Field of Dreams

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Try to finish the project before December.

Then see what's up next year.

Could be fun.  

Miracle on 34th Street

It often seems like the jaded objective concrete materialistic obsession, is a feature of contemporary times which didn't exist in bygone days. 

The lack of spiritual enlightenment often attributed to common sense, seems like it wouldn't have existed long ago when cultures were more fantastically grounded. 

But if 1947 is the time marker which correspondingly took place 78 years ago, the agile contention that the present is less imaginative loses momentum in Miracle on 34th Street. 

For within its festive reels we find compulsive dismissals of the Holiday Spirit, and exacting rituals tempestuously inclined to rid its culture of compelling levity. 

Does the indefatigable spiritual not viscerally sustain scientific experiment, through the steady encouragement of alternative endeavours that strategic reasoning would have never conceived on its own?

Does the existence of incorporeal ethereal intangible dynamic being, not facilitate unorthodox thinking that leads to new developments in scientific theory?

We find stale and overwrought examples of traditional skeptical and cynical thought, dismissing the essence of Christmas with contemptuous vitriol in 34th Street.

Even as the remarkable benefits of harmless play lead to exceptional results, bitter acrimonious characters still crudely objurgate Santa's existence. 

Even as he exhaustively displays a meticulous knowledge of toys and where to find them, while speaking different languages with intricate foresight and linguistic flexibility, he's still excessively critiqued by agnostic stipulations from a roundabout age, and even thrown in a mental institution for boldly defending lighthearted humour. 

Should spiritual folk condemn the scientists to an improvised world of non-traditional reckoning, or should psychiatry and reason clerically expel all otherworldly thoughts from cultivated continuums? 

Does a grounded focus on reason and science not lay the framework for reliable consistency, while alternative arrangements cosmically endowed exalt sleigh bell sensations in ceremonious flight?

Does the fortuitous blend not effortlessly synthesize yin and yang with reflexive sanity?

That brings about open-minded efficiencies? 

Magic and moonbeams.

Hot cocoa. 

Gingerbread. 

Hook

Difficult to make sense of the concept known as "aging", the process by which you gain more responsibility as time swiftly passes.

Often people have what are known as "families" which help to delineate time, the parents feeling older as they watch their children grow, the children naturally developing and changing throughout their youth.

If you don't have a traditional family and find yourself single throughout most of your life, you won't have the reliable time markers to consistently compare yourself with others.

You have to be somewhat more mature in order to put in a solid day's work, but don't have to set an example in the evening since you have no children looking up to you.

The people who do have families are tough to understand because their lives are different, and you have to watch what you say to them so you don't accidentally sound like one of their children (they control everything).

It's best to say as little as possible indeed as you go about your daily routine, not stopping to take photos of insects or squirrels for instance if in their company and you see something cool.

Although it's hard not to take these photos since they make an otherwise dull life more interesting, and liven up a blasé day where patterns emerge to be adjusted.

You may wish not to mention the movies you've been watching and the books you've been reading as well, you're no longer supposed to have time for these things and they can get in the way of objective reckoning.

If you found yourself telling jokes and making people laugh throughout your youth, you may need to keep your comments to yourself in the self-obsessed adult professional world.

This may lead to more silence but you also won't lose your job, or constantly be stuck with the worst duties that no one else ever wants to do.

Not easy to be rigid all the time though especially when you're bursting with energy and comment, a book of ideas is a healthy outlet should serious demands occupy your attention.

You don't want to teach youth to be ridiculous all the time as they change and grow, since the working world is serious and you don't want them to be unprepared. 

But you don't want them to be stiff and overbearing throughout every typical working day either, so that they can get along with other people and don't find themselves wholeheartedly stressed. 

I honestly think many married adults have a tough time figuring out how to act as well.

But usually find a chill working solution, awkward conversation, lighthearted bearings. 

Mysterious Object at Noon

Clementine fiddlestick cursory 'thusela Flamenco berm androgynous fathom, underground fissure transformative treatise celluloid succulence discursive scorn.

