To Rome with Love

For a summer in Rome, an office clerk finds himself thrust into the spotlight, his routine reflections hyperbolically sensationalizing influence, as an architect revisits his youth to bring back to life/cross-examine his most serendipitous subject of desire, a young communist lawyer contends with a retired opera producer when it's discovered that his humble father can sing exceptionally well, and a married couple, in town for a potentially prosperous employment opportunity, find themselves accidentally embracing exotic extramarital affairs.

Felicitously framed by a traffic cop's dissolving point of view.

The conditions of which inculcate calisthenic creativity.

Romantically mingling the celebrated with the starstruck and the ordinary with the hyper-intensive, while evoking the nimble necessity to unearth metaphorical mirth within corresponding pscyhoanalytic observations, Woody Allen's To Rome with Love's palpable playful pluck picturesquely procures impressionable popularizations, and salaciously serenades atemporal condensations.

Fidelity strengthened through chance, temptation tethered to testimony, regret distinguished from revelation, and dreams evanescently alighted.

A virtuosic variation on a theme.

There's a lot more to it than that.

Sàidékè Balái (Warriors of the Rainbow: Seediq Bale) (Fantasia Fest 2012)

12 Indigenous tribes are living harmoniously amongst one another in the late-18th/early-19th century in the mountains of central Taiwan, when imperialist Japanese forces invade.

Their harmonious relations are highly aggressive inasmuch as manhood is achieved by cutting off the head of a member of a surrounding tribe.

The conquerors see things differently however and colonize said tribes in order to put them to work maximizing the economic potential of their natural resources.

Decades pass, and a once proud warrior culture is reduced to back breaking poorly paid labour, alcohol abuse, suffocating ethnocentric taunts, and the systematic depletion of their ancestral hunting grounds.

And respect for their traditions is anathema.

Yet the knowledge that rebellion is akin to mass suicide keeps them at bay, until the situation proves too belittling to be endured forever after (no treaties whereby they could maintain their way of life were negotiated and signed).

And a revolt is launched.

The ways in which director Te-Sheng Wei depicts the revolt incontrovertibly turn one's stomach, as the legendary Mona Rudao (Da-Ching, Lin Ching-Tai) and his Mahebu people express their revenge.

Obviously I was cheering for the downtrodden Mahebu but my support was structurally challenged as they massacred every Japanese person in their village.

The challenge being the result of the generation of an internally cathartic traumatic absolutist aesthetic, which chaotically yet rationally glorifies battle while championing the enslaved, accompanied by a feminine voice singing a haunting lugubrious lament, working within and celebrating the traditions of the vanquished, without hesitating to showcase their warlike being.

A being which I'm not used to inductively digesting.

The rest of Sàidékè Balái (Warriors of the Rainbow: Seediq Bale) practically answers Camus's cliché contention that the only properly philosophical problem is suicide.

Assuming that's a cliché by now anyways.

And its response heroically illustrates the fearless spiritual will of a fierce uncompromising people, forced to adopt extreme methods, dedicated to their way of life, refusing to passively perish.

As time goes by.

Ai to Makoto (For Love's Sake)(Fantasia Fest 2012)

Presenting a comic romantic over-the-top ultraviolent musical, wherein bourgeois values resolutely seek to pacify a versatile tumultuous rogue, the undying and overpowering intensity of love unwaveringly guiding their reformative resolve, streetwise unconditional consistent combative tenacity governing his, Takashi Miike's Ai to Makoto (For Love's Sake) does not refrain from elaborately executing every consummate class cliché ever created, sensationally synthesizing quixotic and hardboiled extremes, relentlessly reproducing unerringly awkward amorously explosive motifs, in the implacable pursuit, of emancipated co-dependence.

Group dynamics repetitively insist that young Makoto Taiga (Satoshi Tsumabuki) obediently pay his respects, but as their challenges are uniformly discombobulated, his limitless disenfranchised individuality, and consequent unwittingly seductive magnetism, remain intact.

Attaching a monetary value to the ability to maintain specific ideological viewpoints, while catastrophically choreographing their constructive affects, Ai to Makoto pugnaciously parodies the domain of rehabilitative reckoning, while chaotically kitschifying the practice of revenge.

For love's sake.

