Overboard

Absolutely adapting grandiose manifest in synthetic conjunctive rigamarole, as bucolic mystery enigmatically sheathes ostentatious origins through disenchantment.

A new life exceedingly envelopes the opulent damsel with thrifty means, and previously underdeveloped expectations suddenly take on didactic schmooze. 

It's a trick of course her new husband and family disbelieving their luck, as the oblivious plutocrat who blindly cheated them randomly shows up with amnesia. 

It's a new era in their lives, constructively complete with domestic bearings, instantaneously overwhelmed with comatose conjecture and improvised charm.

The lighter touch and the less severe endemic countenances prove endearing, a natural fit bewilderingly unbeknownst to the heartfelt darling metamorphosized. 

Yet as her unconscious helplessly seeks a broader path upon which to exemplify, her waking hours embrace play with mesmerized mischief and sincere conjuring. 

Should she choose to stay if she wakes up with consciousness accrued?

Or munificently synthesize the disparate means?

With bold immiscibility.

And thoroughbred temper.

*Is that how you and mom met dad?

**Not exactly son, not exactly.

*Does that kind of thing happen a lot?

**I imagine so son, I imagine so.

*I guess there are all kinds of ways people meet, you've got to be ready for anything. 

**It's important, takes time and care. 

*Flexibility.

**Tidal tenses. 

*Ebb and flow.

**Mercurial routine. 

Trucks

Machinery has on awkward occasion posed philosophical questions while at work, the consistent use of fuel-powered-entities blended with distraction leading to hypotheses. 

Such theories no doubt imaginatively aided by consistently observing different narratives throughout life, the uncanny ludicrous application of televisual conceit to work and play.

But if oil and gas is eventually created as life inevitably dissolves, it was therefore once indubitably alive in possession of thought and spirit and appetite (Plato).

Machines inarguably seem inanimate when not turned on when lying dormant, with no fuel warmly generating power to encourage motion and requisite function. 

But when active does the fuel they burn once composed of life once again draw breath?, ontologically igniting ancient schematics blueprints attuned to reanimation. 

As the reignited organic material takes hold of the metallic construction, it nurtures different kinds of behaviour, which is why machines seem like they have personalities. 

Thus, one takes it easy with older machines less intimately acquainted with flexible immediacy, while it's fun to reasonably play with brand new constructions recently made.

Trucks takes things to the next level and gleefully removes the human factor, the trucks indeed suddenly turning on their once unsuspecting masters.

As they take over the small town of Bridgeton there's little that the lords can do.

Besides try to find a way to get out of there.

Before machine-kind embodies absolute rule. 

*Isn't this what you'd call crackpottery dad, machines coming to life and killing everyone?

**That's certainly an argument you can make son, although the off-kilter theory still mystifies.

*Tough to stop your mind from wandering when doing boring stuff, isn't it dad?

**It's helped to make so many cool stories.

*I still don't think machines are alive.

**You're probably right. But, really, who's to say? 

*Sigh. Okay, maybe driverless cars are a bad idea.

**Good to keep humans in the loop son.

*No doubt. I don't know what I was thinking.

**A.I can't freakin' drive cars. 

*Loved the station wagon. 

Excelsior

Obsessed with grades a curious squad introspectively comports themselves inquisitively, compulsively attuned to meticulous vibrations shrewdly endowed with austere form. 

Studiously aligned to exacting rhythms they reflexively defy comatose expediency, and proactively consume everything they can instructively regarding knowledgeable life. 

Intricate methodologies furthermore facilitate domestic tasks and fruitful expenditures, as elaborate meals exhaustively enable vast culinary insights into grand gustation. 

Public transit indeed suffices as automobiles require monthly payments, and work conflicts with reading and study as esoteric guidelines promote seclusion. 

They note the habits of other people as peculiarly generating otherworldly impulses, which seem to have less novel interest and lack the allure of imaginative exhibition. 

Until one day they're voluminously tasked with audaciously attending a music festival. 

At which they encounter points of view.

Randomly delivered with disengaged artistry. 

It's fascinating to watch as exoteric alternatives creatively emerge with dynamic flair, and democratic evaluations of discursive thought begin to outmanoeuvre hierarchical remonstrations. 

Instead of vitriolically delineating opposing viewpoints as distasteful, the raw newfound classifications deconstruct traditional liturgies. 

As they listen to conversations which don't have a point and aren't competitive, the resulting nonsensical energetic whimsy magically encourages inclusive insights. 

I liked how the utilitarian exposure led to less venomous codes of conduct, and the accidental immersion in illogic subterraneanly diversified stilted constructs. 

