It's crazy tough though.

Mirror

Linear lexicon austere diagonal summative symmetry dreamlike dactylling, chatterboxspringboard indolent bygone somnolent vigil indisposed surplus.

Mercantile mosey infinitesimal obsessed meticulous decadent detail, insatiable artistry florid severity feverish function exacting calculi.

Narrative nutshells mutating tangents dashing trajectory cerebral psyche, baroque pastoral quizzical quagmire enticing stammer novel conception.

Delinquent twilight delirious dawn exuberant basking critical fortitude, garrulous botswanchimichungun variety homely holischticks Aragorn antics.

Petulant snide non-descript undulation incrementality boreal wavelength, icy thermometer candycanesugar domicile dojo sandcastle slush.

Opulent obscure byzantine impoverished wild ostentation clandestine swerve, communicado cobrahmbasheering catalyst Centigrade blockading simper.

Vervent dispute vehement orchestrations epochal whimcycle trailblazing bllama, alpacadaisical blithe intermittence Florentine fibrous enflummoxing folio.

Tomeo tantamountain'earinglattitude impacting magna cartisane arcadence, chrysanthemum quadrille incurious nascence beep-beep-beep-beep-beep electrode clavé.

Saffron servility chandelier shimmer kelvintenetic ardent waffling temper, popsicle pyjama primrose piñata bellwether wiggle-me sizzle-chun-chai.

Phonetic dictation Olivander vanguardian vinous cohesion recalcitrant rhythm, Pokemangaga google gastronome Q-Bergson daffadillweed chromosoma. 

La Bamba billowcase cellophane solo regurgitate piping incentive stampede, versatile friendship collective goodwill interconnecting switchboard sonority.

Cerveza sustenance nutritious narcolept secret ingredient tasty admixture, infinite patience modest expenditure tranquil experiment agile invention.

Faulknerian fables rustic romantics acoustic quantum calcified reverb, wandering innocence diligent thrush laidback discretion fluid ambience.

Solemn censorship Kafkaesque grid inherent displacement carousel quip, undaunted tenacity intricate vision puzzling inception theoretical flux.

I like puzzle stories.

Trying to make sense of things.

Better when you have more time.

To go over them again and again. 

Ferris Bueller's Day Off

The incorrigible urge the inexhaustible dilemmas audaciously fuelling insurmountable daring, as reflexively situated albeit within imaginative unorthodox compelling gambits.

A day off school intuitively organized with intricate planning and demonstrative skill, mom and dad effectively falling for the ornate scheme with adorable generous loving compassion.

What to do with a full day off while others work and study and research, it's no doubt time to hit the town with creative friends and a wild agenda?!

Word spreads of the distressing illness and communal sympathy encouragingly erupts, as the sights and sounds of versatile Chicago fill a day's fortunes with laidback exception.

But the administration adamantly refuses to obligingly believe the open-minded story, and sets out on a mad concentrated obsessed unyielding quest to locate the lad.

His sister also remains furious after their admiring parents react empathetically.

Emancipated vision.

Holistic embrace.

Freeform lackadaisics. 

Festive revelry.

This was my favourite of the John Hughes films so widely popular in my youth, the nutso envisioning of rebellious fluency exceedingly inclined to diligently chill.

The first 30 minutes are an imaginative treat as Hughes skilfully plays with different narrative styles, and commandingly showcases alternative techniques which are highly advanced and correspondingly influential.

Critics of the time were rather dismissive and I didn't figure out why until I hit my late thirties, but my youthful admiration won out in the end as I dismissed my uptight less-mesmerized evaluations (Rooney goes way too far, it's tough to believe an academic would behave that way).

Matthew Broderick delivers the performance of a lifetime and charismatically shines in the title role, Alan Ruck also memorably concocting they both still show up in movies 40 years later.

Mia Sara, Jennifer Grey, Edie McClurg, and Jeffrey Jones impress as well. 

Much more than just kids skipping school.

A unique exhilarating celebration of life!

Crossworlds

Another time, a different ethos effectively guiding and teaching and nurturing, instructive discernment generating calculi, directly concerned with democratic birth.

Thus the narrative examines the oft critiqued discourse of the many, and the general difficulties at times arising from forming multilateral conzensai.

