Immigrants forge the background of any nation, and through their fruitful industry,  economies and cultures are reborn. 

Shouldn't the Ukrainians who moved to Canada & Québec at the beginning of the war be given the choice to stay here when it finally ends? 

Chronicle of a Summer

Happiness can be difficult to find if you spend your time consistently looking for it, questions seeking to discover if you're happy often encouraging disgruntled malaise. 

A blissful state of visceral integration can immersively flourish if unacknowledged, the conscious interrogation of the waking dream potentially producing unsettling affects. 

In the final episode of the original Twin Peaks series Marcus Aurelius is quoted, Waste no time arguing what a good man should be, be one, so the saying goes, the meticulous depth into which ethical discussions sink often generating misery, if you're not interminably disposed they can go on ad infinitum. 

Attempting to apply the morose despondency to the lighthearted nonchalance often found when working, while attempting to inspire a higher state of awareness, often gets bogged down in manifold detail, and leads to greater confusion as opposed to widespread lucidity.

Simple solutions sweetly flowing with unobtrusive easy-to-follow-messages, can lead to more lasting results as melodramatically demonstrated by advertising. 

For the people who see through the ads and constantly feel aloof and cynical, a comprehensive literary bearing with lengthier more convincing arguments may help.

If they seek the dynamic realization of their arguments in a mass restructuring of postmodern society, they may find frustration routinely abounds as they spearhead colossal change.

If they can settle for elaborate books which imaginatively delineate alternative reconstructions, without radically attempting to implement their designs, if such designs demand shocking changes to the smoothly flowing status quo, and discuss things amongst themselves, they may find peace for a time, if they aren't just indefinitely accustomed to doom and gloom.

If they attempt to implement abstract theories that even they have trouble understanding, without thinking through the startling consequences the intense remodelling is bound to have, woe may be widely disseminated as we see happening in the United States these days, where stubborn idealistic governmental impositions are obstinately ruining a once robust economy.

If only things were certain like they seemed to be earlier on in life.

The more media you consume, the more jaded.

While happiness can't be found without consuming more media.

Unless you stop thinking about it.

Go with that flow. 

Should we really be arresting people fleeing the United States? Shouldn't we be welcoming them? They've been through so much. 

Here

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Although it does make a comfy place to lie down! 

*Criterion keyword: gossamer. 

Soleil Ô

It's important to play an active role, to take part, to add your voice, racial discrimination is an unsettling reality that consistently frustrates able bodied workers.

It's wonderful to see when citizens engage and write books or direct films to help struggling minorities, a lot of genuine sympathy and sincere care diligently goes into their compassionate construction.

Soleil Ô follows the plight of African migrants who move to France in the post-colonial period, but it wasn't made by concerned French citizens, it was created by Africans themselves.

According to the colonialist dogma they had been brought up with, they were equal citizens in France, and were surprised to find a lack and housing and employment after they picked up one day and moved there.

The film experiments with narrative techniques as it explores various aspects of racist tensions, which still pop up with alarming regularity there's still so much work to be critically done.

Back in Africa for instance, the abundance of languages is thoughtfully presented, before the colonized citizens have to fight one another in English and French with crosses turned into swords.

A grouchy bigot cantankerously complains about immigration in a relaxed restaurant, before a black singer inspires the patrons and he suddenly changes his stubborn mind.

A mixed-race individual who looks white has to suddenly walk away, from an angry man who just can't help his instinctual hatred and knee-jerk prejudice.

As a white woman and a black man playfully flirt with one another on the street, passers by look on in shock and offer multiple awkward different takes.

Even though black people possess requisite skills they're still forced to work in specific sectors, many of which demand no education and involve industrial cleaning.

I would argue that Soleil Ô's multiple exploratory scenarios, present pioneering mockumentary techniques decades before they became conventional (they may have also been popular at the time but were referred to by a different term).

The comedy is instructive without being violent and there is one character who keeps showing up, the events loosely tailored around his experience as he tries to make coherent sense of things.

It effectively uses humour and logic to rationally comment on distressing realities, hopefully convincing hard-hearted peeps that there are less drastic solutions to economic problems (people shouldn't be assigned specific jobs solely based on the colour of their skin for instance).

First rate experimental cinema perhaps decades ahead of its time, courageously created by the actual citizens whom the racist attitudes affected, Soleil Ô is worth checking out by concerned multicultural citizens, especially because the same attitudes still persist, and need to be fought by the next generation. 