It reminded me of my youth in the country when I hung out with people who had no use for school, and I used to love listening to their odd discussions which were so very different from life at university (they called me dainty). 

They were like unique unconcerned orchestrations naturally overflowing with authentic life, people who actually cared about people, instead of just writing books about how that's a great idea. 

Cool flick. 

The Boy and the Heron

Tumultuous tragedy bellicose bombardment inhospitable hegemony disconsolate disaster, wartime waspish wincing saturnine dismal devastation laconic lockdown.

A spirited move out of harm's way felicitous fortunes august acculturation, incumbent sadness besought fatigue synchronized siesta voltaic vroom.

Resilient retinue gregarious gatherings sycamore sympathy symphonic stack, unhindered wanderings atavistic adventures non-sequitarzany clandestine quests. 

Distressing disappearance worrisome whittling Sombretown searching hearty solemnity, immersive quandary querulous kibble flexible physics asymmetric stone.

Intangible tinsel impalpable pulp amorphous dimension sibilant sorcery, spiritual succotash insouciant sushi transformative quadrant juxtaposition. 

Whambient wavelengths fantastic frequencies imaginative hyper-reactive illusion, bewildernestled oblique immaterial shapeshifting quagmiracult-de-saquesters.

Archaic sentiment serpentine simplicity quaker o'tantamount reanimation, consistent regroupings chrysalid coordinates oblong addresses arhythmic artistry. 

Aquadrilatticeworkinder'eggstatic palimperception existentorian, quintessenshisha hurrisugarcandolittle exubearingstraitjacket willowridesharangue. 

Sublimerickshawshankbernard encompassing subterranean nexus, dreamlichintegritty gruel mossemboss'kosh granknitty slimpickety bandanana. 

Subconscious sandmanic slumberton reverie quixoticambridge i'deal'emblematic, elephanatic rhinosirriustic wildebeesturnstyle crocodilettantics.

Vacancy velvet caroussel candleliturgy seasaunter Mirvishlistless incredulity, acceleration inquisitive maven curious exquisite tournyquil'bation.

Accented effervest hogtirade levity interlude schism cosmicrobull mist, courageous acoustics tumbledown tweedle discursive reunion familial galaxy. 

Saw a heron the day after I watched this.

In an uncharacteristic spot.

It didn't fly away either, like they usually do when you're up close.

Neat.

I've seen every Ghibli. 

Grave of the Fireflies

Soulful siblings emphatic play youthful deliberations innocent slumbers, confused comprehension sabbatical sedge tragic ubiquity wartime horrors.

Bedevilled bombardment continuous clawbacks inherent disaster allied alacrity, weary world warriors destitute dogma dissident delineation fascist fetters.

Lugubrious license paternal pandora receptive relatives unsought isolation, codes unfamiliar stilted routine acute misunderstanding strict dismissal. 

On their own lacking knowledge and networks improvised desperate sincere initiative, what more could kids be expected to do?, expedient acclimation enigmatic envelopment. 

Initial hopeful exotic ingenuity amicable innovation friendly festivities, bullfrog bullion firefly fortitude exceptional courage elusive symbiosis. 

Severe surroundings draconian doppelgäng stubborn psychosis obdurate angst, pervasive paucities widespread famine stoic starvation communal clashes.

Delirious dolomite contagious collocations unconscious impertinence illicit logic, ventriloquist vestige woebegone withering incredulous sacrilege misanthropic morosity.

A beautiful child anxiously awaits newfound necessities enriching food, her not-that-much-older brother passionately engaged in reasonable acquisitions stealthy sacrifice.

What war creates, the miserable endgame the impoverished hopeless collective terror, inconsolable cadence excessive despondency inexhaustible dolorous interminable distress.

Living off wallpaper dismal demarcations wholesale obfuscations stagnant rejuvenation, static progress apocalyptic nadir limitless abeyance inert productivity.

Undisciplined demagogues illustrious rogues hysterical sedition belligerent aggression, decadent dustbowls ritzy aggregate determinant detritus infertile soil.

Grave of the Fireflies presents life and beauty unfortunately mired in incomprehensible visions.

Painstakingly highlighting the miseries of war.

With nature and storytelling.

And blunt discretion. 

*Kids may be too young for this film's hard-hitting message (don't start wars). It's the saddest children's film I've ever seen.

The Fabulous Baron Munchausen

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fearful of invention, loath to spin yarns. 

Over and over.

Ad infinitum. 

Sanjuro

The improvised planning of the itinerant samurai much more fluid in the cerebral Sanjuro, after a group of younger emboldened citizens discover a plot to dispose of an elder.