Rummaging rambles intuitive grace bodum battalion hookah heartstrings, phantasmagorical imprecise phase illusory cadre gormandized gallop.

Pulsating puma crackerjack jive humuscle brandish verdant exterior, coagulate coma gelatin frisk intrinsic artisan alcoven citrus.

Animate bristle miscellaneous pimple saturated libation lunar eclisp, illegible tome inedible smorgas buffeted morn grandiloquent hollow.

Evocative barbe enigmatic trestle scaffolding immersion epsilon orb, orchestral filament ancestral verse crisp Caladan calm divergent swathe. 

Quarantine cordial eccentric auburn particular quart infusive willow, Dionysus dagnabbit zoot alors fresh formica fervour macaroon medley.

Basilisk banshee serpentine standard convective baritone accordant sizzle, obsidian jingle curvaceous crucible increment accolade composite plaudit. 

Articulate gamble inefficient meticule popinjay placenta roving dial, Avalon chainsay murky 'marole chatterbox chug phalanx 'catessen.

Adamant chanting fuselargesse alacric schemata cerebral swerve, marigoldenizen lemondrop shades chimney top china utensil torque. 

Iguana gallancelot eclectic gathering skyline sedation decibel vibe, creative celerity bewitching tiger storytime sediment constructive flow.

Narrative nurture inquisitive ensemble clandestine cast gregarious geyser, affable Aragorn certified shuffle interpretive twizzler seditious slush. 

Elephantine vigour chinchilla 'crobatics wild distillations tacit instalments, galactic stern wilderness whimsy collective innovation laidback invention. 

Totally keeps things local.

Offering a slice of Thailand. 

Leads to The Iliad down the road. 

Conceptual inclusive mutation. 

The Fabulous Baron Munchausen

A fantastic fanciful tale eloquently embroidered with enigmatic elasticity, effervescently afloat in ethereal sentiments neigh nautically nebulous efficacious shrugs. 

The dawn of reason of scientific experiment was not without its spirited disclaimers, or at least those who still held fast to incorporeal invention lackadaisically improvised through rhythmic song.

No doubt fearful of lavish reliable widespread streams of revenue drying up, old school traditions wistfully wielded newfound technologies with regal candour.

The new realistic phenomenon most likely responded with fashionable devices (freezers, fridges), which in turn functioned like objective magic and called into question immaterial states.

The ingratiating practical convenience likely won over many orthodox critics, once wholesomely familiar with domestic trends so ubiquitously enveloping they seemed naturalistic.

But the innovative technologies hadn't innocently counted on devastating spiritual longing, or the intense desire to awkwardly believe in ornate grandiose fluid impossibility. 

Thus, wild literary tales continued to advance intangible tractability, for the recreational chez sensational cultivation of ludic flight.

Unfortunately, the collective will to absolutely choose one or the other, led to palpable global distress for many an onerous discordant decade.

Although one option did seem to incorporate facets of theology and agnosticism, and seemed less restrictive in the imposing long-run assuming you kept a level head.

It was ironic that gallant inconclusions rambunctiously led to strict adherence, the fledgling materialism theoretically disposed to communal liberality freeform disjunction. 

Yet obsessed with outmaneuvering their ancient agitators on the world stage, many freedoms were correspondingly denied while many educators bravely deemed otherwise.

Fortunately, there were cultivated realms who did indeed blend and mix and synthesize, to imaginatively create emancipatory domains wherein which bold freedom mischievously manifested.

Still caught between invasive impulses to chaotically rule with dull authority. 

Fearful of invention, loath to spin yarns. 

Over and over.

Ad infinitum. 

The Adventures of Baron Munchausen

The recreational impulse to tell lively tales improvisationally immersed in exotic wonder, effectively drives so much interactivity as days slowly pass and nights stall and linger.

There are so many rules to strictly follow that sensational stories encourage emancipation, being able to fly or breathe under water miraculously motivating agile daydreams.

For children ensconced in unknown consistently reimagined otherworldly lessons, many of which wildly champion imagination the fledgling instincts to revel cathartic. 