Stillwater

A father whose tumultuous routine led to an awkward relationship with his struggling family (Matt Damon as William), is consumed with obsessive guilt several years later when his daughter's arrested (Abigail Breslin as Allison). 

She's found guilty of resonant murder and sent to prison near the coast of Marseille, her father visiting her there when he can, the flights expensive, work hard to find.

She emphatically proclaims her innocence and on his most recent visit reveals a clue, which gives him reemergent hope as he soon tries to get her case reopened. 

Obdurately blocked however by pressing realities within the law, he buckles-down and radically adjudicates by trying to find the suspect himself.

Problems: he doesn't speak French and is oblivious to local custom, he's also spent most of his life in the rural American mid-west and is generally uncertain as to how to proceed.

Moving forward nevertheless fate soon secures a definitive lead, and provides shelter and cultural refinement not to mention employment and domestic salvation. 

But to find the irascible murderer he may have to pay too high a price.

Caught between cultures and families. 

He instinctually reacts with western-style gusto. 

Expediently extemporary the ethical dilemmas contract and metastasize, no easy answers no glib illumination as a hard-boiled family deals with its own.

As newfound chances wholesomely radiate and enlivened parenthood intricately seasons, bad decisions still surreally occupy a bitter frustrated entombed consciousness. 

He's willing to risk everything he's gained on an assuréd probability which crosses the streams, if things work out, tout va bien toujours, if they fall apart, it's worse than worst case.

Not only that, it soon becomes apparent that his daughter's innocence is not that clear-cut, and that the investigation held in accordance may not have been led quite so far astray.

I wouldn't have taken such a risk new life's far too precious for improvised risk management, it does bring about the sought after ends, but they could have been achieved through less threatening means. 

In terms of a neo-western-film-noir mind*^*& Tom McCarthy's Stillwater internationally succeeds nonetheless.

Nothing quite like amoral gristle.

Destitute detritus.

Mid-winter mayhem. 

Mis dos voces (My Two Voices)

Lina Rodriguez's Mis dos voces (My Two Voices) takes a hard look at Canadian immigration, with extended thoughtful honest accounts, as three women share their experiences.

It's impressive how naturally they speak, how they can continue talking for such a long time, without pausing or searching for the right word, the films presents a solid look at natural spoken language.

How do you keep the narrative flowing while being filmed for such a long time?, perhaps the language just naturally diversifies when compassionately asked sincere open-ended questions.

It's nice to see people who care about one another and genuinely seek widespread well-being, while candidly sharing what they've practically learned in order to help others in similar situations.

They don't mince words or sugar coat things.

But still warmly share experiences people can relate to.

I know that learning a new language can be tough especially if you start your studies later in life. I'm a bit out of practise these days but I can share some tips I've learned which may help. 

It's really daunting at first because there's so much for you to learn. And you're striking blind from oblivion and seriously hoping to gain some traction.

Keep at it though.

Rome wasn't built in a day.

It can take time to acquire new language skills. I still have so much to learn.

But if you put in an effort you'll find you're making progress and you'll start to notice patterns and shortcuts that can help you express your ideas.

In the beginning, there are a lot of bad days and not being able to communicate is frustrating, but as time passes good days emerge and make things much more interesting.

After you start having good days if you have another bad day it isn't so bad, because you can focus on the good day memories, and rationally expect more of them to come.

Years later a day may dawn where you find you understand quite a lot. I haven't made it particularly far. But there are a lot of conversations I can have.

It just takes a while to build up vocabularies and then match the correct words to the sentences.

But when you suddenly find you can do it.

That's a really cool feeling.

My experience has been much different than that presented by the women in this film.

I just share what psychological strategies helped me in order to aid people in similar circumstances. 

West Side Story

Intriguing to consider a massive fertile thriving landscape, where millions of people routinely flocked in search of work and wealth and romance.

If a more respectful and mutually beneficial way had been found to share the land with its Indigenous inhabitants, the situation would be even more compelling, true adventure emboldened quests.

West Side Story passionately chronicles a dispute between two groups who have yet to prosper, who fight each other for turf and are none too hospitable across the board.

The social safety net lacks efficient robust ubiquitous munificent potency, and even when it attempts to assist, its generosity is at times vilified. 

Love remains the key as it always has as it always will, two enthused youths from opposing ethnicities, their inspiring union communally detested. 

Perhaps it was that way when the feisty Irish moved to Québec in the 19th century, initial hostility eventually giving way to amorous endeavours through the passage of time.