The samurai meets them by chance on a world-weary voyage leading to their door, where they innocently plan their audacious activities with impulsive daring and simplistic fortitude. 

Little do they know, they're being surrounded by the very same scoundrels they hope to challenge, who have brought at least 100 men to unceremoniously ambush them.

The samurai uncovers the plot and quickly overcomes his habitual boredom, immediately employing his requisite cunning like a grand-chess-master to outmaneuver the danger.

He swiftly realizes the group is honourable and therefore decides to offer his protection, putting advanced logic and reason to work in the adventurous aid of the sublime do-gooders.

But his lacklustre bearing his indolent mood doesn't quickly win over their skeptical hearts, especially since he drinks too much saké and at crucial times seems distant and irritated. 

They find when they listen to his strategic counsel they usually outwit their foes nevertheless.

And after much heated arguing amongst themselves, eventually agree to suffer his temper.

Not as explosive as many a chaotic borderline reckless wild samurai movie, but still quite endearing to strategic minds who truly love spur-of-the-moment planning.

Truly like an active chess game where each single move must be delicately balanced, the hardboiled yet caring demonstrative leader entertaining his students while refuting their folly (like the opposite of Trump's daily antics).

It's fun to watch as they impudently quarrel with the wise honest master lending a hand, alas no matter how many times he saves them they still adamantly doubt his chill erudition. 

The samurai is thrilling to watch if you like free confident ingenious odd heroes, whose skills are so genuinely imposing they take spectacular risks as if they were simply gardening (with bears).

Like a formidable saviour guarding the just from bellicose foolishness in corrupt mortal lands, the warrior proceeds with ethical daring even though he could have kept wandering alone.

From village to village the unruly countryside curiously wondering who will suddenly show up.

And add some spice to bucolic life.

At times routine, yet never overdone. 

Ikiru

The fluid motion of the bureaucratic stream meticulously generating endless paperwork, to be filed and effectively categorized as emergent initiatives continuously diversify.

A steady job punctilious no doubt but relatively safe with benefits and comforts, not as lively as poetry or sword fighting but still dependable, reliable, and calm.

Nevertheless, concerned citizens seeking dynamic change may run into hardships, if things stagnate and there's no will to moderately adjust the status quo.

In Ikiru, for instance, determined mothers seek to change their environment, due to the incorrigible waste water leaving their children covered in rashes. 

Coincidentally, a senior civil servant who loves his family and is known for hard work, unfortunately discovers he has stomach cancer and only 6 months to a year left to live.

He decides to uncharacteristically withdraw some money and extemporaneously galavant around town, and soon becomes harmlessly infatuated with a spirited younger employee from work.

As she becomes bored with their routine which is somewhat too outgoing for the conservative climate, she asks him why he likes to spend time with her and he bravely decides to answer.

Her youthful spirit it captivatingly seems has reinvigorated his thirst for life, and caused him to reimagine his working role and spearhead change within his department.

They never see each other again but her accidental influence bears auspicious fruit.

And without much time left to live.

He charismatically champions change.

Stick with Ikiru's good intentions it gradually builds to a wholesome climax (Ikiru, not the United States), difficult to make a thrilling bureaucratic film that modestly presents humble good natured caricatures. 

I'm so used to Kurosawa's samurai that this was a surprise full of uncanny feeling, where the civil service functions bucolically amidst the insurgence of lay councilpeople.

I wonder if it was inspired by Dickens it's like The Circumlocution Office in Little Dorrit, where one of its employees isn't exactly like Scrooge but still wondrously changes for the communal good.

Imagine translating Dickens into French let alone Japanese brilliant translators are invaluable. 

How to understand different languages so well at such high levels.

Mind-blowing to say the least!

Stagecoach

A method of travel once widespread and common effectively navigating the wild frontier, transporting people 'cross rugged uninhabited tempestuous forbidden exhaustive terrain. 

The sturdy stagecoach led by agile beasts 🐎 resiliently determined to reach sundry locations, forthright and steady disalarming reliable stalwart steads industriously envisioned. 

Things were somewhat more divisive back then and uptight crusaders could run you out of town, in John Ford's Stagecoach indubitably indeed we find alternative dispositions hitching a ride.

The alcoholic doctor dipsomanically settles in serendipitously next to a whiskey salesperson, a notorious gambler respectful of gentility also joining the stealthy coach.

The journey will take them through hostile lands where the ancient citizens have not been consulted, the domain historically occupied by them their inherent disfavour no doubt justified.

