Equinox Flower

Docile diminutive barren lotion

studious encouragement insipid lounging,

sheer dedication bedouin brow

prosperous journey windswept stealth.

Falcon festoon petrified viaduct

vital tradition newfound trajectories,

versatile threshold fecund elaboration

hybrid harangue embroidered conniption. 

Derelict diminuendo indignant stampede

cozy caprice byzantine verse,

shutterbug 'slaw coca-bifocola

lumberton lunette fiesty gargantuan.

Intellect industry cerebral artistry 

ludicrous variance spiritual rhythm,

sacre bluebellrung piccolo plasma

fisher fiesta mink arug'. 

Doting disintegrate vaporous swirl

steam-engine whistle fluid cascade,

disarming allegiance earnest distraction

vacant obscurity wholesome void.

Nautical nebulae veline vedette

laidback seclusion storefront stroll,

intuitive browse discerning homage

clandestine collage emotive fuel. 

Heralded harken kraken cadre 

zodiak zephyr tenacious teddy,

spontaneous sharing gushing glare

erudite script fervid eccentricity. 

Rigid resilience lithe determinacy 

opaque shadow furtive blush,

conception pillar plush exhibition

indicative throb shimmering sheath. 

Glib infatuation harnessed extraction

unbridled feather carefree flakes,

recalcitrant meadow recrudescent glade

contumelious dell frenetic afield. 

Enigmatic instinct tempestuous glob

globular glisten deciduous dew,

frosty discrepancy drifting dalliance

rustling reverie sojourn breeze.

Flip hibernation transient torpor 

eclectic dream impassioned variables,

slumbering forest cavernous mountains

blithe somnambulism joyous fragility. 

Why do some animals sleep throughout the winter while others struggle to find food?

Was it through the defiance of a jaded divinity?

Or as the climate shifted, did they simply not move away?

Feel bad for local deer anyway.

They be strugglin'.

Big time.

Whale Rider

A variable balance between genders and races effectively applied to the function of management, has always seemed natural to me from the observant standpoint of a democratic citizen.

That is, if you had efficiently demonstrated that you were reliably capable of leadership, through either education or work experience but preferably a combination of the two, leadership positions should be potentially open to you should you seek to manage or lead, one specific group shouldn't monopolize power if your country's multiculturally composed (I'd rather write books myself).

It's basic math ethically driven that honestly rationalizes open-minded executives, and if women make up around half the population, there should certainly be far more female managers.

It's statistically improbable that such a vast group wouldn't regularly put forth strong leadership candidates, many of whom would be able to represent large in-depth swathes of the general population.

In Whale Rider, Paikea runs into trouble when her by-the-book grandpa seeks to train a new chief, for the rules strictly specify that only male children can dependably fill the proactive role.

She demonstrates courage, intelligence, and resolve but is consistently thwarted by gender based stereotypes, which stubbornly refuse to realistically yield to the undeniable strength of her versatile wisdom. 

Her grandpa's a piece of work and still turns a blind prejudiced eye, even as she outperforms the male recruits and characteristically erupts in spiritual song.

But he changes, he eventually sees the ill-gotten errors of his obstinate ways, the healing power of imaginative nature ushering in a new power dynamic (she totally rocks it 🐋🐳).

Who knows what will happen tomorrow but you couldn't have a worse male presidential candidate, who represents nothing but privilege and wealth and is clearly insane from multiple viewpoints.

Trump's favour could change overnight because he thought a trashy sitcom had a secret message, meant only for his attentive mind to bluntly decipher on X that evening.

Kamala Harris applies logic and reason and utilizes advisors when making decisions, the U.S having many of the best in the world why would you dismiss them in favour of snake charmers?

She's much younger and evidently more reasonable as clearly showcased by Trump's refusal to debate her a second time.

She's a genuine classic strong leader.

Wielding the finest open-minded tradition.

Go Kamala!

Go Kamala Go!

Jalsaghar (The Music Room)

Traditional techno prestigious glamour entrenched nobility inalienable birthright, delicately maintaining vast ancient customs once thoroughly sought to uphold righteous honour.