Yet balanced with practical reasoning the traditional realities corresponding to our species, birds fly and fish breathe under water while chipmunks and squirrels don't want to be pets.

Distressing unsettling to be sure as one soulfully seeks corporeal independence, to leave the confines of the body behind and transform into pure energy like they do on Star Trek.

Evolution acclimatizing piecemeal as centuries pass and eons articulate, the gradual biological attunements so subtle and microscopic they matriculate unnoticed.

Atemporally speaking still like fresh miracles the remarkable adaptations made to environments over time, many of which seem to have been accompanied by desires to collectively transform and easily acquire nutrients.

The slow passage of time ingenious in its bearings logically enables evolutionary traction, diverse environments habitually gathering sly multivariable communal constructs.

It's not to say to let dreams slowly fade and stoically embrace painstaking millennia, at night and on weekends the transmission of narratives creatively subsists to generate pause.

To fruitfully exercise unorthodox peculiarities through artistic invention and ludic lullaby, makes for less dull invigorating pastimes as things progress, revert or stagnate.

To recklessly play with constructed reality with poorly thought out alternative designs, if in a position of power and gaudy influence has destructive abrasive effects.

The disastrous ways in which the Second World War cacophonously devastated so much of the world, effortlessly critiques ambitious yearnings which ruthlessly seek what isn't for sale.

To remember the difference between fantasy and reality upon embarking on mature expeditions, doesn't mean the former can't be referenced but also encourages logic and reason.

Logic and reason are much more preferable day in and day out as the seasons pass by.

And cooler heads manage things through fact and instruction.

Without worrying about comment and headlines. 

Barbie

It was sad to see the self-reflexive metastyle slowly fade out of cinematic fashion, as the urge to cultivate newfound novelty eventually led to paradigm shifts.

Rather than adhering to the comprehensive guidelines enthusiastically theorized by the critics, the slow return to banal absolutism cacophonically effaced the convivial endeavours. 

Yet as Trump and his minions sought to rework complicated literary trajectories, patriarchically concerned with eternal slaves and masters, a more symbiotic environmental approach gregariously germinated in the wholesome underground, ill-amused with everlasting tethers, and holistically seeking reciprocal gratitude. 

Thus, as the years slowly changed from the 1990s to the 2020s, an intermittent zone materialized, and the do-gooding and collective well-being of the post-war years clashed with feudal modes of expression.

The times during which they had once been employed with malignant rigour and destructive candour having faded from collective memory, the brigands dishonourably proceeded as if they had created something new.

Was it indeed more popular or were studios just attempting to mutate and froth, as a younger generation took the reigns, and vitriolically dismantled their elders's designs?

I didn't think the honourable pursuit of collective well-being and respect and goodwill, was a fad to be gradually replaced however by one-dimensional monocultural narratological goals.

It didn't seem like casting aside relevant millions to tell crass racist jokes, was commensurate with integral progress as commercial interests teleologically contend.

Alas, to rely on Barbie the oft criticized popular doll to redraw the lines, and perhaps create spherical counterintuitive shapeshifting threads like cats playing with multicultural yarn.

Symbiotically speaking, the world of men and women excelling when a level-playing field emancipates, lay androgynous mutual convection, when it works it's totally comfortable.

The world of course multilaterally pulsating to the tune of manifold international drums.

So much passing by unnoticed.

As prominent prognoses ebb and flow.

The NeverEnding Story II: The Next Chapter

*This applies more to my haphazard analysis of American politics.

One of the cool elements of a democracy is that it encourages the development of a multiplicity of voices, the cultivation of sundry alternatives to the heroic master narrative.

It doesn't seek to eclipse the heroic narrative but rather to promote less ra ra alternatives, in order to represent the millions of people who aren't engaged in epic quests.

I suppose this goes without saying but it seems like populists are seeking to reinvent the wheel, as if the heroic narrative was somehow in danger of suddenly disappearing.

