Drinkwater

Note: I know they're fun to make fun of, but teachers have an incredibly difficult job.

They may have some time off in the summer, at Christmas, and during Spring Break, but the rest of their time is spent locked-down in a 24/7 hyper-panopticon, where they're under a communal microscope imposed by students, parents, and co-workers alike (having exponentially expanded with social media).

Most jobs have supervisors who monitor your performance, and fellow workers might say something if you have no excuse for having a really bad day, but the scrutiny teachers have to deal with is extreme, and criticisms can be difficult to shake off if ubiquitously intensified.

Not only do you have to show up and work from around 8:30am to 4, after work and on weekends you have to prepare your classes and grade tests and assignments.

All while simultaneously trying in many cases to raise a family and hold a marriage together.

In any given class, you have a variety of learners chillin' out with the A, B, and C's, you can't teach a lesson that's crazy hard, you don't want to make things ridiculously easy, and no matter what you do no matter how skilfully you level the playing field, some people will earnestly complain, but extra work for ambitious students, and compassion for those who have to take things they don't excel at in high school, can go a long instructive way, and is somewhat of an art that takes time to develop.

You also have to be A+ and recognize that you're a role model each and every day, even when you're sick or fatigued, it's an incredibly difficult job.

Easier for extroverts I imagine but not by that much.

If you're raising kids and don't teach I imagine having just one is demanding.

Some teachers are responsible for over 150 (not including their own families).

The gym coach (Alex Zahara as Mr. Babcock) in Drinkwater is presented fairly as he tries to reason with exuberant teens, but the only African American character in the film isn't, when you have limited black characters and you treat them that way, it's racist.

The main character isn't even that appealing, still around three-quarters of the way into the film I wasn't cheering for him, he finally gets it near the end and things improve, but couldn't he have had more amusing uncanny idiosyncrasies?

Sigh.

When the film isn't catering to what the production team assumes is a stock-jock scientific sympathetic market (smart writers dumbing it down by having nerdy characters obsess about beautiful women [for so much of the film]), there are moments of enticing brilliance, especially the credits, and they could make a classic film the next time out if the in-depth contemplations were the main focus of the narrative.

I imagine classic rock staples aren't that expensive to pick up for soundtracks anymore (Drinkwater plays a ton). I freakin' love classic rock and I know it still flourishes outside of Canadian cities (I don't know about the Québecois countryside). Still, there are a lot of cool contemporary Canadian and Québecois musicians as well. The Sheepdogs for instance. 

Is contemporary Canadian and Québecois music that expensive?

*Cool shout out for Penticton, B.C, anyways.

Uncommon Valor

At the end of the Vietnam War, loose ends abound with distressing familiarity, notably American Prisoners or War left behind, including one Colonel Jason Rhodes's (Gene Hackman) only son (Todd Allen as Frank Rhodes). 

Negotiations ploddingly proceed with no concrete results diplomatically forthcoming, grieving loved ones left with nothing to hold onto but sterile rhetoric and ineffective bureaucracy.

Rhodes grows tired of the process and decides to find an alternative solution, taking off for Bangkok posthaste in a valiant effort to locate his son.

Disappointment flourishes eruditely as the years interminably pass, until a definitive lead finally reckons with commanding tactile vehemence.

A team of dedicated soldiers soon gathers to train for the mission, even if they lack the army's support and must rely on private funding.

Colonel Rhodes's son has been found but government reps seek to halt the proceedings, by continuously harassing his honourable efforts and eventually confiscating his gear in southern Asia.

The only way to refinance their mission is to spend every dime they have.

And move forward together as one. 

Back into the heart of the jungle.

Their situation is certainly uncommon but how does one qualify valour's exceptionality?, it seems it's not fair to refer to one's bravery as common if directly engaged in hostile combat. 

It rather seems that difference applies starting with an initial exceptional value, valour distinguishing itself as generally exceptional and nothing less immutably moving forward.

Nonetheless, the soldiers in this film do go beyond the exceptional, and pursue überintense exceptionality as thoroughly demonstrated by one Mr. Wilkes (Fred Ward). 

In fact, the entire team along with their daring courageous local support, distinguishes themselves multilaterally when directly challenged by volatile resistance.

They discuss the enduring friendships which cohesively convinced them to heed the call, bonds distinctively forged like none other amidst daunting peril and shocking uncertainty (as discussed in the film). 

I find the best practice is to advocate against the eruption of war in general, but when madmen do lose control and start them peeps have to be ready to formidably respond.

To see the reduction of someone's life to an acceptable loss is most distasteful. 

Who profits from bellicose engagements?

Should they not be objectively penalized?

Storm Boy

A mild-mannered father (Peter Cummins) takes up fishing off the rugged coast of Australia, securing a modest independent living for him and his only son (Greg Rowe as Mike 'Storm Boy' Kingley).

His wife passed on unfortunately and he never sought the hand of another, incredibly chill laidback pastoral but still stern about materialistic things.

His poor son would like a radio to tune into the outside world, he's naturally curious and doesn't attend school and would like to learn more about his bustling surroundings.

But he's not a brat, he doesn't bother his dad in routine disgruntled tantrum, instead he turns the beach and its enveloping countryside into a multifaceted mysterious classroom.

His habitual innocent candour leads to the making of animal friends, notably after finding some baby pelicans whose parents were likely shot by casual hunters. 

He takes the babies home and helps to raise them with good ole dad, forging fluent amicable bonds, one even stays on into adulthood.

Mr. Percival makes adorable sounds while going about his pelican business, and proves quite perspicacious as the sea erupts in challenge.

But will 'lil Storm Boy ever go to school or at least take correspondence courses?, so full of life and compassionate vision he'd no doubt benefit from general learning.