The royal in question elaborately ensconced within his palatial discreet colossus, known for entertaining and leisure and horseplay as were his forefathers so much of his kin.

But times change, new ideas and philosophies begin to prosper throughout the land, and new markets new ways to earn money latently tempt inherent ambitions.

As the economy undergoes transformation and the nouveau riche seek respect and authority, the ocean encroaches upon his old lands and leaves him with no means to take in revenue.

Dispiritingly, his wife and only son travel by water to rendez-vous with her family, tragically suffering a moribund fate when caught in a hurricane on their way home.

Left with no rightful heir and too uptight and proud to start over again, he settles into a depressed routine which sees no income or family or friend.

The world erupting in kitschy novelty borderline insouciant bewitching pandemonium. 

He embraces the passing of the years.

Rarely emerging from his elegant den.

There must be an arthouse tradition imaginatively awaiting curious enthusiasts, who aren't as interested in Bollywood's sensation but still directly crave tactile Indian genius. 

Jalsaghar (The Music Room) seductively showcasing the despondent struggle of a political system, as those who can't adapt to the newfound democracy suffer in silence while their wealth slowly fades.

But more than that, if ever there was a relevant film to challenge boredom and decay, Satyajit Ray's cataclysmic masterpiece indirectly applauds diversification.

The industrious Dutch have held back the sea for such a long time their techniques transmissible, had the aging royal simply adopted them he may have kept his people on the land.

Perhaps due to obsessive bearings he never became aware of such maritime difference, but had he focused intently on generating an income, and hired innovative people accordingly, he likely would have continued to profit from his holdings, and never would have had to sell his sacred possessions.

Thus, beware the sedentary life should you find yourself enamoured with rest and relaxation.

As the saying goes, don't rest on your laurels.

Notably if so many rely on your industry.

Ski Patrol

A dependable crew gathers once more with the intent of facilitating safety, thoroughly concerned with bucolic camaraderie and old school resilient friendship.

Their trusty leaders are full of welcome as the new sought after season begins, the team strengthening its agile bonds with animate allied airtight adaptations. 

But trouble is brewing upon the slopes as crookedly conjured within the town, a local magnate hoping to acquire the resort's lease from the park authority.

Loveable Pops (Ray Walston) has managed the summits for decades with bold reliability, ship shape and tried and true yet still supportive of unorthodox thinking.

Mr. Maris (Martin Mull) indeed thinks he's soft because he gets along well with his staff, and mistakes trustworthy understanding for misguided glib incompetence. 

He convinces a local ski pro to cruelly engage in duplicitous sabotage, and he scandalously sets about ensuring equipment will no longer function.

Law enforcement is there to note when haywire happenstance hawks holistic, disquietingly keeping swooping track of each maladroit infraction. 

Things look grim distress piles up laidback cohesion flexed in jeopardy.

But age-old time-honoured testaments still transact with tactile turbulence. 

But such a synopsis perhaps exaggerates Ski Patrol's dire inherent conflict, without promoting the rambunctious antics festively erupting with carefree vigour.

The film may contain macromachinations which frenetically fuel financial frolics, but you can also count on extensive celebration un/ceremoniously accumulating.

Every 15 minutes or so an inspired fresh salute to improvisation, passionately serenades le joie de vivre with acrobatic lithe ir/relevancy. 

Never spent too much time myself engaged in alpine amusements, on skis in the winter anyways, didn't really start embracing winter again until recently.

But you get so much more out of the year if you remain active in January through March, and there's still so much to do, if you dress warmly, and come prepared.

It's really amazing what so many athletes get up to in the wintertime, suppose I'm more into snowshoes myself, but wow, the Winter Olympics impress.

As does ye olde Ski Patrol at times with its lack of pretension and freeflowing humour.

Liberating to be shenanigan prone.

When the world isn't so strict and serious. 

Deck the Halls

Meticulously prepared for the upcoming holidays, a fastidious optometrist get things done (Matthew Broderick as Mr. Finch), his loving family receptive to his obsessive celebrations, embracing each vital tradition, with resignéd calm.

