Une nouvelle amie (The New Girlfriend)

A loved one passes, leaving distressed feelings of emptiness in her wake, both her best friend and husband struggling to cope, united one afternoon by an accidental revelation.

Puritan codes of conduct initially confuse grieving Claire (Anaïs Demoustier), who's somewhat shocked by her sudden discovery.

But curiosity and understanding soon replace her dismissive state, as she forges a playful friendship with David (Romain Duris), and the two embrace the wonders of exploratory gender identification.

Mischievously masquerading, prim intimacies sewn.

Une nouvelle amie (The New Girlfriend) seeks to expand consciousness, to normalize what is often regarded as a taboo subject.

I don't think it's taboo, but many still do, and the film recognizes this peculiarity through the expression of Claire's reservations, as mentioned previously, and the odd looks they receive au centre-ville.

Her husband has no reservations however, and represents the chill inclusive bourgeois mindset, a normalizing force in the film, even if he does make awkward statistical observations.

The opening moments reminded me of Mommy, and I wonder if Ozon was giving a nod to Xavier Dolan.

The film struggles for the next 45 minutes or so though, choppy editing covering too much subject matter in too little a space of time, like you're watching a film on Sunday afternoon in 1987, until Claire and David take a trip to the countryside, after which it opens up and excels, although the accident near the end was a bit overdone.

I think it's a device filmmakers use when trying to appeal to both sides of the political spectrum when investigating controversial material that shouldn't be controversial.

The exploration appeals to the left.

Negative outcomes appeal to the right.

That's somewhat too basic.

Still, what a world, what a world.

I was thinking it would be fun to communicate using YouTube videos exclusively for a period of 72 hours and then realized that's probably a bad idea, but then thought that a game show where contestants are given a subject (iced tea, the Thelon Wildlife Sanctuary, architecture . . . ) and then asked to find a corresponding YouTube video in under 15 seconds may be a good idea, the quality of the corresponding choice being judged by a select panel of eclectic net personalities, and commented upon by an athletic host.

This could work.

Perfect for late night on Space . . .

Cajoeled

Lithely strung spry armadillo
who bends and breathes like whistling willows
shuffle pluck reflex the reeds
swaying gently 'pon the breeze

at ease.

They were one of those bands I never wanted to throw on, but always loved listening to.

I hear there's a new raccoon-proof waste disposal unit in Toronto.

I bet it's only a matter of time until a really smart raccoon, or gaze of raccoons, figures out how to open it, and devour what awaits inside.

After that, they'll show the other raccoons what they've learned.

We'll see.

I think basketball is the most unforgiving sport.

You do the most amazing thing anyone's ever seen, and it's like, 2 or 3 points, do it again, 10-20 times.

And you still end up losing.

That's harsh.

Welcome to Me

Individualized destabilizing pent-up regressive rage, vanity spiked with lavish tear-jerks, revenge, pretence, Sardaukar, like white water rafting while having an enema, serendipitously skydiving into reckless raw sewage, a tropical vacation during a hurricane, horseback riding through an excrement infused mine field, or effervescent diarrhea, stuck in the washroom with the runs for 90 minutes with a good book after having drank a glass of Johnnie Walker Red, laughing your ass off while occasionally glancing at what's written on the walls, it's well done, solid dark comedy, poignant pointless improvised puttering, septic serenity, caw, caw, caw.

86 million squandered insanity.

There's a raw sense of guiltless innocence that destructively vibrates like a ludic chaotic cello, devoid of any constructive purpose, strict subjectivism, too independently inclined.

Like Immortan Joe, Alice (Kristen Wiig) rules, although her domain isn't post-apocalyptic, yet remains symptomatic of what leads to Fury Road.

Welcome to Me isn't hastily thrown together, they took their time to apply added depth, simultaneously enthusiastic and ghastly, it smoothly maintains its aesthetic the whole way through.

Reminiscent of World's Greatest Dad.