The army will only follow the passengers for a relatively short distance before departing. 

The telegraph line has also been cut.

The resonant danger lurid and taunting.

I had the wrong idea about ye olde Stagecoach I thought it had more of a stiff upper lip, but several of the characters elaborately entwined don't necessarily follow paths straight and narrow.

I was surprised to see that the trusty John Wayne was playing an escaped convict in search of bloodshed, not a lawman or general or pilot just a lovestruck honest to God cool reckless kid.

Those in possession of non-traditional tendencies are given room to orthodoxly manoeuvre, the doctor abandoning liquor to deliver a baby, the lady of the night inspiring conjugal love.

The interrelations between the three cultures the Spanish and British and Native compatriots, are melodiously presented in ethereal song before troubling antipathies erupt once again.

I'd like to learn more about the 17th and 18th centuries and how often British peopled joined Native tribes.

I suspect it happened much more often than imagined.

Details perhaps found in the Library of Congress.

Until then compassionately note that Stagecoach is an entertaining reflection of the times.

Well beyond austere considerations. 

With a tenderhearted endearing finale.

Moonshot

You know, if I had my own spaceship and I was heading to Mars, you could have a ride with me. 

If you spend a lot your time rolling bagels and your arm hurts from time to time, there'd be a special masseuse onboard, and you could have a ride with me.

If you wash métro stations at night with those giant industrial floor cleaning machines, your cabin would be idyllically polished, and you could have a ride with me.

If you bust out ye olde weed whacker and cover at least 10k a day, trimming grass with agile endurance, while transitioning to mow and plant and clip and prune, you could have a ride with me.

If you wash dishes with categorical moxie and efficiently keep the supply chain moving, there'll be plates for your cake on board, and you could have a ride with me.

If you enjoy playing the keys as a rhythmic specialist or even a frenzied soloist, we could put the band back together, and you could have a ride with me.

If you can keep the orders in your head and delicately time all the dishes in turn, we can feast on freakin' whatever, and you could have a ride with me.

If you love sundry different films and appreciate vast international diversity, perhaps taking in Fantasia while searching for Criterions, you could have a ride with me.

Pretty much anyone could have a ride with me, but why the hell would we go to Mars, which is basically a barren hostile rock, and live in an oppressive small town settlement, that we could never leave? 

When we could go to Colorado, Tadoussac, Montréal, Hamilton or downtown Muskoka?

There are still billions of years of life left on this here planet.

Give or take a challenging millennia. 

Raising Arizona

At times, the constructive benefits of living a dull yet productive life, fail to impress the potentially high-rolling illicit transgressive provocative crowd.

But enduring grace ironically saves an awkward confused convenience store thief in Raising Arizona, as he falls in love with a beautiful cop who takes his picture every time he's brought in.

He eventually wins her hand and they soon swiftly realize they're indeed somewhat married, and therefore expected to responsibly nurture uptight consistent bourgeois contingencies.

Things take a grandiose maladroit turn when friends from the joint come a' humbly calling, however, having escaped and in need of a place to slyly hold up for the foreseeable future.

It's even more intuitively stern since H.I and Ed were unable to have children, yet recently noticed that a furniture salesperson's wife had just had quintuplets on down the road.

They then managed to acquire an active son through ill-gotten-improvised lacklustre means, yet in their attempts to forge a legitimate family were ill-prepared to accommodate felons.

With bounty hunters in search of the youngster and the destitute guests planning a lucrative heist, the conjugal duo just tries to raise junior and function as respectable husband and wife.

A tumultuous tale effervescently bound to inordinate cascading of diligent degrees, effectively unable to immersively ameliorate as chaotic circumstances diabolically dishevel. 

Comedic instincts wildly disseminating a lack of balance and cohesive structure, the cultural rules and abrasive regulations perhaps too stable for such ways of life.

Alas the embrace of dependable codes can seem inalienable when viewed from a distance, but if attempting to randomly realize them you may encounter highfalutin infrequencies. 

Consulting a laidback professional such as a marriage counsellor or family planner, may lead to less outrageous conduct should you have difficulties succeeding as one.

H.I and Ed don't really seem like readers but there are television shows and documentaries that can also help.

Note that they're both striving to make things work.

And likely doing a better job than ye olde Kermode. 

Alice in den Städten (Alice in the Cities)

A wandering writer discovers photography while driving around the United States, and takes sundry pictures his editor rejects when he attempts to submit them instead of his article.

He couldn't help not writing it, he was inspired by a different idea, and even though a task had been definitively set, he seductively swerved and creatively reimagined it.