I like the application of heroics to humdrum daily life, through the application of general comedic agency and particular tragic commitment, for to deny epic possibility to random modest chill existence, is to foolishly underestimate sociocultural potential, and overlook vast compelling markets (see The Lord of the Rings).

I may prefer to watch a film like Museum Hours, but I still enjoy watching Iron Man or Thor, which unfortunately leaves me on the fringes since so many people prefer one style to the other.

But if you can balance the divergent approaches you can cater to so many different preferences, and perhaps avoid wild confrontation by fulfilling manifold desires.

Snobs digress erroneously by dismissing so many things, and creating categorical prejudices which designate them undesirable.

For so many of these things are culturally celebrated by people who don't wish to be dismissed (I don't really care), or made to feel inadequate because they simply don't like serious drama.

It's just the application of equality to widespread divergent artistic tastes, which seems anathema to elitist snobs who often advocate for greater equality (see life).

It wouldn't be much of an issue if millions of people weren't rallying behind the populists, and creating a vast absolutist network of alternative facts on social media.

Such bizarro alternative reckonings shouldn't be dismissed, they're much too powerful, but rather ways should be found to rework them from within based upon probable fact and reason (like robust dynamic schools).

You see they've created new definitions for "fact" and alternative conceptions of "reason" which they uphold without any evidence in order to pursue a dismissed agenda.

Because mainstream discourse has dismissed them they've found outlets to spread their discontent.

Unless both sides are willing to relax passionately upheld categorical prejudices, the situation could become much worse as The Social Dilemma postulates.

I hope it doesn't descend into one strictly policing the other (unless there are acts of violence).

Brute force is so much less convincing.

Reimagine the emptiness, like The NeverEnding Story II.

Make sense from meaningless, rationalize the absurd (not politically). Where would fantasy be without it? Too much realism's too freakin' cold. Even in the dead of Winter.

Il racconto dei racconti (Tale of Tales)

August propitious enveloping cocoon, swath the embellished confiding ruckus in lavender pretence corresponding can do.

Zodiac.

A mockery.

A complete lack of concern wickedly blended with seditious witness guides Il racconto dei racconti (Tale of Tales) as it dismally lampoons heroic adventure with self-deprecating panache and oblivious tender.

Viscidly challenging you to care for its bland, boring, banal, and bumptious characters, it insolently reminds you that you still haven't left the theatre.

The cinematography's compelling enough (Peter Suschitzky), stating the natural beauty contained herewithin is abundantly more profound than anything these stories have to offer, yet we wrote narratives anyways to illuminate our genuine contempt, for you, asinine aperture, belittle the ebb and flow.

Care for nothing.

Salacious stasis.

The foundations for something more tantalizing laid waste by exasperating lassitude.

Do absolutely nothing, harvest excessive applause.

Galavanting circuitry, crusading camp.

Oz: the Great and Powerful

The Wizard of Oz meets Xena: Warrior Princess?

That's an A+ in my books.

The old school Wizard of Oz film with which I'm familiar was a lighthearted tale, adored by generations of fantasy loving children, devoted and unassuming, blindly caught up in its melodramatic charm, dreaming sweet dreams filled with hope and sincerity later that night, never failing, to wake up anew.

There's no doubt that there's some of this in Sam Raimi's envisioning of the land of Oz, wherein we find the Wizard learning to become the factor everyone believes him to be at first sight, but while we don't discover that there's something not quite right about him until Toto's astute perception in the Judy Garland film, it's obvious from the get-go that in Oz: the Great and Powerful Oz (James Franco) is a sleazy unscrupulous cad, successfully (and spontaneously) brandishing his smoke and mirrors, yet hopelessly lacking what one might refer to as conscientious considerations, apart from their individualized financial formalities.

The title itself offers further insight into these competing fantastic motivations.

Oz: the Great and Powerful sounds like the sort of ridiculous phrase you'd expect someone cravenly searching for riches, even if the search only takes place within their own head, to use to describe themselves, while also seeming like an exaggerated mesmerizing monicker carefully chosen to inspire charismatic imaginations, when its historical spectacle is taken into consideration.

