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? 

Synthesizer

Travelling for ages stranded in space the home world reduced to smouldering ruin, industrious progress warlike ambition scientific miscalculation environmental crisis. 

We had plenty of ships to make a run for it to try to find a similar planet, upon which to make a fresh civilized start so far away from the dissonant chaos. 

The new world we found abounded with life and had plenty of room for cultural development, but we had to learn how to live what to eat the different seasons shelter cultivation.

There were many gigantic ferocious beasts who at times observed us with fleeting curiosity, it was best to avoid them although they were rather fascinating in their own otherworldly ways.

There were people like us on the planet but they were 1000s of years behind, they had no concept of interplanetary travel let alone space fuel or nanotechnology. 

They knew their world quite well though and as several winters slowly passed.

We began to socialize and mingle and integrate.

Eventually forging newfound species. 

The origins of the bourgeoisie still a tricky subject for global debate, where and when in how many variations has it developed throughout the millennia?

As they passed and the home world was forgotten and myths and legends facilitated dreams, experimental interactive voyages helped the seed to grow and flourish.

An emerald isle far off the coast was thought to be a receptive open-minded hotbed, and festive sociocultural adaptations dynamically celebrated the emergent freckles.

Some thought the aliens had been betrayed by their skittish desperate despondent kinsfolk, others realized the sincere admiration they gradually gained for local culture.

Sigh, it's just a movie you know, I only know this from observing mosquitoes, one horrid fecund spring when dozens invaded my tent each evening.

I had to dispose of them unfortunately before I could fall asleep, so I patiently picked them off one by one on my tent's ceiling a tragic situation.

But there were always three or four slier little bugs who quietly hid in the corners, waiting for me to fall asleep so they could efficiently gorge themselves uninterrupted.

Thus, differences in human temperaments weren't created by alien colonists.

They've existed alongside us all along.

To the observant eye.

Endemic themes.

Testudinosaur

A young foolish eager adult who enjoys walking through the woods, notes the changes in the forest as the vigilant years distend.

His mother wonders why he's so obsessed with taking photos in the woods, but kindly notes the intuitive goodwill curiously in touch with his endeavours.

He's able to find work which often keeps him strictly occupied, the crafting of exceptional texts first and foremost on his mind.

Unconcerned with traditional appearances or the usual ways in which people act, he compiles a vast collection of eclectic novel bric-a-brac.

As time passes, the resident animals become more accustomed to his presence, and stop worrying when he shows up at the local marsh to take his pictures.

In tune with local wilderness rhythms, he begins to notice turtles on the tracks, engaged in humble exploratory actions as they carelessly observe and note and wander.

As trains often use the very same routes to conduct their commercial affairs, the artist becomes alert and watchful in his cataloguing of the turtles. 

Then one day, a train approaching, he sees a turtle on the tracks, and moves quickly to swiftly move him/her to a safe location in the forest.

His timing is somewhat off and he arrives too late however.

Only to miraculously emerge.

In the supernatural land of turtles. 

With a larger budget the land of the turtle may have seemed more convincing, not that it doesn't have its unique features which encourage light compelling applause.

I liked how the turtles he moved off the tracks were pissed when they saw him in their land, and vented their sublime frustration with grizzled undisciplined nonchalance. 

Using real turtles in the crafting of the intricate scenes may have been frustrating, if they weren't incredibly adorable and innately attuned to all things cinema.

Theresa Montesque naturally shines as the helpful mom, who takes a modest interest in her son's work while trying not to be overbearing.

Who knew that turtles were using the tracks to secretly travel between dimensions?

As the sun beats down with wild intensity.

Throughout the typical working day.

*The voyage back to the forest is cool as well. 

**Never play around train tracks. You never know when the train might show up.

Kodiak Island

Lost in the isolated wilderness, a seemingly uninhabited island appears, forlorn and stern and lonesome, misty and murky yet tantalizing. 

The crew readies to disembark with loyalty and integrity refining their style, the unknown nature of their immediacy subtly galvanizing intense sacrifice. 

Shelter and food of primary concern a multivariable base camp soon established, to enable the exploration of the environment with intricate firm sure and steady observation. 

At first sight, elaborate abandonment seems to be characterizing the verdant expanse, if there had been a settlement here at one time its durable remains seem to have disintegrated. 

The first sighting of wildlife, rather large creatures harrowingly cultivating the land, although for what purpose remains a mystery as they humbly go about their business.

The general consensus is that they're guarding something far away in the embowered distance.