Possibly funded by the pharmaceutical lobby.

Decadence.

Mega Maid.  

Poltergeist

I know I saw the original Poltergeist film, starring coach Craig T. Nelson, a bunch of times when I was a kid, and I'm not a kid now, so comparing my youthful impressions to those I currently prescribe isn't a viable option, but there was one scene from the original that still sticks out, near the end, when a hallway is featured and then its length hauntingly extends to augment the sense of desperation, there's nothing like that in the new film, nothing that memorable, although if I had been 8 while watching it I might have found it more shocking, more real.

I may have also found it not so shocking.

There seems to be a formula that's being followed here, which is adhered to too strictly, like they have i's to dot and t's to cross rather than innovations to disseminate and paradigms to shift.

They just seemed to spend more time building up tension in the original, it's patiently disorienting, which explains the switch from otherworldly supernatural investigator Tangina (Zelda Rubinstein) to rough and tumble Carrigan Burke (Jared Harris), the best feature of the film, due to his comic exchanges with glasses wearing ex-wife Dr. Brooke Powell (Jane Adams), and charismatic audacity, like he's running for 1,500 yards a season, which suggests that contemporary horror is more immediate than that dispensed in the 1980s, although I don't watch enough mass produced contemporary horror films to be able to make that claim with legitimate certainty.

It's a tough claim to make with legitimate certainty no matter how many horror films you watch.

That's what makes making such claims so much fun.

The other aspect of the film that I liked was its focus on the struggles of middle-class American families, represented by the Bowens, credit card debts without regret, no other choice, the poltergeists functioning like manufactured socioeconomic pressures, subconsciously harrowing burdensome manifestations.

They also wrapped up this Poltergeist film too quickly, which fits with what I'm saying, one of the strengths of the original being the shattered sense of calm explosively annihilated in the end.

Perhaps it was a warning that bourgeois economic prosperity was about to start facing tough times in America?

A precursor to the first Terminator film.

It probably wasn't that.

I like that the new Poltergeist film didn't duplicate the original's ending, but would have liked to have seen it replaced with something different.

They just abruptly end it.

Bivouacs.

Although it has some solid characters and themes, I remain loyal to the original.

The original sequels weren't that great though.

The new Poltergeist 2 could exponentially improve on The Other Side.

Fletched

Caresting peaceful in the shade
the mix concrete enpastured glades;
stretched out the blanketed recess,
earthen reticent express

vitesse.

Mad Max: Fury Road

Accelerated omnipresent pressurized pulsation, strict violent fanatical allegiance, the strongest suffocating to prosper penultimately, commanding the collective will, autocratic anarchy, order established where there was only suffering, fierce frantic fallout, old world technologies mechanistically motivating, the power to recreate them exhausted in the flames, control what survives, post-apocalyptically yield and burn.

Tyrannically.

Immortan Joe (Hugh Keays-Byrne), ruler of his domain, is challenged by the free thinking Imperator Furiosa (Charlize Theron), who audaciously seeks escape, from his unleashed sands of thine.

The film irresistibly functions on a need-to-know basis.

Little is directly explained, it's a filmic theorist's broadbanded El Dorado, compelled to advocate and wager, within absolutism's clutches.

While enjoying a chaotic chase which minimalistically yet compellingly develops multiple marooned mindsets, simplicity functioning on a complex sociological level, artistic in its expansive brevity, enhanced by stunning complementary visuals.

The people, the elite, the executive, their competitors.

You get a sense of what the film will be like early on, when Max Rockatansky (Tom Hardy) attempts to flee his captors, boldly leaping to what would represent freedom in so many action films, only to fail in his attempt, and be overcome by the frenzied horde.

He could be the most unfocused upon heroic figure I've seen in a strong action film, he's not the main character, rarely says anything, his actions have beneficial repercussions for those claiming individuality, but so do those of others involved in the same blind maddening quest.