His Indigenous friend (David Gulpilil as Fingerbone) encourages schooling and teaches him to be cautious 'round snakes, perhaps too cautious indeed they're lifeforms too with a right to exist!

Nevertheless, young Storm Boy authenticates the amiable inquisitive frontier spirit, perhaps not as wild as at the time of first contact, but still overflowing with naturalistic life.

If you can still find joy in nature there's certainly an abundance in Canada and Australia, true the winter makes it difficult in North America, but there also aren't many venomous snakes (or spiders).

Storm Boy presents open-minded individuals who haven't been misled by prejudice, and gradually shows them peacefully interacting with intuitive grace and humanistic dignity. 

It also composédly challenges speciesism by crafting integral animal friends, not just cats and dogs but other animals who can also learn to harmoniously co-exist.

Its inherent calm enabling chill well-meaning tranquil harmless goodwill, should make Storm Boy a family favourite for different generations not only in Australia.

A must see if you have a family that's genuinely interested in the natural world.

It's not entirely chill, tough scenes await!

Why the emphasis on gruelling mortality?

*Isn't Kes's return the worst episode of Voyager?

**Speciesism doesn't show up in spellcheck!

***I can't find the Storm Boy sequel online!

All Good Things

Traumatized in his youth after witnessing a parent commit suicide, David Marks (Ryan Gosling) struggles to live up to expectations, his family excessively wealthy in possession of sought after prized real estate in Manhattan, he can't make the corporate adjustments, to productive managerial life.

But in his youth he's less concerned with high-end sustainability, and is even somewhat chill as depicted in the film, so much so that he wins the hand of lighthearted freespirited lass (Kirsten Dunst as _____ Marks), the two forging a constructive team, at home in the remote countryside.

At his best he still remains quiet and hesitates to add much to any conversation, but he's still loving and kind and supportive as his marriage passively progresses.

If only the film had ended there, and they'd simply flourished low key down home, but his father (______ Langella) lures him back to the city and packs on tons of stressful responsibility.

He can't deal he flounders can't float and takes his frustrations out on his wife, refusing to agree to raise his own family, eventually turning to violence.

She comes from a much less reserved family and isn't accustomed to resonant gloom, she still applies herself vigorously to education and boldly hopes to one day attend med school.

But her dreams are cut short one evening indeed she suddenly hauntingly disappears.

Her husband likely having played a hand.

In curtailing her resilient progression.

The Fredo factor in lavish expenditure morosely embracing inanimate doom, feeling compelled to richly role play executive constructs for which he's ill-suited.

He clearly needed to do his own thing but his severe father couldn't accept that, and bluntly pushed him into a mindset to which he could not adapt applicably.

But others could and resounding jealousies destructively emerged in sheer despondency, there's no failure if you can't adapt to stilted stratagems that don't fit your personality.

You need to forget the lofty expectations and ignore ill-conceived hypothetical criticisms of your reputation, and find something that suits your mind, North America's great for supplying diversity.

Take Sherlock Homes as a working example as he's imagined on the brilliant Elementary, he falls into a destructive spiral of drug addiction but bounces back with perceptive resiliency.

His father is also well-off and sternly resents his eccentric son.

But Sherlock emphatically defies him.

And leads a strong independent life of his own.

Over the Top

A father regrets having left his family behind and finally has the chance to make amends, travelling by rig to his son's private school, humbly prepared for probable conflict (Sylvester Stallone as Lincoln Hawk). 

He makes his living trucking on the wide open road, transporting vital goods from one feisty locale to the next, reputedly dependable indeed sure and steady, as he smoothly facilitates commerce across North America.

His son's (David Mendenhall as Michael) not impressed however for it's taken him years to pull things together, and his grandfather's (Robert Loggia) vilified him to the extreme, their voyage commences in heated dispute.

But Lincoln relaxes and goes with the flow aware their disagreements reflect his comeuppance, time passing acclimatization slowly etherealizing paternal reckoning. 

But gramps is madly infuriated and sets out to recover his lost grandchild, determined to see him grow up in the lynchpin of luxury far away from his cheque-to-cheque dad.

But paps excels at the art of arm wrestling, and can earn extra scratch on the side, accepting challenges at various truck stops as he journeys between destinations. 

Michael is taken away and Lincoln responds with tactile fury.

But it seems there's nothing he can do.

Put formidably pursue arm wrestling champion of the world.

The narrative uplifts the hands-on with practical hardboiled uncompromised life lessons, forgiveness sought and willing to be earned should familial recourse prove adaptable. 

It emphasizes responsibility in an honourable testament to tenacious capacity, celebrating confidence within bitter circumstances and integral boisterous reasonable wherewithal. 

Lavish absolutist pretensions encounter audacious freeform contradiction, but as they legalistically reassert themselves, flourishing innocence launches a second wave.

It's direct straightforward durable investigation presented with resolute luminous tact, inherent action spiritually reconciled with compassionate justice and an honest living.

You could argue that it suggests wealth crushes struggling ambition as that ambition earnestly seeks justified rights, leaving it with no alternative but to sell everything and gamble with the resultant proceeds.

But Lincoln's son was on his way back in stern refutation of his arrogant confines, and likely would have established a strong relationship with his father despite the law and his grandfather's wishes.

Perfect to sit back and relax while saluting Stallone's classic lack of pretension.

Not on par with Rocky or First Blood but still another entertaining take on daring will. 

The Ridiculous 6

Is it important to cultivate ethical guidelines within unorthodox narratives ad hoc, even if the scandalous nature of the storytelling may disorient prim propriety?

Does briefly letting go of pressurized stilted robotic mechanisms, foster a carefree liberating meaninglessness not without aesthetic value?

Does randomly subverting poignant perspectives lead to a more robust cosmopolitan criterion, insofar as democracy nourishes abundance, within which impartiality flourishes?

