David Verbeek's

Full Contact starring one of my all time favs Gregoire Colin, is a powerful languid movie regarding Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The ghosts, faces, people who haunt our crevices. A grotto. What is within.

The film deals with a drone military killer, who at first glance is an "in control" of his emotions type of guy, but almost to the point of where his being numb is just a cover up. He takes the time to investigate and learn about his targets which may be his downfall. Playing God by pushing a button in the middle of a far away desert in a secluded/protected tin military box has its consequences especially if you start bombing madrasas. He begets the affection of a stripper (Lizzie Brochere - playing the dual role of visual "whore" and mother) during act 1, but who later on makes an appearance in the film during the third act as another character confusing the viewer. But in a cool way. I can't lie. I watched Full Contact about four times. Its a good freaking movie. It made an impression on me because it cemented all that I know/studied about trauma.

Back in 2013 I attended a workshop in Albany, NY.  It was on Trauma Informed Care. What may traumatize you, may not do so to me, and vise versa. The one thing which stuck to me from the workshop was: Heavy/hardcore trauma is processed visually. Yes. Noises, moods, memory, etc play a major part, and its reinforced by recall, but the visual cements it. Now, Ivan's (Colin) trauma is an interesting one because it zeros in (no pun intended) on an ethical dilemma. Killing. He's feeling guilty. Can guilt make way for trauma? You betcha!  When he is being questioned/assessed by his higher ups its to us that he is speaking to. What did we deduce? Just because it's a neat - far away murder - does it take away from the brutality? A killer is a killer.

One of the things which impressed me was Gregoire Colin's state of mental affairs. In the movie he always looks like he is about to bawl at any given moment. In every shot actually. His performance spoke volumes. His depression and trauma is so subtle, and dare I say contained (but not during Act 2), that it's a direct link to the method of his killing style. Distant. Calculated. Always at bay and being monitored. He goes through some martyrdom, spiritual retreat and purging during Act 2, which worked for me. Why? Because I've had a crush on Gregoire since the 90s. So much so, that I did such an intense Gregoire Colin Fan to filmstar raindance out into the universe (I once put the moves on a coworker for the simple reason he looked like him), that my child was born on July 27. If you're a Gregoire Colin aficionado than this is the film for you.

OK, back to Full Contact. The Third Act. This is where a curve ball is thrown. Quite honestly, the film could've done without the very last shot and for not this minor (but not so minor if that makes sense - watch the film!), Act 3 would've been perfect. What stuck to me about the last act was the metaphor of how when a person or experience penetrates your soul it pretty much sets up the rest of your journey on earth. When a person or experience encompasses your thoughts, the very fiber of your genetic make up, you start seeing and reliving it. In everyone. Everything. Kinda how Joe DiMaggio dated Marilyn Monroe look alikes after their break-up. In Ivan's case his painful punishment at the hands of a coach and opponent or a chance to channel his masculine mojo inside another lady.

Longing for the contact. To be unburdened. No matter how or from who. Is it subconscious? On purpose? That person or circumstance engraved. Nothing matters. Just the connection. The longing and pursuit to be freed (or chained). You punish yourself. Either by medicating, retelling through therapy (science is proving that out of sight/out of mind actually is effective) or sordid coping skills. Perhaps one may achieve another day where the past becomes a distant memory or a new opportunity to evolve.

FX's The Americans

I've never "reviewed" a TV show. Tho I'm a bona fide couch louse, I could've written about OITNB, or some years back on, It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia, Spartacus: Blood and Sand (the one with Andy), Copper, the Spaniard El Gran Hotel or some Korean soap opera infused with fantasy about a mother and daughter who really are Foxes posing as humans. But in this new era of binge watching, I watched The Americans by streaming it on my touchscreen PC. First via Amazon's 30 day trial. and once I finished all first three seasons in under a week, thanks to my nursing a sprained ankle the size of an American football, I hopped on over to Time Warner's Cable streaming service and watched season 4. The beauty of streaming has revolutionized viewing pleasures. A couch potato's paradise. Or an office chair potato, or wooden chair at a cafe or library potato, car seat potato. Whatever. Wherever.

