The Bear

The age old urge to hunt still widely adopted by many across the land, the animals vastly outnumbered by our ever increasing population.

It does seem like our trusty home planet can't sustain even more eager hunting, although the hunters themselves are often some of the keenest environmentalists. 

They've effectively worked to create a system that monitors resident animal populations, and efficiently gives out requisite tags meticulously designed to keep up the numbers.

It's not something I would ever do I'm so harmless I hesitate to squash mosquitoes, but if wildlife populations can sustain hunting, letting people hunt is much less cumbersome than banning it.

As I've mentioned before, it's also a good way for many Northern families to get food during the winter, which is often shared throughout the community, and if wisely managed, animal populations aren't threatened (and people aren't grumpy).

I don't like trophy hunting however and the arguments will never convince me,  I may agree with someone just to shut them up, but I'll never support superfluous animal killing.

At least if people are using modern weapons and elaborate technology to track the animals, our advantage is so lopsided that I don't see any skill or honour in the undertaking.

An animal like a bear is usually harmless anyways, they often just go about their business eating a routine vegetarian diet. 

They're nothing like the openly hostile xenomorphs in the Alien franchise, whose natural instincts unilaterally demand they never stop fighting no matter what.

If you wanted to hunt an animal and you were simply dropped off in the bush somewhere, and you had to survive with what the wilderness provides, and construct your weapons from natural material, then hunting becomes more honourable, but I still don't see the point.

Neither did Jean-Jacques Annaud when he made his beautiful film The Bear, wherein which we find a loveable cub living and dreaming on its own in the Northern wilderness.

Delicately within, he tenderly presents ursine sublimity through natural wonder, to humbly suggest why not just leave these solitary shy individuals alone?

It's a really cool thing when you see a bear just move away slowly and keep your distance.

Bear populations don't bounce back quickly.

They're not hurting anyone.

Why bother hunting them? 

Nanook of the North

I suppose there was a time when nature documentaries were something new, when there wasn't a plethora to choose from overflowing with the cute and cuddly?

The Nature of Things has always just kind of been there, chronicling away, but what were things like before the bold instructive multidisciplinary narratives of Suzuki?

There must be some cool books out there examining the history of naturalistic docs, it would be cool to have the chance to check them out some day.

If in existence, I wonder if any of them mention a nature documentary that predates Robert J. Flaherty's Nanook of the North (1922), with its adventurous bold endearing chill filmscapes?

It's not technically a nature documentary although it could be loosely classified as such, since it certainly presents a lot of critters, at home in their arctic environments.

The mighty walrus in its gargantuan splendour makes a thought provoking appearance, as does the lithe arctic fox, and the animate flip harp seal.

Unfortunately, the animals are being hunted, I imagine there was a different attitude concerning hunting in films back then, or that since it was likely something new, related armchair controversies had yet to develop, the subject inchoately generating previously unheard of sedate and shocked sensibilities, which must have opened up many critical heartlands, nevertheless, if you don't like hunting, beware.

I'm not a fan of watching animals being hunted but the Inuit live in a special set of circumstances. There is still an abundance of wildlife for them to hunt (lots of moose and deer elsewhere in Canada and Québec too) and why wouldn't you when a green pepper costs $8?

And it's a huge part of your ancient traditions?

Imagining what it must have been like to capture this independent footage is mind-boggling, inasmuch as they may have been filming in arctic conditions first hand at length without much to go on, with old school equipment that had to stand up to the elements, at a time when so much film was inherently experimental?

Was the equipment more durable back then?

Did they wear warmer gloves?

I imagine the film predates planned obsolescence by decades plus half a century.

Perhaps everything was built of sturdier stuff!

Or they just possessed more innate adventure?

Nanook of the North follows Nanook as he bravely hunts for his family, his vigorous spirit and inspiring good cheer promoting long-lasting effervescent wonders.

The soundtrack and intermittent silent narration add complementary uplifting currents, upon which the documentary glides, through wild unforgiving terrain.

I haven't seen many silent films but Nanook provides clear insights into the phenomenon, its cinematic awareness still relevant and captivating, as it bridges the divide between entertainment and instruction.

I loved watching them build their igloo from glacial disputatious scratch, then add farsighted clever home furnishings, there's no doubt they knew what they were doing.

Perhaps it's too happy-go-lucky considering the environmental extremes, but it still presents a spellbinding tale enriched through courageous endeavour.

I highly recommend it for film lovers in search of the pioneering documentary spirit.