But a new neighbour suddenly appears across the suburban street one night, who's less familiar with rigid reservations, preferring the lighthearted easy going improvisational holiday approach, he freely and oddly expresses himself, with well-meaning lovable charm (Danny DeVito as Buddy Hall).

Unfortunately for Mr. Finch, Buddy decides to set up Christmas lights, and goes far beyond a modest array, indeed hoping his house will be visible from space, the ultimate salute to excessive glitz and glamour.

Even more unfortunately for Mr. Finch, Buddy's luminous galactic ambitions lead him to become the most sought after Christmas expert in town, a position formerly held by Mr. Finch himself, who becomes more and more furious with each passing day.

He vociferously airs his grievances yet feisty Buddy does not back down, the two then engaging in grandiose shenanigans which the cross-dressing police chief (Garry Chalk) cannot contain.

Their respective wives and families grow rather weary of the childish rivalry, yet their wise counsel is stubbornly ignored as the festive conflict madly intensifies.

And somewhere along the way the communal spirit of the Holiday Season is lost.

Will the competitive incensed pair?

Forgive and forget, in time for Christmas?

Channeling Planes, Trains & Automobiles, Deck the Halls showcases wild aggravation, blindly expanding distressful atrophy, the uptight professional, the self-made person.

Different lucrative skill sets still hopefully flourish in the North American economy, they provide so much remarkable spice for a thriving culture dynamically composed.

The benefits of a University education the confidence you develop from its projects and tests, not to mention the wide variety of divergent subjects to study, cultivating level-headed prudent multiplicity.

The benefits of the working world instructing the daring with multidimension, as different experiences at different levels in different jobs produce impeccable hands-on contention. 

Perhaps the most successful CEOs find a way to blend the different approaches, not only personally but with their staff as well, as their businesses develop open-minded spectrums. 

Less jealousy for the devoutly studious and fewer dismissals of practical knowledge, could lead to a more well-rounded prosperous business, or simply friendships indeed like no other. 

Fisherman's Friends

Daily life twists and turns much as it always has in a small Cornish town, the local inhabitants full of stern comment bluntly mixed with jocose observation.

Not much has changed in recent centuries concerning work and the steadfast tide, the sea continuing to provide spry livelihoods for those rich in oceanic endeavour.

Record industry reps show up for a jaunt in the afternoon one sunshiny day, their activities irritating the townsfolk after they necessitate search and rescue.

But true to form they keep an ear open and discover an old school sound, fisherpeeps revitalizing age old melodies in newfound vibrant distinct bounds.

One remains after the lads depart to see if they're interested in a record deal, the singers responding with cheeky discord as he makes his lively pitch.

They're not to be won over swiftly so he must prove himself at sea, departing with them shortly thereafter bona fide recruitment pleas.

But his friends are having a laugh and don't intend to sign the band, which ruffles his feisty feathers since they've agreed to chant offhand.

He decides to go it alone and find another label who might like their sound.

Falling for village life. 

And a suspicious homegrown belle (Tuppence Middleton as Alwyn).

Fisherman's Friends celebrates traditional valour with bucolic pluck and sombre tenacity, the unwritten integrity of the spoken word as dearly vital as brave responsibility.

As brave as voting for Biden in Texas.

It's clear what will happen from the outset but that's entirely keeping with form, since a degree of predictability is to be expected from ancient scores.

A strong filmscape doesn't only include the wondrous novelties of the avant-garde, since democracy takes into account multivariable vast divergence.

It's not up to one or the other to uniformly evoke taste or style, since democracy is inherently diverse and such diversity upholds tradition.

Tradition itself isn't always as concrete as proponents would have you believe, libraries home to exceptional repositories of historical change and off-kilter mutation.

I imagine many people have traditions which they hold dear, and would change others posthaste if given the chance, the corresponding multifaceted dialectic robust with intrigue and grave indignation.

Ye olde tradition was once likely novel or as innovative as Zoom or the Dodo.

Biden himself is rich in tradition.

And clearly innovates with old school integrity. 

Downtown Abbey

I suppose I may have once had harsher words for a film about servants desperate to humour British royalty, inasmuch as they don't seem to have much leisure time, and there's no mention of rights or unions.