Is there something more to debauched comedies than the preponderant praise of the ludicrous, exceptionally spun and courageously endowed through the cacophonic art of eccentric assertion?

The pandemic has instigated global limbo stentorian stasis assiduous abeyance, and with a generalized inability to generate forward movement, the past resurfaces with interrogative suspension.

Forward momentum peculiar progressions heuristically heal anxieties and doubts, or at least give you something else to focus on as bizarro developments intermittently bewilder.

I've kept things positive during the pandemic to avoid slipping into melancholia, as best I can, which means I've had to cut out many media outlets, which have focused on doom and gloom too intently for some time.

It's of course important to follow what's happening and to be aware of what's going on, but how to avoid sad thoughts while watching these newscasts regularly is a trick I have yet to master?

I would have introduced Frontline Worker Beat and ran multiple interviews with daring workers, to get a more hands-on personalized look at the pandemic, apart from political speeches and updates about rising or decreasing case numbers (from across the country).

Things seem to be so stratified these days.

It's not good for the health of a democracy.

Thus, a return to no-holds-barred comedy to focus on lighthearted yet boisterous bedlam, to celebrate a sense of resounding hope amidst seemingly insurmountable odds.

One feature you often find in these films which I've written about before, is a salient synergistic sense of camaraderie uplifting potentially distraught spirits.

Isolated individuals operating without connections come together to pursue an absurd goal, the pursuit itself invigorating complacency as they diversify their offbeat team.

Thus the pursuit of an unexpected goal provides purpose even if it isn't stately or august or infused, and since many people aren't that concerned with entrenched enterprise, the goals pursued honestly reflect democratic life.

Should diverse democratic life be celebrated?, of course it should, ad infinitum!

The Americans are very good at it.

As is the inexhaustible, Adam Sandler (Tommy). 

In the Name of the Father

A young borderline ne-er-do-well buck earns a living through controversial means (Daniel Day-Lewis as Gerry Conlon), his dependable father supportive yet stern (Pete Postlethwaite as Giuseppe Conlon), his animate fortunes fluid yet dour.

He heads to England leaving Belfast behind in search of something non-specific in particular, meeting an old friend on his brisk maiden voyage (John Lynch as Paul Hill), the two finding their way to a commune. 

Jealousies cloud their smooth integration and conflict erupts within the bower, however, firmly necessitating agile itinerancy boldly embraced with freewheeling concessions.

But on that very same eve a long peaceful pub is scurrilously attacked, the two friends in the reckless vicinity, the police searching for someone to blame.

They're soon callously rounded up and slowly beaten into sedate submission, and the cops take their interrogations to the next level, and arrest most of Gerry's close family.

Father and son wind up sharing a cell amongst hardened felons unaccustomed to innocence, young Gerry broken yet looking for friends, aged Giuseppe resigned to his despondent fate.

Years later a determined lawyer resolutely seeks veracious social justice (Emma Thompson as Gareth Peirce), as applied to the wrongfully convicted victims of the heinous crime.

The police know they've imprisoned the wrong people since the legitimate culprit freely confessed.

Yet they're unwilling to admit their mistake.

As the years pass by interminably.  

I think a lot of the time the police do a great job, in fact they've been quite helpful on occasion, wrongfully imprisoning people to appease the public is frustratingly distasteful to say the least however.

Moving forward with intent to convict even though it's probable the suspects are innocent, leads to widespread mistrust in law enforcement, and derivate righteous anarchy.

In the Name of the Father holds law enforcement to account while uplifting honest independent inquiries, as a father and son languish in sensational injustice, and many others face similar sentences.

It proceeds too quickly at times, for it covers a lengthy time period, barely scratching the surface of what could have been said in a prolonged reflective series.

But the moments it does choose to share are considerate and make for thought provoking jurisprudent theatre, poignant pastimes and just grace and dignity cultivating passionate aggrieved freespirits. 

Mind-boggling to wonder why anything like the events in this film came to pass?

They had the proof of their innocence.

Politics and law, a dangerous combination. 

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.

David and Lisa

Sequestered far off in sympathetic regalia a gifted adolescent gradually makes friends, his highly strung opinionated disposition leading to conflict after first moving in.

If anyone harmlessly touches him or even suggests shaking hands, he erupts in crise de colère believing illness or malady will soon emerge.

None too amused with the psychiatric practice he defies his doctors as they present questions, quick to diagnose what's latently presumed in whatever is lightheartedly discussed.

Extremely defensive and generally combative an otherworldly fellow student puts him at ease, as she innocently communicates with rhymes and freely expresses herself through drawing.

Her carefree influence institutes calm and he starts agreeably listening to others, and taking part in various activities without introducing bitter criticisms.

But his parents aren't so sure he requires consistent supervision, and decide to bring him home long before he's contentedly transformed.

They try to help him comprehend what they consider to be sound.

But he misses his newfound friends.

And their free-flowing unorthodox collective.

David and Lisa is a touching must-see for anyone who's ever felt like somewhat of a misfit, for within irreverent rascality finds cohesive charmed community.

The affected or grouchy or compulsive or blunt find a safe place unobstructed by conformity, and eclectically assert multivariable dissonance in sweetly flowing uncanny favour.

Fortunately the doctors aren't motivated by strict pretensions, and by listening while freely conversing they remodel overbearing instruction.

There's no specific time limit and even less of an agenda and by no means a strategic plan, the students are rather given free time to matriculate beyond firmly structured commands.

Since there is something they just don't quite get in relation to generalized sociocultural temporality, it's wonderful to see them given the space to cultivate something random and specialized.

Through mutual acceptance and compassionate tolerance healing ascends with concordant eccentricity, and hang-ups and grudges and chips slowly fade since there's much less demand for routine predictability. 

Grievances persist but they're much less intense and friendship sees that they're readily forgiven.