The inherent feuding the passionate conceptions the multiple viewpoints the limited time, can negatively affect a progressive agenda when animately called to efficiently govern.

How to collectively prioritize specific criteria for implementation, when immaculate difference innately illuminates sundry equitable alternative possibilities?

Fortunately, at reasonable times the definitive trust placed in a leadership team, resiliently results in universal action widely supported by different groups.

Hence Jagmeet Singh and Justin Trudeau were able to accomplish so much with limited time, and improve the lives of millions of Canadians with anti-scab legislation and accessible dentistry. 

But times changed and the spectrum shifted much more to the right and disaster loomed, at which point the Liberals found a more conservative leader who still demonstrated heart at the end of the day (political brilliance).

Thankfully it worked in Canada and the authoritarian impulse was rebuked, the doctrine of manifold conflicting agendas resolutely upheld for another mandate.

Perhaps it seems chaotic to some when a more streamlined agenda is delineated, and the substantial interests of a smaller segment of a robust population are widely transmitted.

But, as Spock points out, do the needs of the many not collectively outweigh, those of the diligent few who can't generally agree with less fanatical hardline dictates. 

Crossworlds doesn't present a superhero to intriguingly uphold its democratic thrust, a constructive studious no-nonsense human is collaboratively chosen to contend instead.

To confront the imperial forces seeking to see dynamic worlds enslaved.

Like the subway riders in The Darkest Hour.

Courageously endowed.

Formidably resolved. 

Shazam! Fury of the Gods

And while engaging in acts of heroism the mighty Wizard's Staff was torn asunder, and the powerful spells it had indeed cast broken, thereby encouraging blatant disharmonies.

The daughters of Atlas in fact wildly reinvigorated at last, the staff having kept them interminably imprisoned within a labyrinthine ancient realm.

Obsessed with divine pretensions and extravagant disastrous displays, they seek to rob Shazam and his friends of their powers, with even more fury than the Philly Press!

Yet feuding erupts amongst them since they can't agree upon a plan, the youngest having fallen for trusty Freddy, the eldest comporting herself with age old wisdom. 

But in the middle lies contemptuous envy who remains inconsolable, bitter and wrathful, and rather than simply pursuing peace it unleashes hellbent devastating carnage.

Mythological beasts and a ferocious dragon attempt to lay waste to the oblivious planet, who once dared to divide their realms, contemporary generations having no idea.

Shazam must come to terms with his habitual doubt and long lasting depression, to embrace the strength resiliently needed to definitively challenge the irascible god.

And deep down in emboldened depths he bravely searches for formidable traction.

To challenge the delirious dragon (cool to see Lucy Liu riding a dragon).

With every ounce of extant vitality. 

Much less sure of himself than Batman or even Clark Kent or the furtive Blue Beetle, Shazam struggles with excessive self-criticism which at times results in self-defeating paralysis. 

As I've mentioned before, logical self-criticism is an effective tool as generally recommended, but it needs to be balanced with reasonable confidence to ensure spirited soulful synergies.

As Shazam! Fury of the Gods proves with resonant disputatious self-awareness, to champion honest mass exclamation through sensational tasked theatrics.

What to make of the ecstatic blend of ancient mythology and modern culture, the regenerative protean of metastasized matrices habitually enabling multivariable mélanges. 

The claim to humanistic divinity still remains widely challenged.

Keeping within realistic rationales.

To avoid mad imperialistic expansion (go Kamala!).

*Still makes for fun movies though.

The Covenant

A group of old world families clandestinely co-habitates with the world at large, keeping to themselves at secretive times while patiently awaiting their time of ascension.

Their families escaped the Salem Witch Hunt way back when fear drove men mad, the anxiety igniting bland social pressures to despotically embrace austere absolutism.

The children attend a local prep school lucidly administered by ye olde Windom Earle (Kenneth Welsh), awkwardly anticipating their spry eighteenth birthdays when their otherworldly powers will magically emerge.

Their powers aren't to be taken lightly their chaotic use has mortal consequences, and if used too often through frivolous indulgence will unnaturally age and ruin their bodies.

Difficult to share such wisdom with lads ebulliently awaiting the passionate moment, when more or less anything they put their minds to will instantaneously manifest.

Especially when it becomes distressingly evident that an unknown 5th student possesses the power, and is recklessly using it for retched misdeeds with no working foreknowledge of truth or consequence.