As fish arrive from the abundant flow.

Of nutritious heartfelt oceanic bounty. 

It's impressive to watch as the adventurous team intently explore the newfound island, their clever techniques modestly guiding novel fruition and scientific expediency.

Upon the discovery of the inhabited enclave, the resultant dialogues regarding imminent immersion, reflectively demonstrate multilateral viewpoints concerning anticipated indefatigability. 

The different attitudes were carefully crafted to forge a compelling literary argument, with open and closed minds debating how to meet the lay citizens without causing alarm or distress.

It was bright if not provocative to introduce theoretical hostilities, the realistic worries of the less warmhearted balancing the more gifted humanistic insights. 

Which makes things all the better when the land is found to be occupied by chillaxed folk. 

Who can freely teach them their local customs.

Celebration as opposed to conflict. 

Fedrelandet (Songs of Earth)

Imagine living there, naturally ensconced in overwhelming breathtaking beauty, consistently revelling in awestruck wonder as the seasons change and life delivers.

It's fun to catalogue the passing of the seasons like the family does in Fedrelandet (Songs of Earth), humbly showcasing their fertile land which they've boldly cultivated since at least 1603. 

Incredibly beautiful consistently revitalizing miraculous mountainous energetic environs, overflowing with habitual endemic resplendency, what a place to grow up then resiliently stay.

Not that it hasn't been difficult, emergency visits to the hospital were arduous at times, in fact to cure routine and troublesome appendicitis one required a nine hour trek over a mountain to a hospital.

And while the mountains constantly provide mood-altering rejuvenating lithe panaceas, they can at times wipe out whole families when they suddenly tremble with capricious fury.

But the beauty outweighs the risk their rooted reasonable irreducible rubric, providing ubiquitous inspirational levity like the perennial emergence of prehistoric dawn (I spent a year in the Rockies).

Mr. and Mrs. Mykløen are still enamoured with old school l'amour, it's uplifting to watch as they lovingly chill far away in the mountains on the family farm.

Still as holistically fascinated with one another as they lucidly were when their eyes first met, the unyielding preservation of romantic love everlastingly conjoined through limitless longevity.

Strong health and inherent vigour naturally accompanying their lives in the mountains, as they still hike like billy-goats to imposing mountain tops far above the sea.

It's impressive to view the heights they reach without looking like they've put in much of an effort, a life of bold adventurous mountaineering begetting calisthenic courageous camaraderie. 

Fjord living seems remarkably versatile from the stunning vistas and prominent panoramas, not to mention incomparable envisaged reflections in the pristine waters and out on the ice.

Filmmaker Margreth Olin (the Mykløen's daughter) periodically showcases wildlife within her film too, deer and moose and ravens and ferrets industriously existing in inhospitable lands.

There must be tourism it may be cold and isolated but it's still like nowhere else on Earth (crazy Northern Lights).

But perhaps that kind of thing would disrupt the harmony.

What a thrilling way of life.

Effervescent through the centuries (crazy waterfalls too).

*The Mykløens explain things much more clearly in the film.

Kaguya-hime no monogatari (The Tale of the Princess Kaguya)

A childless family holistically subsists within the fertile abundant countryside, utilizing enriching multifaceted bamboo to productively nourish and equip their household.

One bamboo shoot proves more elaborate than the other versatile exemplars within the forest, revealing a miniature person no less in need of love and warmth and shelter and guidance.

Her new parents are unsure of what to do but know she grows quickly and flourishes in nature, as she swiftly befriends the local children who generously teach her about plants and animals.

Other discoveries within the forest lead her father to believe she's destined for royalty, fine silk robes and a huge pile of gold lead him to seek stately honours sequentially.

They move away from the cherished country to the imposing capital where they've built a mansion, and hired a discerning professional nanny to strictly teach her the rules of etiquette. 

She responds with traditional transgressions and febrile fits of fervent fury, but eventually settles into her chosen role out of dutiful love for her mother and father.

Bold noblepeople from across the land soon come a'-calling in pursuit of marriage.

But she responds with impossibility.

To which they counter in roguish fashion.

The dependable roots of a heartwarming Ghibli magically take hold of one's heart within, and enchantingly propagate independent merrymaking with soul-searching skill and tender echoes.

The sought after attention to naturalistic detail and focus on animals of all shapes and sizes, can be wondrously found once again throughout what's come to be known as Kaguya-hime no monogatari (The Tale of the Princess Kaguya).