An outstanding heartfelt film.

That's as sharp as it is mellifluous. 

Midnight Special

With manifold signals being transmitted ubiquitously throughout the air, who knows what mental or physical transformations are in store for forthcoming cyberspatial generations?

If physiological indiscretions are emerging nonchalantly, they're passing by generally unobserved, or at least I've never heard them commented upon, in my active yet limited experience.

If there are any pathological side-effects of widespread wi-fi whispers, I imagine they would be carcinogenic in nature, but those immune to such theoretical maladies may still develop previously unheard of synthetic adaptations.

I don't deny the oft maligned potential for supernatural emergence, I just approach it scientifically, the classic unique characteristics that mystifyingly seem divine, the product of uncategorized mutations challenging established truths.

You need established truths to consistently function, but taking them too seriously leads to error, especially when they don't apply to a political context that emerges as variable forces interact.

The emergence of unpredictable situations tests political wills with animate rigour, and responses motivated by ideology may fall short if adjustments aren't flexibly adopted.

But without an ideology how do you ever inspire or drive or motivate, without some goal that's always out of reach why would you ever bother trying to do anything?

Alton (Jaeden Martell) just tries to exist but his gifts generate spiritual passion, in a strict localized religious cult devoted to translating his peculiar reckonings.

His unique abilities lead to prophetical acclamations as the status quo seeks to readily adapt, but it's no life for a confused young child, so his father (Michael Shannon as Roy) helps him break free of the compound.

His devotees are ill-amused and set off to track him down (as does the F.B.I), endemic clashes inevitably ensuing, in a traditionally focused sci-fi drama.

Classifying what he can do in general is beyond my limited comprehension, but it's like his mind is an organic computer that blindly communicates with various satellites.

Midnight Special's focus on the supernaturally down-to-earth offers a humbler vision than many Übermensch testimonials, the larger-than-life phenom immersed in environments more akin to the X-Men than the Avengers.

It's somewhat straightforward yet still exciting, I freely admit that I love this kind of narrative, with a surprising ending and calm and collected characters instinctually reacting to volatile circumstances.

Perhaps they are really are out there.

But without more evidence, who's really to say?

I like Joe Biden's down-to-earth progressions.

He seems like a really cool guy.

Rain Man

Risk-fuelled high-stakes automotive accumulation is temporarily interrupted after the passing of a not-so-loved-one.

Charlie Babbitt (Tom Cruise) flies to Cincinnati to settle accounts without delay only to discover he had a brother whose existence shakes things up.

Babbitt's somewhat of an insensitive callous jerk, and is much less interested in his newfound bro (Dustin Hoffman as Raymond Babbitt) than the cash left in trust for his well-being.

He's been living at a psychiatric facility for almost his entire offbeat life, and has serious issues with communication although he's quite gifted at math.

Charlie decides it's time they get to know one another and kidnaps him from the institution, hoping to take him to L.A in order to strike a lavish deal.

But Raymond refuses to fly so they're forced to hit the road, the backroads 'cross vibrant country, since they're much less bland and noisy.

Partner Susanna (Valeria Golino) can't stand Charlie's motives so she leaves shortly after they depart, and gentle Raymond's left in the hands of someone lacking firm compassion.

But Charlie isn't strictly obtuse and can make sincere adjustments, which their trip demands at times as they travel throughout America.

There's a realistic edge to Rain Man which isn't dulled by hypotheticals, it may seem impractical or otherworldly but it still makes sense as they travel on.

It starts out swift and headstrong full of blind instinctual tenacity, but slowly transforms through the art of play as alternative arrangements challenge preconceptions.

At times you wonder how Charlie could be so thick as proof after proof readily presents itself, but without ever having been trained to care for the differently abled, it's not shocking that his confusion persists.

Raymond doesn't have a say in the matter but makes the most of the sudden change, loudly expressing discontent at times, at others curiously contracting.

They wondrously come together as an off-beat non-traditional team, embracing unexpected roadblocks with surprisingly adept efficiency.

The realism prevents the use of words like "smooth" or "understanding", as Rain Man frenetically flows while life mysteriously presents itself.

I thought the final moments made sense bearing in mind uncertain self-sufficiencies, heartbreaking though they were, the alternative may have been much worse.

Not that Charlie wouldn't have given it a shot, he's not so bad after putting in some effort.

It's nice to see a film that promotes change.

Instead of grim hard-hearted despondency.

License to Drive

The unyielding desire to get out and drive, to head out on the road, to deck out your ride.

It motivates Les Anderson (Corey Haim) in Greg Beeman's License to Drive, who has yet to obtain his driver's license, yet boldly seeks to apply himself vehicularly, and then drive his eager friends around town.

A car is available should he pass the crucial test, and Mercedes Lane (Heather Graham) has agreed to date him, having just broken up with her conceited boyfriend (M.A Nickles as Paolo), whose chauvinism was rather enraging.

There's just one problem.

Perhaps several problems.

Les falls asleep during driver's ed class and fails to acquire vital tidbits of information, which leads to him failing the written portion of his exam, since he's unable to guess the right answers.

But as fate would have it, the computers suddenly break down, his results remaining unknown, and since his twin sister (Nina Siemaszko as Natalie Anderson) passed beforehand, he's given encouraging motivation.

He passes the in-car portion of the exam under unorthodox forbidding circumstances, and returns to the examination centre full of upbeat pluck and resolve.

But his written results have been retrieved, his newfound prosperity instantly nullified.

Yet he still has a date that evening.

And friends who rely upon him.

Trouble abounds after he steals his grandfather's (Parley Baer) Caddy and Mercedes drinks way too much.

But Corey Feldman and Charles (Michael Manasseri) show no hesitation: they're still up for a bombastic drive.

Ah well.