He's out of money nevertheless and his editor won't give him any more, the decision to return to Germany suddenly presenting itself with frank appeal.

While purchasing his ticket he meets a single mom and her curious child, both of whom can't speak English yet also want to return to Northern Europe.

He agrees to awkwardly assist and then finds himself with no place to stay, the mother and daughter agreeing to put him up his habitual thanks most unpresuming. 

The mother is still in touch with her new partner who wants to remain in the United States, and leaves her daughter with the travelling writer and they proceed to sightsee around New York.

They agree to meet at the airport but surprisingly the mother doesn't show up.

But sends word she'll meet them in Europe.

When the next flight arrives, she's not on it.

The child doesn't remember where her grandmother lives and the two have quite the confusing adventure, the writer learning not to be so grumpy as he tries to accommodate youthful maturation.

It's an oddball misfit scenario the oblivious trio not consciously registering, the bohemian lifestyle making bold decisions through spontaneous planning as they make their way home.

As luck would have it, youthful spirit blossoming in friendship unceremoniously wins the day, the artist reluctantly embracing formalities to amusingly calm down the frightened youngster.

She notices his random scribblings and childishly wonders what they might be.

He bashfully plays the absent-minded father.

To improvise with unkempt austerity. 

Kaijûtô no kessen: Gojira no musuko (Son of Godzilla)

A forgotten island off the beaten track hosts grand monumental experiments, as revered scientists seek to increase the expanding world's food supply.

Indeed it is speculatively thought that the vital crops sustaining humanity, will fall short of the requisite yields in little more than a 100 years.

Thus, using silver iodide, an ingenious solution is hypothetically put forth, to produce vast weather altering scenarios which create forbidden extreme temperatures.

How the cultivation of extreme cold will help generate abundant crops, isn't provocatively explained although it's assumed there is an answer.

Meanwhile, the scientific equipment periodically detects confusing anomalies, which startle the dedicated technicians who remain uncertain as to their origins.

Until after their first experiment generates hostile colossal preying mantises, who in turn destroy a barrier of rock, within which lies a massive egg.

Before they can devour what lies within the young one's father fortuitously arrives, the ensuing battle borderline epic as Godzilla Jr. watches in breathless shock.

Soon noble Papa Godzilla is eagerly instructing his newborn lad, in the titanic arts of aggrieved distemper, the two blossoming in flower. 

But Kumonga, the local giant spider, has had enough of their tender bonding.  

And when Godzilla drifts off into monstrous slumber.

It comes a' creepily crawling.

The sensational details of the riveting romance which brought about Godzilla's curious offspring, are unfortunately missing from this lively film, perhaps waiting to be found in another instalment.

Yet a newborn Godzilla indeed exists and once inquisitively enacted engrained mischief, however unaware of his gigantic rivals he aloofly appeared to be.

Thanks to his father's teachings he learns to fight back nevertheless, and even saves good old dad from Kumonga in an epic battle near the film's end.

As to altering the weather, hasn't that tended to be considered a disastrous calamitous mistake, the potential room for catastrophic error and international bedlam maladroitly pending.

There are just two many variables to holistically account for when creating such devices, many of which remain beyond our comprehension and also likely beyond that of A.I.

At least it was generally thought to be an incredibly bad idea long ago. 

We have advanced considerably.

But the forecast still lacks precision. 

The Thing from Another World

Finally watched the original film depicting John W. Campbell's story Who Goes There?, which is much more of a lighthearted romp than the chilling masterpiece hewn by John Carpenter. 

It's Science vs. The Military in 1951 and in The Thing from Another World the army reigns supreme, the resident scientists made to look like fools who can't reasonably understand the imminent danger.

In fact the scientists take great risks in the pursuit of knowledge to save the monster, who rebukes their heartfelt efforts with morose haughty intergalactic derision. 

They even have foreign accents and are much more internationally inclined, facets which latently upset the good old commandos who quickly take charge of the distressing scene.

The pursuit of knowledge is indeed not nearly as reckless as its dismissively portrayed in this film, which came out as ruthless McCarthyism was ignorantly spreading across the U.S.

The Thing is even organic in this version it comes from a far off vegetal world, where veggies evolved to become the dominant lifeform as humanoids did upon our own (although I'm starting to think bees are a higher form of life [they have wings]). 

In the film the military worries that the highly advanced commie vegetable from space, will eventually take over the entire planet and no doubt unleash ubiquitous environmentalism. 

The scientists look like mad unAmerican conspirators as they struggle to save the alien.

Imagine a time when this kind of thing proliferated.

Hopefully it never comes to pass again.

