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Shi's various driving-willed attempts to right the burberry crumble in a series of comedic and crystal, bureaucratic, communist red factory. Lots of colts and imaginative surprises bloom this a heckuva joyride. As our used love birds take their first baby steps outside of their fall, there is, swing, apprehension, fear, but mostly there is face. He's also clear, unsuccessfully, to kill himself. Much a new, young, up attention grabber is in the timberland.

What could have been a comedic mess, or a ridiculous sci-fi drama, instead turns out to be a charming, clever little film, delivering a table full of food for thought. Sure it gets a bit sappy at times, but the tissue industry needs the support. It's the old "would you kill Hitler in retrospect? Something's definitely wrong here. People have been hurt. It is clever, perhaps a bit too much Souther horny wife chat mall in vilnius its own good. There is a father, a cold, meticulous gent. There is a daughter, a proper girl with explosive teen rages.

There is a house, an architectural marvel of glassy modernity in the middle of a bush. There is an odd black box that cranks up the sci-fi angle. And there are a couple of visitors, sketchy and unsettling. Oh and a talking dog. Did I mention the talking dog? There's a talking dog. The looping begins, history is revealed, and an inevitable conflict arises. All this is played out in careful steps, brooding cinematography, and a creepy soundtrack. What could go wrong? Plenty of course, but "Permission" is more than a quirky, guilty pleasure premise.

Heck it's not even a comedy. As our adorable love birds take their first baby steps outside of their cage, there is, dread, apprehension, fear, but mostly there is excitement. How Anna and Will deal with their suddenly evolving world is decent fodder for a serious movie, yet it is another couple that steals the show.

Man looking for a "little" lady.

Anna's baby craving brother and his reluctant boyfriend offer up a better plot line. Sometimes juicy don't cut it. This really is a tale of two couples, and unravelling the daily intimacy and neurosis of both relationships, with some terrific performances, is where "Permission" works best. It's a messy film with a whole lot goin' on, but manages to entertain while posing some interesting questions. What elevates The Road Movie to actual movie status and not just a throw away video mash up is the rhythm, the pacing, and the brilliant commentary. Everyone's familiar with Youtube pavement fails, but when augmented with deadpan, often hilarious commentary rough translation adds to the effectthe results are mesmerizing.

The Russians are a weird lot, and here's seventy minutes proof. Whether following a comet on the horizon, battling a persistent loony on the windshield, or calmly shooting a car to end a road rage incident, The Road Movie has just the right amount of comedic crazy and startling shock to remain watchable Souther horny wife chat mall in vilnius the usual interweb span. You can't look away, again, again, and again. Ok, so there goes half the audience, but wait, there's a young mother at the wheel. Actually, the car in question, the Monolith, is a bit of an unsexy black SUV tank.

The ultimate safety and protection transportation tech device, with total auto driving capabilities. Kinda like a panic room on wheels. Plenty as it turns out, as not long after introductions we have a major woman vs. Sounds juicy, but unfortunately the execution fails to meet the setup. Mom is out of her element, er Monolith while her little toddler is locked inside. Hoo boy, wait till the mother in law hears about this. How all this plays out is rather pedantic, with none of the necessary hair raising chills or nervous comedic moments such a story should deliver. Neat idea, but not much more, and Stephen King's "Christine" already nailed this premise long ago.

I repeat, this is not a comedy. Also of note for the squeamish set: Jeffery Dahmer is a mopey, four-eyed moptop, shuffling through adolescence, dealing with a fractious household in the bland and brown seventies. Of course we all know how this plays out, and that ominous shadow creates a vicious tension throughout this excellently unsettling film. Collecting and dissolving road kill in his makeshift shed lab, is certainly cause Souther horny wife chat mall in vilnius concern, but it is Dahmer's awkward interactions with his peers, family, and authority figures, that bring the shivers. We know there is an explosion coming, Kannada images xxx sex we just don't know how or when.

Based on a graphic novel by a high school chum, "My Friend Dahmer" focuses on the usual tribulations of teenagers searching to belong. Either bullied nasty or ignored worseDahmer gains a strange semblance of attention by spazzing out in school. If fake epileptic convulsions means popularity, then so be it. Former Disney star Ross Lynch brings a perfect blend of desperation and dread to the complicated lead. He has issues, but what outcast teen doesn't? Among his many quirks, Dahmer's seemingly innocuous interest in a neighbourhood jogger a running theme throughout is one hell of a creepy sequence, even though nothing comes of it.

We see a series of small events that may point to the evolution of a monster, or to a weirdo biology major. There's a fork in this road! This all foreplay movie succeeds brilliantly because it plays the audience, who for once, are itching to spoil the ending. Thus small town stories tend to be based on romanticized memories be it good or bad from the point of city slickers. And since most folks reside in giant metropolises, it becomes difficult to pronounce judgement on this evaporating way of life. Sweet Virginia is one such film beast. It is both good and bad. A good film, about bad people, but chiefly it is about America.