I was hoping for so much more from License to Drive. It didn't have much of a buzz when I was growing up, but there's so much from way back when that I'm sure I must have missed out on.

It's cool to see Corey Haim and Corey Feldman engaged in shenanigans again, and Heather Graham, Carol Kane (Mrs. Anderson), Richard Masur (Mr. Anderson), and James Avery (Les's DMV Examiner) make the most of it; there's no slouching in the face of spasticity.

It promotes driving and the urge to drive with driven adolescent wonder, and sets up a variety of traditional incidents which perhaps still widely resonate.

But protestors and activists are vilified, as are the minority boyfriends of its lasses, and drinking and driving is whitewashed, and I couldn't find a classic '80s moment.

Too high of an elevation of slacking, not enough respect for book smarts, it tries to take things to uninhibited extremes, without ever really kicking into gear.

The Etruscan Smile

Stubborn differences of opinion lead to a prolonged estrangement before a father embraces diplomacy in the grouchy Etruscan Smile.

Practically nothing could ever convince Rory MacNeil (Brian Cox) to leave his remote island home, but local doctors can't diagnose what ails him, and recommend he seek medical advice abroad.

His son Ian (JJ Feild) lives in San Francisco, across the pond in another dimension, with his wife Emily (Thora Birch) and infant son, where he pursues the culinary arts.

Rory's happy to meet his grandchild but isn't hip to new age parenting, or anything that doesn't snuggly fit within a rigid conception of manhood.

His son is moderately successful as is his resourceful wife, his father-in-law (Treat Williams as Frank Barron) offering him the opportunity to open his own chill restaurant.

But in order to so he must compromise, his newfound freedom clad in obedience, contesting tried and true dependable methods, which are highly suspicious of unheralded novelty.

His father is none too impressed with the deals that have to be made, and expresses himself to the contentious contrary, their age old argument flaring up, even after so many lost years.

Sometimes a simpler approach can clarify things or perhaps even save years of time, complicated procedures and multiple-egos standing in the way of unprecedented conception.

The Etruscan Smile celebrates direct communication within a prescriptive environment, all the while asking, "who's more uptight?", to generate critical sufferance.

Bucolic candour playfully contends as politesse loses its joyful direction, urban characters finding Rory endearing, since he isn't racist or vulgar or violent.

It's an innocent freespirited look at sharp alternatives begrudgingly blended, reminding peeps not to forget their roots, even in the midst of intense abstraction.

I don't know, if someone's willing to finance your own restaurant, you'd think you'd compromise a bit on the menu, until such a time as it's turning a profit, after which you could add unique spices.

But where to draw the line on compromise?, that's a tricky business.

I imagine success is more rewarding if you do things your own way, but how do you ever accomplish anything working on your own?

Rory never left his isolated island. Where he owned property and never had to change.

Where going to the pub sufficed.

And nothing passed by unnoticed.

His adventure to San Francisco is still enlivening and full of pluck, an elevation of blunt distinction that doesn't come across as reckless.

Too reckless. 😌

If unfiltered wild rapscallions can adjust so can upscale pride.

But they both have to be willing to adjust.

Perhaps Biden can make it happen.

With Rosanna Arquette (Claudia), Peter Coyote (the Professor), and Tim Matheson (Weiss).

A bit farfetched.

But held together well.

Chimes at Midnight

Courtly remonstrance august unflattering distaste, pejorative, authoritative, stately consequent nettle.

He doth resound with magnanimous impertinence irresistibly foiled salubrity, impenitent carefree rummaged spirits, rowdy improvised uncertain objectives.

Friendship inclusively abounds regardless of make or measure, oft depicted through random horseplay, yet not limited to sedate shenanigans.

Capable of suddenly stirring up a crowd with comic insubordinate intent, incapable of honest toil with constructive fruitful sustainability.

Unwary of boldly asserting he hath undertaken heroic deeds, in the presence of rank incredulity, with neither shame nor force of conscience.

Odd interminglings of duty bound recourse and ludic unconcerned pub fare, a future King navigating the discrepancies, a scorned romantic, a noble hare.

His friendship with Falstaff (Orson Welles) idealizes wayward youth, the heir to the throne wilfully led astray, even if he responds when indeed necessary, to the commands of lofty allegiance.

There's no synthesis therein forthcoming, Chimes at Midnight resonates disparately, a tragic forthright emergent declaration, divisive paramount telltale labours.

I feel for the hapless Falstaff, who thought he had won Prince Hal's (Keith Baxter) favour, if only he could have once tried to follow procedure, if only he could have toed the line.

After the coronation anyways, he should have assumed discretion, but such a lack of action would have never crossed his mind, a wild insouciant charismatic knight, far beyond austere pomp and propriety.

How he could have persisted for so very long without concern or trouble or worry, how could he have never assumed solemnity at any time throughout his life?

It's not that he isn't sincere.

Like Archie Rice in The Entertainer, he sincerely lives in the nimble moment, perhaps thinking loosely about the future, but never without much thought or care.

They both have goals to attain, projects in mind, hopes and dreams, but present ambitions generally obscure them, or lead to overwhelming bright temptations, spontaneous light merrymaking.

Their friends love them when they're performing and when they're not performing too, but can't reconcile their differences when the monthly rent is due.

Perhaps Henry the V can be accused of having led Falstaff on, of having encouraged a sense of entitlement the foolish knave should have never considered.

Did he not share so many mirthful years with Falstaff to at least not feel somewhat guilty when casting him aside?

I suppose they didn't make Ministers of Arts & Entertainment back then but Falstaff likely could have played the role.

Without much prep or training.

An irrefutable natural.

The Entertainer

Archie Rice (Laurence Olivier), a struggling performer, the thrill of the stage, pressing forward ever onwards, hypothetical airtight integration, elastic dynamism salacious foothold.