In fact they don't seem to have any time off at all, and serve altruistically day and night, the demanding nature of their age old situation less amenable to ye olde 9 to 5, any questions of an alternative lifestyle, absent from the master narrative.

I'm unfamiliar with the series so I don't know if they receive adequate wages, and if you're ever thinking about forming a union it's always best to consider whether or not it will bankrupt your employers, but if the idle rich can't afford to pay a decent salary, who can?, and Downtown's nobles don't seem to be working that hard.

Of course they have their own dainty way of labouring, comparatively, which has more to do with socializing and planning events than sweeping or dishwashing, and since a significant proportion of the population expects them to play these roles, handed down through the centuries, who I am to criticize them for doing so?

It's the democratic element you see which ironically uplifts the monarchy insofar as such traditions have just as much right to persevere as any other.

Their workers can still quit at any time should they find something lacking, or a better situation, although in many cases I imagine they strictly soldier on.

Due to the prestige they associate with their position, a bizarro rank and file reflection of aristocratic privilege, a phenomenon where one's proud to be of service to a duke or earl even if their quality of life's somewhat bland, for they imagine that others envy them, oddly enough, but then again, others actually do.

Covetously so.

I imagine serving the nobility must seem idyllic if you're serving the nouveau riche, if that's how you want to live your life (gaining status by association with a snotty clique), although I may be incorrect indeed, depending on how hip newfound wealth finds flex-time.

All I'm trying to say is that when you don't have many options you may settle for something snotty, who am I to judge?, and may even find it quite rewarding, depending on the character of your team.

The film does present a solid team equipped with full-time work by employers who don't hold them in contempt and do honestly listen to what they have to say.

Of course the idle rich don't have to sustain these networks, they could live much more modestly to be sure, but then thousands of people would be out of work, and the people who care about elite social activities would have to find other forms of media to entertain them.

So distressing, the items that trend on AppleNews.

As unimaginative as such pastimes may seem, a democratic conscience should try to tolerate them, assuming they don't imperialistically express themselves, or attempt to squash integral freedoms.

The world of Downtown Abbey is both resourceful and respectful.

Model worker/management relations.

Perhaps too prim and polished.

Remarkably cohesive bonds.

Zagros

Zagros pulls you in with the simple genuine honesty often disseminated by documentary films.

Patiently listening and modestly sifting through vivid delicate realizations, it sincerely brings to life different aspects of a traditional art, whose practitioners have fallen on hard times, inasmuch as their markets are stifling.

And it's a shame considering how beautiful their finished products are, how stunning, how unique.

How integral.

The herculean labour that goes into creating just one exemplar is mind-boggling from a mechanized point of view, but each individual carpet radiates such intense authenticity that it's surprising they don't sell for a bundle.

To an eager sympathetic clientele.

Zagros begins by introducing craftspersons then investigates their age old supply chain.

We meet feisty nomads who herd sheep across inhospitable terrain, forced to both cross busy roads with their flock, and carefully plan each conspicuous graceful movement.

The domestic remonstrations of ill-tempered critical children taunt a man who dyes thirsty wool, as he has for over 40 years, their protests related to a sparse income earned, his defence uplifted through blithe perseverance.

His children are still unaware of how fortunate they are to have unmitigated access to a mastercraftsperson, who can teach them everything he knows for the asking, and help them earn their own living one day.*

Assuming markets bounce back.

Starting from the top.

His job isn't rich with diversity and uproar, but is still steeped in patrimonial passion, as he skilfully demonstrates with ease, much like Kierkegaard's Validity of Marriage.

Aesthetic Validity of Marriage.

Location makes no difference to the craft although it may to the income generated.

I imagine traditional craftspersons across the globe pursue their art with equal degrees of dedication.

You pay a bit more (hopefully) but it's worth it; I'll never look at carpets the same way again.

I was vilified once in my youth (not for long) for lauding wallpaper. I couldn't understand why at the time. Still don't really. It looked quite nice.

Zagros takes the time to profoundly examine its subject, long relaxed scenes catalyzed in thoughtful homage.