A showdown ominously looms within the sleepy oblivious trajectory.

Agéd chronicles proving noteworthy.

For the well-read adventurous sorcerers.

The Olympics no doubt a suitable time to celebrate unique and novel abilities, and the remarkable ways they fluidly enrich the humdrum malaise of routine existence. 

No doubt categories and hierarchies and levelling peculiarly mingle in spherical continuums, the definitive dispersal of surrealist fact gracefully lauded through festive ephemera.

In so doing, for some the cheeky sitcom may represent insouciant brilliance, while others seek romantic unions melodramatically arrayed with maladroit im/probability, still others embracing the tragic distinction absurdly characterizing incumbent banality, crime and horror schlock and mayhem, not to mention robust documentaries.

Should the people in primordial possession of rare bizarro traits and talents, not be welcome in villages and towns in order to promote less stealthy isolation?

Weren't the heroes from religious texts in commensurate possession of similar gifts?

Does not celebrating specific historical examples to the obscuring of the present not foolishly generate a stasis none of them would have tolerated? 

Lionheart

An aging nobleperson admires his son's generosity and grants him title, hoping the incumbent responsibility will solemnly generate wholesome gains. 

But shortly after, on the field of battle, that very same son flees in righteous terror, and abandons his stately realm, preferring to wander the forlorn countryside.

During his travels he encounters many others who lack general purpose and progressive bearing, an animate group correspondingly forged to engage in upright ethical daring.

He still bears the noble mark and genuinely comports himself meritoriously, but also with a kindly light that isn't concerned with rank and pageantry. 

They make their way to Paris where they discover a band of orphans hidden beneath the city, living an acrobatic freeform life loosely watched over by a former chevalier.

Nerra agrees to take them with him and they form a massive meandering group, not entirely certain of what they seek but sincerely determined to continue venturing.

Unfortunately, they're cruelly stalked by a nefarious slave trader known as the Black Prince. 

Who lost his mind during the crusades.

And turned to wickedness in the distraught aftermath. 

No doubt an absurd story imaginatively accentuating romantic innocence, as congenially collectively applied to hopeful compassionate communal endeavours. 

It's cool to see the courageous group nurturing and caring for one another, how did it ever expand so amorphously so, in an age so concerned with honour and dignity?

Lionheart examines the ethical side of manifest nobility with curious sympathy, as opposed to the austere obsession with grim codes of conduct upholding rank.

It's less concerned with honourable pride and rather realistically attempts to level and exemplify, through the acts of a youthful aristocrat extemporaneously learning to foster and lead.

Society has changed so much since the middle ages no doubt in relation to individual sublimity, not only of the noble variety but others such as Joan of Arc arising amongst the people.

Their deeds and examples resonating with those who would listen eventually forging orphanages and foster care and adoption, culturally upholding new grand social codes which still admirably reverberate with collective passion.

We still have a long way to go but haven't we come so far since then?

Social media chronicles orphan adoptions!

It's always fun to read such posts.  

Ghostbusters: Afterlife

A family struggles financially and is forced to suddenly relocate, an estranged relative having recently passed but not without having left them his eccentric land.

They make the chaotic move and soon must adjust to small town life, the teenagers somewhat grouchy at first until serendipity inspires motivation.

Curiosity inquisitively roams and there's an abundance of toys on the farm, some of them socioculturally familiar in terms of old school narrative phenoms. 

Mom soon finds herself amorously pursued by her daughter's lackadaisical comic teacher, while her son looks for work at a diner with the happenstance hopes of dating the waitress.

Meanwhile, ye olde particle-accelerator is awkwardly discovered in a secret chamber, and ghosts are spotted nearby who require electronic sequesterization. 

They take the old ghostbuster mobile for a reanimated spin around the sleepy town, leaving quite the mischievous mess as they chase the frenzied febrile phantom.

They have a certain knack for ghostbusting even if trouble ensues enthusiastically however.

Being Egon Spengler's grandchildren!

Without having lost the archaic touch.

I have to admit, this style of filmmaking seemed endearingly familiar, and I found myself wanting to watch the film in one go instead of splitting it up into 2 nights.

It was like that old Ghostbusters magic had been rediscovered by the next generation, and although I don't really recommend making sequels decades later, this one worked well, intergenerationally speaking (still hoping for another with the all female cast). 

