Lean on Me

I must admit to knowing little about the daily operations of American schools, I've seen various films and read books presenting snapshots, but I remain largely unfamiliar with concrete details.

Thus when focused on a school like Eastside High as depicted in John G. Avildsen's Lean On Me, at first I'm tempted to trust to exaggeration through interests in presenting irate shock.

But perhaps my lack of knowledge is tending to obscure manifest realism, and there are indeed schools comparable to this one down South, even if they're tough for Canadians to envision, I could never imagine things getting that out of hand.

The school's discipline has deteriorated so profoundly that extreme measures are suddenly called for, as a new principal is effectively hired with the hopes of increasing its state average (Morgan Freeman as Principal Joe Clark).

If its state average does not improve the state itself will take objective control, and personal flair and individual reckoning may fade into bureaucratic oblivion. 

Naturally their personal flair has lacked efficient recourse to strength in recent decades, and manifold undesirable elements have arisen to challenge rational rule.

It can be heartbreakingly tragic when genuinely concerned individuals are rashly ignored, and a lack of upheld respect for authority leads to wild insecure degeneration.

Mr. Clark's methods aren't widely appreciated and he's honestly difficult to deal with, as he takes absolute control and refuses to listen to anyone else's opinion.

He fights the unruly head on and makes great strides in encouraging learning, unconcerned with image or friendship or reputation he authoritatively expresses himself.

Within the extremist example the case is made for sharp edged discipline, if things degrade to such a level a hug and a bandaid may not solve things.

The question is what happens the next year after the situation has evolved, and newfound pride in educational advancement establishes roots within the school?

Then does the headstrong leader gracefully adapt to the less volatile circumstances, and once again encourage democracy amongst students and staff alike?

If so, the unfortunate necessary embrace of hard-hearted methods finds justification, if such a situation existed (massive drug dealing etc., not something as harmless as gender identity), and couldn't be remedied otherwise.

If the leader doesn't relax power or refuses to acknowledge his fellow staff, then disconsolate dismal camaraderie may lead to the loss of highly valued personnel. 

The next school year isn't the focus so the overarching jury provides no verdict.

However the school resists being taken over.

And becomes a safe place to learn again. 

Charlie's Country

An aging Indigenous hunter goes about his daily business (David Gulpilil as Charlie), peacefully reacting to impositions which have radically transformed his life.

He remembers the old school ways dating back for many a millennia, and is somewhat vexed by colonial laws which often prohibit related freedoms.

Regulations manage so much of what he's traditionally trying to do, that it's like his way of life's been outlawed to his habitual astonishment.

He makes a reasonable case simply stating that it's his land, simply being annoyed by the lack of work or the lack of interest in his culture.

While viewing the film and intently listening to his passionate music, it seemed like a monstrously depressing  history, that there was so much spiritual harmony to be freely nurtured that was generally overlooked by covetous Europeans.

Imagine free spiritual exchanges had won the day with interactive correspondence respectfully matriculating, and these songs and dances were also consistent components of the greater Australian (or Canadian) scene.

And that the cultures were really interacting with mutual respect across the land. And there had never been any lost generations. No chilling grand historical barbarism.

That's the problem with uniform exposition it antiseptically sterilizes so much life, and takes vast vivacious versatile vistas and obtusely replaces them with bland monotony.

It's not even that bland monotony should be overlooked if anything it should be give a different label, and treated with mutual respect that doesn't enrage its anger-prone proponents (note: Russia is invading other countries again and Italy just elected a government that reveres Mussolini).

If one ring rules them all it really does bind them in darkness, with no grand multivariable recourse sleep takes hold with soporific blindness.

I just sort of like trying this and that there are so many different styles available out there, it's as simple as flipping through channels on the TV, or just surfing around on the radio.

I had developed this latently in my youth but Montréal really helped it bloom, I can't think of a better place in Canada and Québec to learn to ensconce yourself in diversity.

Charlie just wants to peacefully live according to the ways his people have for millennia, and while attempting to confidently do so, keeps running into violence.