I didn't know Sam Raimi had directed before entering the theatre, and his presence added a latent sense of potentially ingratiating cheesy carnivalesque conviviality to these contemplations, wherein bold mischievous alternative emoticons masquerade on a traditional family friendly frequency, seeking to covertly manifest their raunch(iness).

The opening credits themselves kaleidoscopically illuminate this multiplicity, ebulliently engineering a phantasmagorical dissimulation, for whatever audience, startlingly straightforward, arguably the film's best feature.

But after the Wizard lands in Oz and meets Theodora (Mila Kunis) the film is far too startlingly straightforward for the next hour at least. The lines are terrible. Kunis struggles to deliver them. But they're so bad that you start to think that this could be one of those great films which subtly satirizes its generic counterparts while trying to remain appealing to the young at heart in order to conjure a laconic lackadaisical laxative before suddenly introducing moments of kitschy consubstantiations which attempt to transform the preceding mockery into a campy enduring endearing romp, just as the Wizard casts off his mortal shell and takes on his ethereal form, while coming to believe that yes, he can.

When the brutal lines are isolated, with no community within which to blossom and grow, they're tough to take, but when the time comes for Glinda (Michelle Williams) and the Wizard to unite their citizens to fight Evanora's (Rachel Weisz) minions group dynamics socially network their way into a publicly pertinent pyrotechnic plurality, as the Wizard uses his artifice in a startlingly straightforward phantasmagorical dissimulation, lighthearted, melodramatic, and ridiculous yet conscientious and ingratiating, fighting the good fight against overwhelming odds, to save both his community's, and his own, imagination.

And the film too.

I'd like to read a study which places both films within their social historical contexts in order to elucidate which possesses a more substantial degree of traditional alternative reflexivity, thirty years from now.

Classic Sam Raimi.

Life of Pi

A giant freakin' tiger.

An island of meerkats.

A fluorescent whale.

And a mischievous moon bear.

Members of the animal kingdom make up portions of Life of Pi's supporting cast and fill its fictionally fortuitous filmscape with a carnally introspective constabulary.

Indicative of spiritual tribunals.

Necessity being the lover of retention, and survival, romance's wherewithal, Pi Patel (Suraj Sharma) makes the case for creative license, while providing a noteworthy response to Heart of Darkness/Apocalypse Now.

Pi's religious curiosity leads him from Hinduism to Christ to Allah and his individualistic embrace/mix of the three is openmindedly archetypal (substitutes welcome).

It's difficult to write about Life of Pi's most compelling point without ruining the film, but, as a film, for me, although I was disappointed that more time wasn't spent directly presenting the convincing case Yann Martel makes for the existence of zoos in the novel, its 'make or break' stretch takes place in the lifeboat, where Pi and Richard Parker negotiate a pact which keeps their cross-examinations afloat.

And it works. The stretch seductively elaborates upon while subtly advancing Patel's position, building up to a moving somewhat overdone transubstantive summit, celestially washing up on shore.

I'll have to wait to respond to the rest (I'm not convinced [and can't explain what I'm not convinced about]).  

The moon bear doesn't have a big part.

There is a moon bear though.

And he or she looks mischievous.

The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

Tough to discuss the latest instalment in the Chronicles of Narnia film series without looking at the difference between fantasy and reality as seen through the eyes of pesky newcomer Eustace (Will Poulter), the movie's principal saving grace. Eustace is a mischievous trouble maker whose perspective is governed by fact and he is none to happy with the fact that his cousins Lucy (Georgie Henley) and Edmund (Skander Keynes) are currently living with him. Alas, he is also none to happy when his factual world disappears altogether and he is transported to the realistically-fictional world of Narnia. Expressing his discontent in a number of flamboyant tantrums, Eustace must come to terms with the fantasy in which he has been cast in order to save what remains of his scientific marbles. Thankfully, as he seems reluctant to do so, he is transformed into a giant dragon after inappropriately handling a hidden deposit of gold. As he comes to terms with his scaly scorn, things take a turn for the better, and he is eventually instrumental in defeating the forces of evil.