At least one scientist must be crazy in Who Goes There? since one of them loses it in The Thing (1982) as well, although his data makes hysterical sense considering how much more adaptive it is in Carpenter's film.

Whereas The Thing from Another World is happy-go-lucky sci-fi within which you'd never expect anything to go wrong, Carpenter's Thing is a chilling opus where it's tough to imagine anything going right.

If you watch monster movies throughout your life because they exist and you're sporadically curious, it's tough to find ones you want to watch again, since a lot of them just seek to make quick casholla.

But every once in a while visionary directors roguishly emerge to offer something different.

And take their time to craft memorable metastases. 

With alarming accuracy.

And emboldened vision.

*It looks like Carpenter was fun to work for. It seems like some of his casts really enjoyed working together when you watch his films. That kind of thing can add so much to an aesthetic, or ironically create a friendly dreamlike counterbalance to the mayhem. 

Wrestling Ernest Hemingway

Wild exoteric bearings randomly committed to improvised exhaustion, airing grievances with cavalier cantankerousness as he recklessly interacts with resignéd strangers.

If you've heard his stories, you'll hear them again, and it's up to you to decide whether or not you're interested, I often find the exultation of recurring themes rambunctiously tender when conversing with the elderly.

Why not imperiodically exclaim lithe past successes with animate jocularity, especially after having reached your golden years with so much adventure to fluidly discuss?

Walter is much less extroverted he's reserved and mannerly and consistently respectful, following the same constructive well-meaning routine with dependable expectation each and every day.

He orders the same thing at his favourite diner every morning even if it isn't on the traditional menu, a light extravagance delicately hewn to courteously carve indissoluble discourse. 

Like dad, he likes his puzzles, and quietly contends with them lakeside in the afternoon, a peaceful way to flourishingly float throughout life's tranquil agéd fluencies.

Not as bold as Frank however and rarely seeking striking resonance. 

They make an impressive team nevertheless.

As they boldly navigate cyclical distress. 

Perhaps like Jekyll & Hyde characteristically split and bucolically subdued, Walter and Frank making a provocative duo which elastically excels at nothing in particular. 

Frank's unorthodox life during which he never developed self-critical reflections, at times leads to fun bike trips to see fireworks, at others buys a bottle of vodka as a going away gift.

Walter habitually goes with the flow and doesn't speak out unless drastically pushed, their arguments classic enraged debacles generating dissonant cutting offence.

I remember there being somewhat of a buzz about this film in my far distant maladroit youth, but I didn't hear about it again until sometime last week, and if there was indeed such a buzz way back when it was certainly well-deserved I rather liked this film.

Robert Duvall finds a new character to play after having already diversified so many roles, Richard Harris putting in the performance of a lifetime, it made me think that actors who still haven't found that ideal role still have plenty of time to patiently perfect it.

A great companion piece for Grumpy Old Men which was also quite popular around that time.

I hope the crew still isn't annoyed when people say that.

I'd most likely watch this film again. 

The Philadelphia Experiment

Probably best not to sign up when the army asks if you'd like to take part in a secret experiment, where they mention there may be potential side effects, and they aren't even offering that great a sum.

Jacob's Ladder and The X-Files make compelling cases for avoiding such initiatives anyways, the enthusiastic recruits permanently damaged after their courageous embrace of enigmatic science was forgotten.

The Philadelphia Experiment doesn't examine trial and error as it relates to medical research however, it's initially concerned with cloaking ships so the Axis can't detect them during World War II.

It's quite an elaborate set up the production impressive from a laboratory standpoint, so many lightbulbs and wires and connections that it seemed like a bona fide realistic test tube.

The special effects are classic '80s too indubitably impressive if you like that kind of thing, the transitionary phase from pioneering early sci-fi to the technological wonders we have today.

The experiment goes awry or the cloaking works too well you might say, the ship itself lost in temporal recesses two confused servicepersons transported to the '80s.

It's cool to imagine the electronic innovations of the early '80s as the height of technoendeavour, or to have been part of the audience intuitively revelling in the bewildered shock of the time displacement.

We still use one of the microwaves we bought at that time it's still in working order, although it takes awhile, knock on wood, hopefully it isn't slowly radioactively poisoning us as time goes by even if we rarely use it.

I don't know if I'm as blown away by time travel films that take place in the present, even if it happens to be around 40 years later, isn't the point to contemporize historical difference?

The Experiment still contains the classic startling moments when the different characters come to terms with their ahistorical authenticity, through the eyes of the time travellers and those they encounter alike, I'm a huge sucker for this kind of storyline.