It still radiates contemporary charm.

I'd argue it's truly timeless.

Terminator: Dark Fate

Liked the new Terminator film.

I was surprised in the opening moments to see a beloved character shot down, and would have been angrier if that had happened much earlier, say in the 1990s, and then thought the initial terminator battle which followed was too textbook, too hasty, but after things settled down and the new parameters became clear, clearer, it took on a life of its own, and at times, seriously impressed.

I admit that I love Rise of the Machines, as I mentioned several times years ago, and Salvation isn't that bad either, although I'm not too fond of Genisys anymore.

I was partial to seeing John Connor chaotically embrace his messianic future, I suppose because it's cool to see the same characters reimagined in successive sequels, even if improbability ridiculously assails strict logic thereby, but that's the trick then, certainly, isn't it?, to make the impossible seem reasonably sound?

Rise of the Machines embraces the ridiculous aspect of reasonable improbabilities and perhaps therefore seems farcical to some, insufficiently serious in fact, lacking sombre and solemn composure.

Although I still think it does a great job of bringing Connor and Kate Brewster together, Arnold Schwarzenegger encouraging reluctant pair bonding, and as far as romantic-comedy-action-sci-fi goes, I can't think of another film that even remotely compares.

But Dark Fate works in the classic Terminator revelations well, the moments when its characters suddenly find themselves subsumed by ludicrous fact, reliant on a team they've never met before, and a plan laid out like a derelict jazz solo.

It did seem illogical that John Connor could be the only one to save the future, that no one else would rise up if he fell, especially considering how eager so many are to assert themselves, against all odds, in oppressive circumstances.

Thus, alternative computations perhaps make more sense than Highlander reckonings, uncharted territory reinvigorating discovery, a traditional plot realigned and recalibrated, repopulated with narrative variation.

It's nice to see Sarah Connor (Linda Hamilton) back at it. She adds a lot of depth and hasn't missed a beat.

Plus the new characters define themselves well.

Mr. Schwarzenegger lightens the mood.

And is reintroduced with paramount timing.

I suppose it's tough to diversify these films without setting them in the future like Salvation, as long as a terminator travels through time to hunt, and a future leader awaits unaware.

But if you want to keep things solemn while blending in a slight comedic touch, Dark Fate provides a noteworthy template, the dam doesn't burst, humanity fights back, and don't forget the convincing revelation scenes.

Tim Miller and his crew clearly care about the characters and sought to deliver a cool film for its fans.

Theatre troops have been performing Hamlet for centuries.

Working in contemporary themes.

Or reimagining historical authenticity.

As artificial intelligence becomes more prominent, don't Terminator films become more relevant?

So much time wasted in paranoid conflict.

Why isn't it clear there can be more than one?

Pete's Dragon

A child's imagination can limitlessly prosper as it infinitely expands if pedagogically nurtured like a flourishing free spirit.

In David Lowery's Pete's Dragon, we find a young child (Oakes Fegley as Pete) who has been living in the woods for several years under the watchful eye of a caring dragon.

Elliot's the beastie's name.

His existence is undeniable in the film, but, if he is thought of as representing limitless imagination and Pete has developed limitless imagination while growing up on his own in the wild, then after he is discovered by humankind, what becomes of that imagination in terms of future potential?

In terms of the options available in town?

Two brothers are presented, one (Wes Bentley as Jack) who owns a logging company and abides by the law when extracting timber, and another (Karl Urban as Gavin) who manages the company on the ground and breaks those laws in order to earn higher profits.

Either way Pete's imagination will have to adapt to human civilization, since both options extract wood from the forest.

Jack takes Pete in while waiting to hear from child services, after Pete befriends his daughter Natalie (Oona Laurence), and for the first time since the fatal car accident in the film's opening moments, Pete is surrounded by and immersed within nourishing comforts, comforts that can lovingly engage his imagination.

Meanwhile Gavin, having learned of Elliot's existence, hunts down and viciously traps him, thereby attempting to turn Pete's imagination into an estranged exploited sideshow.

Cunning and ingenuity, no doubt the reflexive byproducts of that imagination, enable Pete and his friends to free tethered Elliot, who is then chased by his would be oppressor, and forced to unleash incendiary objections.

Foes defeated and stability secured, in the end we see Elliot and Pete reunited, Elliot having found companions as well, or Pete having developed an in/dependent artistic/commercial sensitivity, nurtured by a disposable income.