There were none such clashes in my youth the different cultures tended to bond, coming together productively for a time ignoring race, religion, and class.

It's a preferable more constructive sociocultural model to craft, communally sound and reciprocally uplifting, generally united with the most predominant language, citizens free to speak how they want in their private lives.

There were jokes about race and ethnicity while I was growing up, but they were so ridiculous not many took them seriously, film and television often fought perverse racism, no one wanted to reignite despotic Naziesque tensions.

Unfortunately, misguided sensationalists overturned hard fought logical accords, instinctual rhythms lacking rational guidelines paving the way for bellicose jingoism. 

There's a fight near the end of West Side Story a wild clash between volatile leaders, followed by death and chaotic discord, desires for vengeance, shattered l'amour.

Steven Spielberg still deserves the nomination, this film is a masterpiece 50 years later.

The amount of planning that must have gone into it.

Incredible genius. 

Intricate fathoms. 

Code inconnu: Récit incomplet de divers voyages (Code Unknown)

Indeterminate reactions sidestepping stimuli, attempts to integrate impressionistic zeal, melded with studied yet experimental role play, opportune emphasis, vernacular vixen.

Pumpernickel panache intuited hesitant precocious pantried parasol protocol, emergent revelation anodyne rubric ecstatic reservation lands unknown.

Subtle or daring cryptic courageous imperative nondescript agile evanescence, manifold merged transformative mysteries maestro a' mewing critically conscious. 

Restive receptive quizzical consommé piecemeal perceptive narrative legend, dwelling itinerant quadrants continuums amorous crooned cartographical quay.

Descriptive departure rhapsodic rapids whippoorwill whirlwind cortical calm, dorsal fin dreamy demonstrative dashing zephyrous zigzag literal lounge.

Nautically nestled lampooned luminescence solemn centripetal sermonized soirée, exotic exodus fermenting fusions coastal consensus taciturn tracts.

Vehement vessels ensconced equilibrium qualms quotients choral affirméd flotilla, doughty destination irrelevant rations unparlayed particulars maritime motion.

Envisioned intricate haphazard hijinks amusingly harmonized holistic surf, assertive rebuffles distraught notwithstanding inquisitive mischievous mirth.

Mundane immersive inevitable unchanging unified concordant prediction, intermittently erupting through humdrum monotonous atonal routine seas.

Variety unsurpassed inexplicably tactile imaginative gripping re-emergence, delicately embraces expansionist curious interactive proclivities. 

Patterns cherished patterns critiqued patterns belovéd patterns disdained, corresponding cohesions upheavals erratically nuanced through mood in flux.

Ever onwards agendas uncharted heuristic random anticipated happenstance, at times successful at others disheartening fluid trajectories fun intercessions. 

The pressing break of day landlubbing routine discordant seclusion.

Tasty latté ready to go.

Subconscious synergies.

Active stasis.

*That's my take on Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir's first date. If they ever really went out.

Unknown

A brilliant doctor resilient and dependable arrives with his wife at a conference in Europe, the two looking forward to innovative discussions throughout the upcoming thought provoking week (Liam Neeson as Dr. Martin Harris and January Jones as Elizabeth Harris).

But Mr. Harris forgets a suitcase at the airport and must return with improvised haste, a random accident then suddenly sending his swift moving cab into the river.

He wakes in the hospital four days later confused and uncertain of his identity, flashbacking memories intermittently bombarding his worried bewildered forlorn consciousness. 

Enough memories are pieced together to locate his wife back at the hotel, but she's claiming another man is her husband (Aidan Quinn as Dr. Martin Harris), and he has the credentials to prove it.

Dr. Harris A has no supporting documentation and is alone in a foreign city, his only contacts the irritated cab driver (Diane Kruger as Gina) and an old school Stasi agent (Bruno Ganz as Ernst Jürgen).

But as they help him piece things together determined hitpeople come viciously calling.

His life hanging in the chaotic balance.

If he can determine which life is his own.

Identities ephemeral consistent mutating sculpted and warped through variable circumstances, sincere lighthearted earnest scenarios generating alternative fluid trajectories. 

In Dr. Harris's case, a traumatic shock engenders tumultuous transmutations, childlike innocence serendipitously resuscitated with headstrong free contradictory will.

As if latent wondrous ethical senses habitually reside within unobstructed awareness, a less reserved curious luminous syndication ethereally materialized through pneumonic flux.