Crafts are also concentrated on as the Princess moves from station to station, animated accounts of diligent artists distinctively engaged in woodworking wonder. 

The eternal struggle between the carefree ways of a bucolic youth clashing with urban responsibility, permeates the bewildered action as the coveted Princess takes centre stage.

Would it have been better to introduce the Moon People at the beginning of the film instead of much later?, the lack of foreknowledge briefly generating confusion as the shocking revelations augment the end.

But the intricate detail, the copious love for thriving nature to be found within.

And the ways in which it appeals to the fortunate throughout life.

Seductively soothes.

Any critical sensation. 

Nomadland

An entire town picks up and moves after the mine shuts down after 80 years, the rural location never resourcefully blossoming into a multi-integrated industrious locale.

What do the reliable people who have lived their whole lives there do however, it's a bit of an unsettling preponderancy especially considering the magnetic wilderness.

Fern (Francs McDormand) tenaciously improvises to her new set of challenging economic circumstances, earning enough money to live off at different jobs, while taking deservéd time off in between.

Her husband passed away not long ago and she has no children or viable pension, she has family who are kind and sympathetic, but she's always prided herself on her independence. 

It's cool how the continental United States has so many warm regions during the winter months, and you can literally move from state to state throughout the progression of the solar year.

I suppose you could try to live in your car during a cold and provocative Canadian winter, but you'd have to spend a lot in gas to keep the heater running so much of the time.

Not only does Fern live the nomadic lifestyle she boldly defends it in critical arguments, democratically pointing out the rights of citizens who may not be as well of as those homeward bound.

Even when she's overwhelmed she doesn't hesitate to have her say, and isn't worried about spoiling the evening or what her in-laws may think later on.

A hesitant beau is interested (David Strathairn as Dave) and should have realized she's a heartbreaker.

Who loved that mining town.

And doesn't mind life on the road.

I don't want to recommend the nomadic lifestyle to the millions of people embracing bourgeois domesticity, I've found that what sounds appealing to me at times gets me into trouble when I start to advertise. 

But assuming that you're level-headed peeps who aren't going to drop everything because of an oddball blogger, I have to admit that I loved Nomadland's final moments, when Fern freely drives off into the mountains. 

Some people like the dynamic thrill of constant movement and unpredictable designs, their labyrinthine zigzagging ways non-traditionally motivating alternative economies. 

It often sounds like freedom to just live in your ride and travel the country, picking up work here and there as you go, assuming you don't have any responsibilities. 

You'd get to see so much of the continent as you productively roamed vigilantly throughout, there are thousands of places to visit, and wouldn't it be cool to see NFL and CFL games in every home city?

Fern chooses life on her own and as I watched I thought she was real.

It's tough to think that people her age still have to work.

You'd imagine we'd have cleared that up by now. 

*Geez Louise. This has nothing to do with the war in Palestine. I wrote it last week. There's a lot of rural industry in Canada so it's important for the different towns to integrate multidimensionally so people don't have to move (easier said than done). Honestly, I think Netanyahu's a butcher (as is Hamas), and his appeal to the stone age is making things infinitely worse, historically speaking. 🥲 

Mothra vs. Godzilla

A mysterious giant egg suddenly appears off the Japanese Coast, its contents baffling yet still intriguing, as diverse interests eclectically gather.

Unfortunately, environmental initiatives fail to posture before the egg is (absurdly) sold, by local entrepreneurial opportunists hoping to monumentally prosper.

A more ambitious wealthy exhibitionist hopes to create a theme park through Happy Enterprises, and entertainingly showcase the egg while also selling treats and delicious refreshments.

Concerned journalists soon learn of the plot and set about cultivating public opinion, hoping to create a massive uproar which may encourage government intervention.

They lament that there's no legal recourse to directly challenge the developers in court, especially after two miniature citizens suddenly arrive from Mothra's island.

Apparently, the typhoon sent Mothra's egg on a disquieting maiden voyage, and they've come to argue for its return especially since noble Mothra is dying.

The adventurists care not for her plight and refuse to give up their lucrative treasure.

Just as Godzilla comes a' callin'.

Hellbent on countercultural carnage.

A crash course in socioeconomics instructively awaits in Mothra vs. Godzilla, perfectly laid out with accessible language which any curious audience member would easily comprehend (with English or French subtitles 🤷).

Mothra vs. Godzilla may even indeed be a solid didactic tool to be used in classrooms across the land, schools effectively saving resources and time by simply showing this ridiculous film.