This leads to a sense of desperation which is worst case if treated with alcohol.

Would you understand if someone took your country away?

Why do you expect Indigenous Peoples to?

Green Grow the Rushes

And a country persisted for centuries and its history expanded tenfold, gradually transforming from a feudal to an industrial society, incrementally balanced by royals and parliament.

But the impetus to transform various codes lacked immutable ubiquity, and while some regions emphatically adapted, others simply couldn't be bothered. 

At one time such regions perhaps adapted a more nationalistic ceremonious fervour, calling about grand chivalric dignity to unquestionably praise exalted decorum.

But as time passed, the inherent labour became too strenuous for many inhabitants, and the uproar which once fiercely extolled farming gave way to a somewhat less traditional occupation.

Less traditional?, who's to say?, some jurisdictions were settled millennia ago, and perhaps still unconsciously embrace the same engrained habits as their resourceful forefathers.

Thus, who's to say when Anderida started bootlegging and generally relying on the bounty of the sea, it seems that at one time they at least thought of farming, although over the years it lost local prominence.

Outlaw liquor from the forbidden continent steadily arrives on the shore meanwhile, which is brought throughout the region then perhaps transported all over England. 

A trio of government reps come preaching duty and responsibility, reminding the townsfolk that land must be cultivated according to 20th century guidelines.

But they've had their own laws in the region for many an indifferent decade, enjoying unconcerned jocose seclusion along with its incumbent grey lackadaisics. 

They try to be as hospitable as they can but find the outsiders most invasive, fortunately thanks to tradition and law they have alternative means at their public disposal.

But when a wild storm suddenly lands a large trusted ship in someone's backyard, their ability to jurisprudently deal is somewhat landlubbed by grandiose conspicuity. 

Trusted figures swiftly move into action and soon the 3 customs agents are locked down in court, while local legions dispose of the booty imaginatively inclined with Dionysian wherewithal. 

Just one scant example amongst thousands quietly delineating a nation each day, as its ancient interconnected paths see the onset of newfound desires and traditions.

Caught within a propitious vortex eschewing embracing various codes of conduct, individualistic poised prompt personality instigating schema forthright characteristic.

Why bother seeking downcast monotony, as long as there's inherent equal opportunity?

Uniformity lays bare extremes.

Amidst such litigious frolic. 

Lone Wolf McQuade

Old school cinematic invincibility, the versatile hero clad in grizzled impeccability (Chuck Norris as Lone Wolf McQuade).

Working alone, doing what it takes to excel, concerned with honourable courageous forthright excellence, with an instinct for justice, and devout paramount jurisprudence.

He tried to be a family man but his lifestyle was too chaotic, and even though he now lives alone, he's still on good terms with his ex-wife (Sharon Farrell as Molly) and daughter (Dana Kimmell as Sally McQuade).

His style has earned criticisms from an irate distressed senator, who's trying to reign in Texas, to create a less independent image.

He's therefore tasked with a partner (Robert Beltran as Kayo), who will perhaps encourage more relatable ways, but he sees the intrusion as an unjust sanction, and does his best to emphatically resist.

As ne'er-do-wells secretly highjack shipments of government weapons, running the guns across the border, to be sold to the highest bidder.

McQuade's daughter and her fiancée (Robert Jordan as Bobby Drew) park near their machinations one evening, too close for villainous comfort, they're swiftly incapacitated.

But Sally survives and McQuade begins investigating.

Kayo making himself useful.

The FBI clearly disappointed.

It's a pioneering '80s action film that celebrates raw honest integrity, it's not that he's trying to bring it on, that's just how he gets the job done.

It may seem improbable at times, as he presents himself as an open target, for instance, and his adversaries miss with machine gun fire, but that was the type of unheralded hero, presented as a fearless over-the-top force of nature.

His house hasn't been cleaned in years and he doesn't consume much besides beer, but he isn't dismissive of significant others, as they introduce forbidden playful contradictions.