Of course ghostbusting can't stray from the horrors of cynical dismissive trajectories, the public school an unfortunate gong show, with no genuine leadership, it was tough to watch (they have good public schools in Canada and Québec [higher taxes]).

And dispiriting, I know it's just a comedy film that makes light of serious realities, and that systemic critiques are wincingly welcome to avoid too much hyper-reactive self-obsession, but teaching is an incredibly difficult job as I've mentioned before several times, another layer of obtuse scrutiny only adds to the associated difficulties (YouTube is making it impossible to get through to some kids). 

I like to watch both comedies and dramas so the uptight cynicism never sets in, instead the tragedy associated with progressive endeavours becomes much more sublime and worthwhile correspondingly.

I think for a lot of people it's generally one or the other however.

Don't sell yourself short, take the well-rounded approach.

Take another look around at what we've achieved. 

The Fabelmans

Complications emerge as a young filmmaker comes of age (Gabriel LaBelle/Mateo Zoryan as Sammy Fabelman), traditional paths proving rather unorthodox, natural rhythms and dynamic imagination vigorously challenging habitual routine, bewilderingly misunderstood at times, what can you do, but keep moving forwards?

His father's (Paul Dano as Burt Fabelman) gifted with electronics and keeps finding new jobs in different cities, his career idyllically advancing, his family life somewhat haywire.

His oldest son for instance finds constructive camaraderie in Phoenix, and as his filmmaking aspirations develop, a curious legion facilitate his dreams.

Questions of race or ethnicity don't become confusing until they move later on, and non-sensical religious tensions frustratingly divide what should have been non-violent friendships.

Whatever happens he keeps creating never shying away from visionary responsibilities, sexuality a bemusing mistress, elaborately examined through multivariable storytelling. 

It's fun to watch as his narratives come to life and his ideas bedazzle and entertain, I'd argue it's essential viewing for any youngster hoping to one day make films.

The way he intuitively learns to encourage performance and produce special effects without any training, skilfully blended in far reaching scenes abounding with props and a large cast in motion.

I started writing poems in the woods as a lad and kept it up throughout my adult life, I never really wanted to coordinate people though, I generally preferred being alone.

It would have been cool to actively take part but everything was always quite serious, and creativity flourishes at play, when y'all ain't mad about somethin'.

Sam does extraordinarily well when directly engaged with others, however, and builds up what appears to be a genuine rapport in enthused environs.

I sort of wish I'd had an odd experience with an eccentric uncle like his in the film (Judd Hirsch as Uncle Boris) in my youth, I always thought the arts would be like a friendly union, remarkably incorrect was I.

But at times if I read the signs correctly there are definitely prolonged periods of fascination, and I'm very grateful to the people who support me, and put up with my variable moods.

Perhaps I should steer clear of the middle as is also advised in They Live, but I usually don't proceed with a plan, I just sit down and see what I come up with.

I suppose to be honest I'm guided by how I was taught to behave in my youth, in school, on TV, with family, and at church, the pedagogical strategies often at odds.

I imagine everyone's like that while trying to negotiate mutating stimuli.

If I don't say it often enough, I'm thankful.

Spazz may just be my best.

*I was really impressed that the mom in Everything Everywhere All at Once never abandons her daughter, not even with the universe at stake, she still believes in her troubled child. In The Fabelmans, Mitzi (Michelle Williams) leaves her husband for another man (Seth Rogan as Bennie Loewy), but it isn't a spur of the moment decision, and she struggles to hold on to her marriage for years before leaving. It must have been an incredibly difficult decision to make and I don't blame her for making it. I think people should try to make it work. But if it doesn't and you're miserable, there's no harm in leaving. She still looks after her kids and they continue to forge loving bonds. I always wanted things to work out as a kid. But so many things change with the passage of time.

Quartet

The Facts of Life

The free sharing of age old wisdom oft accrues psychological check, as mantra and adage delicately condition economic tumult and ethical expenditure.

But with myriad personality distinctions effervescently flourishing with multifaceted largesse, the germane likelihood of symbiotic sanction may prove disheartening or indeed quite fun.

A father shares his paternal advice only to find every moral qualm deconstructed. 

His son winds up with a new car. 

Who's to say what's to be done?