It's like that feeling you get on a sunny afternoon when you're engaged in various tasks but don't have much to do.

I would never have the patience to craft a handmade carpet, although I have nothing but praise for the art.

The harpist creates music, carpets are woven melodically.

Meticulous essentials.

Innate hearty blooms.

Respiring.

*I was lucky to have caring teachers in my youth, and unmitigated access to an old school Irish lexicon.

Foxtrot

And an exemplar was disseminated, wherein which individuals expressed themselves extemporaneously even though they had observed strict routines throughout much of their bourgeois lives, tradition and structure briefly withdrawing as overwhelming desires to alternatively communicate built up deep inside and triumphantly exhaled, a fluid gesture of harmless defiance joyously reverberating across uninhabited terrain, passing by unremarkably, the absurdity of his post and its accompanying limitless wastelands failing to generate correspondingly desolate emotions as underdeveloped independent curiosity refuses to acknowledge the austere, revellers brazen enough to pass by in good cheer suddenly transforming codes that had been youthfully displaced into bloodshed, paranoid precedents instantaneously shocking generally carefree lives, the error rapidly covered up thereafter, buried for archaeological posterity, denoted with novel graphic agency.

The drawing generating metaphorical comment.

As mourning subsides.

And love reemerges.

Making light of solemnities has sombre consequences for the denizens of Samuel Maoz's Foxtrot, as if the temptation to relax one's guard is as dangerous as it is emancipating.

The natural world countermands privileged influence within, as tensions between freedom and discipline maddeningly shock obliged quotidian necessities.

The commodification of ancient heirlooms disastrously curses the present, as tantalizing postmodern accessories addictively dominate the senses.

Extreme grief is benevolently replaced by joy before the utmost cruelty coincidentally descends.

Historical repercussions infinitely bewildering.

Combative contiguities.

Subjective cries.

The film excels at presenting free spirits tormented by regulations that must be upheld, accentuating the blasé to manifest torrential tears while cosmically suggesting there is no reasonable alternative.

The conjugal rapprochement which characterizes its concluding moments abound with blissful acquiescence.

Nevertheless.

As a couple audaciously expresses itself by sharing truthful thoughts.

What they still have rich in wonder.

Integrity, variability, mystery.

Adventure imaginatively narrativizing.

Mindfully.

After work finishes up.

The Big Sick

The one night stand that blossoms into something bountiful.

Lighthearted carefree revelling evoking humorous injunctions.

Pakistani and European Americans embracing mutually inclusive tactile artistry.

Fanciful floodgates flummoxing.

As exclusivity spoils the fun.

And traditions tumultuously tether.

The Big Sick was much better than I thought it would be.

I only went to see it because I had seen everything else besides The Emoji Movie.

It wasn’t generally wishy washy or trashy or ridiculous or tough to take, rather, it was a well thought out multifaceted intergenerational romantic comedic dramatic account (I’m not writing dramedy) of restless young adults credulously craving each other’s clutches, caught up in interstitial exuberance, with feverish judicious nourishing insatiable impress.

The wild.

The exhilarating.

But Kumail‘s (Kumail Nanjiani) age old customs complicate things and there’s a devastating break up around two-fifths of the way through.

The film struggles for 15-20 minutes afterwards as Emily (Zoe Kazan) falls into a non-related coma, but just as it seemed like it was turning into a write off, her parents Beth (Holly Hunter) and Terry (Ray Romano) show up, and as guilt ridden Kumail gets to know them, the film’s transported to a much deeper level of interpersonal awareness, their steadily shifting interactions developing themes from one perplexity to the next, notably as Kumail learns how many familial problems they had after they married, and how strong they had to be to fetchingly confront them.

Holly Hunter steals a bunch of scenes. I’ve never noticed her like this before.  She owns the role with feisty delicacy and ponderous pluck and delivers a performance to recall. 

Best supporting actress?

It’s still pretty early, but wow, I was thoroughly impressed enough to place her on the list, like Brad Pitt in Thelma and Louise or the late honourable Bill Paxton in Aliens.

Kumail keeps performing throughout and the conversations he has with his fellow comedians ir/reverently round things out.

