Mr. Smith Goes to Washington

A dam to be built the extolled generation of highly valued hydro-electricity, delicately proceeding corrupt politicians buying up land people don't want to sell.

A fly in the ointment, one of the senators they're in cajoled cahoots with suddenly passes, leaving their state minus one representative in America's highest law making body.

They need somegarrulousone to fill the woebegone glum vacant seat in the Senate, but also have to make sure he won't accidentally clog their hydraulic ambitions.

The enshrined candidate knows little of politics and indeed closely resembles a naive backwoodsperson, with the highest ideals no belittling doubt but lacking in direct argumentative traction.

He understands to uphold the rights of his fellow Northern citizens indubitably, however, and after learning of the ill-gotten-purchases refuses to endorse the people pulling the strings.

They unleash a smear campaign in turn complete with inspired fraud at the highest levels.

Flabbergasted and indiscreetly crestfallen.

He digs in deep then strings them along.

I've heard about this film all my life it was often referred to on '90s TV shows, but I never actually saw it till now if you like film history there are limitless enticements.

It only concerns one state but the level of corruption fits current scenarios, where a disgraced autocratic presidential candidate seeks to do the same thing with the entire country.

Trump has no respect for law or the honoured traditions that have built up the U.S, and indeed enabled his wild way of life to such an insanely shocking degree.

He has no respect for anything apart from himself and his crazy belief in his unsung omniscience, after erring again and again at the highest strict levels of lauded good governance. 

He'll try to do what the corrupt politicians do in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington with the entire country, and cut down any honest person legitimately reminding him of the constitution.

Totalitarianism is brutal even when gifted high-minded people govern.

It's much worse when fools don't know what they're doing.

And they demand absolute obedience.

Governing a volatile nation isn't like starring on a trashy sitcom.

You need intricate arguments that people aren't writing for you.

Not the random gut-instinct of a vicious goon. 

Ant-Man & the Wasp: Quantumania

It's fun to observe the natural world.

There's so much compelling detail interests revitalize. 

With imposing potential - sprawl and industry - the presence of nature remains paramount, and it's always exciting to actively see turtles and raccoons and skunks and deer.

The dire forecasts of a concrete jungle ubiquitously consuming so much more vital space, keeps current animal sightings aflush with wonder as extant natural environs tantalize.

I worry about the metaphorical dimension the infinite interpretive subconscious bedlam, that accompanies fertile thought throughout its playful inquisitive trajectories. 

I generally assume that people understand that I'm just writing about the Natural World, because it's fun to actively engage with agile integral insects and beasts.

Thus, through the art of fair play multilateral matriculations merge and metastasize, without claiming elaborate authority which may have nothing to do with what whomever intended. 

As curiosity matures and mutates.

Ants and bees, fascinating creatures, I try my best not to impede them, and wish we could communicate with them directly, I bet they would make thought provoking observations.

That's what happens in Quantumania ants evolve in the Quantum Realm, and learn to communicate with Dr. Hank Pym and help him out as he battles a tyrant.

Instagram posts note that bees learn arithmetic and their ingenious waggle dances demonstrate intricate thought, ants no doubt communicating in similar ways as they actively engage with their surroundings.

Both species highly adaptive and found in abundance throughout the world, it's cool to see ants treated with so much respect within the versatile Quantum Realm.

Interspecial communication remaining a compelling possibility, bees might think we're boring because we can't fly.

Ants may think we're impractical seeing how much easier it is for them to maintain.

No accounting for beetles and grasshoppers. 

Dragonflies seem to like us. 

The Island of Dr. Moreau

Lost, adrift, on the vast imposing interminable Pacific, rage erupting, thirst infuriating, until rescue emerges, with aloof repose. 

Douglas is taken to an isolated island where he's given time to rest and recuperate, still taken aback when he distressingly notices, that his room's been tightly locked down.

Not one to embrace incoherency, he soon picks the inordinate lock, and begins spying on the strange inhabitants as they experimentally express themselves. 