Eventually everyone involved realize they need to rely on his intuition, and even though he hasn't done much to convince them, they come round to his steadfast point of view.

Martial arts forge a tantalizing unconscious as audiences await manifested skills, one David Carradine (Rawley Wilkes) enlisted as nemesis, tension slowly building resolutely throughout.

Things are very direct and blunt, as if there's something crucial to say, as if James Bond were in fact from Texas, and was much more humble and modest and loving.

Some action films are more realistic and sometimes make more sense as a result, but that doesn't mean one should dismiss this style of storytelling, with its stoic hands-on caricatures.

I'm not sure how seriously you're supposed to take it, perhaps I'm not taking it seriously enough, but if you're looking for something cool that's a bit less polished, Lone Wolf McQuade provides an impacting punch.

Brilliant performance from Robert Beltran.

Carradine and Norris were the genuine article.

Papicha

No culture holds a monopoly on dreams, and imagination flourishes partout.

The independent creative soul seeking expression in Papicha, hopes to hold a fashion show to entertain family and friends.

It sounds harmless, exciting even, the chance for blossoming ideas to vibrantly echo, encouraging innovation in a fluidic field, alternative takes celebrating life.

Papicha's (Lyna Khoudri) friends are supportive and helpful as she gathers materials and steadily creates, her unique approach to her cherished surroundings generating catchy sartorial yields.

Her school is hesitant to host the event due to rigid communal concerns, but spirited protests and resilient complaints eventually attain freeform prosperity.

If it were as simple as all that a happy tale would have no doubt been told, chronicling the trials of a determined artist as she vigorously strives and creates, ideas liberated in context under examination before emerging as works of art, perhaps a rival may have produced organic stress?, without seeking to spoil the show.

Does the suppression of diversity and alternatives not lead to the unconscious promotion of anguish, as there are no outlets for the maintenance of spirits who don't fit within specific contexts?

Does the encouragement of a modest spark of independence not lead to more thrilling variety, or at least much wider choice in terms of goods and services, for a culture's commercial life?

With a wider variety of goods and services (many of which are hopefully green one day) isn't an unconscious spirit of fun sustained, at least outside work's rigorous domain wherein which focus breeds success?

And if there are a wide variety of goods and services readily available to choose from, do people not want to succeed at work as well?, for greater working success may lead to higher incomes, with more money to spend on compelling variety.

I used to make lists of items to purchase on the completion of demanding contracts, and they helped me to focus and work as they facilitated growth potential.

How does a culture change and grow if youth aren't encouraged to creatively apply themselves, if there aren't outlets wherein which they can share and potentially generate new thought provoking synergies?

A thriving middle-class creates job opportunities and a spirited thrill for life, the resultant cultural diversity as baffling as it is compelling.

Papicha has an idea and she adamantly pursues it, perhaps recklessly considering her culture's extremes, but her determined pursuit still celebrates creative freedom, the unbridled enthusiasm for which can't be denied, a brave artist refusing to back down, diversity facilitating life.

Bad Boys for Life

Time has past and methods of fighting crime have adapted, yet Detective Mike Lowrey (Will Smith) still applies old school reckonings to the volatile realm within which he plays.

But he's been shot down by an unknown assailant who ballistically came calling during flippant carefree fun.

Distraught partner Marcus Burnett (Martin Lawrence) invokes divine intervention to aid his robust recovery, while settling into retired life, unsure of his stable routine.

And a new team lies in wait after Lowrey fully recovers, tech savvy yet lacking daring, led by precise pragmatic vision (Paola Nuñez as Rita).

Will the unstable mix of strategic planning and sheer impudence produce exclamatory results as the vengeful track and yearn?

Will Mr. Lowrey see something beyond the unattached ephemeral as his work with Rita progresses?

Will irresolvable speculation lead Mr. Burnett to once again contend, as clues manifest probabilities, and teamwork vests credulity?