Perhaps not the most well rounded layer of metaphorical interactivity, but if relativity is applied to expand upon the definitions of stability and comfort, as it should be if Elliot is taken into consideration, and these definitions proliferate within the realm of free choice, it's possible that everyone could have their own community of dragons, loveable in their specialized elasticities, curious to energetically explore.

Why the heck not?

As Summer is applied to the upcoming scholastic year?

It's a wikithing.

I can be cheesier.

Big Game

In the remote unforgiving Finnish wilderness, a young lad must claim his manhood, the hunting of wild game demanding his assurance, that he'll respect his forefathers, and bring posterity home.

But evil descends on his quest for ascension, as terrorists shoot down Air Force One, seeking the President's blood, the breadth of a misunderstanding, to see that the party survives.

Accidents collocate immediate reactions.

The President (Samuel L. Jackson) would have found himself abandoned and helpless if it wasn't for Oskari's (Onni Tommila) vigilant eye, his strategic positioning, as if he was unaware of his tumultuous destiny, his unheralded calling, his instinctual expertise.

Bold expeditious horizon.

Fertile and counteractive.

Footsteps, l'Hexicon.

Jalmari Helander's Big Game delivers.

There's an intense sense of disciplinary procedure carefully balanced by the shock of the extraordinary which isn't over exaggerated to accentuate the sensation, chill, mellow, playful metamockery, working within a tradition, to resist definitive cookie cutting.

It's fun.

It's a lot of fun.

The überurban dependent on the rural to ensure its steady survival, the ridiculous scandalous yet tame, chiding while redefining the blockbuster, seriously cohesive corrugation.

It cuts down a lot of stereotypes throughout, details, details.

Perhaps I loved it because it celebrates the unsung, a cabin in the woods, a tree or rock somewhere, abounding with meaning for the initiated, isolated, unheard of, withdrawn.

Muskeg.

Campfires.

Work.

Laughs.

Infusions.

Uvanga

A single mother and her son travel from Montréal to Igloolik, Nunavut, after the passing of his father, so that young Tomas (Lukasi Forrest) can meet said father's extended family for the first time.

The midnight sun illuminates their visit as familial expansiveness and jealous grudges acquaint him with a different set of cultural codes.

He's curious and chill, open-minded and active, these factors enabling a productive immersion in the North's différence, supportively kindled by his loving relatives.

And problematized by hostile trouble makers.

Uvanga frankly blends the harsh with the heartwarming, synthesizing the fearful and the awestruck in a diverse communal intergenerational resiliency.

Tomas's father's death is a subject of controversy.

His mom's (Marianne Farley as Anna) decision to leave is questioned.

Her return instigates adversarial purges.

A curative step, for the advancement of healing.

At first, I thought the scenes were passing-by too quickly, but this technique allows Marie-Hélène Cousineau and Madeline Ivalu to densely pack their multifaceted narrative with a varied cast from different walks of life, motivations and realities resultantly receiving accentuated depth, thereby directly rebuking any claims of oversimplification.

Situating a mother's grief and a son's acculturations within a lively mosaic of piquant reach.

To-the-point easy to comprehend consistently sharp conversation.

That's not so easy to pull off.

Predators

Never thought I'd see Adrien Brody covered in mud fighting a Predator monster, but Nimród Antal's Predators delivers such a scene and fills it with pugnacious intensity. The film immediately situates us within a frenetic free fall as several elite military personnel awake after having been cast out of an airborne vessel, parachute in tact. After landing, this multicultural group of warriors discover they've been kidnapped and shipped to an alien planet upon which they've become the prey of a group of unflappable veteran killers, who seek their destruction with inveterate artistry. There's only one way to deal: bond together as a group, embrace the brutal predicament, exchange chides and military strategies, be thankful that everyone has recourse to a common language, and fight back by any means necessary. If you like thrilling horrific action films set in a paranoid chaotic environment wherein battles and direct conversations are consistently presented in an exciting straightforward fashion, then you'll likely enjoy the latest instalment in the Predator series. Its attention to detail and expertly crafted wit indicate that it was created by filmmakers who take action seriously, respect their fans, and aren't looking to simply make a buck. I enjoyed the ambiguous dimension developed for Topher Grace's character, the depth added to the supporting cast, the vindictive one-liner delivered in Russian, the expansion of the Predator universe, the outstanding samurai scene, and the well-timed intelligently designed pacing. Acutely accelerated from start to finish, Predators diversifies and electrifies the Predator franchise, just in time for its third filmic decade.