But lo and cross-breedingly behold, he's rather shocked to invariably find, that the secluded scientists working on the island, have created a colony of industrious mutants.

He tries to expediently escape but finds himself cut off from aquatic crafts, then chaotically immersed in a self-contained world presided over by a distant demagogue. 

It turns out he's applied his genius to the novel creation of a forbidden realm, wherein which beasts must cast off their ways and politely live like civilized humans. 

Unfortunately, order is upheld through the authoritarian dissemination of pain, each hybrid animal arrhythmically attached to a remote control which punishes disobedience. 

For most of the modest citizens the rules aren't particularly hard to follow.

But some question Moreau's civility.

And covet his daunting absolute impetus. 

Ah the perfect world idealistically enrapturing innate truth and justice, perhaps even flourishing here and there at times before newfound tensions and jealousies disrupt things. 

A logical world delectably defining codes of conduct and cerebral sentiments, through which harmony and balance are perennially restored through the judicious elevation of enlivening discipline. 

Alas, illustrious logic and reified reasonability don't prosper unchallenged, and the people lacking control of the spirited unity seek the recodification of the rules and regulations. 

Often trying to make a complicated system too simple (politics), or a simple system too complicated (commerce), while prohibiting the attainment of bountiful resources, the accumulation of which would pacify many.

But not all, the desire for power madly drives the overly ambitious to fits of frenzy.

Moreau's island destroyed and reconstructed every day.

Ingenious creation.

Dispersed manifold.

A House Divided: Denmark Vessey's Rebellion

Strategic Planning.

Variable details.

Inherent volatility. 

Exacting daring.

With slavery still rampant in 1822, an established artisan seeks his people's freedom (Yaphet Kotto/James Bond III as Denmark Vessey), Haitian slaves having recently fought a successful rebellion, he wants to cut loose from Charleston (South Carolina) and head out to join them.

His situation is rather prosperous for he was able to buy his freedom, and set himself up with a profitable business, while reading books and embodying confidence.

The majority of his brethren remain enslaved but many listen to his unorthodox counsel, as he lays out their significant numeric advantage, and how they can access ships in port.

Many slave owners fear such a potential outcome but the mild-mannered governor isn't that worried, unable to consider the possibility that there would ever be an armed revolt.

But that's what Vessey plans and even comes close to directly leading.

He's outrageously betrayed in the end. 

Finicky familiarity. 

A House Divided: Denmark Vessey's Rebellion presents unfortunate realities associated with group dynamics, notably ye olde treachery while attempting to plan something controversial.

There must be people out there who are generally trusted by many (Biden and Augustus Caesar for instance), and who fellow group members respect and don't try to usurp with determinate mad power grabs.

Denmark Vessey seems to have possessed these qualities but he nevertheless quarrelled with a jealous African American, who preferred to expose his rebellious plot and remain a slave, rather than see his adversary succeed (it makes no sense and happens all too frequently).

There are other leaders who rule by fear and thereby command the respect of many, but isn't their world rather dark and dangerous, and don't their adversaries have legitimate cause?

I've met people who seemed rather rough and grouchy who weren't really that bad to work for, others who pretended to be right as rain until it became clear they bore secret grudges.

And people who were just generally cool who were respected because they dealt fairly.

A shame Denmark Vessey didn't succeed.

Cool that this old school film still honours his memory. 

La planète sauvage (Fantastic Planet)

Far off on a hectic planet humans (oms) are treated as undesirables, the dominant haughty traag species rather intolerant of different lifeforms.

They possess much greater height and ancient meditative traditions, along with cryptic advanced writing which the oms can't readily decipher.

They manage the om population with paternalistic uptight disdain, their children allowed to keep oms as pets, the free wild peoples treated like vermin.

One rather observant om is introduced to traag learning however, lessons transmitted through an omniscient horseshoe which traag children use to develop and grow.

Many om years pass and young Terr (Barry Bostwick/Eric Baugin/Jean Valmont) acquires much sought after knowledge, his owner aging at a much slower pace, losing interest with her pet as a teenager.