Cosmopolis

A brilliant young billionaire, having maintained his fortune by grammatically applying the mathematical rhythms of nature to the metaphorical constructs of his social interactions, something like that, philosophically travels throughout New York in his cork-lined limo, calmly discussing various subjects with his astute personnel, occasionally stopping to chat with his literary wife, protests pulsating outside, historical echoes allusively gyrating, definitive risks annihilating his wealth, the pursuit of pleasure conjugally detected, security forces requiring guidance, meaning, substantially, trying to break its way through.

On his way to have his hair cut.

Operating within a conscious surrealistic intellectual structure spatially adorned with sudden startlingly ephemeral enactments (momentary dreamlike logical displacements), wherein questions of tangibility become remarkably fluid before alternatively reverting to their previous states, David Cronenberg's Cosmopolis examines an individual's steady response to a shockingly increasing barrage of multilayered financial, cultural, and, derivatively, psychological derailments, whose consequent disruptions cannot be experientially sublimated.

Mr. Packer's (Robert Pattinson) unaffected emancipated solution attaches a horrific qualification to the concept of freedom.

Even when Cronenberg zeroes in on the cerebral, he can still find other ways of exemplifying his roots.

Et maintenant on va où? (Where Do We Go Now?)

A remote village in Lebanon remains technologically isolated from its surrounding politico-cultural environment which erupts in a religious war. Seeking to ensure that no more of their children are needlessly slaughtered, its Christian and Muslim female inhabitants unite to distract their masculine counterparts. However, regardless of the fact that they know nothing of the war, tensions between these men have been increasing due to sacrilegious activities that have inspired retribution.

Trying to covertly manage the vindictive violence proves challenging.

A challenge to which these heroic women stalwartly, respond.

Exercising a seductive mix of the expedient, the temperamental, and the divine, Nadine Labaki's Et maintenant on va où? (Where Do We Go Now?) fictionally verifies how destructive overtures can be pacified within pressurized time constraints.

Certain aspects of the solution they facilitate may have practical applications beyond said constraints, although reflecting upon whether or not their means justifies their ends pasteurizes acute ethical dilemmas.

Nevertheless, a powerful film with a progressive message, Et maintenant on va où suggests that a rural dynamic can play an influential role in the byzantine global mosaic, as a matter of perseverance as opposed to pride, or acceptance as the foundations of transcendence.

Moonrise Kingdom

Stoic particular oddities are seamlessly intertwined with a general reconceptualization of a stilted romantic American summer vacation, framed through recourse to a revitalized instructional capacity, championing the ingenuity of two young outcasts, demanding that those who neglected them altruistically unite, with the aid of Bruce Willis, as the peculiar becomes the pertinent and vice versa, discussion engenders understanding, the resulting text overtly incarnates visceral dialectics, melodramatically idealized by the pursuit of love.

Regardless of the structural impediments firmly bulwarking a sustained historical social reverberation, Suzy (Kara Hayward) and Sam (Jared Gilman) courageously escape to the wilderness which created it, only to find their commitment to one another strengthened all the more, after having been discovered.

Underground authorities are then enlisted to creatively sanctify that which has been forbidden.

And as the heavens thunderously strike back, only s/he whose bravery eclipses his/her intellect can function as saviour.

And the Moonrise Kingdom shines forth.

Having been integrated into the system.

Intouchables

Improvised confident agile productivity meets frustrated restrained routine continuity in the heartwarming new odd couple film, Intouchables, the two dimensions elastically forging an incorporeal amicable trust.

Or friendship. Friendship is another way of describing that which they forge.

Philippe (François Cluzet) is a wealthy aristocratic quadriplegic who requires the aid of a live-in attendant. Driss (Omar Sy) comes from the projects and only applied for the position to demonstrate to social assistance that he's looking for work.

It quickly becomes apparent that Driss's honest, easy going, cheeky camaraderie is precisely that for which Philippe has been searching, having grown tired of fawning, hesitant, by-the-book cookie cutters.    

And the result is mutually cathartic.

The mix of different attitudes regarding artistic modes of expression is invaluable.

Oddly enough, it seems that there are still a lot of people who don't mix the classical with the popular.

Which is just simply weird.