Perpetual indulgence subjective omniscience fragile attachments paternal reprimands, constant motion deconstructing the breeze, leaving behind scattered remnants of ripe potential (he always knows what to say, or at least always says something).

Pressures paramount tactile gravity hands-on harkened hexed hashed haberdashery, innate insouciance magnetic pulse wayward rhythm irresistibility (people love him).

The hand that's dealt enriching bluff prevarication, smooth operation bewildering necessity (he's creative).

Extolled acquiescence resigned caricature agile concise persevering flexibility, dismissive of resonant embanked calculus, he'd be lost if he wasn't adrift (he's broke).

His inspired reactions lack sympathy for his loved ones, who've grown weary but haven't withdrawn.

Not one to dwell on the past or much besides the immediate moment, he tries to find revenue to launch his new show.

The moment dictates how he'll act and he can no longer write his own cheques.

But he'll do anything to secure independence, no matter what it might dutifully cost him.

Not that he isn't in fact independent, I'd argue he's never known fetter or chain, not that there aren't obligations he negotiates, he just always does so with purest freewill (not me).

In every conversation there's an anecdote or comparison, a reminiscence, a synthesis, a parallel, some truths requiring absurd empathy, as he pulls everyone into his sphere.

He's the kind of person who makes for great conservation and if things aren't too serious a reliable friend, especially if you happen to be in a pub, or heaping praise on his struggling show.

He's aware of responsibility and wants to be responsible but his fluctuating lifestyle makes it quite difficult, he has to create both audience and opportunity and build on whatever momentum's available.

If it's lavish, well then, he's responsible, and if not, fugaciously so.

Things haven't been lavish for some time and people have become rather critical.

But he's far too carefree for critiques, and does his best to verbosely withstand.

The Entertainer presents a showperson who's also a husband, father, and son, who isn't so far gone he's insufferable, but is still by no means sure and steady.

The attention to detail's incredible and it aptly entwines cerebral senses, less luscious conceptions of performance critiquing rowdier, gaudier ways.

Plenty of character, comedy, tragedy, inherent intrigue residual calm, a fascinating script by one John Osborne, that doesn't spare romance or conflict.

Laurence Olivier is once again outstanding (there's so much Olivier in this film) and presents another character who must be seen.

He was quite active for someone so talented (from a contemporary perspective) and played wonderfully unorthodox roles.

No wonder his fans never forgot him.

*This review is about Archie Rice in The Entertainer, who's struggling to keep performing on stage. His character's somewhat sympathetic if not conceited and there's no doubt he's a feisty cynosure. I don't know how the world moves forward from the President of the United States suggesting people inject disinfectants. It's beyond irresponsibility. It's a whole new level of recklessness all its own. Please don't inject disinfectants. Injecting disinfectants will probably kill you.

Tuff Turf

Imagine COVID-19 as a partner who refuses to let go, even though they still have plenty of options, and their love interest's already found someone new.

Difficulties arise, and a family decides to move, leaving Connecticut with bold momentum, to resettle in California.

Youngest son and borderline ne'er-do-well Mr. Hiller (James Spader) struggles to adjust, for even if he shies away from academics, he still has zero tolerance for blatant thuggery.

Soon he's after the underachieving love interest (Kim Richards as Frankie Croyden) of his new high school's most prominent goon (Paul Mones as Nick Hauser), who takes none too kindly to the intrusion, and responds with blunt distaste.

Warnings are given, followed by the infliction of punishment, but Hiller will not yield, the conflict becoming uncharacteristically intense, for the '80s films I'm familiar with, must have been too young for this one, Tuff Turf's rather super-violent, quite brutal, by no means prim or whitewashed, Hiller takes on a volatile gang, and deals with the harsh repercussions.

The film seems less threatening early on, as if the happy-go-lucky will prevail, but Hiller's not Chris Knight or Ferris Bueller, and he takes full-on shocking beatings.

Yet at other times Tuff Turf's so light of heart, like when Hiller's successful brother comes to visit, or he playfully crashes a country club buffet, plus the cool emphasis on all things bike.

Half the film's like a wild music video that's primarily concerned with advertising bands, the plot secondary to the electronic beats, the horn section, the bass, the guitar.

At times you wonder if they're even going to try to develop a plot, or just revel in melodious bedlam.

Then they do sort of develop a story which becomes incredibly dark and grim, like Pretty in Pink meets Scorsese, with a gashed and gripping head wound.

The principal is introduced to warn rebellious Hiller, but he never shows up again, school's practically left behind, less scholastic endeavour than even Twin Peaks.

Hiller is now in public school after having been thrown out of an elite prep college, but since his father (Matt Clark) lost his business, he wouldn't have been able to attend another one anyways.

The awkward. It's like someone who doesn't fit in keeps generating awkward tension throughout the entire film which becomes increasingly crazed and combative until it erupts in full-fledged frenzy.

With bands rockin' out and tacked on family values.

It's like director Fritz Kiersch didn't like '80s films and sought to release something countercultural, which couldn't have possibly been appealing, but seems to be focused on generating esteem.

There could be a sick sense of humour here that I'm glad I'm not getting.

Enter Seinfeld's bizarro world.

Kitschy immiscibility.

Ford v Ferrari

I could never get into car racing.

No matter what the track.

I watched a car race once one afternoon when I was 10 years old or so, while two brothers started brawling for some reason, and after 5 minutes or so it generally lost its appeal, I'm afraid I never had the desire to watch one again, cold storage, dusted away.

I like films however, so if a film about car racing is nominated for best picture at the Oscars I figured there must be something to it, something that transcends the actual racing itself, and perhaps highlights a point or two I never would have taken into account if I hadn't seen it, although I did respect car racing meanwhile, it's just something I could never get into.

Into watching.