The Alien Corn 

Theoretically in possession of everything one might hope to desire, yet longing to achieve the ultimate incomparable brilliant maddening incandescence.

Friends and family generally confused as to why the goal's so profoundly meaningful, considering how many other professions remain available, and he doesn't even have to work.

He's crushed by a virtuoso who didn't mean to hurt his feelings, and even though he's still quite talented, can't find the will to go on.

You can write Bazooka Joe comics or even Shakespearian sonnets, it makes no freakin' difference.

As long as you love what you do.

Beware destructive prejudice.

The Kite

Perhaps at times the parental bond is somewhat too tight, and the desire to be appreciated commensurately by others too unreasonable, so that when an imperious grown-up dispute arises, there's no applicable stratagem to discursively relay.

Sometimes incumbent smothering and a voluminous intent to orchestrate obsessively, may stifle the productivity you rely on, and leave a gaping void where you once harvested.

But in theory at times they say mental health professionals can attain results. 

As in the case of this marriage in question.

With Mervyn Johns (Samuel Sunbury), Hermione Baddeley (Beatrice Sunbury), and George Cole (Herbert Sunbury).

The Colonel's Lady

Worst case for an austere admirer of poignant pomp and reservéd circumstance, the unexpected emergence of imaginative scandal ceremoniously upsetting his stilted life.

No doubt many would remain uncertain if such a surprise suddenly diversified, especially if a tried and true dependable routine had gregariously governed for ages past.

Yet the truth residing in fiction can fortuitously lead to regeneration.

With newfound amenities previously unexpected.

Bit of a shocker, still, no doubt. 

Rambling Rose

A traditional bourgeois family reservédly ensconced in solemn routine, welcomes a new less particular nanny who emphatically declares with upbeat candour.

Indeed Rose (Laura Dern) lives in the moment and hasn't been raised to sidestep and sublimate, preferring a much more animate approach to life's chill steady wondrous stream.

The children don't know what to expect as they innocently regard and evaluate difference, Rose's behaviour much more lively than others, but mom (Diane Ladd) and dad (Robert Duvall) aren't noticeably upset.

Dad must even tame his boisterous unassuming bold habitual proclivities, while mom honestly proclaims forgiveness and showcases genuine compassionate forbearing. 

The men keep on arriving however, seemingly to test the young family's mettle, a cavalcade of imaginative dreamers thoroughly pursuing amorous soirées. 

Young Buddy (Lukas Haas) isn't objectively immune as fledgling contemplation ruminates attentively, a unique otherwise forbidden friendship delicately blossoming wholesome anew.

Such versatile carefree freedom suddenly emerging with urgent radiance, characteristically challenging pride and propriety through natural honest intuitive acclimation.

It's as if spellbinding concepts like orthodox mutual attachment, hold no sway in its wild articulate whirlwind romantic resounding arbour.

I've noted that many proceed this way and that there's an intricate network of corresponding customs, with which many people are generally familiar and even quite distinguished in erudite variety.

The difference in Rambling Rose seems to be a matter of frank exposure, the modest community in manifest shock yet still generally appreciative of the exotic literature.

Ships are launched and daydreams delineated as spirited love socioculturally embarks, as to the resulting societal effects I'm afraid I can't lucidly elevate or denounce them.

Is it supposed to be lighthearted and playful or quizzically uncanny or simply absurd, or is there a sincere yet humorous investment on potentially game changing display?

It's a fun if not controversial illustration of enamoured import indubitably worth noting, with fluid debate perhaps freely generated after the first mesmerizing viewing.

Patience and charity, ethical endeavour, concepts defined in so many ways. 

Itinerant artistic accolades. 

Would likely also make a good read. 

Coda

A determined family diligent and vigorous emphatically fishes the unforgiving seas, overflowing with versatile camaraderie they make ends meet with vast productivity. 

But they grow weary of the paltry sums they regularly receive for their agile catch, and worry that perhaps they're being underpaid, as do most of their fellow fisherpeople.

The mother (Marlee Matlin as Jackie Rossi), father (Troy Kotsur as Frank), and son (Daniel Durant as Leo) can't hear, so daughter Ruby (Emilia Jones) takes care of most of the business, which often irritates feisty Leo, who feels he should be playing a senior role.

Governmental oversight suddenly demands they entertain an official intent on monitoring, but Ruby isn't onboard that day, and her family can't hear the coast guard when they come calling.