Illustrating the rewards of embracing alternative therapeutic methodologies in order to rediscover innocuously rebellious invigorating affects, Intouchables acrobatically and celestially displays its inclusive joie de vivre without losing its practical edge.

Worth checking out.

Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter

Abraham Lincoln.

Vampire hunter.

His chosen weapon: an axe.

His cause: the abolition of slavery.

His purpose: just.

His approach: universal.

During his set of historical circumstances, piecemeal strategies simply don't cut it.

And alternative methods must be idealized.

Fighting an age-old evil whose tyrannical agenda is constantly seeking to revitalize its divisive malignant incredulity, Mr. Lincoln, with the help of an incredible woman who believes in the strength of common persons, and many other friends, including Christian Slater, decisively acts by any-means-necessary, his initial youthful personal vendetta evolving into a prolonged politico-cultural crusade.

Guided by wisdom.

And driven by faith.

Timur Bekmambetov's Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter is poignantly pulpy and genuinely clear.

Incisively laying a lucid altruistic track upon a dismantled phantasmagorical transcendence, he uses the tools prominent within his own set of historical circumstances to popularly reconstruct its influential engine.

Working within the system without preaching to the converted.

Or worrying about critical repercussions.

Great film.    

Ted

Magic and a child's dream of having a friend brings a cuddly teddy bear to life in Seth MacFarlane's Ted, thereby transforming little John Bennett's (Mark Wahlberg, Bretton Manley) existence from one dominated by loneliness to one permeated with joy.

With neither responsibility nor consequences.

And an inexhaustible supply of the kind.

But the introduction of John's steady love interest Lori Collins (Mila Kunis) and their 4 year relationship threatens to end John and Ted's (Seth MacFarlane) non-stop binge, and a hitherto unimaginable strain threatens their impregnable friendship.

Obviously things need to change, and Lori is exceptionally relaxed and understanding, but after Ted moves out and John continues to haplessly disregard his social and economic obligations, things fall apart, and he finds himself back on his own.

Struggling to get by.

Mr. MacFarlane's undeniable gift for packing his scripts full of nostalgic pop cultural references does not struggle, however, and Ted's narrative is jam packed with witty intertextual memorabilia (also written by Alec Sulkin and Wellesley Wild).

Johnny Quest is mentioned.

Ted Danson makes light of his more successful Cheers co-star Woody Harrelson in a bit of playful bad taste.

And Ted's answer to The Wedding Singer's use of Billy Idol impresses at first.      

A lot of the jokes are funny, but the consistent barrage of cheap shots loses its appeal as the film unreels.

While some movies use repetitive jokes effectively (Paul's three boobs for instance), the devices Ted borrows from Office Space grow tiresome and the second half doesn't hold together well.

The subplot involving Donny (Giovanni Ribisi) is taken way too far.

As is the use of Ted's Billy Idol.

And the nauseating Rex (Joel McHale).

Too much reliance on knee-jerk reactions and not enough on strong character development, Ted flounders where it could have flourished and applies the brakes when requiring acceleration.

I've seen Adam Sandler movies that were better.

Seriously.

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.  

Rock of Ages

Well, without digging too deeply into the ideologic-socio-political dimensions of Rock of Ages, here's a brief snapshot of what happens.

A beautiful young girl (Julianne Hough as Sherrie Christian) travels from Oklahoma to Los Angeles in the hopes of becoming a singer. It becomes clear early on that the odds are stacked against her but she's fortunate enough to catch the eye of a barback (Diego Boneta as Drew Boley) with similar dreams who finds her a job at the prominent nightclub (The Bourbon Club) where he works.  

In less than a week they've developed a strong emotional bond.

Known, as love.

Legendary demonic alcoholic singer Stacee Jaxx (Tom Cruise) and his band Arsenal are scheduled to play their last collective performance at the Bourbon Club, and the sultry studious astute Constance Stack (Malin Akerman) of Rolling Stone hopes to ask Mr. Jaxx some sharp related critical questions beforehand.

After three or four minutes she's prancing around in her underwear.

She does still publish a vitriolic article later on.

But by the end of the film she's carrying his baby.

Meanwhile, the clueless adulterous Mayor Mike Whitmore's (Bryan Cranston) religious wife Patricia (Catherine Zeta-Jones) hopes to put an end to the Bourbon Club's cult and is crusading against Mr. Jaxx as well.