Divergent associates proceed reflexively according to malleable regenerative factors, expectations foiled with animate nuance or transformatively adorned with newfound resonance. 

New sets of variables present cherished fascinations as inquisitive impulses react with the arts, ahistorical multilateral syntheses composing flexible dynamic spectrums.

Acquiring new knowledge leads to the reinterpretation of staple favourites convivially collected, the reinvigoration of personal relationships, intricate staunch identity.

Dr. Harris makes a go of it in Canada and Québec as so many adventurous people do.

Not that anything's written in stone.

Unknown wildly entertains throughout. 

Antigone

Tragedy strikes an immigrant family as their eldest son (Hakim Brahimi as Étéocle) is shot down while protesting his brother's arrest.

His brother (Rawad El-Zein as Polynice) sees what has taken place and responds with violence, adding assaulting a police officer to his crimes, which may lead to his deportation.

Their family bonds are tight and strong, and his sister Antigone (Nahéma Ricci) has a plan, to secure his dauntless release, even if it means she'll have to do time.

Her plan's a success, he escapes, she's arrested, and she settles in at the juvenile detention centre.

Where her brave actions are swiftly called out, in consideration of her brother's transgressions.

She's determined, dedicated, feisty, immutable, her conscience uprightly resolved.

Her partner (Antoine Desrochers as Hémon) fights for her integral freedom.

Stirring up quite the intense media frenzy.

No easy answers in this one.

The classic compelling mind*&%#.

Ethical issues abound as hearts clash in Sophie Deraspe's Antigone, a brilliant reimagining of the play, creatively and controversially brought to life, through the art of aggrieved contemplation.

Antigone's somewhat well-integrated.

She even won a scholarly prize.

She's by the book, constructive, rational, no-nonsense, the film critically absolved by her defiant reserve.

It's puzzling that she takes such risks for a career ne'er-do-well, yet provocative inasmuch as she avails.

The film intermittently interrupts the action with clever feverish pop-cultural analyzes, energetically presenting high octane observations, situating the narrative in the world at large, a broader multicultural context, that expands as the trial gets underway.

It's a convincing drama that excels at realistically depicting youthful and aged antagonisms, clearly in touch with the alternative views, and the ways in which peeps struggle to understand them.

Although Antigone's youthful rebellion ironically upholds old patriarchal schools, a cunning syntheses on behalf of Deraspe, who boldly articulates so many sharp distinctions, without seeming sentimental or preachy.

I'd argue Antigone upholds a great Québecois tradition of crafting rebellious films which make you think, like Mommy, Vic + Flo ont vu un ours, Quand l'amour se creuse un trou, or 1er amour, a unique style that's totally its own, that asks hard questions that have no answer.

But it's in trying to answer them that these films imaginatively assert themselves, as life presents impenetrable codes, as disconcerting as they are enlivening, basking in comprehensive intrigue.

There's no frosty sugar coating.

Just reality, action, dilemmas, mistakes.

Life.

Active living.

Insert The Matrix.

Bewilder.

We the Animals

A creative child, impoverished and sensitive, hesitant and withdrawn, immersed in domestic violence explosive tempers rigid flair, bipolar ontologies practically conditioning tempestuous mindsets artistically grained and fractured, love amorously swathing, freedom recklessly improvising, a lack of consultation disputatiously igniting frayed conscience, with striking elementary animosity, fell off the deep end, woe heartaches disbelief, still anchored constitutionally, to sights sounds preached ruptures too familiar.

Tough life for the little guy.

The love's there, no question, but paps doesn't get that he's just not the type of kid who learns to swim if you unexpectedly let go.

A budding young illustrator, painter, designer, architect, explicitly classifying the chaos as unconfrontationally as he can, attaching meaning to the inexplicable with tactile ambassadorial artifice, a collection accrued amassed, grotesquely misinterpreted upon discovery.

He finds it thrown away.

Learns to keep his head above water.

There's no support network overflowing with concerned expertise.

Just actions, reactions, patterns, nature.

A lack of understanding.

Existence.

We the Animals relies more on emotion than rational discourse as it presents itself, a stunning array of carefully selected snapshots delicately scolding in volatile willow.

There's nothing easy about this film, the characters patiently move from hardship to hardship supporting themselves as they frenetically endure, or become accustomed to livid passionate embraces, some people learn to thrive on conflict, a strange inhospitable disposition divisively characterizing sullen negotiation.

Odd habitual inadmissibilities.