A hefty fine is administered along with distressing familial reckoning, should Ruby help out her family, first and foremost, or pursue singing at Berklee College of Music?

As the family goes it alone and tries to make more money by selling their own fish, Ruby struggles with her identity, and whether or not she'll always play that role. 

Without her they stand to lose everything.

And they don't have an alternative trade.

I probably wouldn't have left them. Ruby is essential to the business. She was irreplaceable and they can't afford to hire someone. And without her the result is possibly life on disability.

I'm lucky to have attended some good schools and to have received a solid education, but I wonder at times if I would have progressed just as well had I never attended school at all.

Probably not, with education came travel and a wide variety of experiences. Experience broadened my horizons and gave me more to think about.

Plus school challenges you in a way the real world rarely does. It's a unique rush you'll find nowhere else. And the assignments at times are incredible compared to the real world.

But my family wasn't relying on me.

And none of them have a serious disability.

But things work out in the movies (I moved back when I was needed at home during COVID) and there are lots of prominent artists who never went to school, if you can sing well you can sing well, a school can help you progress, but you can also do so on your own.

Coda is hopeful and feel good even at times as it despairs, but I still have to admit I felt bad for her family when she left, as if the film was portraying them like an encumbrance.

Ah well, that's just me, clearly many more people thought otherwise. 

Change is a wonderful thing.

Especially if it works in long held cherished traditions.  

Running on Empty

A family nurtured on the run from the law, as two aging radicals domestically innovate.

They were both once somewhat younger but not much less idealistic, and they engaged in destructive violence, by blowing up the lab responsible for making Napalm, no was supposed to be there, but an innocent janitor was blinded.

Their network was vast and organized and managed to keep them on the move, to help them avoid incarceration for enough time to raise a family.

Their family's tight and genuinely loving full of creative exploration, the imaginative alternative means cultivated by clandestine life.

It's all the children have ever known and they've matured and adapted well, at least inasmuch as they love each other and are correspondingly respectful.

Mom (Christine Lahti) and dad (Judd Hirsch) feel somewhat guilty but there's little time to wallow, yet when their eldest son (River Phoenix as _______) reaches his late teens he starts to think about University.

He has a musical gift and is earnestly supported by his teacher (Ed Crowley), he even falls for his feisty daughter (Martha Plimpton) and dares to share his courageous plan.

His competing responsibilities are rather solemnly negotiated, as he deals with teenage impulse and unanticipated affection.

It's a bizarro shout out to active engagement generally presented with caring sympathy, I tend to think no one would make a similar contemporary film (in North America), but I'm likely mistaken, you never know what's out there.

I fully support the critique of the manufacture of destructive weapons like Napalm, and the war machine in general, a peaceful world praises productivity, contemplative virtues beyond the utilitarian.

But I can't get behind using violence to putting an end to violence, unless you're forced to do so, as in the case of Ukraine. There are just so many innocent victims. So many people who may have been keen carpenters, teachers, actors, even accountants, if they hadn't got caught up in an ideological conflict. I'd prefer to see concerned citizens capture violent leaders from different sides and force them to fight it out like gladiators on TV. When the people see the hopeless position the gaunt promoters of warlike violence find themselves within, it would no doubt produce a comic effect, which may generate a sustained resonance.

I don't claim to know a universal path forward, there's so much contradiction in an active thoughtful life, so many unforeseen intricate complications that mass cultural endeavour seems foolhardy.

A disposable income seems to help, however, keeping people away from poverty. If they aren't stressed about food and shelter they're more at ease with things in general. 

And businesses flourish and there's less of a need for credit and people can relax and have fun after a busy day's work.

With friends or with their families. 

Disposable incomes.

A huge win win. 

C.R.A.Z.Y

A father (Michel Côté) and mother (Danielle Proulx) full of love raise a hyper-reactive family, with 5 boys shenanigan prone experimentally tune to voltaic theses. 

The mother compassionately defends her young when conflict abounds and must be adjudicated, her loving intuitive multidimension reflexively nurturing caressed fair play.

The father is somewhat more stern but he's still playfully proud of his boys, his love panoramically abounding within testosterone fuelled parameters.