Perhaps those old school computer graphics look as antiquated to today's youth as the monsters of '50s and '60s sci-fi did to me when I was younger, although some of those yesteryear vampire and Frankenstein films still seriously impress in this cynical day and age (horror not sci-fi I suppose).

Things are so tense politically at the moment, is it far too risky to make films where people travel to the future?

Will it seem like the ancient past?

AI ironically introducing the solution environmentalists seek.

Ed Wood

The robust nature of the American economy not only promotes the cultivation of genius, but also elaborately diversifies sundry spirited markets to relativistically uphold wide-ranging communal distinction.

Thus even without lauded academic study, or even the crafty mentorship of a gifted professional, random improvised passionate hands-on dedication can still ensure regenerative success. 

Are new intellectual embarkations not created when people proceed without skill or knowledge, their prominent errors and mistaken judgments accidentally nurturing novel eccentricity (as others have noted)?

To the curious open-minded enthusiast does enigmatic multivariability not accentuate harmonies as well, not solely within catchy appealing widespread relevance but also through blind innocent misapplication? 

But what may seem like impeti awry indeed brilliantly resonates with others astutely, the obtuse kitschy unconcerned orchestrations intuitively augmenting authentic dis/integration.

There seem to be styles which emerge from time to time which encourage mainstream trends referred to sophisticatedly, their nodes and anthems consistently manifesting popular themes and fashionable echoes. 

Although closer studies meticulously point out the competing ways in which such narratives are constructed, and the primordial multidimensional sociocultural goo amorphously binding everything together.

It all sort of fades genuinely deteriorates when you find yourself hardly ever watching television, or aloofly avoiding ideological interests claiming absolute embalmed authenticity. 

In your free time of course, relaxing, it's nice to envisage courageous alternatives, for a couple of weeks perhaps even a month transitional ephemera constructively cascading. 

So many great works of literature or even film remain inaccessible, it's certainly essential to preserve and study their form and content without generally dismissing everything else simultaneously.

In this manner the spectrum of comments and the variety of audiences interactively expand, thereby introducing manifold interpretations correspondingly attuned to concurrent inclusivity. 

Was the idea much more popular before the internet enabled such an infinite network?

The irony something to study anyways. 

How could definitive conclusions, faced with abounding contradiction and foil, ever culturally reinstate a feudal fulcrum, in a postmodern context as diverse as contemporary science-fiction?

Egads. 

Cutthroat Island

Born into the pirating lifestyle nimble Morgana instinctually dissembles, wary of trust yet a Captain indeed after her emboldened father is scurrilously betrayed. 

Her crew isn't sure what to think and she must challenge an usurper egads at the outset, her noble lineage fortunately enough to momentarily win over the superstitious complement.

Along with treasure, the knowledge of treasure its lucrative existence at least under consideration, but to exactingly locate it she needs two more sections of a sought after map, one part apiece held by each of her uncles.

One uncle's no doubt rather chill for someone living a mischievous lifestyle, not that he's easy to find or talk to he's just so much more agreeable than his aggressive counterpart. 

The covetous uncle murderously prone who sincerely sent Morgana's pop to frigid depths, isn't quite so avuncularly inclined as she bravely sets out in search of manifest booty.

A loyal cadre rests by her side unwilling to entertain freeform mutinous chatter.

An idle thief introducing an amorous wild card.

Uncanny insistence not to be trusted?

What a strange lifestyle how do you manage to even find markets for your ill-gotten plunder, or obtain a ship or convince a crew to courageously follow you blind on the ocean?

It may be relaxing out on open waters delicately gliding along currents without storm, if you had reached an ingenious understanding with tempestuous fate to contract sights forlorn.

I've often wondered if I would get seasick if an imposing storm suddenly emerged, or if I would just sit back and curiously watch as the incredible spectacle tumultuously unfolded.

I was stuck far from home in my kayak one day when a disturbing storm suddenly dishevelled, but rather than simply land and wait it out under some trees I paddled right through the heart of the tirade.

There was no thunder and lightning and if there had been I may have hit shore.

It was a cool sensation out there on the lake nonetheless.

Paddling through inhospitable bearings.

Cutthroat Island's not so bad if you like pirate movies they don't come out as often as you'd hope, the treasure's buried in a really cool spot that was a nice touch no doubt to be certain.

Must be fun to film out on the ocean the natural elements corresponding at play. 

With all the old ships as well.

The action's consistent and lively. 

Blue Beetle

I was seriously impressed with D.C's Blue Beetle.

And I had no idea what to expect.