Will Smith and Martin Lawrence irresistibly back at it and then some, bringing vocal spirits to the lively fore, after a considerably withdrawn hiatus.

They've still got it, that defiant spark from long ago, reciprocal mutually constructive disarray that contextualizes stark contention.

Lawrence's aggrieved summative evaluations add hyper-reactive humour, while Smith's intense driven presence keeps things seriously grounded, hewn.

It's like Martin and Fresh Prince still asserting themselves after all these years, a rare treat if you grew up watching both shows, still appealing to new audiences regardless.

The new recruits diversify its holdings and introduce less combative by-the-book character, not that they aren't ready to head out in the field, but their manners are much more reserved.

Unless provoked.

They even find remarkably well-integrated cover diggin' deep at local night clubs.

It's a solid 20th/21st century blend skilfully synthesized by Adil & Bilall.

It takes Lowrey and Burnett a long time to figure out who's oppressing them, and considering who's been shot their response time lacks speed, but the patient reflective struggle does build quite the crescendo (it's a cool ending), with a Vaderesque reversal, back before it all began.

Bad Boys for Life provides a fierce yet thoughtful narrative that reimagines age old themes, this variation as technologically infatuated as it is with mobile practice.

Okay, it's more infatuated with direct action which is certainly a good thing, a chillin' break from the cold calculation that qualifies so much daily life.

Judging by the responses of North American audiences there's still something to be said for interpersonal relations.

Technology may be astounding.

But it can't replace face-to-face conversation.

The Irishman

Great to see another fascinating Scorsese film, it takes you back to another time that cinema clearly hasn't forgotten, he's still got it, the skills that led him to success with Mean Streets 46 years ago, and has even improved on films like Casino (24 years ago), The Irishman's like a time warp folding 5 remarkable filmmaking decades into one, it would have been shocking to see something this good released by Scorsese in 2019 if I had ever thought he'd lost a step, or stopped givin' 'er with exacting intensity, damned impressive, hopefully for many more decades to come.

The same can be said for Steven Spielberg who continues to impress like he did in the '70s.

I can't believe it's almost been 20 years since Y2K.

It's amazing how much things have changed in the last 20 years, how practically everything has moved online, even in the country, how a device that fits in my pocket functions as walkman (with access to every album in the Apple Music catalogue), flashlight, alarm clock, I'm writing about how much I love my cellphone again, mailbox, newsstand (with newspapers from around the world), internet service provider (I access the web more on my phone now than I do on my computer), calendar, camera, health promoter, wallet, weather network, world map repository (you don't even need to know where you're going anymore), music studio, translator, calculator, compass, stock market ticker, and phone, it's strange when you watch older films or new films set in the past and characters aren't casually checking their cellphones from time to time, even if I certainly spend too much time on my cell, although I rarely do if I'm on vacation.

Working vacation.

The net may even solve housing crises in cities if rural environments can offer steady internet access and people can then move there and work online from home.

The technology's already available in some locations but it's very expensive.

Mindboggling how much things have changed.

Not all for the good of course, what used to seem like deranged lunacy regularly pops up in the public sphere these days, passing itself off as rational discourse, and sensation's lost its edge as the quotidian embraces incredible daily scandal, politics used to at least seem much more responsible, as if the greater good didn't only apply to an elite few.

There used to be more of a humanitarian edge in the public sphere, a much stronger willingness to promote peaceful harmonies, which aren't as naive as provocateurs make them sound, even in Canada someone as loveable as Justin Trudeau is under constant attack, he has made mistakes, but still promotes compassion and understanding likes it's 1967.

Perhaps the next 20 years will see a shift away from petroleum based products as the producers find new ways to profit off biodegradable alternatives, and the world will embrace peace without ever having gone to war as world leaders come to redefine hope and optimism.

It's clear that that's what we need to do.

Doesn't it make more sense than drilling in the Arctic?

There has to be a will to keep people working without laying waste to the environment.

Thankfully they have such a will in Québec.

And elsewhere around the world, I imagine. 