But one of his boys instinctually lacks traditional masculine brawn and gusto, gravitating more wholeheartedly towards his mom, he loves his dad and doesn't want to get in trouble, but also doesn't understand at times why he's punished.

The overbearing weight of codes of conduct as upheld by his father and siblings, lead to bewildered awkward adaptations as he struggles to come of age.

Natural endemic lucidity is rambunctiously transformed into hesitant confusion, the simple process of embracing one's thoughts imperiously clad in grand complexity. 

But his father isn't a monster and although he's ill-equipped to openly accommodate, he still loves his gifted child with the honest shock of misunderstanding.

______ (Olivier Bénard/Émile Vallée/Marc-André Grondin) just wants to fit in with the family he knows and sincerely loves, his father recognizing his meaningful attempts to express his genuine heartfelt devotion.

Fortunately his father adapts too and a loving relationship prospers and grows, with holistic balance and comprehensive understanding they remain good friends as time slowly passes.

So many films from the '90s made it seem like such a world would eventually bloom (as I've mentioned before), where rigid immutable conceptions of gender would generally relax to forge open communities.

Such communities don't have to critique people who naturally play traditional roles, the roles do seem to fit many people as they interact with various constructs.

But many others don't naturally fit and shouldn't feel bad for doing what comes naturally. Feeling bad about your own harmless thoughts can lead to intense personal distress.

Inclusive communities where difference thrives heals or avoids such sincere distress, and the resultant conflicts and mental illnesses that can develop through blind intolerance.

If one considers nature realistically how could one code of conduct predominate, when ample evidence historically perseveres which proves paramount difference co-exists naturally?

It's a matter of embracing traditional gender roles along with multifaceted gender difference.

Then learning and growing together.

Like people do so well in Québec.

Legend

A maiden heads out, in search of her trusted love interest, who lives alone in the forest, anxiously awaiting her return.

They nimbly frolic and amorously explore the nature of his verdant domain, so caught up with love's magnanimity, that he decides to share a secret.

For he knows the location of unicorns whom she is eager to graciously meet, yet such knowledge is strictly forbidden to those who have not grown up in the woods.

Little do they know they've been followed by dastardly goblins seeking malice, who've been tasked to take out the unicorns for an envious Lord of Darkness.

Unicorns maintain metaphysical splendour within their lighthearted realm, their habitual laughter and innate innocence required to nurture time itself.

A forbidden act having been facilitated, a glorious unicorn falls, the other captured and brought back to answer for cherished wondrous humanistic enlightenment.

Along with the crestfallen maiden.

But her suitor is suddenly entrusted with mythical elven aid, after time stops and winter descends, and they realize they need a champion. 

So it's off to the fiery depths to save the universe from eternal darkness.

Guided by valour and instinct.

And perhaps, the power of Christmas.

Not technically a Christmas film, although unicorns no doubt emit the wisdom of Christmas, and have for munificent millennia, through the enchanting art of mysticism.

Their narwhal kin perhaps act as go-betweens with Santa as he makes toys far off at the North Pole, their scintillating seafaring network rich with endemic interactive fluencies.

Perhaps every creature found on Earth is part of this biodiverse switchboard, Santa and unicorns coordinating initiatives throughout the embowered globe.

For some reason I never saw Legend while still a wee ginger lad, plus I also missed Labyrinth and Dragonslayer until reaching the age of adulthood.

Nevertheless, I thoroughly enjoy watching old school fantasy that isn't reliant on technical know how, when they still built sets from the ground up, and creative costumes generated adventure.

It'd be cool to see a contemporary filmmaker make a new fantasy film with muppets and physical sets.

Sort of like filming in black & white.

I bet they'd make something awesome.

That would never rival Jim Henson.

Waves

As much as you may want to debate it, it's her choice, her decision.

Not an easy decision to make if you haven't prepared for it, and support is key to easing the pressure if uncertainty's fogging things up.

There's no easy way to discuss these things, if you don't like discussing them, but if you are sexually active you should be prepared for the possibility of childbirth, and there are steps you can take to make sure pregnancy's highly unlikely, if you're not ready to have a child and are hoping to finish school or get a promotion, beforehand.

I'd use condoms even if my partner was on the pill to ensure a double line of defence, until such a time as we were both ready to child rear; it's probably the most serious responsibility there is.