I first encountered The Americans when it initially came out by becoming intrigued through it's commercials. I was going to night school so I never started it, but it caught my eye (I'm an "all or nothing" type of gal). I filed it away. I have an amazing capacity of flicking and zooming through thumbnails and picking a great movie out of hundreds. I guess my eye has been trained, considering I'm a film school drop out, but it was my keen eye which got me into film school to begin with. What came first? The chicken or the egg? What's my point? If I can pick a decent film in a sea of wannabe videos posing as movies then a commercial of a really good show is like a jewel in a catalog you put mental lay away on.

ANYWAY, The Americans is an allegory of the disintegrating or struggling family unit among other things. The statistics have a face. It's also a throwback on beautiful 1980's office blouses which I happen to collect or just stare for long periods of minutes at the Salvo. Vintage never looked so beautiful. It's also about people "working" each other. Assimilation. Secrets. Sex. Violence. The show is well cast, edited very nicely, written ok, and many times has that dark cozy look. A distant young bland cousin of the X-Files. But Mulder & Scully are KGB who actually get to bang and kill.

Keri Russell has always reminded me of the young version that was my mom (she looks NOTHING like Rusell anymore). This is what probably made me do double takes when the commercials first came out back in 2013. Russell looks almost exactly like my mom from what I gather thru the sepia and b&w pictures, sans the curly hair. And as the episodes went on Matthew Rhys kinda looked like my dad when he was young too, in a way. This cemented the theme of The Family that is together but far apart. So close yet so far. The wife or husband who knows the other is sleeping around or even in love with another. It has a hint of swinging culture too.

What abounds are hurt consciousness, Reagan on TV,  patriotism, office culture, clunky heel leather boots, wigs, Russians, beer, bureaucrats, secret meets, plots, self help, acceptance, units and children caught in the middle. And Sex. And Violence. The last two abound. A lot. Sure, the show gets redundant, but when you have extremely well developed characters, who cares? It's something familiar your brain can nicely set a steady release of serotonin to. Or the opposite can be true as well. Those 10 minute plots can give someone a nice case of anxiety, but it goes by quickly. Than you see the ridiculousness of it all. How Beeman is the neighbor to my dad & mom, and is oblivious. Or is he?

I would have to say Matthew Rhys is the real spear head of the show. AND CAN SOMEONE CAST HIM AS PAUL WELLSTONE PLEASE IN A BIO PIC?! All yelling aside, this leading man is like that boyfriend your friends and family swear you're settling on, but ends up being a great piece of hunk and catch. He's an approachable intense. His relationship with Martha and her arch were one of my favorite relationships/developments on the show. And what a set of acting chops on Alison Wright! She is the one I related to. Yes. I too have been duped. To be fair many on the show use sex as power (think Nina) or as a tool (think Elizabeth), but ultimately the thin lines between espionage/survival sex and the falling in love kind gets blurred. Like I said, Martha's arch was a great one to watch. Another of my fav characters is Beeman's (Noah Emmerich). If that nervous tick of his is acting, by gosh, that's great! It works.

Evolution. Things change. Eras become the foundations of many more decades of spying. Empires become frenemies. The only difference now is: We know it's going on. We are willing participants of the inverted big brother. Joy sticks become fingers on screens, but families continue to keep up the appearances. Wigs become weaves, the living room or bar gets replaced by a beer garden or a pricey brunch spot. In short, the outside of things changes but the core, the essence, remains the same. An explanation/demonstration of how things came to be not only becomes a history lesson but a warning. Men in suits or in uniforms or gate keepers of borders claiming to do it for their country are ruthless. No matter what year it is. I wonder if ASSad or Putin watch this show via satellite. If they do, how ironic is that?