It sounds fun, like it'd be something fun to do, not watch.

The film does a great job of demonstrating how much thought goes into winning such races, the coveted expertise possessed by precious few aficionados, who take the time to actively pursue their passion without thinking much about reward, the love of the game drives them, and it's impressive how much they know.

Honestly, seeing a company that was as big as Ford at the time take on a much smaller company that was going out of business (Ferrari) didn't appeal to me much, it's like the company that already has everything backed up by unlimited resources competing against a devout artist, who's passionately spent everything in the pursuit of something breathtaking and unique.

It's super American.

I didn't care for that aspect of the story much, but since Ford had the reputation for making less specialized cars and wanted to prove they could do something unique, I appreciated the improbability of the challenge, which would have seemed more profound without the wealth.

The incredible wealth.

But the team Ford assembles isn't rich, it's composed of hands on struggling independent artists who thoroughly understand their craft, and the film excels as they bat heads with bland executives, whose knowledge is much more concerned with spectacle (they think more about what to do if they've won as opposed to how to actually go about winning).

For some domains, a large bureaucracy functions well, ensuring the delivery of various services for vastly different markets, the inherent intricacies and size of which require multiple levels of thought, positions occupied by workers familiar with the terrain, and the flexibility to calmly deal with manifold contingencies.

If you're trying to win a race, however, if you're doing something highly specific for an individualistic set of circumstances, and there aren't multiple levels of thought, there are just a couple of highly skilled professionals who have the knowledge to get the job done, who in fact know what they're doing, and are making the most relevant observations, like Carroll Shelby (Matt Damon) and Ken Miles (Christian Bale) in Ford v Ferrari, then, as Carroll and Ken mention in the film, the bureaucracy can get in the way, and make simple decisions that need to be made absurdly complex, the absurd complexities making the practical goal unachievable, keep it simple, keep it practical and hands on.

If you want to do something bureaucracy can be frustrating because you have to wait so long for approval to do the simplest things.

Not so much in politics where it's important to think about the impacts of what you're doing.

But if you like the bureaucratic ebb and flow, I suppose the argument itself is somewhat compelling.

The film is somewhat direct and easy to follow, no nonsense is the phrase writers employ in writing such a narrative I imagine, everything has a traditional relevant point, and it presents a thoughtful situation full of risk, trial, error, reward.

It's the kind of light film pretending to be tough that makes a positive impact, if you don't think about it too much, if you just sit back and take it in.

It would have been cool if the impact the experimental nature of race car driving makes on domestic automobile manufacture had been briefly explored.

And it hadn't been so massive, so Goliath.

A generalized examination of a complex phenomenon.

Nice to see Jon Bernthal (Lee Iacocca) with a larger role. 

Marriage Story

The slow patient cultivation of specific general roles, patterns emerging as time passes becoming more rigid while still considered ill-defined, dynamic environs creatively encouraging unpredictable professional growth, but within their fluid energetic exciting jazzy continuums lies one person directing, and another following established codes, their lives constantly shifting reimagined as inspiration strikes, but the thought of doing something else never so much as remotely materializes, even though passive hints are presented until years have past and it seems like every decision's made without sincere consultation, even though he thinks he's listening and they're making joint discoveries, as fluctuating intensities eagerly fascinate, and everything's cast anew.

Perhaps a stunning aid for couples who have been married for quite some time, inasmuch as Marriage Story makes so much lucid sense, yet Nicole (Scarlett Johansson) and Charlie (Adam Driver) still can't understand one another.

Noting the errors Charlie makes may save similar marriages, I've always thought working together (jobs) is a bad idea, although some couples do seem to work well together (at jobs).

Case by case.

But it's perhaps more probable that in Marriage Story nothing can be done, since one partner's too caught up with too invested in a particular way of life, which can't suddenly change to fit new circumstances, circumstances which demand he abandon everything altogether.

Nicole no longer wishes to live in New York, which leaves Charlie without much room to work with, in a bit of a pickle as divorce proceedings commence, and he has to prove he resides in L.A.

While directing a play in New York.

He was just too immersed in the limelight to notice that something was going wrong, or that the passive suggestions were actually serious, and required full-on responsive note.

I don't know how to sift through the suggestions myself, I've never really had a deep relationship, but in theory I'd try to sift through them by listening for those that were presented more than two or three times, if my partner was passive. If a suggestion popped up that many times I would take note that it was indeed much more than a suggestion, and would adjust my busy schedule accordingly, if forgiven for having taken my sweet time.

Charlie and Nicole get along so maturely you wonder why they're getting a divorce?, until it becomes clear Nicole needs something less ubiquitous, and doesn't like the constant direction.

Even if her husband's brilliant and nice.

I think she grows tired of him always finding a solution.

And perhaps finds her life's become a novel case study.

I'm probably incorrect, as Marriage Story points out in passionate detail with great supporting performances from Laura Dern (Nora Fanshaw), Alan Alda (Bert Spitz), and Ray Liotta (Jay Marotta) (loved the Julie Hagerty [Sandra] and Wallace Shawn [Frank] too!), women really understand what women are going through, and men generally understand all things bro.

It's a wonderful film examining a complicated multivariable couple trying to keep a hectic life simple as things unravel at their marriage's end.

It begins with touching characterizations they've both written about each other (a ruse) that provide in-depth accounts of the time they've spent together, with literal poetic resplendency.

Reasons.

Multiple compelling reasons.

The caring insights written into every observation prepare you for clever thoughtful storytelling that keeps it real the whole way through.

It isn't particularly light nor overwhelmingly dark, but chillin' and anger both expound within, each scene enacting free flowing difference sustained within a modest versatile frame (except for divorce court), as if the characters may actually exist, and have something irresistible to say.

Nice intelligent successful people who for some reason find themselves married, clashing with cold cruel realities with which they'd both rather not contend.