It also respectfully examines classic intercultural exploration.

Culture and tradition are certainly important. 

I don't care if people wish to live within their culture’s religious or secular guidelines.

Whatevs!

As long as the choice to mix and blend with other cultures still exists as well, to forge dynamic communal hybrids multigenerationally composed of differences from around the globe, to marry whomever the hell you want to marry, and if that choice is taken away, even if your family has lived somewhere for hundreds, thousands of years, I’m afraid that’s super lame, period.

It’s fun to date people from other cultures. You’re constantly learning new things.

Forgive yourself and ask for forgiveness if at times you learn a new cultural feature and happen to uncontrollably start laughing. 

Sometimes traditions you’re not familiar with seem funny until you understand how important they are to the new person you’ve met.

If you love them, you’ll feel bad. 

And if they love you, your punishment won’t be to dishevelling.

Blushy face.

*Nanjiani and Kazan work well together. I was thinking a sequel set in Brazil. I loved Ray Romano's "opened my mouth hoping something smart would come out" (paraphrase) line. The late at night sleepy conversations. "Tell me a story!" Oh man! 

Uvanga

A single mother and her son travel from Montréal to Igloolik, Nunavut, after the passing of his father, so that young Tomas (Lukasi Forrest) can meet said father's extended family for the first time.

The midnight sun illuminates their visit as familial expansiveness and jealous grudges acquaint him with a different set of cultural codes.

He's curious and chill, open-minded and active, these factors enabling a productive immersion in the North's différence, supportively kindled by his loving relatives.

And problematized by hostile trouble makers.

Uvanga frankly blends the harsh with the heartwarming, synthesizing the fearful and the awestruck in a diverse communal intergenerational resiliency.

Tomas's father's death is a subject of controversy.

His mom's (Marianne Farley as Anna) decision to leave is questioned.

Her return instigates adversarial purges.

A curative step, for the advancement of healing.

At first, I thought the scenes were passing-by too quickly, but this technique allows Marie-Hélène Cousineau and Madeline Ivalu to densely pack their multifaceted narrative with a varied cast from different walks of life, motivations and realities resultantly receiving accentuated depth, thereby directly rebuking any claims of oversimplification.

Situating a mother's grief and a son's acculturations within a lively mosaic of piquant reach.

To-the-point easy to comprehend consistently sharp conversation.

That's not so easy to pull off.

47 Ronin

Unjustly cast out and stripped of their rank, forced to quibble for crumbs, scrap for sustenance, and transcend for trifles, Carl Rinsch's 47 Ronin patiently wait to seek vengeance, the pressures of time motivationally closing in.

Their Lord was betrayed through bewitching and forced to take his own life to maintain his family's honour.

A humble troubled outcast who renounced his demonic tutelage possesses the forbidden knowledge necessary to arm their ascent.

Composed as a group, they unite forthwith, entrusting enlivened artists with their plans, prognosticating as a matter of necessity.

In absolute domains.

Liked what happens in 47 Ronin which takes place in 18th-century Japan more than the film itself, but I respect what it delivers.

It provides a traditional story steeped in loyalty, overflowing with injustices, told in a traditional way, for audiences respectful of said traditions.

It's a true exercise in modesty considering that it doesn't play-up Kai's (Keanu Reeves) demonic abilities even though such a feature may have increased its salutations.

Form working hand-in-hand with content.

Even the mythical beast isn't shown-off.

Restraint.

Lawless

John Hillcoat's Lawless ballistically perforates a hostile approach to rapid wide-scale systemic change, polemically posturing various players within a bucolic dynamic in order to counterpoise federal and local reputations.

The year is 1931 and prohibition and the great depression are taking their toll.

But dozens of Virginian bootleggers in Franklin County have found ways to circumvent the prudish law while ensuring the availability of steamwhistlin' scratch.

Their business has its share of internal and external dangers, but if their entrepreneurial caution, confidence, and charisma is combatively backed-up, should the situation demand, it's possible for them to get by.

The film's social demographic places egalitarian commercial race relations in the underground, using its most formidable character to deconstruct Southern stereotypes without hesitating to allude to their pernicious influence.