Direct absolutism, indirect social democracy, levelled out blunt mysterious jagged character development mired in an unending conflict which intuitively yet intellectually assaults tyrannical preconceptions.

I'm placing Mad Max: Fury Road on my list of favourite action films, with Aliens, Robocop(1987), and Terminator 2.

There's no need to impose rank.

It demands that you find the definitions.

Immersing you in its world thereby.

Providing clues.

Tomorrowland

Cloaked like a pessimistic counterproductive dagger, Tomorrowland brakes to nourishingly excel, the forces of darkness coveting rash inevitability, unforeseen factors, championing propulsive change.

Marshmallow.

A bright young girl (Britt Robertson as Casey Newton) is given the rare opportunity to interdimensionally express her points of view, but she requires the aid of a jaded visionary (George Clooney as Frank Walker) who made a mess of things hardwiring his.

A cascading proacticon (Raffey Cassidy as Athena) facilitates their endeavours, doing everything she can to make dreams live again, the sequestered realm where the gifted resuscitate having physically broken down, to the point of planetary exclusion.

A product of inbreeding.

Their leader (Hugh Laurie as Nix) suffers from bitter exposure, hopelessness, having lost the capability to separate slime from synergies.

But Casey still believes.

And her wondrous enthusiasm calls Frank to action, a towering historical flight, to breathe life into despondent degeneracy.

Pitter patter.

Liked Tomorrowland's positive message.

Encouraging for youth and adults alike, it explores the big picture from an innocent perspective which breaks through the immense complications that prevent people from thinking constructively.

Slow moving change isn't always the best option, but it enables groups to move forward collectively at a subdued yet surefire pace, that allows multiple stakeholders to make structural adjustments to various infrastructures without inciting furious passions that can be rather destructive if imposed on a mass cultural scale.

An obsession with immediate gratification can be problematic when operating in this fashion.

Patience is the productive key.

While still making sure you enjoy the weekend.

Note: the changes in Tomorrowland do require immediacy. If they didn't, it would be a rather odd mass produced science-fiction film.

Social democracy's a tough sell.

Broth

Buttoned-up distressed fanatic
Your sentiments so symptomatic
Pitchforked stitched horizon blues
Find a hobby, chess, backgammon.

The zoo.

La famille Bélier

Nestled in the French countryside, La famille Bélier proactively propels.

Tired of the pejoratively polite glad handing of the long standing local mayor, Rodolphe Bélier (François Damiens) takes a virile stand.

Concurrently, his daughter, young Paula (Louane Emera), discovers she has a talent for singing, and the lure of the big city suddenly complicates her steady bucolic stamina.

Political fights and Parisian heights then dominate their social reflexivity, as change blossoms and grows, and democracy asserts its egalitarian heritage.

With comic un/characteristic aggression.

A triumph of the human spirit, La famille Bélier boldly demonstrates the potential inclusiveness invigorates, juxtaposing debilitating doubts with overzealous confidence to familialize the tenacious and the timorous, while heartbreakingly accentuating a challenging component of différence.

But said différence and its fortunate opportunity serve to strengthen through the act of disintegrating, risk's embrace hallowing assured vested calm.

M. Bélier makes the jump into politics quite rapidly, his potency augmented thereby, although a couple of additional transition scenes would have quietly validated his decision.

It's quite patriarchal.

Tough to say what galvanizes his backbone.

He's reading a book about François Hollande but would rule with strict unsympathetic objectivity.

There's a well rounded cast whose quirks and qualms playfully comment on urban and rural realities.

Which playfully flirt.

While remaining tantalizingly afield.

Note: the focus is on Paula.

Far from the Madding Crowd

There seems to be at least 2 ways to view Thomas Vinterberg's Far from the Madding Crowd, one favourable and another dismissive, without focusing on the strong performances.