Seems to me anyways, the dragon being a symbol of the unconscientious nouveau riche, if Eustace were to continue on his present concrete path within the real world, he would have become a miser, breathing impenetrable critical fire wherever he causticly tread. By embracing the fictional realm of Narnia, which realistically molds him in his traditional symbolism, he develops a generous spirit which becomes socially conscientious, like Mr. Scrooge, and begins to help everyone. Thus, we are provided with a basic differentiation between the aristocrat and the oligarch, the one who believes they have an obligation to nurture their community which involves listening to that community's input, and the one who believes they own the community and it should therefore bow down to his or her pressure. By recognizing the realistic beauty inherent in fiction, quests, adventures and what not, Eustace begins to qualify his reality with a wider array of fruitful principles, theoretical hypotheses being an intrepid scientific catalyst, progressive thinkers believing in universal healthcare materializing various tenants of several religious focal points, which, are unfortunately upheld by a King to whom everyone bows, and well, I'd rather not get into it.

It's the holiday season.

The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus

Intermixing fate, superstition, religion, individuality, gambling, dreams, ethics, history, economics, showmanship, temptation, Terry Gilliam's The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus provides a phantasmagorical panoramic synthesis of parapsychological proportions. A religious guru (Christopher Plummer) makes deal after deal with the devil (Mr. Nick played by Tom Waits) only to fall further and further into his demonic clutches. When we first meet the immortal Doctor Parnassus, his daughter Valentina (Lily Cole) is days away from becoming the exclusive property of Satan, and, due to his lacklustre antiquated bush-league performance values, the Doctor has no hope of reversing her fate. But shortly thereafter, his travelling troupe discovers a man hanging from a bridge (Heath Ledger as Tony), and, after saving his life, benefit commercially and ontologically from his gifted oratorical skills. So a new wager must be made which the Prince of Darkness generously conceives, the first one to capture 5 souls receiving sole access to Valentina's future, souls being captured after they enter Doctor Parnassus's Imaginarium, which is the Doctor's imagination physically manifested, the dimensions of which are cultivated according to the imagination of whomever happens to enter (the souls have to decide whether to travel the high or low road within, those flying high becoming the Doctor's possession, those not, Satan's). As Valentina falls for Tony, and Tony's credibility deconstructs itself, Anton (Andrew Garfield) falls by the wayside, and the Doctor must come to terms with immortality. The past and the future then destructively present themselves without recourse to binary oppositions or stable, enduring dispositions. One part romance, two parts tragedy, three parts reality, four parts fantasy, The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus competently delegates intergenerational gesticulations, while mysteriously emphasizing transcendental transmutations. Plus two.

Clash of the Titans

Perseus is back in Louis Leterrier's Clash of the Titans and he must once again come to terms with his demigod status. Cast off at birth by his earthly step-father Acrisius (Jason Flemyng), Perseus (Sam Worthington) is raised by the humble fisherperson Spyros (Pete Postlethwaite) until he is killed by the vengeful Hades (Ralph Fiennes). Humankind has had enough of worshiping capricious gods and seeks to place themselves at the forefront of their culture, much to father Zeus's (Liam Neeson) dismay. King Cepheus (Vincent Regan) and Queen Cassiopeia (Polly Walker) grievously insult the gods for which Hades demands the sacrifice of their daughter Andromeda (Alexa Davalos) as punishment. But before the monstrous Kraken can devour Andromeda, Perseus has the chance to travel to the underworld with a group of soldiers in order to cut off the head of the vile Medusa (Natalia Vodianova) (which can turn the Kraken to stone). Meanwhile, Hades has grown sick of living beneath the earth and seeks to overthrow Zeus and rule Olympus above. Will his devious plan to use humanity as a means to obtain his revolutionary ends succeed?, or will he remain stuck in his subterranean domain for all eternity?