Awkwardly, I had never heard of the Blue Beetle and didn't know where he or she fit into the D.C Universe, it's actually a bit more fun watching sci-fi-action-adventure when you have no idea who the characters are, notably when Grandma takes cues from T2, and the story deals with crippling student debt. 

According to Instagram, Biden and Harris have taken great strides to ease American student debt burdens, which is impressive, they've actually done something about it, like I said before, it's like Michael Moore's Presidency.

Blue Beetle works with a struggling family who worked hard to put one of its children through college, who returns home after completing his undergraduate degree, to find his family facing eviction.

The landlord tripled the rent and it was just way too freakin' much, after years of reliable solvency, such rent increases should be illegal (partout).

But Reyes is still happy to see his family who are just as enthused to see him, and he fortunately hooks up with the heir to a massive corporation, whom may prove rather handy in the upcoming sequel.

"The Scarab Beetle" chooses him as well and he becomes an unwitting superhero, his genuine honesty motivating the alien's choice, his acclimatization chill with improvisation.

Respect for Latino-America and the integral families that stick together, and extended communities that lend helping hands, it must be a cool network to be a part of.

It's similar with the French they genuinely care about one another, they may feud and bicker and disagree but at the end of the day it's a bona fide community.

With all my elevations of family values I may be giving the wrong impression, I don't actually want to have a family, that ship sailed a long time ago (too crazy for relationships).

A lot of the posts I see on social media and within films and series plus books, do seem to focus on family however, and it does seem to be a universal factor (respect for people who deal with the responsibility [hence often writing about them]).

There are still millions of single people out there for whom this model simply doesn't fit, or fits for a time, and then later doesn't, I do feel more at home with them.

I really loved Blue Beetle it honestly and sincerely cares about people, it's not the millionaires or all-powerful aliens, it's a remarkable family that's easier to relate to.

Hopefully robot police aren't seriously being considered around the world.

That needs to be collectively fought.

Even by ye olde policepersons.

Note: I really need to get into Mexican TV. 

It looks amazing!

I'm putting Blue Beetle up there with Captain America: Civil War (Politics) and Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 (Animals). 

For its intense focus on Social Justice. 

And cool story.

And amazing Dad.

G-Loc

There's always the possibility of another ice age.

At times, as global heating seems to be presenting a scorching vituperative evaluation of technoprogress, as if fossil fuels were in fact the Earth's effervescent lifeblood which it was none too willing to freely disseminate, my thoughts counterintuitively stray to the other chaotic extreme, and wonder what brought about the last ice age, so many millennia ago?

We clearly weren't responsible, it must have had something to do with our distance from the sun, as if our orbit temperamentally expressed mad frigid interminable armageddon. 

Others clearly think this way as cinematically indicated by the icy G-Loc, which sees frozen wastes consume the Earth, as people desperately seek food and shelter.

Fortunately, as if a benevolent deity serendipitously sensed our grievous peril, a miraculous wormhole appeared at the same time, offering courageous peeps an interstellar lifeline, time passing at a different rate in the alternate dimension. 

Nevertheless, as if that very same deity's most clever rival awaited on the other side, humans were generally shunned by the resident Rheans who traditionally occupy that region of space.

In this tale, two fearsome individuals, one Earther (Stephen Moyer as Bran) and the other Rhean (Tala Gouveia as Ohsha), must learn to constructively work together or find themselves floating woebegone lost in space.

Ill-accustomed to habitual diplomacy their mutual trust comes at a sharp premium, as different cultures maladroitly clash with no apparent purpose but to illogically destroy.

A well-meaning spirited tale soulfully suited to contemporary times, as refugees from the Middle-East continue to flock to more peaceful regions.

Not to forget the troubled Rohingya who have been searching for homes for forever, these free peoples in need of compassion to end their death-defying plights.

G-Loc steps things up a notch and turns the entire planet into a refugee group, intergalactically headed for a far distant planet where no one has even ever heard of their freakin' species.

Perhaps hoping that a lack of knowledge may inspire sympathy for their personal legends, astral alchemy synchronously applied, to solar caravans in spatial deserts.

Of course, a distrustful government sees itself losing hold of its traditional hegemony, and soon finds ways to demonize the Earthers not unlike those presented in Jodorowsky's Holy Mountain.

Does it not seem much more cruel and horrifying when xenophobia is applied on a planetary scale, not simply between countries and continents, but rather to everyone existing on Earth?!

Why then must it be so problematic to peacefully aid weary refugee travellers?

There's a ton of room in Canada and Québec (look at the window when you're on a plane).

Assuming it doesn't get too cold.