This accomplishes the following: African American customers (unfortunately) occupy the underground but said occupation is directly (and vivaciously) displayed (bigots can spread their hate but they can't suffocate your spirit). Segregation's pernicious influence on the other hand is indirectly showcased on main street. Such an opposition realistically situates racist cultural dynamics within an historical paradigm while simultaneously suggesting that said paradigm isn't as prominent (in certain areas) as it used to be (without resorting to pointing out how bigoted things can be outside of the American South).

By making the underground activities lively and inviting, and those flourishing in the forefront antiquated and distasteful, Hillcoat subtly contemporarizes his narrative without aggrandizing it, thereby formally instituting a reversal of fortunes.

These commercial relations commence sharpening Lawless's predominant (and much more blunt) focus upon allowing local jurisdictions to settle economic matters according to their own industrious proclivities, the ways in which they particularly interpret the universal, one step at a time, or at least without dismissive, infantilizing, violent authoritative impositions.

Its narrative is quite different from Alan Parker's Mississippi Burning, wherein federal authorities seek justice according to the somewhat peaceful (and necessary) application of the law only to be stymied by local thugs (after which 'authoritative impositions' are 'enacted').

Lawless is of course more concerned with underground economies and identity transformation (or solidification), and Special Agent Charlie Rakes's (Guy Pearce) psychopathic abuse of his power to 'tax' and/or crush small businesses during an economic crisis, while using his knowledge to intimidate people as they try to grow/change, is grossly counterproductive.

His exaggerated character represents both the reputation a lot of city folk have for using their 'wit' to consistently enflame the age-old urban/rural antimony, and the ways in which many federal law officers likely abused their authority when transferred to the South (can you break down an institutionalized culture of segregation by treating everyone bigotedly?).

But he bats heads with the Bondurant Boys whose (justifiably) invincible reputation and refusal to back down on certain matters of principle have garnered them considerable respect within (and outside of) their community, although Forrest's (Tom Hardy) adherence to the doctrine of fear generates problematic socio-ethical questions.

I suppose if you live in an excessively violent location you need to physically maintain a resolute persona that demonstrates that it won't take any shit.

But who the hell wants to live like that? 

It's like cultivating paranoia instead of grain and such methods will have significant detrimental longterm effects.

Nevertheless, Lawless's explosive yet clever refusal to allow the South to be characterized according to a set of generalized notions, which legitimately carry substantial historical weight but at the same time demonize those who lived within a system without operating according to their divisive rules, tenaciously operates within an incendiary critical domain whose approach to achieving social democratic objectives isn't so light and fluffy.

Although it does ironically employ the cult of the individual (an individual family) to achieve them.

Brave

Traditional gender roles are set ablaze in Disney Pixar's Brave, the magical tale of young Princess Merida's (Kelly MacDonald) coming of age.

Disillusioned by her culture's tradition of demanding that a mate be selected from a tiny prestigious feudal stock, and the rather strict regimen of feminine codes of conduct to which she must adhere, while the men train for battle, the feisty Princess shelves her mother's (Emma Thompson as Queen Elinor) strategic plans and rides off into a forested nexus.

Wherein resides her destiny.

And a witch who provides her with a treacherous tasty treat which turns her mother into a bear upon her return home. 

August insurmountable accumulative wisdom having been startlingly transformed into the wild unknown, little Merida must find a way to relax the resulting tensions and restore order throughout the land. 

As a product of adrenaline.  

The film's piecemeal approach to socio-cultural structural modifications presents a practical framework within which transfigurations can be cunningly concocted, considering the myriad factors which need to be balanced when tempering historic-ideological architectures.

Wasn't impressed by its top-down approach however.

The bears are pretty cool though. 

Not the ferocious bear.

Suppose the other bears aren't really bears either.

There are moments of playful grumpy bearness nevertheless.  

Bears.  