The film's not the greatest but has a quick pace and an adventurous character that makes it entertaining if not progressive. It's also very similar to Desmond Davis's 1981 version which calls into question why they made it in the first place (couldn't they have done something with Cadmus or Orpheus? [I suppose they're making a fortune]). I liked the inclusion of the Djinn, the ways in which Perseus prefers his humanistic to his divine nature, the two hunters who accompany the soldiers on their quest, and the idea that the titular clash is between titanic humanists and gods. But the humanists pay to steep a price for their free-thinking ideas for me to believe that this isn't just another calling card for the 21st century's military industrial complex. It also contains banal generalized terse dialogue, consistently harsh consequences, and one-dimensional character development.

Alice in Wonderland

Alice (Mia Wasikowska) is back in Alice in Wonderland, another trip down the rabbit hole into the blue collar realm of the working class. Having run away from her aristocratic engagement party, Alice is ready to hide out among the people before choosing whether or not to marry the ungodly Hamish Ascot (Leo Bill). But unbeknownst to her, her underground world has been ravaged by the wicked Red Queen (Helena Bonham Carter) and her nouveau-riche Jabberwocky (Christopher Lee). The Mad-Hatter (Johnny Depp), Blue Caterpillar (Alan Rickman), and Cheshire Cat (Stephen Fry) are still doing their best to go about their daily business, but Underland's playful, picturesque, phantasmagorical playground has been seriously destabilized (the majestic White Queen [Anne Hathaway] powerless and distraught). Will Alice passively accept these changes and quietly look on as her friends and acquaintances are scurrilously downtrodden? Not on her watch. After the blue collar workers remind her who she is, it's payback time, and the Red Queen had better be ready for a full on aristocratic onslaught of revolutionary fury. Dramatics aside, the film's made for kids and Linda Woolverton's script is tame and family friendly. A lot of scenes are cut short and could have used a bit more dialogue to strengthen their characterizations (when the Mad-Hatter first encounters Stayne, the Knave of Hearts [Crispin Glover], for instance). The relatively sane Mad-Hatter's character is built-up at the expense of the surrounding cast and it would have been nice to see some of the supporting characters receive more screen time. And Alice's unfortunate return to her nascent social realm is far to cutesy and perfect. Predictable and saccharine yet jocular and entertaining, Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland packs a solid kitsch punch with an extra couple of jujubes. And one more thing, Mia Wasikowska's performance is outstanding and whomever decided to keep her off the promotional poster made a serious mistake (like the film made more money because Johnny Depp's highlighted on the poster).

Where the Wild Things Are

Where the Wilds Things Are is a fun-filled adventure for kids and adults alike. Young Max (Max Records) has a fight with his mom (Catherine Keener) and takes off to a mysterious island where he encounters several of Maurice Sendak's fabled creations. Cooly enough, Max soon finds himself elected King after befriending and destroying several dwellings with rage filled Carol (James Gandolfini). As time passes, Max and the beasties socialize, have a dirt fight, explore the mysterious island, philosophize about life, and build a new home (while Max comes to realize that being supreme ruler has its fair share of pitfalls). The subject matter's tame, the resolution picturesque, the narrative complex in its simplicity, and the characters overflowing with childishly provocative wisdom.

The friendly monsters each represent a different component of the troubled childhood psyche, generally united in their desire to remain somewhat aloof. Their observations are modestly delivered in a bewildered yet confident fashion that adds a significant degree of magical charisma to the film. Director Spike Jonze consistently displays his offbeat comic charm as educational systems and grown-up situations are subtly satirized. And every shot of the Wild Things gazing peculiarly into the camera produces youthful feelings of unrestrained happiness.

Pretty wild.