But if I didn't want to have a child and she did, I would respect her decision. If she asked for my counsel, I would present my arguments, but it's her decision in the end, either way, and certainly not mine. Upon hearing her decision, I would do my best to prepare for fatherhood (nothing can prepare you for it) should she have chosen to have the child, and accept my nascent responsibilities. You may find as you grow older that you like having the little ones around. I certainly didn't way back when, as I was studying and working while travelling.

It's important to respect her decision.

That's the price for all the carefree fun.

Sincerest woe descends in Trey Edward Shults's Waves after confrontation leads to animosity, as two high school seniors discuss unplanned parenthood and can't come close to seeing eye to eye.

Opioid addiction clouds Tyler Williams's (Kelvin Harrison Jr.) judgment as he struggles to comprehend, an unfortunate injury jeopardizing his wrestling career too, he can't deal, even as people try to help him.

The film's quite well done, with the best cinematography I've seen in a while (Drew Daniels), the camerawork delicately louring you in to its breezy narrative flow, the current heaving as it helplessly adjusts to wayward distraught cataclysm, so felicitous early on, heartfelt ebb and flow.

Waves.

It spends one act presenting a golden road that's fraught with peril and distraction, the other romanticizing first love as a family comes to terms with its grief.

The father's (Sterling K. Brown as Ronald Williams) a good provider but also super, "this is my house!", which frustrates his teenage son who's constantly under his watchful eye.

It's a shame it takes extreme hardship for him to learn to apply the messages he absorbs without thinking, habitually.

But as he lets go of himself and stops trying to control things, as he waits for solutions to be organically presented instead of trying to generate them through authority, his family begins to heal through logical/emotional balance, and he starts to listen to what others have to say instead of just telling them what to do.

Family isn't the army or work.

I've always thought family was a safe haven beyond strict codes of conduct.

Where you learn responsibility at play.

Without having to worry about being fired.

Brought to light at special times of the year.

Sweet lattes.

Eggnog shakes.

Mystic Pizza

Three friends brought together through the healing power of pizza, lament relationship woes while waitressing one Summer, a mystic parlour facilitating their love as they ponder the years ahead, a caring matron (Conchata Ferrell as Leona) supplying warmth and compassion, and perhaps one day, her coveted secret recipes.

Sprightly Jojo (Lili Taylor) has been asked to wed by the reliable Bill (Vincent D'Onofrio), yet she's still not ready to embrace adult responsibilities.

Directionless Daisy (Julia Roberts) is sought by a carefree plutocrat (Adam Storke as Charles), whose rebellious ways have encouraged discontent and paternal reprimands.

Dependable Kat (Annabeth Gish) is heading to Yale and earning some extra scratch babysitting beforehand, the pervy father (William R. Moses as Tim) of the scampy child full of related scholarly advice.

As males and females attempt to pair bond competing rationalities resound.

Starlit swoons, incensed shenanigans, and whitewashed criminal activities ensue, Mystic Pizza enlivening two traditional and one disturbing romantic scenario/s, with the light dreamy distress of ill-tempered young adult conflict.

The film excels at commentating on bucolic realities without appearing as if it's doing so, the crowd cheering as Jojo airs grievances, a positive review potentially leading to increased business.

The secret recipe for Leona's eagerly devoured pizza perhaps sheds light on the tumultuous nature of the film's l'amour, inasmuch as its tantalizing details are only known by one successful entrepreneur, who also happens to be happily married.

Perhaps it subtly introduces this unknown yet prized mysterious factor, to evoke that the secret to maintaining a long-lasting relationship lies in exotic spices clandestinely applied, to predictable routines, suggesting each couple seeking to spend their lives together must cultivate their own specific spices, in order to one day consistently dine, on soul sustaining, reliable za.

Or burgers and fries perhaps.

Of course, for those who aren't conjugally attired, there's the sure and steady unaltered motivating self-sustaining idiosyncratic impulses that improvisationally choose random novel cherished inspirations.

As rewarding as the daily paper, or a glass of red wine before bed, sometimes Dale Cooper's daily treat is just something you love to do every day, regardless of wedded or solitary bliss, that for some reason never grows tiresome, and endearingly augments daily tasks accomplished.

Hot mustard perhaps?

The traditional clad in multivariable fuze?

There has to be a mutual understanding to at least try and make things work.

If you're so inclined.

As many people won't dispute.