I often say this, but it applies here as well, when you cover dense literary material in a short span of time and try to maximize the amount of your narrative coverage, you often lose much of the poetic subtlety that maintains the vision's life force, by causing complex emotions to seem trite due to their overabundance, which adds a subliminal comic dimension to your structure.

Joe Wright's Anna Karenina worked well in this frame.

Strong performances can fight against this tendency, and they do in this case, but as the frequency of the condensed points of fascination increase, there's little they can do to avoid being swamped by the deluge.

Two scenes in particular struck me, when Sergeant Francis Troy (Tom Sturridge) discusses his preference for Fanny Robbin (Juno Temple) with Bathsheba Everdene (Carey Mulligan), a definitive moment, where the depth of emotion simply isn't there, and when an exasperated William Boldwood (Michael Sheen) pulls out his rifle in the end, once again a pivotal pinpoint, which falls flat in terms of critical perplexion.

But, if the film is viewed as a sombre love story in/directly examining Everdene and Gabriel Oak (Matthias Schoenaerts) specifically, then it makes sense that both the scenes I've mentioned above would fall flat, in order for the film's subconscious to structurally validate all the interactions Bathsheba has with Oak.

By making the scenes with Oak stand out, and making those featuring the other men who desire her insignificant, Bathsheba and Gabriel's love rings true, an appealing romantic cultivation.

This is a risky move because it necessitates lacklustre moments, but if your aesthetic preferences are in tune with such stratagems, Far from the Madding Crowd works on a high level.

Liked the black bear and how it highlights Everdene's suffocated independence, both spirits prospering as they assert themselves, suffering when forced to perform parlour tricks.

A kindly old man brought out his accordion and started playing upbeat rhythms as I read outside in the sun today, a welcome accompaniment to my imaginings. Some time later, as I left to return to my dwelling, I looked in his direction and gave him a quick celebratory nod of my head, so that he would know that I had enjoyed his playing. I thought I saw I slight sign of acknowledgement in the form of a brief smile that minutely lit up his face before he continued to shyly stare in another direction, but I can't be entirely sure. It was like I had been effortlessly transported to the deck of a cozy cruise liner, to sit by the pool throughout the afternoon, and consider taking a nap.

I find it odd when people continue to use their cellphones while urinating, whether texting, surfing the net, or actually talking to another person, as if the threat of a cumbersome splash, spray, or sprinkle means nothing, content as they are to embrace whatever cellular caprice currently fascinates their attention.

Roxy

Wired wistful crack of dawn
tick tick tock emoticon
rascals, risks, fertile ground,
Glastonbury mists surround

the sound.

Ex Machina

Secluded conscious regalia, decrypted, impounded, coming into being, a prison designed to shelter and educate, to analyze, upgrade, the introduction of an independent perishable, ethical, unfamiliar, clever, to administer a test, to discover life incarnate, artfully manipulated by both subject and architect, forced to come to a conclusion, to discover where the truth resides.

Ava (Alicia Vikander) seeks to escape.

Her creator conceals both lock and key.

It's like he's an incorrigible misogynist, intent on designing a beautiful female companion intelligent enough to converse with yet still subservient to his every command.

He creates model after model in search of perfection, but finds a lack of free will too boring, and too much despicable.

Like the seducer who moves from conquest to conquest, when his interest fades, he falls for another, searching for the one, who chooses to freely serve.

An idealist.

A scoundrel.

His genius has nurtured thoughts of divinity which his unwitting protégé finds distasteful.

Thoroughly seduced.

He boldly acts.

Ex Machina philosophically examines artificial intelligence and cyberconsciousness while blending instinct and abstraction to harvest a technological state of nature.

It forges a strong balance between the basic and the exceptional, like advanced computational ergonomics, interweaving narcissism and psychosis, to hauntingly contemporize freedom.

Why treat a brilliant companion like a pet?

Love involves sacrifice, to commit one must let go.

Pygmalion pouncing in the darkness.

Candide suffering the blows.