Inglourious Basterds

Quentin Tarantino's Inglourious Basterds is an exceptional film. It's a tribute to film, a film fanatic's crowning achievement, a celluloidic lapis lazuli heuristically annihilating the Third Reich. Strong performances all around, Christoph Waltz (Col. Hans Landa) trying to steal the show ala Frank Booth unsuccessfully due to Brad Pitt's (Lt. Aldo Raine) non-Jeffrey Beaumontesque counterpoint. Aren't these names simply outstanding: Lt. Aldo Raine, Col. Hans Landa, Sgt. Donny Donowitz (Eli Roth), Shosanna Dreyfus (Mélanie Laurent), Marcel (Jacky Ido). Set up and executed like a post-modern fairy tale, Basterds unreels like a quaintly distinct incandescent extremity, bluntly interdicting fictional necessities in a multicultural absurdist panorama. Every introduced character is compelling; every scene an odd mixture of frank subtlety; the pipe, how about that pipe!; and I really don't know what else to say. Don't want to go into too much detail and ruin it (especially considering that I'm reviewing it six weeks later) and know that I won't have enough time to analyze it until at least mid-December. So I'll just say that, those things, and hope you like it, or don't.

G. I. Joe: the Rise of Cobra

Can't say much about Stephen Sommer's G. I. Joe: the Rise of Cobra. Probably shouldn't have gone to see it but was a fan of the cartoon growing up, and, consequently, nothing could stop me from viewing it, not well reasoned arguments articulating that I generally dislike this kind of movie, or the unfortunate reality that while these nostalgic flicks are supposed to reassert some long lost kernel of youth, they don't, and probably never will, because, they're lame, period.

But oh well.

The Joe's are no longer super tough icons of natural militaristic bravado inasmuch as they now require extraodrinarily complex machines to perform their monumentous tasks (a reflection upon how much more technologically dependent we are now than we were in the 80's), but, while engaging in battle, battles which require an exceptional degree of split-second extremely athletic mental and physcial ability, instant decision making and what have you, they still stop to taunt, encourage, or hit on one another, ridiculously relevant content reminiscent of its cartoon form. Where the film really fails is the ending. Screenwriters Stuart Beattie, David Elliot, and Paul Lovett obviously sincerely disliked Superman I's closing moments, for in Joe Ripcord (Marlon Wayans) has a jet fast enough to track down and destroy two deadly missals fired at targets on either side of the globe, lickedy split. Terrible, but, like I said, I probably shouldn't have gone to see this, although, unfortunately, nothing in this world could have stopped me.

Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen

Michael Bay's Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen picks up with the Autobots and the American military chasing down villainous Decepticons throughout planet Earth. Humanoid hero Sam Witwicky (Shia LaBeouf) is preparing for both college and a long term relationship with love interest Mikaela Banes (Megan Fox) before discovering that his previous encounter with the Allspark has given him exceptional scientific and linguistic abilities. And Starscream (Charlie Adler) has rallied the troops with the assistance of The Fallen (Tony Todd) and is preparing to resurrect Megatron (Hugo Weaving) so that he can lead an invasion force to use an ancient device buried within a pyramid to harvest the energon lying within our Sun.

But he didn't count on contending against the power of love.

With nearly two and a half hours of footage, the film covers a tremendous amount of ground planted with the same silly comedic distractions and fast-paced shallow dialogue that dominated its predecessor. At the same time, with so many characters demanding their voice be heard, and so many plot threads requiring a cinematic stitch, I suppose terse dialogue is necessary if not disappointing. John Turtorro (Agent Simmons) steals the show once again and revitalizes the second act with an energetically offbeat and charismatic transformation. And there were a number of points after the second hour where I thought Revenge of the Fallen was going to end in an Empire Strikes Back like fashion (without a carbonite parallel) and leave us eagerly anticipating the next installment. But it kept going and the audience kept cheering and I couldn't help feeling old for searching for something more than explosive battles, competent clichés (Turtorro stating "not on my watch" for instance), and frustrating familial filibusters.

One Transformer did stand out for me however because his presence attached a bit of ambiguity to the either/or dynamic lying at the heart of the Autobot/Decepticon feud. Jetfire (Mark Ryan) was once a Decepticon but decided to join the Autobots after centuries of fighting. True, there are still only two choices, Autobots or Decepticons, but it's nice to see a freethinking character who was able to change his allegiances based upon his subjective interpretation of his historical circumstances.