An excellent film regardless which pulls you in with unassuming composure, not to be taken lightly even if endearment shines through, not to be bluntly dismissed even if scenes are strictly brutal.

When you see her sleeping on the couch one morning surrounded by mischief you think that must be something exceptionally adorable to wake up to.

But a lack of both resources and community services, and a strong desire to make their own way, lead to violent emotional outbursts which make their situation haunting and desperate.

I'm not being facetious here.

This is totally serious.

I've met several prospective new Canadians in recent months who didn't know a thing about skunks.

Seriously, Immigration and Citizenship Canada needs to warn new Canadians not only about the excessive cuteness of skunks, but also of the dangers of approaching them.

Admire their cuddliness from afar new Canadians!

If you get too close, they'll spray you with their indiscriminate stink shooter and you'll be stuck smelling terrible for the upcoming weeks to come.

Watch out for skunks.

Even if they're adorable!

Boost

Friendships fiercely fraternized, habitual restraint mingling with wanton risk to wildly impress and collegially incarcerate, an idea, contrasts, audacity, accolades, admonitions, contrition, relapses, there's an intelligent way to go about things in films, in films I've seen there's an intelligent way to commit crimes, exercising extreme stealth, keeping things on the down-low, but young Anthony MacDonald (Jahmil French), recently suspended from school, likes to brazenly advertise, his mild-mannered accomplice (Nabil Rajo as Hakeem Nour) unable to withstand his will, their successful colleagues having stayed in business by remaining mature and sober, as bold youthful extravagance clashes with reticent age.

Hakeem's obligations leave him isolated, exhausted.

Duties to family, co-workers, culture, and friends, excruciatingly conflict as they seek the knowledge he's acquired.

But the only way to placate them without self-destructing is to expressly keep things zipped, zigzagged.

With staggering composure.

And multilateral calm.

Repercussions abound in Darren Curtis's Boost after two adolescents screw things up for hardened car thieves.

A slight taste of the spectacle leaves them ostentatiously entwined.

Balancing the headstrong with the pensive, the excessive with the shaved, Boost interrogates responsibility while matriculating resolve.

Demonstrating a sound understanding of the youthful confines of age, it fairly investigates cultural mis/conceptions to dialectically dis/integrate cunning hardboiled c(l)ues.

If you move here I wouldn't worry so much about becoming a Canadian, about fitting in.

It's one of those things where the more you try to do it, the less integrated you become.

Unless you're filthy rich.

Before you've lived through a couple of Winters people tend to doubt you'll hang around.

And after you have they may still not be that curious.

But they like to see familiar faces.

Have brief chats once in a while.

Even pay attention sometimes.

Like moving to most countries I suppose.

With a bitterly cold Winter.

If you're active though, and join some organizations and contribute something, you'll meet people.

Just give it some time.

Be patient.

And don't stress about it.

Brooklyn

The down home, the perspicacious, the loving, the transformative, a new life in Brooklyn awaits modest Eilis (Saoirse Ronan) as she leaves her hometown in Ireland in search of difference abroad, job prospects and alternative acquaintances expanding her conscientious integrity, homesickness and tedium challenging her burgeoning resolve.

It's a feel good tale, moving along at a brisk pace, Eilis's self-sacrifices endearing her to those she meets, who respond by opening doors which she resoundingly walks through.

There's character development but it's sparse and fixated, every aspect of the script calculated to polish stock responses, the polish heartwarmingly uplifting and consistent nevertheless, as every chance interaction collocates constitutional blooms.

A straight shooter, consummately conflicted when she returns home for a funeral, an idyllic pastoral future suddenly materializing, chanting out between worlds, delicately torn asunder.

If Brooklyn's momentum had occasionally paused, swayed, reflected, something more profound could have perhaps been stated, a visceral dimension arising from the resultant contemplations, a judicious milky way transcendentalizing urban and rural.

It's not concerned with such interstellar abstractions however, and competently accomplishes what it sets out to do, a straightforward yet enticing examination of goodwill, restricted yet nimble, acquiesced to trouble making.

This style of filmmaking makes the accomplishment of hard fought goals seem far too easy by reducing devastating complexities to a collection of brief highly saturated moonbeams.

Still, it's nice to see positive films that mildly if not naively celebrate change in flux.

Like roses or a box of chocolates.

Maple syrup.

Caramel.

Jab Tak Hai Jaan

Love, perpetually incapacitated, melodramatically presents itself as stubborn and unyielding, daring and resourceful, maddeningly fleeced, and explosively uncompromising, in Yash Chopra's Jab Tak Hai Jaan, where dedication is ir/reverently consummated, and real emotion, subsists in ironic flux.

