The Magnificent Seven utilizes a fairly structuralist approach to deconstruct libertarian individualism against the unsung glories of collective necessity. Sturges was a product of his times, and movie stars on a set could safely educate a young aspirant, embodied in the hot-blooded youth of Chico, that the number of bodies on your gun (read celebrity) carries a price which layers compassion in tanned leather. Why four of the gunmen die while the initial heroes who braved irrational prejudices simply to give a man a decent burial isn't all that difficult for the viewer to grasp. Yul Brynner and Steve McQueen do not buckle, conveniently dying of cancer before they could be pillaged by over-hyped social media tools. Colburn, Bronson, Dexter, and Vaughn had to convey intrinsic character flaws, and their death scenes complete their arc. Vaughn's stagy projection of battle fatigue is not performed without exaggeration, though perhaps a critic cannot be too harsh against the demands of the indigenous for succor if the privileged product of neo-imperialism ramps up his dramatic stresses. Vaughn does a better job with existential absurdity in The Bridge at Remagen, which the dowager reviewed at Niume, which appears to be cached under Medium's paywall umbrella. When Medium made it's initial launch, one of its contributors suggested that publishing companies were "afraid" of it, but Ev's brainchild has had to fall back on a centuries old idea: subscription. I certainly cannot afford it, though I still have an active account.
Saturday, February 21, 2015
Comfort in the Alignment of the Fifth Column
"I lost interest around the age of 84."--Vladimir Sokoloff, seamless cultural appropriation at the height of international tensions.
The Magnificent Seven utilizes a fairly structuralist approach to deconstruct libertarian individualism against the unsung glories of collective necessity. Sturges was a product of his times, and movie stars on a set could safely educate a young aspirant, embodied in the hot-blooded youth of Chico, that the number of bodies on your gun (read celebrity) carries a price which layers compassion in tanned leather. Why four of the gunmen die while the initial heroes who braved irrational prejudices simply to give a man a decent burial isn't all that difficult for the viewer to grasp. Yul Brynner and Steve McQueen do not buckle, conveniently dying of cancer before they could be pillaged by over-hyped social media tools. Colburn, Bronson, Dexter, and Vaughn had to convey intrinsic character flaws, and their death scenes complete their arc. Vaughn's stagy projection of battle fatigue is not performed without exaggeration, though perhaps a critic cannot be too harsh against the demands of the indigenous for succor if the privileged product of neo-imperialism ramps up his dramatic stresses. Vaughn does a better job with existential absurdity in The Bridge at Remagen, which the dowager reviewed at Niume, which appears to be cached under Medium's paywall umbrella. When Medium made it's initial launch, one of its contributors suggested that publishing companies were "afraid" of it, but Ev's brainchild has had to fall back on a centuries old idea: subscription. I certainly cannot afford it, though I still have an active account.
In Remagen, Vaughn is trying to rescue Germany from the left's extremes, and the disabled citizens under his command are all but ghosts as the Allies advance. How much better then, to have one last swan song under the tried and true verities of Dick Wolf's formula. Vaughn would be dead within a year of filming his part in December Solstice, from acute leukemia, much like Roy Scheider's better contrived end game in Criminal Intent. The legality surrounding December Solstice is silly. Vaughn last appearance in an online video would have stopped any real life ADA from proceeding to trial against an aging literary "figure" and his trophy wife, echoing Morrie Schwartz in near perfect imitation in regard to nurses wiping our ass. Peter Scanavino, as Carisi, is handed the coda, the tributary laurel of an admirer, paying homage to an era that closed with Sturges's seminal classic. Scripture says rather fabulously that the meek shall inherit the earth. This means, in actuality, overwhelming it against its strivers that made civilization possible for a burgeoning population.
The Magnificent Seven utilizes a fairly structuralist approach to deconstruct libertarian individualism against the unsung glories of collective necessity. Sturges was a product of his times, and movie stars on a set could safely educate a young aspirant, embodied in the hot-blooded youth of Chico, that the number of bodies on your gun (read celebrity) carries a price which layers compassion in tanned leather. Why four of the gunmen die while the initial heroes who braved irrational prejudices simply to give a man a decent burial isn't all that difficult for the viewer to grasp. Yul Brynner and Steve McQueen do not buckle, conveniently dying of cancer before they could be pillaged by over-hyped social media tools. Colburn, Bronson, Dexter, and Vaughn had to convey intrinsic character flaws, and their death scenes complete their arc. Vaughn's stagy projection of battle fatigue is not performed without exaggeration, though perhaps a critic cannot be too harsh against the demands of the indigenous for succor if the privileged product of neo-imperialism ramps up his dramatic stresses. Vaughn does a better job with existential absurdity in The Bridge at Remagen, which the dowager reviewed at Niume, which appears to be cached under Medium's paywall umbrella. When Medium made it's initial launch, one of its contributors suggested that publishing companies were "afraid" of it, but Ev's brainchild has had to fall back on a centuries old idea: subscription. I certainly cannot afford it, though I still have an active account.
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