He takes his opportunity to escape and brings the encyclopaedic technology with him, abruptly adjusting to life in the wilderness, with peeps wary yet impressed by his learning.

Thanks to the didactic device many oms begin to acquire an education, and prove just as adept as they reflexively do here upon our own bountiful Earth.

But the traags decide their numbers have grown much too large to be safely managed.

Presenting an ambitious and wicked plan.

To engage in full-on extermination.

Rather unsettling to casually watch as humans fall prey to strategic whims, carelessly launched by unsympathetic derisive dominant domineering giants.

Their diminutive size and lack of resources leaves them vulnerable to various beasts, as do their scattered proud distrustful clans who bravely subsist in scant isolation.

But the survivors bond in an abandoned rocket field and earnestly learn from Terr's technology, hoping to escape to a clandestine moon upon which they will be free from vile traag tyranny.

Education proves vital indeed and soon a less dependent state of affairs emerges.

As ingenious pedagogical applications redefine ancient endemic balances.

The parallels with our cherished home planet should not be dismissed or even overlooked, as billions of animals spend their entire lives in cages awaiting to be served up as food.

The industry could be much more humane and if meat consumption decreases we could stop global warming.

Unfortunately, pigs and cows can't read.

But there are still millions of humanoids who support them. 

Przypadek

Can alternative decisions made in relation to one specific random event produce remarkably different outcomes for an inquisitive mind adapting?

Is it possible that the same person could emphatically respond with melancholic gusto, to diametrically opposed scenarios with shocking dialectic outcomes?

With or without exciting possibility with political support or in the thrilling underground, perhaps with traditional familial responsibilities, could the same person react so divergently?

As if sociopolitical engagement is a mischievous abstract maelstrom, different vessels like practical responses to a constantly shifting incredulous multiplicity.

As if the unexpected the unforeseen consistently introduces unprecedented dilemmas, which reimagine concrete foundations in need of striking transformative flux.

To stay afloat you employ grey flexible conducive relevant bold applications, circuitously dissected by ideological currents simultaneously engaged in the same opaque struggle.

Personal appeal and gracious mentoring provide fleeting cerebral provisions, from one piquant portfolio to the next, subjective instinct objective humour.

Competing forces build dams and levees attempting to limit the Kafkaesque exposure, material movements and spiritual sustenance providing relief within the grand disorder.

Isms and ists market intellectual plumage attempting to bridge variable discreet gaps, consistently haunted by resonant biology (hunger) as they uphold existential preservation. 

The absolutist seeks total control of the entire byzantine aqueous edifice, presuming resulting tsunamic ostentation will one day be followed by mass mellifluity.

The democrat limits the forbidding forces and offers advice for multivariable instances, celebrating fluctuation itself out of sincere respect for public opinion.

Witek (Boguslaw Linda) is immersed within different currents in Kieslowski's Przypadek, immanent ideological commitments compromising noble romantic resolve.

Even the lavish lagooned levitation leads to despondent airborne rupture, every random disparate path linked through chaotic contemporaneity.

Give me a raft or a kayak I suppose, some good bread and a variety of cheese.

A ride hitched on the back of a whale.

Some good books.

A salient film.  

Flash Gordon

Here's a film that's much better the second time round.

During my first viewing, a logical bias prevented me from appreciating the freeform glib absurdity, as I engaged in rational calculation rather than unlocking wondrous intuition.

True, the script provides scant detail as it embraces grand complication, a motivating reason consistently postulated, without much time added for thought or pause.

And these reasons conjure unerring as Flash (Sam J. Jones) confronts intergalactic authority, in a complex web of political fascination, stitched together with impacting law.

Studied skilfully nurtured pretensions led to accusations of the ridiculous, of disenchanted criticism unilaterally applied.

But when I laid down to watch it again I couldn't wait to bask in frenzy, in chaotic disproportion altruistically askew.

Characters once dismissed as empty took on vibrant intense substance, and a plot thought to be immersed in dispatch emerged with complementary cohesion.

There's something to be said for fun, for lightheartedly revelling on set, Gordon's jocose mischievous nonchalance concerned with neither plight nor threat.