It should have ended with Caleb (Domhnall Gleeson) pounding on the glass.

The Connection (La French)

Defying lucrative kickbacks from entrenched coercive vindictive drug trafficking thugs, dealing in heroin, preying on the unsuspecting, paving a joyless path to potential ruin, magistrate Pierre Michel (Jean Dujardin) has been promoted to take a stand, a stand he does take, a direct hands-on extremely dangerous crackdown, which audaciously challenges impregnable subterranean smirks.

To compensate the victims.

And mitigate the misery.

The Connection (La French) loses sight of its victims early on, however, focusing more intently on developing characters possessing similar indomitable wills, occupying antagonistic posts on the legalistic transversal.

Kingpin Gaëtan Zampa (Gilles Lellouche), for instance, steamrolls when challenged, demonstrating that he cares for his loyal subordinates, has compassion for his clients, and loves his adoring family.

As he reacts to the increasing threats to his well being, and the sociocultural affects of heroin abuse disappear from the film, sympathy begins to ambiguously creep, aromatic scatology, dismantled by a vengeful application of justice.

Of logic.

The scene that best captures The Connection's impact takes place early on, when Michel and Zampa assert their opposing viewpoints in isolation on the outskirts of Marseille.

You see them staring at one another in front of a voluminous sky that almost looks incredible.

I'm assuming there was a strict shooting schedule, otherwise they would have waited for a more impressive sky to intensify the background, thereby accentuating the inviolate universal both characters seek to dialectically represent, in tandem, the film bordering on the outstanding throughout, but never quite crossing its threshold.

The opening moments are somewhat underwhelming, scenes meant to accentuate wickedness failing to impress, cardboard where there could have been kerosene, dalliance where there should have been dread.

It improves as Michel's obsessive tendencies lead to self-destructing interpersonal conflicts.

Spiked

Laced with fickle waxwing harried
lax praline concise contraries
blended bounding brays abashed
clemency conjoined, mismatched.

Alas.

Avengers: Age of Ultron

Avengers: Age of Ultron starts off slowly, even if it begins with a battle between the legendary conscience and HYDRA.

It was too immediate, like there's an unbroken link between every Marvel film, and rather than redefining and reasserting their image to once again furiously combat evil, that image is taken for granted, melodramatically spliced to relax the inchoate tensions I generally look forward to.

Not much of a problem, I just wasn't assuming the harmonious links uniting the Avengers were still intact, and introductory preparations for the battle may have been tedious and unnecessary.

In fact, what I was looking for comes to pass as the film progresses and distrust infiltrates their cohesive chummy ranks.

A crack in the crystal, a disintegrating view.

Throughout the film, however, I never really felt unsafe, like Ultron (James Spader) could possibly defeat them, even if his artificial intelligence did fittingly mimic a hydra.

But the film's much more than just another superhero extravaganza.

It adds a lot of depth to its multiple characters as they continue to comfortably revel in their traditional larger-than-life roles.

Weakness and doubt cripple them for a time, as spells are cast which complicate their pursuit of victory, and they change and grow as the horror affects their fortitude.

Love's intricately interwoven as well, and unlike some of the other aspects of the film, its subplot never seems cheesy.

Not too cheesy, bit of cheese though.

I don't see how you can pull off an Avengers film without being cheesy, you'd have to instil a pervading sense of helplessness and dread and keep the confident team of global/universal law enforcers off balance for more than two hours, limited pats on the back, underdogged bold castration.

Like The Hunger Games films.

Ultron sets up a devious duality early on, claiming the Avengers seeks to maintain the status quo, like Feyd-Rautha railing against the righteous in David Lynch's Dune, through their acts of heroism, and that he represents those who seek change, evolution, providing a social democratic aura to the Avengers, a hypercapitalist dimension to Ultron, the Avengers acting like an elite group of intellectual warriors safeguarding the interests of the unconcerned, whom they physically take care of at the end of the film through battlefield evacuation initiatives, a battlefield which Ultron turns into a terrestrial warship meandering through the sky, but, note that one mistake the left occasionally makes is to recruit brilliant thinkers to its ranks who take it upon themselves to solve the world's problems without actually consulting the people they intend to shepherd, their methods often becoming so abstract and celestial that they're difficult to follow, and they punish people who choose not to follow, thereby nullifying the affects of their intentions, which plays into the right's hands as they present themselves as practically as possible.