The only man who ever made her feel like a real woman.

By the end of the film she's back in the audience, hoping Stacee will notice her once again.

Sherrie and Drew break up and she finds a job stripping while he gets stuck in a boy band.

And another monster rock ballad is sung.

I'm not really looking to complicate this film or anything, but it does present politics and feminism as hypocritical meaningless endeavours whose initiatives crumble beneath the seductive gaze of the established subterranean patriarch.

In this case, the political initiatives are invasive and counterproductive but if they function as a foil for such initiatives generally they can be considered belittling and grossly disproportionate (there is no alternative political option presented).

I prefer grassroots music to that manufactured by market based research but it's not as if classic rock isn't alive and well.  

It's nice to see gay characters given a strong masculine structural role within, not in terms of encouraging anti-feminist apolitical activities, but in regards to taking risks in order to establish an integral celebrated entrepreneurial identity.

I can't think of any other things to say besides the fact that the film's soundtrack contains some songs that I like.

Rock of Ages. 

Rollin' along.

Madagascar 3: Europe's Most Wanted

Well, I haven't seen the first two Madagascar films, but Europe's Most Wanted makes it clear that at some point the loveable animal stars spent time in a zoo in New York City.

And are hoping to return.

Their penguin and chimpanzee acquaintances ditch them at the beginning to fly to Monte Carlo and make a fortune gambling.

Frightened of having to spend the rest of their lives in Africa, they follow.

How they travel to Monte Carlo remains a mystery (it's possible that they swam).

After they discover their whereabouts, they accidentally fall through a glass ceiling, thereby simultaneously reuniting while interrupting a lavish spending spree of Europe's elite.

Which engenders a confrontation with the law.

As represented by a rather determined feminine figure.

From which they escape by posing as circus animals and finding refuge in a hostile yet hospitable train.

The penguins then buy the circus from owners who are eager to sell only to discover that it suffers from a serious lack of talent.

And that things need to be competently restructured in order to impress an American promoter who may finance a tour of the United States.

Starting in New York City.

Even though our heroes have no circus experience, they have lived in an American zoo where they acquired transferable do-it-yourself-know-how, easily applicable to any situation.

And the characters from Africa, who prefer life in a zoo to their homeland, teach the struggling Europeans how to dazzlingly manage their showcase, thereby enabling a tour of the U.S.A.

The revitalized Russian tiger is heard to utter 'bolshevik' instead of 'bullshit.'

Labour laws in France apparently only require two weeks of work a year, a subtle indirect (annoying) elevation of the 50 week work year.

A Platonic mode of political production is partially at work insofar as the wise penguins use the spirit of their inspirational lion, zebra, hippopotamus, and giraffe to reconstitute the European appetites, even after said appetites find out that they've been convincingly lied to.

In the interests of entertainment.

Can't say I'm disappointed that I missed its predecessors, nor that I find the title Europe's Most Wanted amusing.

Suppose a kid's film about the state of the American economy wouldn't be commercially feasible.

"God only knows it's not what we would choose to do (Roger Waters, Rick Wright)."

Tip Top

Clouds are rolling over,
a beaver's swimming by.
Metamorphic boxspring,
left by glacial tides.

Birds can be heard a chirping,
the shore erupts in song.
A breeze gently shares its cooling breath
while turtles saunter on.

A heartfelt tender posting,
inaugural astute sparks.
Shimmering reflections,
restrained star gazing park.

A pioneering bunch of daisies
has found lodging in a gap.
Audaciously derailing
the shallow supine crack.

In fertile soil they've prospered
where they've never grown before.
A versatile amendment to a
torrid lofty core.

Somehow their seed was scattered
to a receptive latent home.
Their resultant tactile manner cast in
multicaring chrome.

And all across this dark sky reserve
their settlements have spread.
To brighten its nocturnal poise
with a sublime starlit stead.

On the Rocks

Calisthenic cascade
sweltering granite
deciduous addendums
solar sojourns
jet stream dissipating
rhythms resounding
odonatan sentinels
polymorphous plunge
constructive current
coruscating.