And after anticipated reasonability gives way to cultivated implausibility, the joy of filmmaking viscerally shines through, as it jumps from scene to scene.

It's not that the film's irrational, in fact with multiple short and sweet scenes moving the action along, it abounds with agile meaning, multifacetedly composed.

But considering what needs to happen and the likelihood of even considering such an unorthodox plan, the constant eruptions of clever catalysts seem too radical before amazement's factored in.

True to form, Flash Gordon never forgets that it is based upon a comic book, and I'm uncertain if ever I've seen another comic book film so admirably respect its illustrious origins.

In comparison to contemporary Marvel and DC films they're certainly less controversial, less likely to lose large swaths of their target audiences due to impulse, inspiration, or feeling.

But I'll watch Flash Gordon again anytime, perhaps because they had no clue what they were doing, yet still strung something together that's exceptional, not to mention epically imbued (production design by Danilo Donati).

I'm not saying Marvel and DC should stray from what works for them.

But Flash Gordon's spirit's no doubt electrifying.

Like wild influential discontinuum.

*Once again, it's cool to see works of art that seem as if they're uncertain as to how to proceed. This doesn't work so well in sports or politics. Where such an aspect is foolish or frightening.   

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

Spoiler Alert.

Tired of working for a prison's work farm, one inmate decides to play crazy, and winds up in a different sort of institution still strictly and coldly regulated.

He's rather aggressive and independent and quickly gains disputatious influence, realizing his wits are still intact and keen on promoting seismic change.

But the regulations are rather severe and there's no place for critical controversy; trouble abounds if you can't grow accustomed to the various binding slights.

R.P McMurphy (Jack Nicholson) has never been one to listen to anything besides his passionate emotion, and he goes about setting his brethren free, with oceanic amassed endeavour.

Nurse Ratched (Louise Fletcher) is sympathetic but also concerned with rigorous discipline, the film challenging psychiatric conventions used to theoretically promote sanity.

McMurphy's approach makes more sense for living or thoroughly enjoying undisciplined life, his wild contumelious hedonistic ontology the product of distaste for form and structure.

Nurse Ratched crafts strong workers who can function within a hierarchical structure, and pays less attention to thrilling desire than their productive work at hand.

McMurphy may have made complimentary inroads had he not been so thoroughly combative; life within the hospital may be dull but it's still aligned with reasonable thought.

He is rational or at least he reasons but he's not a trained psychiatrist.

He's well-versed in vibrant life but perhaps overly concerned with chaos.

He introduces fun and playful mischief to people unaccustomed to freedom, or to freely and confidently expressing themselves in order to obtain objectives.

The administration's goals and objectives promote sure and steady stability, but perhaps without considering happiness as it applies to daily life.

Nurse Ratched is often critiqued for being hard-hearted and stubborn, but McMurphy wantonly disrespects her even though she's trying to help.

He doesn't just make rude comments or eagerly disobey, he throws a party with booze and prostitutes and she's left with no choice but to punish him.

The punishment's grossly disproportionate and akin to tacit murder, if such methods are still used today we're clearly still quite a barbarous species.

Blending work and play with logical enjoyment seems like a rational goal to pursue.

I don't know how regulations can promote joy, but how do epicureans finance lavish lifestyles without ever having to work?

The balance is out there somewhere, hopefully emerging after vigorous investigation.

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest examines extremes, bellicosely jostling in stern opposition.

Casting by Jane Feinberg & Mike Fenton.

Star Wars: Episode IX - The Rise of Skywalker

Rian Johnson's The Last Jedi has become my third favourite Star Wars film, behind A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back, but far ahead of all the others, except Return of the Jedi.

I've watched it several times now and it doesn't get old, in fact it gets better every time I view it, and it's wonderful to once again have a Star Wars film to look forward to watching, again and again and again.

And again.

I still watch episodes I-III again when I see them on television, but with less enthusiasm. However, I've come to prefer them to episodes VII and IX for the following risk-fuelled reasons.