Moneyball

Brad Pitt must have loved Moneyball's script at first glance. He's given the majority of screen-time and only one other actor is provided with the lines to contend a memorable performance. The film's about a baseball general manager's (Pitt as Oakland's Billy Beane) struggles to introduce a new style of management/recruitment/strategizing in order to field a playoff contender with a limited budget, the style being based on sabermetrics, the specialized objective analysis of baseball statistics gathered from actual game-time activities, notably a player's on-base percentage. Pitt lectures, wheels, trades, demotes, admonishes and deals while throwing things around and confidently battling formidable egos. The film effectively demonstrates what it's like to champion the new within a set of firmly established guidelines that have been unquestionably governing the order of things since they were set in place and consequently naturalized through the act of unconscious repetition. Risks must be taken. It all must be laid on the line. A number of unanticipated factors and potential points of diversification must be calmly and patiently ignored/incorporated as their rational characteristics challenge or correspond to the plan in question.

The film's a lot easier to watch if you're a baseball fan whose interested in the trials of an innovative general manager. Lotta baseball goin' on and your response to the predictable trajectories may be more enthusiastic if following a team's condensed unheralded controversial season interests you.

Or maybe it won't, I don't know.

The relationship between Beane and his daughter (Kerris Dorsey as Casey Beane) offers a distraction and adds a familial dimension to his professional predicaments. Apart from his relationship with his daughter, he definitely lives and breathes baseball 24/7 each and every day always. Was impressed with Jonah Hill's reticent yet incisive performance, exemplifying the possibilities which occasionally exist for recent graduates who aren't afraid to challenge the establishment.

Mr. Popper's Penguins

As I suspected, the penguins in Mark Waters's Mr. Popper's Penguins are very cute as they mischievously frolic and mingle. But the film itself leaves little to the imagination as it slips and slides from one happy-go-lucky scene to another.

As if they made this film for children.

Mr. Popper (Jim Carrey) makes his living acquiring real estate and in order to become a full-fledged partner must convince Mrs. Van Gundy (Angela Lansbury) to sell her Tavern on the Green, a family run restaurant and the only piece of privately held property in Central Park. Mrs. Van Gundy will only sell to someone possessing personal and familial integrity, however, and balks at his initial proposal.

Mr. Popper has not been very successful at raising his family and is currently divorced and none to popular with his two children. But as fate would have it, his deceased father has left him 6 penguins which are a huge hit with his disgruntled kids. As the film reels on, the penguins bring Popper and his family closer together as he learns to genuinely care for them. Yet how will these penguins effect his professional development as they wear down the hardboiled edge responsible for nurturing his commercial acumen?

The penguins themselves are somewhat magical, possessing intuitive humanistic gifts that accentuate their cuddliness.

Unfortunately the writing surrounding their shenanigans, apart from the opening scene and those involving Pippi (Ophelia Lovibond), fails to impress, and although there are a couple of moments within which Carrey displays his considerable talents, many of the lines with which he is supplied freeze his gravitational intensity.

For someone who makes a living convincing people to let go of their most cherished possessions, throughout the film it doesn't take much for him to be outwitted. It's fun to watch while someone who possesses considerable talents in one domain can't find an outlet for them in another, but you would expect him to be somewhat more aggressive in his personal life considering that such tendencies are responsible for his financial security.

Perhaps Mr. Popper's Penguins is saying that you don't have to be a sharp ruthless cutthroat to be successful in business, and that one's modest clever creativity is enough to enable their career related acceleration?

Perhaps it is also saying that the introduction of something absurd into a predictable yet successful routine can recalibrate one's traditional approach in such a way that they discover that for which they have always been searching yet never consciously realized they desired?

Perhaps it is also saying that when one's personality alone is not enough to garner the support of their loved ones, special commodities are required in order to speak to that which they have been indoctrinated to love more than anything else, capitalism?

Whatever the case, the film doesn't flow well and where you would expect there to be cohesive links fluidly encouraging a congenially frosty dynamic, its Antarctic pitfalls breaks up the progress, and only a cheerful, bright, occasionally endearing narrative remains.

I would have rather seen a film entitled Mr. Smithers and his Little Dogs, starring John Waters, where the hero and his 6 little dogs reunite a recovering morphine addict with a former prostitute through the power of puppy love.

It's only a matter of time.