Prometheus

And a group of scientific diplomats and their escort departs on a trillion dollar mission financed by Weyland Corporation towards a planetary alignment discovered by a team of archaeologists upon several ancient culturally isolated works of art.

In search of those who brought life to their home world.

But their investigative proclivities awake volcanic slumbering behemoths whom are intent upon annihilating their planet.

Which has functioned as their laboratory for millennia.

In the end, only a devoted non-denominational Christian (whose faith still burns) who at one point initiates a self-inflicted abortion and a brilliant amoral android who was responsible for infecting her husband with the fertile extraterrestrial virus, remain.

Still determined to make contact.

Still driven, to carry on.

Ridley Scott's Prometheus has its moments but on the whole functions like an amorphous geyser, patiently stratifying different levels of neuroses before startlingly expelling their searing undulations.

Several approaches to handling the unknown are precipitated, each exemplifying differing degrees of prohibition.        

Thereby carnally creating within a paranoid social constellation.

And intergalactically quarantining exploratory consonance.  

Snow White and the Huntsman

A wicked Queen who loathes men kills her husband due to her blind fear that he will cast her off when her beauty fades and then takes psychotic steps to insure that it will remain forever.

But when his daughter whom she has kept prisoner comes of age and it becomes clear that she is even more beautiful, she immediately seeks to put her to death.

But Snow White (Kristen Stewart) escapes and her purity and innocence help her to make her way back to the forces who fought for her father and will still nobly battle for his seed.

A Huntsman (Chris Hemsworth), seven dwarves, and many others assist her during her journey.

Her innocence would likely have not been so pure had she not spent her entire youth locked inside a cell.

Unfortunately, unlike the creators of Mirror Mirror, those responsible for Snow White and the Huntsman seem to have never escaped from the cell in which they were nurtured, and are still struggling to develop genuine tension, emotion, and plot.

At no point throughout this film does it seem probable that Snow will not succeed. Her young curious yet cautious inner light intuitively and instructively guides her steady improvised actions.

As if she was born to lead.

But the film sets up another tired opposition between naturalistic and fabricated extremes with the King's only heir exuding divine rights with every instinctive calibration.

Snow's rallying cry when she's reunited with the resistance lacks depth, character and ferocity.

I really wanted to like Muir's (Bob Hoskins) omniscient observations but they were just too much.

The Huntsman predictably abandons Snow but only for two to three minutes.

And William (Sam Claflin) doesn't hide his feelings at all upon being reuniting with her, going so far as to actually display them.

It just doesn't make sense.

The Huntsman and William do form a pseudo-Jacob/Edward dichotomy for Kristen Stewart which brings in a little Twilight.

But this really only makes things worse, although in the end it seems that she desires Jacob, which is, of course, the correct preference.

However forbidden.

John Carter

Was surprised by the internal dynamics of Andrew Stanton's John Carter.

Within, one finds a disengaged despondent protagonist, John Carter (Taylor Kitsch), refusing to take part in any unnecessary interpersonal relations because his family was murdered by the North during the American Civil War.

He's searching for gold in the Arizona Territory.

After escaping from regional military authorities, he finds himself in a cave where he is accidentally transported to Barsoom (Mars).

On Barsoom, he winds up in a typical scenario where one side of a bloodthirsty jingoistic 'might is right' community (Zodanga) is using a weapon of unlimited power, given to them by godlike beings (the Therns) who want them to rule the planet, to defeat their ancient enlightened enemies (the citizens of Helium) who are on the brink of discovering a method of harnessing an infinite source of energy (the Ninth Ray) whose secrets have been manipulated by the Therns for millennia.

A third party, whose political structure and cultural activities are somewhat Romanesque (the Tharks), are avoiding the conflict.   

Helium can end the war if Tardos Mors (Ciarán Hinds) marries his daughter Dejah Thoris (Lynn Collins) to Zodanga's leader, Sab Than (Dominic West).

However, the resourceful, fierce, and brilliant Dejah refuses and escapes with the serendipitous assistance of Mr. Carter.

The Tharks provide them with sanctuary until their curiosity proves sacrilegious.