It's not that episodes VII and IX are particularly bad, or lack entertainment value, but they're so heavily reminiscent of episodes IV through VI, that they lack the imaginative characteristics of Luca's bold second trilogy.

Take Episode IX, where Emperor Palpatine (Ian McDiarmid) reemerges.

Could they not have thought of another villain to fill the gap left by Snoke, one who perhaps hadn't met his electric end so many decades ago?

Or made Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) all the more wicked?

An elaborate explanation as to how he comes back to life isn't even provided, we're just supposed to accept that he was so powerful he was able to return from death, and build a massive fleet of star destroyers with planet annihilating capabilities.

Is this a Star Wars film or low budget television?

People may be calling this period of time the post-explanatory age, or the post-Truth age or what have you, but does that mean film narratives with the highest budgets imaginable aren't even going to provide explanations for their controversial plot developments anymore, and fans are just supposed to accept them without thought or thinking?

There's more continuity between episodes I through VI as well, they flow more harmoniously together.

Episode IX may be entertaining, but it doesn't flow well with Episode VIII. At the end of The Last Jedi, for instance, the entire rebel complement can fit on the Millennium Falcon, but their numbers don't seem to have been drastically reduced in Episode IX, or at least it proceeds as if everything's fine. Rose Tico (Kelly Marie Tran) adds so much to The Last Jedi and I thought earned a place at the forefront of subsequent narratives, but she's largely forgotten in The Rise of Skywalker, like Katherine Brewster in Terminator Salvation. As are the children on planet Cantonica. And the notorious codebreaker DJ.

It's like J.J. Abrams took the criticisms of The Last Jedi, which sees new strong female characters with prominent roles and critiques the manufacture of weapons and the eating of meat, and wanted to make a clean break with it in The Rise of Skywalker (note how Rey soothes the pain of a giant snake within), and the result's more like separate films than a trilogy, George Lucas had much more resolve.

Episodes I-III may be cheesy and some scenes are difficult to watch again and again, but their narratives are still highly complex and the result of in-depth brave storytelling.

They provide reasons for what takes place for instance.

They smoothly flow from one to another.

And Lucas significantly expanded upon the world he created within A New Hope, adding multiple layers of legendary depth, councils and federations and clones and mysticism, the films may have been melodramatic, but they weren't derivative or one-dimensional.

Lucas took brave risks when he created Episodes I-III and didn't back down when faced with bitter criticism.

He ironically didn't rely on what had come before because he was spending too much time creating it.

Episodes VII and IX may be entertaining, but I don't want to watch them again so much, because they aren't complicated or controversial, they're much too free and easy.

Episode IX is jam-packed with action for instance, it rarely slows down unless Rey (Daisy Ridley) is searching for something, but several of the scenes unreel far too quickly, notably the demise of General Hux (Domhnall Gleeson), a ginger, and Kylo Ren's torture of a disagreeable bureaucrat. Lucas had a much better sense of timing and pacing and his films were edited with much more care.

The Last Jedi was too.

Take the moments when Rey and Kylo Ren are being inspected by Snoke, Finn (John Boyega) and Rose are about to be executed, and the Rebel transports are being picked off one by one.

The editing for these three parts of the narrative is exceptionally well done, and keeps you hanging on the edge of your seat as you eagerly await what's going to happen next, and the film doesn't lose sight of the three components of its narrative, and keeps interweaving them with compelling precision.

The Rise of Skywalker loses sight of Finn trying to destroy the super star destroyer for far too long during its exciting climax.

It leaves it hanging as if fans aren't concerned.

While Rey battles the Emperor, who is also her grandfather, come on!, and Lando (Billy Dee Williams) predictably shows up with reinforcements.

One of the coolest aspects of Episodes I-III is that they pointed out how there's no such thing as Jedi blood, how Jedi are born throughout the galaxy at random and if discovered have the opportunity to develop their skills to avoid the risks of becoming obscurii.

It's an aspect this trilogy overlooks, except for the fact that Luke had students besides Kylo Ren who disappear after their cataclysmic falling out.

The Jedi can't end.