Include the people in conversations about governing the people and actually listen to what they have to say even if they don't possess advanced University degrees.

It leads to better results.

Hawkeye's (Jeremy Renner) the key to the film.

It takes a chill break from the action as the Avengers hide out at Hawkeye's pad, and we meet his hidden family, the unacknowledged crest that keeps him alert and active.

Nick Fury's (Samuel L. Jackson) there too.

I guess these aren't dramatic films, but still, look at what Robert Downey Jr.'s (Iron Man) doing, it's impressive.

Expansive discussions of familial longing then diversify the Avenger's dynamic, domestically explaining why they care so deeply about those whom they protect (they sacrifice such comforts to ensure others can enjoy them).

Hawkeye has the best line too, his sudden betrayal of the absurdity of it all, with a clear reference to his bow and arrow, reminding me why I love these films.

There's a cool scene where Vision (Paul Bettany) just hangs there checking things out for a while, plus his "born yesterday" line is hilarious.

Wanted to try Thor's thousand-year-old Asgardian fuel.

Love how Captain America (Chris Evans) holds things together.

The first film's stronger, but Avengers: Age of Ultron has a lot going for it that isn't present in the original, including plenty of Hulk (Mark Ruffalo); looking forward to part 3.

And the intervening films.

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

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

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

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

While also visiting remote geographical locations to illuminate unmitigated terrains.

Innocence.

Passion.

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

Transcendency.

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

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

To see again and again.

Life force.

Genesis would make an excellent wedding gift.

The truth's often the best alibi.

Balmy

All fried up in thorny gristle
battered clasped sun dried initials,
a hardened layer, loose leaf, thin,
undulates the palest skin.

With freckles.

Monkey Kingdom

A kingdom of monkeys, willfully surviving in the ancient jungles of Sri Lanka, abiding by a deadly set of oppressive rules, feasts for the strong, tribulations for the hesitant, henchmen, security, governesses, belittled by the brawn, forced into isolation, after fathering a child, Kumar subsists on the fringe, his mate Maya languishing on the bottom, suffering ritual humiliations, lonely, crittered, scorned.

But not desperate.

Ingenuity shines its radiant light upon her, as she bravely discovers new food sources, thereby boldly ensuring the health of her child.

The group is ruled by an alpha male, the same alpha who expelled Kumar for his playful insolence, allowing him to return after a period of suffering, but when a rival clan of covetous toque macaques approaches and attacks, the alpha cannot securely protect their domain.

They must flee.

To the realm of homo sapiens.

Within the city, Kumar and Maya's plucky entrepreneurial know-how encourages scandalous full stomachs as they take advantage of unsuspecting humans.

Kumar's authority is slowly legitimized.

As they travel home, to reclaim their land.

It's a wild look at social dynamics, Disneynature's Monkey Kingdom, where either might and/or intelligence gains respect, and respect's required to officiate and rule.

You keep wondering why they don't share the best fruit, why they can't all find enlightened branches to rest upon, perhaps they do with Kumar at the helm, who may not be as concerned with rank and discipline.

Perhaps not though, difficult to say, the parallels between the social structures of these monkeys and those occasionally adopted by human kind are striking, bequest the monsoon, intertribal, intertwined.

The sloth bears don't pay attention.

The film communally showcases many of Kumar and Maya's neighbours.

Tough to say how closely their story matches what actually took place, at least when they visit the city.

It's a fascinating story however, quite possibly true.

Narrated by Tina Fey.