If one thinks of Zodanga's aggressive warlike colonialist activities as representing an ideology far to the right, Helium's feudal yet scientifically and socially progressive practices (women can be just as strong, intelligent, and successful as men and science isn't being used exclusively in the manufacture of weapons) as one that is left of centre, the Tharks as having adopted a neutral approach whose internal ideological dimensions are still far to the right (the non-voting uncritical receptors of Republican pop culture?), the Therns as a powerful interventional technologically advanced group seeking to maintain their immemorial monopoly, and John Carter as a jaded nihilistic entrepreneur only seeking to return home, then the altruistic effects of the following denouement could possibly play out.

Sab plans to murder Dejah after their wedding thereby uniting the cities while eliminating the feminine scientific element. Carter overcomes his individualism, decides to fight for Helium, and uses his influence with the Tharks to secure their aid. Together they out maneouvre the Therns and Zodangans leaving the door open for the people of Helium to develop constructive means of utilizing the energy of the Ninth Ray to bring about a more sustainable perennial planetary infrastructure whose enduring surplus could break down the dominant feudal structures preventing the Tharks, Zodangans, and citizens of Helium from forging a united front capable of shielding themselves against the Therns's meddling.

And their preference for brute force.

And general smugness.

Tim and Eric's Billionaire Dollar Movie

Enjoyed Tim and Eric's Billion Dollar Movie.

Some of the jokes aren't the greatest and one situation almost made me retch, but these guys are undeniably flexible in terms of producing sustained awkward oblivious carefree traumatically endearing comedy, nostalgically nuanced with a 1980s commercial naivety, and overflowing with nimble bad judgment.    

In search of a billion dollars.

Chef Goldblum's (Jeff Goldblum) transitional introduction sets the stage.

The hysterically fruitful job interview where Damien Weebs (Will Ferrell) devotedly demands that Top Gun be played a second time keeps things flowing.

Taquito's (John C. Reilly) epic battle with the mall wolf invokes tragedy.

And Katie's (Twink Caplan) indiscretion cannot tear Tim and Eric apart.

They've been taught what to expect from life and how to approach it from television and the movies, and, as a consequence, haplessly proceed with limitless confidence.

No matter what situation they face.

Ignoring the ways in which everything around them is crumbling and decaying, they manage to not let a little financial instability get them down.

While forging a strategic plan.

And unerringly living the dream.

Bear Sighting

Saw a black bear grazing in the back of a field between Sudbury and North Bay a couple of days ago.

Bears.

Men in Black III

The clandestine Men in Black security force is back to monitor Earth's alien activity in the franchise's third instalment, Men in Black III, fully loaded with neuralyzers, inexhaustible technological and knowledge resources, a law enforcing odd couple, and monumental temporal distortions.

Just in time for Summer. 

If the darkness is literally thought of as a nocturnal limiting force within which means of generating light must be creatively produced in order to enable vision (fire, candles, electrical lights), and this literal example is then metaphorically transferred to the domain of patriarchal construction (Men in Black), then perhaps this film is saying that one of the ways in which the male traditionally tends to visualize attempts to quarantine the unknown (the feminine, difference, egalitarianism) is by interminably equipping solid and steady agents of cultural homogeneity with flashy gadgets and binary intergenerational banter which provides the elder with a stubborn and taciturn way of expressing himself (he's seen everything before and seeks to waste no time discussing things) and the younger with an endless supply of frustrated curiosity.      

In Men in Black III we find Agent J (Will Smith) and Agent K (Tommy Lee Jones/Josh Brolin) at work preventing the public from preserving extraterrestrial information. Traditional heteronormative difference is supported while gender bending is not. Of the two most prominent female characters, one is motherly (she has a prominent position in the present but doesn't directly take part in the action), the other, a criminal (who dies early on).  Agent K, who reads the entire menu every time before ordering the same thing, is the more elderly of the two (while the options have multiplied, he remains resistant to change). After Boris the Animal (Jemaine Clement) heads back in time and kills him, Agent J's present turns into a war zone as aliens invade to destroy the Earth. After travelling to the past to save his partner, Agent J is pulled over because police officers are stopping every African American driving a nice car. Agent J has stolen the car and is African American. Now, he has stolen the car to save the perseverance of an unyielding content permanency in order to prevent the Earth's destruction. Meaning that if the side effects of this permanency had been successful in the past they would have resulted in their own annihilation (Agent J escapes).  Yet those very same side effects are indirectly legitimized by Agent J's actions. Which also include monitoring difference to ensure that its multidimensional presence doesn't have a disruptive effect.  