There will always be individuals capable of skilfully using the Force.

The Jedi Order may come to an end after which future Jedi may call themselves something different, but they will still technically be Jedi if they don't become Sith, even if they have to train themselves.

You wait 32 years for The Force Awakens with the hopes of seeing more Luke Skywalker and then he doesn't show up till the end, and he's abandoned the rebellion and is living alone on a remote island, on a planet that can't be found.

And Han Solo dies.

Disappointing to say the least.

The relationship between Kylo Ren and Rey is well-developed in the new trilogy and I really like Finn's character, but Episodes VII and IX just seem like they're more concerned with not slipping up than trying to create something new.

It's like they're so worried about not making a bad film that they forgot to make good ones.

Too much "supposed to", not enough, "totally".

Which is what Episodes I-III, with all their issues, tried to do.

It's a shame the latest trilogy completely ignored them (they're ceremoniously discredited in The Force Awakens).

Plus, Episode IX sees gay actor Richard E. Grant take the stage as General Pryde, and he's in charge of the new planet destroying star destroyer fleet.

I didn't think a new Star Wars film would be homophobic.

But there you have it.

Two lesbians kissing for a split-second near the end doesn't make up for this.

Finn should have ended up with Rose too, but instead it looks like he'll hook up with a fellow African American (Naomie Ackie as Jannah).

A New Hope, The Empire Strikes Back, and Return of the Jedi all had different directors, but they were also consistent and flowed well together.

Totally loved The Last Jedi.

The Rise of Skywalker could have been so much more.

Rogue One: A Star Wars Story

Perhaps releasing a new Star Wars movie every year is a good idea.

They're incredibly fun to watch even if they're not that great (I loved Rogue One), and, instead of waiting 2 or 3 more years to pull-in a gazillion dollars, you can confidently expect to make such an amount every freakin' year, sums that can efficiently facilitate all kinds of alternative endeavours, perhaps jumpstarting artistic revolts thereby.

Independent sci-fi, independent sci-fi!

Now's the time.

I always imagined that the rebels employed the utmost stealth when stealing the Death Star's secret blueprints, and although that isn't the case in Rogue One, the resultant space and land Jediesque battle does manage to rebelliously compensate.

They're not a rag tag bunch, these rogues, these freedom fighters, more of an eclectic cast of wild yet willing individuals collectively assembled to see what can be accomplished.

I thought Jyn Erso (Felicity Jones/Beau Gadsdon/Dolly Gadsdon), Cassian Andor (Diego Luna), Baze Malbus (Wen Jiang), K-2S0 (Alan Tudyk), and Saw Gerrera (Forest Whitaker) were some of the coolest Star Wars characters I've seen, Malbus redefining the force through sheer devotion, Gerrera exemplifying a less peppy aspect of the oft rather perky rebel alliance, K-2S0 is actually funny (outstanding), Andor makes a gripping speech about his commitment to the rebellion, and Jyn slowly yet boldly steps up and strides.

Have these characters been typecast to fit the Star Wars B realm because they have more personality than those brought to life in The Force Awakens?

I bet they could still be managers in California.

Since Rogue One's outcome is already known to all, discussing its internal dynamics seems fitting, dynamics which generally impressed, the Disneyesque opening moments (Jyn's sort of like Bambi) setting the familial stage, the heart wrenching space drama, the assembling of the crew strikingly youthful in its mouthy composure, so many familiar sights from A New Hope (even Dr. Cornelius Evazan and Ponda Baba[I'm still looking for my Walrusman figure]) perhaps endearingly distracting me, tragedy, brilliance, escape, tragedy, brilliance, escape, battle, it's cheesy at points but I thought the good far far outawayed the bad to create the best Star Wars film since Jedi, please never alter the music in one of these films again, or do so in a way that isn't so mediocre.

One point of interest: in a New Hope, Vader critiques General Motti, stating, "don't be too proud of this technological terror you've constructed. The ability to destroy a planet is insignificant next to the power of the force." If Motti constructed the Death Star, why was he left out of Rogue One?