Samar Anand's (Shah Rukh Khan) principles cause his nonchalant ingenuity to appear as if it's overcome with resignation, yet, while comparable to Bella Swan in terms of relationships, or in regards to narrative structure, he's clearly intently focused on achieving an interstellar overdrive, as his unrelenting perspicacity diffusively ameliorates.

His subjects of desire represent reserved bourgeois integrity and irrepressible public success.

As usual, I was more interested in the moments leading up to the initial affectionate declarations, after which, although things picked up again following the intermission, things become somewhat overzealous.

However, Mr. Chopra's ability to work bracingly and heartbreakingly within Jab Tak Hai Jaan's socio-religious cross-cultural overzealatanaiety, his unbridled full-throttle unconcerned pluck, did help me to appreciate his film, as he endearingly orchestrates.

Tezz

Two men on different sides of the law intellectually and physically face off in Priyadarshan's sensational Tezz, one seeking personal justice for having been deported to India and separated from his family, the other coming out of retirement after having spent his life foiling terrorist plots for the British government.

With a perfect record. 

A bomb is attached to a passenger train travelling to Glasgow which will explode if the train's speed decreases below 60 mph. If 10 million euros are given to Aakash Rana (Ajay Devgn), the disaster will be averted. Railway Control Specialist Sanjay Raina's (Boman Irani) daughter is on the train, adding to the melodrama. Counter Terrorism Agent Arjun Khanna (Anil Kapoor) is intent on catching Rana before he has time to explain how to dispose of the bomb. 

And egos explode. 

Within headstrong passionate personalities definitively express their emotionally charged strategic points of view, having been forced into a rationalized chaotic peculiarity. Extremes and modes of transportation abound as controversial decisions are rapidly made.

When ambiguity seems as if it may gain a foothold within the narrative's denouement, the law moves in and shuts thing down (thereby accentuating the predicament of the disenfranchised).  

You would think there would have been other ways for Aakash to be reunited with his family. 

But when taking into account the terms of Tezz's stark portrayal of the law's callous non-negotiable dismissal of Aakash's respectability, a sort of absurd understanding can be applied to his over-the-top benign all-or-nothing approach, since the rational framework to which he had devoted his productive life suddenly and unconditionally collapsed, leaving him with no constructive alternatives within the existing legal framework.

Like Crazy

Don't know if I'm the write person to be reviewing romantic films.

Drake Doremus's Like Crazy seems like a good one, with all the typical heartbreaking circumstances in place, presented in a harrowingly tranquil laid-back predictable manner, as a young couple falls in love but has trouble staying together because they live in different countries.

Marriage fails to solve their problems.

Long periods of separation lead to affairs.

There's nothing bizarre or distracting.

We're left wondering if the power of love will bring them back together in the end.

And it does and everyone's happy.

Hooray!

I liked the film's form. It's chill, non-judgemental, mature, flat and consistent.

But its content wasn't very surprising and lacked the distinct mesmerizing transitional scenes that could have differentiated it more prominently from typical tear jerking romances.

None of my tears were jerked.

Unlike the first time I watched Star Trek: Generations.

Monsieur Lazhar

Immigrating. Searching for work. Adapting to the dynamics of your new surroundings. Quietly suffering from the trauma of your previous ones.

Philippe Falardeau's Monsieur Lazhar follows the activities of Bachir Lazhar (Mohamed Fellag) as he seeks refugee status in Montréal and finds a job teaching in an inner-city elementary school. Matters are complicated by the fact that he replaces a respected facilitator of learning who recently committed suicide in the classroom. His students are confused and shocked.

His antiquated teaching style doesn't placate things.

But his strict yet forgiving direct approach has its merits as he attempts to bring his students's pain out into the open. Simultaneously creating a cathartic outlet and an administrative backlash, he boldly proceeds while negotiating the consequences.

With neither teaching degree nor classroom experience.

His traditional signs and points of reference have been displaced, transformed and differentiated, yet his wit remains intact, enabling him to manufacture structured cultural resources through the process of active creativity.

Which facilitate his socio-economic recovery.

Flexibly managing the viewpoints of the other while adopting components of their constructive criticisms to his professional and social practices leads to his modest integration.

Synthesizing divergent contents with similar forms systematically acculturates his multifaceted tenacity.

Because he gives a shit.