POWER OF THE PIED PIPER

I have not been into music vids for a while now despite my close friend telling me there is a renaissance of sorts in the medium. A new wave of gorgeous vids, I'm sure, is out there, but in actuality videos have been force feeding us lip smacking, hip thrusting, simple production or large scale mini flicks for a minute. For instance, Madonna's Express Yourself was a game changer for me (not in a good way). In other words: I've seen this formula before.

In its strategic debut, Melinas Matsoukas' Formation or as I like to call it - FOURmation, which she directed for honey child Ms. Beyonce, only proves star power, the OBAMA administration & half time alignment magic magnifies great collaborations.

Said video rocked hard the foundations which be. Fans, politicians, Canadian Homeland Security, football revelers, corny folk (i eat tortillas on a daily basis, so Beyonce is technically right), LGBT? community, and so forth GAGGED. We were also not prepared to get slayed at the end of an open circle, the result of a domino effect by non unified women.

Mother Earth has never looked so damn good! This, again, is the outcome of when narcissistic supply is actually a good thing (read my Sacha B. Cohen entry).

Matsouka was astute to have edited in shots from another artist's work honing in on the philosophy all (in)formation is crucial and unifying. Her eye & mise-en-scene is subtle and strategic. After many views the clock on the left showing the time 12:10 appears or the empty chair to the right peeks out of a shadow. Empty bird cages. Picture frames. Diamonds in the background of the empty pool. Or how about the video recording/play back look during the jean material ensemble in the parking lot? Is it a nod to how all is vigilant, everything being recorded or that this is a video after all? Either way, you may say Mise-en-fuss, digital prowess or power choreography. I say "subconscious" information being fed to viewers. Despite the technicalities, natural organic themes ensue: Flames continue to dance casting shadows (during the now legendary halftime show as she walks towards the stage Beyonce and her dancers wave their hands on top of their heads as candles), prawns get eaten, hair flows in the wind, and water engulfs.

Ultimately at the end of the day the video's message is clear: Chedda still proves to be your best attainment or in this case revenge.

In all seriousness, insensitive people who continue to choose to not acknowledge historical trauma, the New Jim Crow Laws, or not hold accountable the blatant "getting away with murder cops" ('tis the reason why they continue) must grow a mercy bone.

Institutions too understand the power of images. Not just a long X formation of custom made Gucci leotards in an empty pool, but the image of an Asian NYPD cop on my TV set. A cop who is the token prosecuted officer who killed in the projects. It's as if they are sending a message: Any minority will pay. Yes. Images are very powerful.

The current state of affairs is a platform for Beyonce. That's not a bad thing. The power of the Pied Piper is a powerful one.

Estrogen is powerful too. It's probably why I have always gravitated towards strong, black women (I'm a product of the Public school system. Imagine a chubby light skin Mexicana with "dead' hair, but having it braided anyways). My Passaic County elementary principal was a statuesque black woman always in an impeccable suit. Or my kindergarten teacher Ms. Johnson. Or my first grade teacher Ms. Robin. Followed by Ms. Dixon, and so forth. They are one of my foundations. Those women helped shape me. It is these strong, hard working women who bare fruit who truly should be praised. They were and are nurses, teachers, beauticians, administrators, scientists, drug counselors, pastors, court & police officers, artists, daughters, cousins, sisters, mothers.

People of brown power have a lineage of Great Great Great Grand Mamas whose blood have been spilled on Earth's soil.  Blood which continues to be sacrificed from all types of people & different shades in the name of profit or spilled by trigger happy consequences (Fruits is the new Cotton). Their sons continually going off to wars that Kissingers designed.

Yes. Some wear chanklas at a beauty supply store, but its not only about that. Who cares that a powerhouse piper in all her designer garb and numerology glory performed on the heels of an issue which too many mothers can testify about. Direct your comments towards their bleeding hearts.

The systemic killing of people of color, whether it be a physical or spiritual one, ever since the birth of this nation is not a light matter. Only the skin of their great great great grand babies is.