Also, Grand Moff Tarkin isn't so aggressive in A New Hope. His computer animated replacement isn't quite as withdrawn yet commanding.

'Tis true.

Forest Whitaker delivers one of the best if not the best performance/s I've seen in a Star Wars film.

Some day, I'd like to know how many extra millions this film makes because they gave it the more search engine friendly title add-on, A Star Wars Story.

Just Rogue One is clearly the better title.

I'm betting they make an extra 237 million.

High-Rise

Quiescently ensconced in an eccentric microcosm, floor upon floor of economically ranked struggles, celebrations, sacrifices, autarky inclined to divine judgment, electrical exclusivity dividing the aggrieved populace, factions and punishments and discourse, threats, rebellion, single Laing (Tom Hiddleston) remains professionally detached as the disdain of the upper levels begets a crusading demagogue, a brilliant attempt to self-sufficiently endure, chaotically chained to the repercussions of decay.

Experimental empowerment.

Entitled vengeance.

Daring to dream.

Ben Wheatley's High-Rise possesses a peculiar ambivalence which consistently deconstructs attempts to clarify its underlying motivations, inhabiting the illusive intersection where horror, comedy, and tragedy collude, where everything remains uncertain, and spectres illuminate aberrations.

Quick draw.

Technically, the film's outstanding. The production design (Mark Tildesley), cinematography (Laurie Rose), and editing (Amy Jump and Wheatley) shine forth with undeniable cheek and variability.

A team assembled.

At points the writing (Jump) struggles however, excelling at crafting believable impoverished and bourgeois dialogues, but failing to convince when enabling plutocratic mysticism.

Obviously a closer study of In Search of Lost Time is in order.

It's like a really tight elementary first or second script, Jump demonstrating that she has the ability to win awards, High-Rise impressing like Blood Simple or J'ai tué ma mère, Between the Buttons or David Bowie's self-titled album.

Childlike brilliance.

High-Rise sacrifices sophistication for shock and ordure, the script still excelling at not bothering to explain things which left me full of sardonic amelioration.

Cool cast of varied characters.

At its best when it's genuinely unconcerned, at its worst when it just doesn't care.

Winky face.

For such a massive apartment building, High-Rise doesn't showcase much of its commercial enterprise, only focusing on a totalitarian grocery store and some perfunctory athletic accompaniments.

Inflammatory reflections of hierarchical obsessions.

Sociopolitically speaking.

*Loved the quick-French-learning grocery clerk.

Star Wars: The Force Awakens

*I've waited weeks to post this. There aren't any huge spoilers but don't read it if you haven't seen the film.

A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back really are exceptional films. They created a universe and captivatingly pulled you in, refusing to let go, commanding your strict attention for every volatile nanosecond then leaving you wiped from hyperintense emotional exposure. They were dark. They were pressurized. They didn't seem like lighthearted whimsical checks and balances. They built the foundations for worlds within worlds and boldly cultivated a clear spiritual vision, tantalizingly navigating a polarized political spectrum. I watched them again recently, watched all the Star Wars films again recently, and they still hold up, still captivatingly pressurize. They must have had a long lasting effect on the Force Awakens team too, because Star Wars VII borrows heavily from their scripts. I enjoyed watching it, and even preferred it the second time, but it was still somewhat frustrating to see the agile new cast back on a remote desert planet, with a droid containing secret information, off to a new cantina bar, before having to assault a new super-Death Star wherein an Empire like confrontation takes place. The film holds together and is fun to watch, but the script is lacking in vision.

They likely didn't want to try anything too experimental because that was precisely what Lucas did in episodes I-III and they didn't turn out that well. It's a shame because he attempted to multidimensionally diversify the world he created by crafting complex scripts with multiple storylines. It's too bad he didn't get someone else to write the dialogue or rework each script into something less convoluted, something more like episodes IV through VI.