Perhaps that's what happened, there's no equivocal doubt that environmental regulations in some jurisdictions are much stronger, and that if you want to develop land like Ontario's Greenbelt, you first have to acknowledge local regulations.

Thus, the public outrage the journalists seek to nurture in ye olde Mothra vs. Godzilla (Mothra shows up in spellcheck but Godzilla doesn't), would likely also be backed up by laws progressively created over the course of the last century.

Hence, instead of bravely spending the last moments of her life epically battling the formidable Godzilla, Mothra could have cared for her fledgling young and perhaps even named or taken them for their first flight.

Perhaps Godzilla disputatiously emerged to figuratively encourage the creation of such laws, I've seen several nature shows about Japan, and it seems as if their wildlife is flourishing (except for whales 😢😭😿🐋).

Sad that Mothra had to physically give her life for such a turn of events to jurisprudently take hold.

Her larvae born argumentatively composed.

Their perspicacity irritating the aggrieved Godzilla!

You know you watch too many movies when you walk into a room and see a reptile egg hatching on Love Nature, and you wonder, "what dinosaur is that?"

I figure, that if dragonflies spend so much time protecting people and other animals from nuisance insects, they may possess other exceptional abilities as well, so last summer when one landed on my hand as I reached for a cigarette as if to suggest I shouldn't be smoking, I thought perhaps he or she possessed special eyesight, and could see disaster brewing beneath my skin. No way to verify whether or not dragonflies can actually do this, but I truly believe they can. It's about not thinking you're above nature. And playing an interactive constructive role within.

Sorry for going on about how many environments require large carnivores like wolves or lions at times.

I don't like that cheetahs or jaguars hunt other animals and eat them, in fact I find it quite distressing, but practically every environmental book I've read and nature documentary I've seen emphasizes how large carnivores are essential to maintaining healthy ecosystems, to making sure there's enough food to go around, by ensuring deer populations etc. don't grow too large.

I don't apply this kind of thinking to social and economic structures organized by humans because I think we're advanced enough to outwit the unfortunate dynamics of nature, and can thereby create inclusive systems that emphasize lifelong learning, while leaving nature alone to thrive in secluded areas (or integrating the beasties who choose to live amongst us), which we'll hopefully leave alone ad infinitum.

 

It'd be cool to make something similar to Robert Fuller's Stoat City, as depicted in Nature's The Mighty Weasel. Possibly for raccoons instead!

Le sel de la terre (The Salt of the Earth)

The cultivation of astonishment, the realization of a vision, concerned dedicated multifaceted compassion takes on the most heartbreaking commitments with a tender immediacy humanistically begetting loyalty and awe, Sebastião Salgado, born on a farm in Brazil, spending his life directly embracing the tumultuous and the taciturn, having given up a prosperous career as an economist to do so, in isolated forgotten lands, to create the most stunning collection of photographs I've ever seen.

Famine, war, genocide, helplessness, poignantly captured to reveal true horror, life still attempting to flourish amidst the carnage, herculean patience, aphroditic ascendency.

Taking great personal risks and sacrificing familial leisure and comfort to dodge helicopter gunfire and shed humanitarian light, offering a voice to the downtrodden and the dispossessed, celebrating their courage and resiliency, their unshaken resolute cries, as a matter of conscience, a pact with will, he modestly proceeds, and fascinatingly portrays.

While also visiting remote geographical locations to illuminate unmitigated terrains.

Innocence.

Passion.

Regrowing a forest, battling wits with a polar bear, suffering as his subjects suffer, living, growing, evolving, Sebastião inspires through his erudite humility, naturalistic charm, incomparable humanity, and consummate sagacity.

Transcendency.

Wim Wenders makes the perfect directorial companion to Sebastião's son Juliano.

Le sel de la terre (The Salt of the Earth) is a must see for aspiring artists, for students, for anyone.

To see again and again.

Life force.

Genesis would make an excellent wedding gift.

Adieu au langage (Goodbye to Language)

Blessed burnished cinematic, obscurities, stylizing in/coherent poetic exemplars, compartments, of, of symbols fletched with ornamental reliance condoning visualized adherence to vague linguistic polarizers, of; of authoritative intrusions into burgeoning contentments inquisitively dictated like frozen morning dew; of frost and dusty book jackets intertextually precipitating sundry points of view, condensed and ephemeralized with aloof poignancy, crafted in jaded thematic miniature.

Concerned nonetheless.

With the capacity of purpose to historically deflect imaginative horrors subjugating the passions of one's youth.