Zombieland: Double Tap

Zombies continue to terrify the living and have even grimly mutated in the ravenous Double Tap.

Rules and regulations still provide psychoshelter as predictable routines and collegial cheer augment feisty brainiac exhilarations.

The new zombies fall into 4 categories, none more deadly than the T-800, who can dodge bullets and employ martial arts, with more ferocity than the agile ninja.

While hunting insatiably en masse.

Or scouring the land strict and solo.

Zombieland's heroes have resiliently returned to face the undead once more, but youth has blossomed with age, and seeks less old school jejune internships.

And after argumentatively co-existing for combative years on end, group members set out in search of riled alternatives.

Like bears opposed to sleuthing.

Uplifting independence, unpasteurized brays.

If you've forgotten what took place in the original, fret not, for you will be reminded, about so much of what transpired in fact, exceeding recourse to novel genealogy.

And somehow, even though the internet has lost its edge, and most of the planet has been infected, news still travels remarkably fast, and stats still motivate restless recollections.

Without maps or GPS peeps travel instinctively far and wide, always aware of where they're going, often sticking to backwoods paths.

The next generation has yet to materialize but good relations remain free from censure, and even conjugally express their bold rewards, extant shenanigans of a secular age.

Non-perishables uphold and sustain commercial values, and nothing seems to have run out after all this perilous time.

Platonically speaking, healthy appetite flourishes unrestrained, the loyal spirit still courageously defending a laid-back immured intelligentsia.

Who peacefully refrain.

With warm impassioned jouissance.

There are some new developments and I won't deny that it's fun to watch, but Zombieland 2 still relies too heavily on source material, and makes way less sense so many years later.

I suppose a zombie horror-comedy sequel doesn't have to abound with plausibility.

But its focus on rules still rationally suggests otherwise.

A bit too much spirit.

Not enough strategy.

Effervescent clandestine innocence.

Free to fluster, exile, array.

John Wick: Chapter 3 - Parabellum

Once again with the John Wick (Keanu Reeves) immortalizing survival, this time as the entire criminal underworld extolls chaotic fury.

Congenially, as he's wildly pursued, he seeks the loyal aid of his friends, even if there's little they can do, besides coax divine personal sacrifice.

15 million or so to take his invincible life, too tempting for foolish addicts, too irresistible for would be rivals.

He makes his way to Casablanca in search of He-Who-Sits-Above-the-Table, a lone trek across the desert awaiting, with no guarantee he'll be warmly received.

Yet fortune smiles kindly upon him, and indeed a new deal is made, but not without giving up freedoms, and returning to bogeyman shade.

'Til further complications arise which jeopardize so many many lives.

Madness in searing discountenance.

Focused through utter dysfunction.

Except for Wick of course, who instinctually governs dispassionately.

Although there are points where he could have succumbed, where he almost falls stricken asunder.

The action's intense and the bedlam well choreographed as multiple opportunists seek scathing derisive leverage.

But it isn't as nutso as I thought it would be, and though Wick's still embattled for much of the menace, I still thought there would be less dialogue, less lengthy non-threatening exchanges.

Another dog is imperilled, another ally outcast.

I understand that the dialogue is supposed to be raw, to reflect unpretentious communication with sincere direct honesty, but there are films who use similar conversational strategies which make more of a lasting impact, Paris, Texas, for one, Robert Rodriguez remaining the master.

The first John Wick film was just so good that I keep hoping for similar effects from its successors.

I love Terminator 3 for instance, I'll watch Alien 3 again, Star Trek III, Blade: Trinity, Die Hard: with a Vengeance.

Christopher Nolan's Batman Trilogy excelling far beyond my expectations, with august realistic agency, cinema needs more Christopher Nolan.

I don't consider the Iron Man or Thor films etc. to be trilogies anymore, rather I see them as instalments in an unprecedented colossus that's too vast for these kinds of comparisons.

John Wick: Chapter 3 - Parabellum's still cool though, I'll give it that, but it's not more than you would have expected.