Which is what The Force Awakens team has done, taking the easy route but workin' it intergalactically. I was hoping it would be something exceptional, you come to expect the exceptional from Star Wars films because A New Hope and Empire were so good, and they had a long time to work on this one; you're happy when a Marvel film is exceptional but you don't expect them to be exceptional in the same way that you expect a Star Wars film to be exceptional, so that when it's just solid entertainment, a fun couple of hours revisiting a phenomenal contemplation, it's a bit of a let down, which is easy to get over.

The film's too light.

General Hux (Domhnall Gleeson) is like a child in comparison to Grand Moff Tarkin (Peter Cushing) and Kylo Ren is light years less menacing than Darth Vader (David Prowse/James Earl Jones).

First rate pilot Poe Dameron (Oscar Isaac) crash lands on Jakku and then disappears until heroically returning to save the day, having managed to escape from a barren isolated planet being monitored by a Star Destroyer-like ship which is searching for him specifically.

How did he get off the planet!

Because it's so similar to episode IV you know precisely what is going to happen and this takes the edge off considerably even if it's kind of neat to see it all happening again.

With some new twists thrown in.

The text from the opening moments seems more like a bubblegum comic than an invitation to interstellar tragedy.

Was infiltrating the First Order's secret base and shutting down its force field far too easy?

Before Alderaan is destroyed there's a brilliant exchange between Leia (Carrie Fisher) and Tarkin which accentuates the severity of what's about to happen. In The Force Awakens they just fire the new weapon to sever any connection episode VII has to episodes I-III.

Rey (Daisy Ridley) is a saving grace, and her character continuously steals scenes, a cross between Han Solo and Luke Skywalker, she should be able to hold the next couple films together.

With Finn's (John Boyega) help; I loved it when he picked up the lightsaber to take on Ren.

I suppose I shouldn't be advocating for darker Star Wars films if I prefer the ways of the Jedi, but it's the competent resilient fierce desperation of the rebellion that made those films stand out, like the Rebels were up against overwhelmingly austere villains whose maturity was viscerally diabolical, the goodness of the Rebels standing out in sharp contrast.

Perhaps George Miller or Christopher Nolan should direct episode VIII. Perhaps they weren't crazy fans of the original trilogy when it came out. That may give them an advantage.

May the force be with you.

*Forgot to mention how cute BB-8 is. Like a well-groomed feisty Bichon.

The Hunger Games: Mockingjay - Part 2

The unfathomable having become undeniably rational, entrenched rebel forces prepare for an assault on Panem's capitol, the districts conscientiously united, President Snow (Donald Sutherland) locked down and reeling, Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer Lawrence) disobeying direct orders to simply act as messianic catalyst, thereby overtly inspiring heroics, instinctively striking back against iconic tyranny.

But the politicians are aware of their potential post-victory predominance, and fear Everdeen's influence in their reimagined state, divisive hypotheses compromising the purity of their cause, the innocence of guiltless reckoning, pushed propagandistically to the sidelines.

The extraordinary orchestrations of the bellicosely desperate beget a dissolute response with extreme dispassionate contempt.

Two leaders, Snow and President Alma Coin (Julianne Moore), one male, one female, holding on to or coveting supreme authority, drastically maneuvering to inculcate anew.

Throughout The Hunger Games it's clear that the rebel's cause is just.

Snow must be defeated.

He rules absolutely.

Yet in Mockingjay - Part 2 the politics of revenge and their inherent conflagrations remind viewers that citizens of the capitol did not necessarily support Snow, and were indeed terrorized citizens themselves inasmuch as they could not politicize, as a child spots but doesn't give up the Mockingjay, her mother brutally killed moments later.

There's no invincible playbook for such situations, and when terror strikes, or absolutism oppresses, resultant countermeasures can be as uncompromising as those they intend to suppress.

The Mockingjay - Part 2 constructively operates within this volatile antagonism, providing thought provoking disparities for those who engage in war.

The film, on the one hand, seems too sterile, a lack of emotion or a too hardened drive dehumanizing the conflict, making it seem more like a textbook than a testament, still boldly running through the motions.

But on the other, this point of critique fails to recognize the cold calculating dehumanizing affects of war, which turns communities into ordinances, the mischievous into the monstrous.