With engendered protests libidinally interacting to stretch beyond predetermined boundaries and sustain notions of limitless conjugal impunity.

Of joy.

With animalistic contemplative assured responsive discipline, attempts to harangue, roll over, sit, fetch.

For cinema.

For history.

For classics.

If I were to canonize films many of Godard's would be considered.

I do prefer them when their narratives at least attempt to focus on a plot, however, more like narrative critical inquiry than philosophic filmic treatises.

Abstractly entertaining.

Godzilla

The presence of two gigantic destructive monsters competitively reawakens the mighty Godzilla, perviously resting in his or her oceanic layer, content and comfortable, in its overflowing radioactive abundance.

Secrets have been kept from the people of Japan, and one man's overwhelming quest to ecolocute them, sets his son on the path to heroic indentation.

Project Monarch has known about the existence of these ancient beasts for decades and has been assiduously researching their origins, attempting to understanding what might be their purpose.

When it becomes clear that aspects of said purpose threaten the longevity of prosperous American cities, the characters hear the kitschy call.

Pinnacled to pressure.

If at one time in your life you found yourself watching every Godzilla film you could find, Gareth Edwards's Godzilla doesn't disappoint.

It's, pretty awful, intermixing enough cheesy sentimentality to settle anyone's disputes concerning the hyperactivity of microwaved plutonics.

But this is what's to be expected from a film respectfully paying homage to its amusingly light predecessors, like a refreshing glass of chilled mountain dew, stricken yet satisfying, all the way through.

Dr. Ishiro Serizawa (Ken Watanabe) impresses.

Some of the best deliveries I've heard in a blockbuster for a while.

How I looked forward to his next line with unfiltered anticipation.

The scene where the troops skydive into San Francisco is incredible.

Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines

Remember being disappointed when Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines was released in 2003. I liked it when I eventually rented it, but still couldn't shake that "I wish they'd just left it alone" feeling, which had inspired my initial hesitation.

Watched it again a couple of times last weekend and was seriously impressed. It's arguably better than T2 although it depends upon what time in your life you view it/them.

T2 was great when I was a kid (it's still good [I also watched it last weekend]). The apocalypse is averted, the future remains open, and things can reattain a level of relative normalcy if the trauma can be creatively dissimulated.

Solid sci-fi, convincing absurdity, collaborative outlook, intact.

T3 represents a sequel which strategically follows a similar pattern to its predecessor(s), revisiting familiar scenes and situations in order to socialize on the franchise's precedents, while reimagining them with enough mutated historical ingenuity to subtly transmit an evolutionary code.

Without screwing things up.  

Such revisitations are done at great risk for if the scenarios fail to entrance, the predecessor/s quickly begin/s to appear more appealing.

T3's resolution is somewhat less innocent, however (it's much less innocent), which, for those of us who saw T2 when they were 12 and T3 many years later, while still remaining in possession of the firm environmentally friendly conscious T2 shyly promotes, fictionally nurtures a degree of realistic despondency, brought about by an increasingly monolithic technocratic agency's dismissal of environmental concerns (the environmental movement, from what I remember, was stronger in Canada in 1991), by directly working its principle audience's growth into the script, bizarrely taking into account different trends and fashions, while harshly yet romantically preparing them for the post-symbolic (notably when John [Nick Stahl] resignedly yet affirmably utters a cliché when he's flying to Crystal Peak with Catherine Brewster [Claire Danes]).

Hence, within T3, a pagan dimension in touch with the eternal timeline and its intertemporal distortions (whether or not these distortions should be viewed as part of the eternal timeline is up for debate but the evidence provided by T3 suggests they should not) intervenes and ensures that two somewhat unwilling individuals are given a fighting chance to subvert an inevitable machinismo (to continue to fight for a more collaborative playing field against forces possessing incontrovertible resource rich 'class-oriented' biases)(the timeline is reconstituted to the best possible version nature can provide after which its 'unwitting' agents must generally fend for themselves).

And who has returned with updated loveable psychological subroutines? None other than the converted patriarchal killing machine who saw the light (was reprogrammed) and began using his organic metallurgic abilities to protect humanistic interests instead (himself). Much of what his counterpart from T2 learned flows within but now that Mr. Connor's older and realizes what he's up against, his counterarguments to that created by his significant other's interpretation of his childhood memories occasionally lack his youthful antagonistic conviction.

After surviving the intermediary years, he comes to understand the T-101's (Arnold Schwarzenegger) no-nonsense methods.