The rest of the film could have been as impressive as the fight scenes.

I like how Wick understands animal kind.

Quand l'amour se creuse un trou (When Love Digs a Hole)

An undisciplined approach to scholastic endeavours leaves young Miron (Robert Naylor) locked-down in homeschool.

His reserved yet open-minded parents understand that teenagers like to experiment, but are still adamant that their boy should definitively finish high school.

Therefore, their family rents a home in the countryside where it is believed there will be less distractions, and Miron sits down with mom to soberly cast procrastination aside.

Things go well.

The plans seems to be working.

But little do mom and dad know that their son is cut from the purest romantic egalitarian inclusivity, and soon finds himself enamoured of their rebellious widowed neighbour next door.

Florence (France Castel/Emilie Carbonneau) is a daring freespirit who elastically makes ends meet, and while Miron's parents (Patrice Robitaille as David and Julie LeBreton as Thérèse) sympathize with such an approach, at the end of the day they're better acquainted with orderly inflexible routines.

They aren't ogres or anything, they're actually much cooler than many parental units depicted in romantic comedies, yet they still authoritarianly attempt to shut love the fuck down, which thoroughly annoys their son, who effortlessly finds it wherever he goes.

As a side effect, David's increasing strictness revitalizes his wife's latent passions, and their marriage is consequently saved.

Yet their son is much more resourceful than they think, and an idea is generated through pseudo-televisual leisure studies, which just might represent, the apotheosis of truest free love.

Excavated from the heart of despair.

It's been awhile since I've seen such a remarkable Québecois comedy, which outperforms its American counterparts with a scant fraction of their operating budgets.

No doubt because Excentris went under.

A well-written story vivaciously brought to life, cognizant of the ways in which utopian dreams must confront disengaging realities, yet illustrative of the ingenuity which enables them to variably thrive amongst different generations, Quand l'amour se creuse un trou (When Love Digs a Hole) beautifully celebrates love and living, from multiple philosophical perspectives argumentatively voiced and respected.

It ends with perfect timing.

It's important to strive for the utopian but you still have to live meanwhile.

The trick is to do so without becoming cynical, a mindset which dismally breeds decay, if it takes over one's unconscious.

Don't get me wrong, I think finishing high school (and university or college) is very important, especially when you're young and don't have to work all the time, and it does open up doors and lets you expand your mind with cool challenges that the real world rarely offers.

Quand l'amour se creuse un trou makes a stunning case for disorderly reckonings however, undoubtably mischievized after categorial rules were far too dismissively applied.  

Digs in deep.

Hotel Artemis

High level underground healthcare, malfeasant exclusivity monopolizing bedside manners, a doctor whose son was lost surgically suturing round the clock, strict codes of conduct sustaining improbable decorum with the efficient composure of inoculated propriety, an indispensable service for those who require it, an oasis, a criminal miracle, aliases supplied sanctuary granted, personality condoned within but who's to say what'll happen on the outside, a father and son at odds, expertly timed assassignations, steadfast fraternal devotion, prescribed in/discriminate patience, getaways, gumption, gallantry and gunshot wounds, grotesquely favoured, securely synchronized, playfully humoured, abruptly inundated.

Riots raging in Los Angeles, the result of soulless ambitions to privatize water realized, ubiquitous disorder generating pandemonium, within which even the outlawed superelite feel helpless with nowhere to hide.

Forgotten past misdeeds ravenously salivating.

The drool an elixir.

The drip a commandant.

Escape through delirium manifested in the labyrinthine.

Plain sight stealth.

Unorthodox risk management.

Hotel Artemis has the makings of a cult classic perhaps dependent upon the preferences of a younger generation.

I enjoyed the film and the ways in which it openly orchestrates alternative subterranean postures, its imaginative non-compliance circumnavigating electroshocks, boisterously treading the turbulent mainstream, exuberantly bolting nutty necromance.

