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“Mommy, why isn’t she here yet?!”

“Mommy, why isn’t she here yet?!”

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The Jungle Book, 2016

I’m afraid I am embarking on composing yet another movie review that was not quite so stellar as to stand out in my mind and memory as something so moving and spectacular that a) I rushed to write a review for it soon after watching it, and b) having nothing too earth-shattering to say or urge my readers to run out and watch it, I wonder if this is even worthy of my time or your attention.

Nonetheless, I plough on to gather up some thoughts, if only for my personal satisfaction of having documented the viewing for purposes of being true to the mission of the “motion pictures” section of my blog, and also for the sake of posterity – that may judge me harshly in case I don’t – and finally, perhaps for the small amusement of my friends and foes.  I do hope and trust that you are taking all this in with a small modicum of salt…

And so my two cents are as follows: the magnificent visual effects of the film seem to be the only thing that makes this new version worth watching – and the 3D option, unfortunately, didn’t change my mind about this fundamental opinion.  Given how everything else was so by the book (no pun intended) and played a bit too safe to be memorable – my one significantly loud gripe is this:  why did the ending not follow the original story line?  If anything, it was that one thing that always made the connection of Mowgli, the animal-boy into Mowgli, the human-boy.  If you take away that one truth, there is something deeply unsatisfying, nay, there is no satisfaction at all!

So, if you’d just like to pull out that original Disney animated movie from the Sixties and pop a bag of popcorn, why, I’d say you’d be the better off for it.

junglebooktriptych3

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Captain America: Civil War, 2016

When you put off writing a review for so long and then can’t seem to remember too much of the movie to write one when you’re ready, well, what does that say about the movie? Or perhaps it says more about my capacity for remembering… either way, it doesn’t help me much in this exercise of documenting my thoughts and views about this latest offering from the Marvel Comics franchise.

My scattered recollections are along these lines: the first half is little more than an overlong political drama and the second half is filled with huge action.  The one big thing which is… how do I say this without spoiling things…”Captain America: Civil War” has perhaps gotten the attention it has is because it contains the epic Iron Man vs. Captain America confrontation; a confrontation which has been at least four films in the making, and that settles on a resolution that can only be described as “civil”.

With that I have most undoubtedly exhausted my ability to recollect anything more to speak any more intelligently – not that I have done too grand a job here – but insofar as to maintain some small semblance of a respectable effort, it is best I cease to ramble right here and right now.

Captain-America-Civil-War-IMAX-poster

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“…I inhale it anyway…”

Breathing

BY MARK O’BRIEN
Grasping for straws is easier;
You can see the straws.
“This most excellent canopy, the air, look you,”
Presses down upon me
At fifteen pounds per square inch,
A dense, heavy, blue-glowing ocean,
Supporting the weight of condors
That swim its churning currents.
All I get is a thin stream of it,
A finger’s width of the rope that ties me to life
As I labor like a stevedore to keep the connection.
Water wouldn’t be so circumspect;
Water would crash in like a drunken sailor,
But air is prissy and genteel,
Teasing me with its nearness and pervading immensity.
The vast, circumambient atmosphere
Allows me but ninety cubic centimeters
Of its billions of gallons and miles of sky.
I inhale it anyway,
Knowing that it will hurt
In the weary ends of my crumpled paper bag lungs.
 
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“…You can’t see a barrier without pushing through it…”

Infighting

BY RODDY LUMSDEN
Take this: for nothing here’s chiming, vibrating
and all this vainglory and self-deprecating
just goads at the tender parts, gets irritating.
You’ll make no advance advocating monopoly
on any vocabulary; even cacophony
needs the needle to make its point properly.
It’s true that you find yourself fey and bewitching,
yet always you feel that the itch that you’re scratching’s
soothed better by far by bravadoes of bitching.
The off-pat flyting, back-biting and threnody
you render and throw up, at will, won’t remedy
the rot of your serenading, lute-laden wannabe.
You can’t see a barrier without pushing through it;
it’s a poor pearl of pathos you don’t disintuit
and you now give a doing when once you’d just do it.
You want my advice? Here it is: try removing
the self from your argument – gluts of self-loving
just pudding the gut of whatever you’re proving.
That’s it on the chin and I’m sure you can take it,
but that shadow you’re boxing is me, so please break it
gently. Best wishes, I hope that you make it.
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Virtual Conversations with My Firstborn 

Virtual Conversations with My Firstborn 

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The Chives are Calling My Name

The Chives are Calling My Name

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Rolling Out the Red Carpet for My Firstborn: Cuz that’s How We Roll

Rolling Out the Red Carpet for My Firstborn: Cuz that’s How We Roll