The Men in Black films do directly acknowledge and imaginatively fictionalize the existence of well funded secretive agencies designed to prevent the public from learning, but don't seem to recognize that this is problematic, since they're made to look fun and hip yet rigid and combative.

Like a euphemistic police state.

Which isn't very bright.

Cabin in the Woods

Cabin resting silently
but who resides within?
Paint was recently applied
but that's the only flint.

I've been coming to this rock to sit
for thirty-three odd years.
But I've never caught a glimpse of
someone puttering to clear

a passage for a dock, a trail,
a yard to plant a garden.
No barbecue or wood canoe
or hammock stretched out, spartan.

I'd like to look across this lake
and see a light inside.
Or while I'm trolling past its shore
detect coy cheeky chides.

The cabin always seems deserted,
distant, detached, claimed.
One that I would fail to note
if it wasn't for its name

less enigmatic presence,
relaxed and unconcerned.
Stoic in its vacancy,
alluringly preserved.

Rarely emanating difference
while transmitting instincts, questions.
Withstanding storms, heat, hail and ice,
reserved distinct discretions.

Deep within the forest resting,
forgotten seasoned strains.
No regrets or plain contexts
to find its youth again.

But when I sit upon this rock
or go on trolling by,
its mystery sans history
helps reanimate mine.

Not that I'm overly concerned
with reconstituted feelings.
But when they do return the joy
reveals itself retreating.

But still I'd like to someday see
activity within.
Movement, startling stylized states,
transformative friction.

For youth does not have to exist
in a determined space of time.
But is consistently reborn
as lifelong learning shines.

A lock, a cue, an hydraulic fuse,
a tranquil mnemonic site.
Ontological atemperance,
motionless in flight.

What to Expect When You're Expecting

It's not the multiple storylines in Kirk Jones's What to Expect When You're Expecting aren't cleverly woven together or some of the observations presented within transferable.

It's just, well, I've never seen a film before that more closely resembles a 110 minute Hallmark card.

My apologies if you like Hallmark cards. They're not really for me but it's not like I turn my nose up if I receive one.

Like the best feature of What to Expect When You're Expecting, the group of fathers who get together to privately discuss the challenges of parenting, I'm not judging.

But this style of film is simply one that I have trouble relating to.

I was going to make an extended comparison to John Carpenter's They Live but think I'll just leave it at that. 

Heard a tree fall far away in the woods tonight and since it was after working hours and I had just walked through the area in question I figured it was highly unlikely that it had been felled by human hands. I thought perhaps that it had simply finally collapsed (there being no wind), or that a bear had been rubbing its back too hard against it, or that a beaver was the one responsible. As soon as I thought it might have been a beaver, I looked to my left and saw a live beaver going about his or her beaverly business, far away from where the tree had fallen.

I thought that was pretty cool.

Strollin'

The train announces it's on the track,
the ceiling fan's arrested.
The loons fly out from Resound Lake,
the racoon sits dejected.

Went swimming twice today dove in
at noon and in the evening.
Looked to the point, across the bay,
absorbed the brisk appeasement.

5 candles sit upon the hearth,
4 logs awaiting flame.
The garbage spread out through the woods,
the bear's been back again.

Now I'm on a couch laid back
and now I'm watching Star Trek.
Now turning to see what made that sound,
now eyeing chips and card decks.

Too much sun throughout the day
coalesces psychic strata.
Radiating tastes that save
provisions, trips and data.

Bioinformatia

I loved to listen to her thoughts
as she'd quickly think.
Expressing her ideas enchimed
with boldly timid kinks.

She'd figure out the prudent course
stashing cashes here and there.
Portraying clever distillations
with dialectic care.

A synthesis between to stream,
detecting as it flows
specific cryptic picnicked viscid
secreted heuristic nodes.

Intricately disseminated,
lavish crepuscic shapes.
Simmered lucid conjured extracts,
intermittent takes.

For what's to make of consistency
when a lifetime's search is vetted?
Tropes dispersed, appeals immersed,
preserved reactive credit.