Mechanically, T-101's primary adversary is a younger more flexible model, but even though he's an older design, this doesn't mean he can't compete.

In regards to the dialogue established by the changing feminine gender paradigms culturalized by the gap between these two sequels, in T2 the only strong female character with knowledge that would make a significant historical difference is locked-up in a mental institution; in T3 the feminine is split, one character representing independent unyielding destructive technocratic oppression, the other, bourgeois stability transformed (consequently) into a fierce warrioress.

In regards to identity, as far as John and Catherine Brewster go, and ignoring the acute crisis the T-101 must face, T3 seems to be suggesting that if you're unclassified or professional (notably in the "you're not exactly my 'type' either" exchange), and if democratic institutions become so diluted that their impact no longer bears any teeth, or a well-funded psychological campaign produces a wide-ranging cynicism regarding their effects even when they're still capable of bearing fruit, you'll both be stuck necessarily contending with an entrenched systemic opponent who had been modestly brought to heel after the Second World War.

Try and think about what Barack Obama would have been able to do then.

Which seems to be T3's prescient message, which could explain the lacklustre reviews it received during the George W. Bush Era. I don't know. But it takes the risk of bombing due to the ways in which it relies so heavily on T2's format and manages to ironically cultivate greener pastures to the contrary, which is a sign of bold writing, and great filmmaking (directed by Jonathan Mostow, screenplay by Michael Ferris and John D. Brancato).

And the Dr. Silverman (Earl Boen) scene is priceless. I'll watch it again just to see that alone.

There's more humour within too, notably the ways in which the 'asocial' terminators affect those they meet, my favourite line being "and, the coffin," subtly reflecting the difficulties the eccentric encounter on a regular basis.

Oh, and considering how much revenue Judgement Day generated, it's hard to believe that it took 12 years for them to release Rise of the Machines.

Tree of Life

Smoothly flowing gently falling slightly billowing lightly floating metaphors, a series of remembered events stitched together through fluid dreamlike sequences, delineating foundations, from which identities are constructed. A father, a mother, a family, a routine. A strict routine, a strict father, a housewife, a code. Mr. O'Brien (Brad Pitt) unwaveringly sticks to his code whereby his rule is absolute and his every whim, non-negotiable. His wife acquiesces, his children grow, he arrives at work on time, tithes week-in, week-out. A subjective interpretation of a governing structure attempts to supply youth with a disciplined set of ground rules from which a reasonable degree of economic stability can be confidently expected, through the years. No discussion, no questions, just stilted secure repetitious order blindly and diligently recreating itself, again. There's a lot of depth to the scenes in this film and Malick poetically intertwines manifold transitions with incredibly versatile images which in themselves create a byzantine subtext whose hydra-like character challenges the narrative's status quo.

But I don't think it's meant to do this, it seemed more like Malick was supplying as much beauty as he possibly could to suburbia, to a conservative way of life, using a surrealist form to structure his traditional content, with instinct guiding the positioning of his imagery as opposed to planning, whereby Tree of Life develops a naturally secretive grace, as it bids farewell to one dramatization of the North American middle-class.

On the one hand, it elevates patriarchal dispositions to a cantankerously coy precipice, taking content that has been recycled ad nauseum and demonstrating that it can continuously be insightfully replenished if you're willing to put in a little time and effort.

On the other, it eclipses sundry previous manifestations of this particular vision to the point where it seems possible that it's trying to put an end to this storyline once and for all, playing the ultimate winning hand, the graceful capitalist end-game.

Don't mean to be applauding Tree of Life too much. I found the seemingly random quotes which accompany much of the imagery to be irritating (especially since they're supposed to have some sort of ethereal quality) and was happy to comfortably rest my eyes here and there, as Mr. O'Brien and his children had yet another coming of age moment.

It would be a great film to study more closely and definitely leaves the door open for multiple critical accounts which can be situated within various intellectual markets in order to facilitate conceptions of particular ethical viewpoints from which the effects of diverse cultural phenomena can be momentarily diagnosed.

Naturally graceful, or a graceful nature, either way Tree of Life has me examining this dialectic, and has, for me anyway, instilled it with a remarkable life force that I'll find difficult to ignore for some time to come.

This is where film can be different from reading yet just as powerful. In a book like In Search of Lost Time you come across dialectics constantly to the point where you've been bombarded with so many you suffer from intellectual overload. Sometimes it's nice to take one and use it as a general frame in order to study its vicissitudes specifically, and so on.