But I couldn't help wondering if I would have loved it thirty years ago, or if alternative alternative formats have unconsciously redefined the underground, with the same subtle corporate polish that led to so many unremarkable Johnny Depp films.

Have I simply grown older, or have statistical calculations transformed wild narratives into more family friendly pieces of civil disobedience, a sign of a more hesitant restrained contemporary artistic approach, saturated with widespread perennial job insecurity?

Perhaps the form of the underground films that hit theatres in the 80's have become the contents of similar early twenty-first century films, the form of the latter now representing the content of the former, to reflect how political engagements have changed due to a lack of progressive organization, dating from the unfortunate release of Mortdecai?

That makes more sense.

😌

John Wick: Chapter 2

Releasing a sequel to a visceral revenge film which shockingly surpassed critical expectations is a delicate affair, ironically in John Wick: Chapter 2's case, since you can no longer count on the objective bonus points freely dished out to reward the original's novelty.

You can sustain the momentum however, if you don't let the praise lift your spirits.

While still trying to craft another viral perplexity.

John Wick 2 sticks to the facts.

There are rules to be followed, no exceptions to be made.

Neither fairness nor camaraderie come into play.

At work.

In the age of the sensational superhero, Wick(Keanu Reeves) represents a humanistic counterbalance.

He may be the best assassin living, but he doesn't possess supernatural gifts and can contend without technological superiority.

He's just really freakin' good at what he does.

Don't screw it up.

Lickspittle.

Like pastis, grand marnier, amaretto, or amarula, with the humble demeanour of a 6 pack of bud, Wick reluctantly excels at authentically overachieving, with a kitschy pyrotechnic array of distinguished underground ex-factors.

It's enjoyable even if you know what's coming.

There's an art to writing blunt dialogue that leaves nothing to chance and states exactly what's on a character's mind.

The dialogue in Chapter 2 doesn't blow you away, but it, ah, sticks to its guns, with first rate integrity.

High-stakes slipstream.

Treacherous precipice.

Nocturnal necromancing nostrum.

They set up a hell of a third instalment.

Momentum sustained.

But the evocative visual style of the first film is missing.

There's a cool showdown (multiple cool showdowns) in an art museum though.

Professionalism oddly drives the narrative like sharks at corporate headquarters I suppose.

*Can one of these sequels be Man with the Golden Gunesque?

Chapter 2 is crazy violent.

Les Innocentes

Cut off from secular temptations, living austere lives self-shunned isolation, religiously devout ascetic mothers having peacefully gathered together to worship, suddenly terrorized, in extreme desecration.

A young nurse working in a nearby town agrees to secretly assist, the worldly and corresponding earthen salts bilaterally balmed, rules and regulations complicating their work, chilling aftermaths incrementally materializing.

Patients, healing in harmony.

The practical and the ideological tenderly stride in Anne Fontaine's Les Innocentes, celestially handmade convivial collaboration, democratically uplifting charitable principles, proceeding piecemeal to care for new life.

It's not that the ideological doesn't present rational codes of conduct, different codes clashing depending on the frequency of contemporary rigidities, it's just that the world usually presents sundry contexts many of which are characterized by specific circumstances which don't snuggly fit within dogmatic prescriptions.

Les Innocentes demonstrates how a balanced approach to the application of rules can produce fruitful results without shying away from illustrating the dangers of straying far from the beaten path, which, consequently, justifies the path's well trodden existence.

By breaking down barriers without sentimentally structuring the narrative, the film exemplifies how principled persons can effectively manage competing dedications while maintaining strong identities in self-secured assurance.

Communal constitutions.

A love story's worked in, friendships develop, the clandestine scandalizes itself, Les Innocentes works on multiple levels.

It critiques without castigating, builds-up without beatifying.

Like an exemplar of composure, it handles delicate controversial material with level-headed poise and calm, as Hillary Clinton's been doing for decades debating in the public eye, and Trump can't seem to fake for half an afternoon.

If tragedy descends into comedy he's pure horror.

Selling it like he's a victim.

Making Stephen Harper look like Barbie.