Artists hiring lawyers.

There's so much thought in this film it's like reading a good book, you wait for years to see dramas as good as this one.

The scenes last for much longer than 30 seconds.

Multiple reasons are provided to explain something neither partner wishes to fully comprehend.

Nice to see Adam Driver and Scarlett Johansson in something without intergalactic conflict.

Noah Baumbach's made so many great films.

This is his first masterpiece (I never saw The Squid and the Whale).

Even when it slips up it just seems like it's his youthful innocence shining through, like an historical trope, like he hasn't forgotten a randier style, here transformed into something more aged, the present and the past blended like well crafted gritty red wine, that's been maturing for fruitful decades, and's finally ready for bold presentation.

Wish I'd seen it in theatres.

Netflix can no longer be denied (by me).

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

True kindness and understanding, humbly presented with compassionate care, eager to learn new things and listen, according to the preferences of his friends and colleagues, willing to encourage an idea within reason, or curiously lend a helping hand, accustomed to supporting friends in startled need, or sitting back to shoot the breeze, perhaps ready to share a contradiction, but not with offensive intent, offered without seeking to contest or duel, but to passively suggest an alternative option, full of thanks and amicable reward, he frankly yet pleasantly proceeds, truly interested in what you have to say, unconcerned with rank or bias, sincere sympathy reflexively conveyed, clear positive energy, an anti-sophist, a remarkably thoughtful and genuine teacher, a good neighbor, one Mr. Fred Rogers (Tom Hanks).

Meets Mr. Angry (Matthew Rhys as Lloyd Vogel), a grown-up devoid of youth, consumed by hopeless cynicism, blind to lighthearts and forgiveness.

It's sad because Angry's in a position to spread hope and good cheer, not simply for merriment's sake, but to encourage less hostile relations, since if the people who are concerned with spreading the truth only see greed and envy, and emphasize the preponderance of these vices in everything they write, even though they have influence, they'll create communities void of trust, especially if they always focus on people like Trump, who bring it on themselves, and don't showcase less grotesque alternatives, Trump's world is certainly violent, and needs to be forthrightly exposed, but if nothing is offered as a less corrupt alternative, because he's selling all the papers, and the news still shapes people's worldview, then there's nothing but individualized angst to rely on, and the world becomes Trump's forbidding place.

I suppose stories about philanthropists and less controversial figures don't sell as many papers, but if the news is entirely focused on death and destruction, and people learn how to behave in response, is it not more ethical to risk less revenue, and share more stories about warmth and compassion?

If the news is saying it's wrong to live within an expedient void wherein which there are no principles or standards, and it shies away from sharing stories which reflect goodwill and sympathy, sharing them along with those it disseminates to expose political corruption, because they want to earn higher profits, does it not also exist in an expedient void where there's nothing but disgrace and corruption?

If they're to be relied upon as the promoters of a better world, should they not also do something to promote that world?

As did Mr. Rogers?

I understand this point in time is particularly bleak, but there must still be noteworthy stories out there about people spreading the light, and your first instinct shouldn't be to denounce them as hypocrites because of something they did 20 years ago, but to perhaps build them up as champions of peace fighting blatant corruption.

If there are no leaders who are worthy of respect what's the point in respecting anything?

Isn't that what Trump wants? Doesn't he suggest there's no point in respecting anyone so you may as well follow him?

I understand life isn't a box of chocolates, but it's not a razor's edge either. There's room for light as well as dark. And people like stories about honest folks.

I'm not looking for a share of the spotlight, I'm just thinking about these kinds of things.

The news often seems so grim.

Other people have messages besides Trump.

Honeyland

In the remote wilds of Northern Macedonia, an innovative maiden makes endearing ends meet.

In touch with fickle nature, ensconced within her environs, she harvests nurturing honey, to swiftly sell to local merchants.

A true friend of bee kind, she takes no more than she requires, and shares that which she humbly consumes, with her industrious agile constituency.

Never guided by greed nor gluttony.

In harmony with rustic enrichment.

Not that she's making huge disposable sums, but she has something left over for a bit of fun, and is able to care for her loving mother, who lives with her in modest surroundings.

Itinerant neighbour farmers move in to harvest nutritious honey as well, but they lack Hatidze Muratova's knowledge, and proceed in error in search of profit.

Motivated to gather much larger quantities, they fail to consider the health of their bees, as a third party eggs them on, who's more concerned with sugar than soul.

Shouldn't one always care for their workforce?

Ensuring health to prolifically prosper.

While respecting local traditions.

And maintaining holistic balance.

Honeyland follows Hatidze and her new age neighbours as they employ different management strategies, one in touch with solemn longevity, the other breeding contempt in haste.

The honey looks so delicious.

Eaten right off the comb!

Abounding with innovative nutrients.

Synergistically savouring strength.

Honey's one of the most wonderful things and it's a miracle that it exists in nature, a vital juxtaposition provoking thought, inasmuch as something so sweet can critique so severely.

Bears love it.

I imagine other animals less immune to stinging do as well.

I find bees won't sting you as long as you remain calm. If one lands on you, don't move, rest immobile, patiently wait 'til it freely moves on.

Even if one lands on your lip.

Or your eyelid.

Bees.

Honeyland's also hardboiled and distinct, vividly capturing woes of hard living.

Difficulties of having to start work so young.

Without recourse to community or medicine.

The spirit of independence durably thrives within, vibrantly generating lush sustainability, through hardcore pluck and spry versatility, thoughtful observation, long-lasting care.

Hatidze Muratova's an individual like no other.

Her story brought to life by a documentary team.

A moving imaginative tale.

Overflowing with intense life.

Not to mention some harmless fun.

Laidback immersive simplicity.

Harrowingly disturbed.

Resourcefully contradicted.