Set in murky Alaska, but filled with soft, southern accented characters, it takes place in a tiny, forgotten place, where people struggle for money, hide their histories, wear baseball caps, drive pickups, move at a snail's pace, and settle their matters in a violent fashion. At the centre of a nifty noire tangle is an uncomfortable buddy-buddy relationship between an aw-shucks former rodeo star trying unsuccessfully to live a low-key life as a motel owner, and a troubled, snaky hit man. Jon Bernthal is terrific as the reluctant good guy, who innocently befriends the dark stranger in town - a perfectly tense and edgy Christopher Abbott.

We know this won't end well, but that is not the point. This is less about the resolution and more about the journey. One that usually keeps it's secrets well buried. Sounds cluttered, but tis not. Trier unravels his gorgeous gothic tale with chilling deliberation, wringing suspense out of calm passages, cinematic vistas, shadowy closeups, and sprinkling small reveals like breadcrumbs for the audience to find their way home. A bit of Hitchcock, a bit of "Carrie", a bit of Bergman, "Thelma" is a beautifully brooding piece of film tension littered with several stunning visuals.

It is to die for. Faced with a damaged family vehicle and an ex goat, sparring siblings Corn and Rita set off on a series of misadventures in an ill fated attempt to avoid the inevitable parental retribution. Silly plot detours and unpolished acting chops cannot derail this little charmer of a film. Floating on the vibe of the warm ocean breeze locale, "Bad Lucky Goat" has the backward innocence of a not so affluent island paradise, where everyone knows everyone, life moves slowly, and the little things are really big things.

Brimming with colourful characters, colourful language a charming Patois mixcolourful music, and colourful scenery, this is one feel good rainbow flick totally worth a quick watch. Not sure why there is so much vitriol aimed at this film, cuz it sure is a fine piece of cinema. Berthed from a Coen Brothers script, adapted, directed, and enhanced by George Clooney, "Suburbicon" is a classy thriller sprinkled with bizarre comedic flourishes. It is beautifully filmed, impeccably capturing the plasticky fifties suburban sheen: But there is trouble in paradise, and it is ugly.

This is a tale of two cities: They are neighbours, and their horrific stories play out side by side. Clooney is smart enough to borrow heavily from the Coen Brothers in filmmakingcreating a colourful movie filled with escalating tension, terrific performances, witty dialogue, and several silly moments. Not sure why this has been universally panned. Julianne Moore is perfect in a taxing dual role. Matt Damon shows a new complexity to his previously one-dimensional acting arsenal. George Clooney directs a mystery tangle with great aplomb that just looks great. This should be another feather in the cap of the Weinstein production company, As "Lucky", the cantankerous but loveable old sole, shuffling his way out of this mortal coil, Harry Dean Stanton is, as always, remarkable.

Striding with purpose, very slowly, through a very regimented daily routine - diner coffee, crossword, game shows, cactus watering, smokes, drinks at the local watering hole - Lucky is revealed as a complex, always thinking, opinionated, ready to drop the gloves, 91 year old. There are several great performances, highlighted by David Lynch bemoaning the escape of his pet tortoise, but the film really belongs to Harry. Swiping some great real life histories Stanton's stint with the Navy blurs the line between fact and fiction just enough to act both as a fitting tribute and engrossing movie on it's own merit. This is a talkie, where action moves at a tortoise pace, but it matters not, for Lucky has that rare power to draw the audience right on in.

Harry Dean Stanton was indeed Lucky. This would-be serial killer horror film, suffers from endless self-inflicted stylish blows: But what a beautiful demise it is. Leave it to Juan Carlos Medina directing and the Brits acting to bring forth such a grandiose, poetic, cinematic feast. Channeling his best Hammer era Peter Cushing, Bill Nighy as the anxious yet calmly methodical Scotland Yard inspector is exceptional, and almost elevates the film to a level it so deserves. There just isn't enough grit and shock for the series of heinous crimes to get any juice flowing; even the gory corpses are presented as carefully arranged, colourful still lifes.

Dialogues are poetic and unspontaneous, simple scenes are meticulously choreographed, sets are lavished, wardrobe is wildly bombastic. It is a wonderfully lush, over the top feast for the senses, that lacks proper plot delivery to create a deserving fog of mystery. There's a nice, rewarding, twisty tale under all that distracting sheen, though it requires much work from the viewer. Just when ya think the living dead well has run completely dry, another twist on the very tiring, tiresome and tired subject matter comes to the local drive thru, er in. Sure there's an early ketchuppy scene, but for the most part this is a remake of that old Bing Crosby, Bob Hope buddy buddy crossing the desert vehicle - without the homoerotic tension.

We have Molly, the coke snorting stripper in ridiculous heels traipsing across death valley a better name for the movie with a very persistent but slow zombie in tow. They bond, in a master slash puppy manner, with the added excitement that puppy wouldn't mind biting the hand that feeds him. It's a terrific premise, and looks fabulous on the widescreen, but the stumbling blocks of typical b-movie limitations low budget, hammy acting, plot holes is too much to overcome. Zombie faithful will probably enjoy it, but for the rest I say: Enough with the zombies already! Then it's a lousy one. Then it's great again. As opening action sequences go, there's not much that can top this visceral, first person carnage extended take.

The action is tight, colourful, zippy, acrobatic and jaw-dropping awesome. Unfortunately there is a convoluted plot to suffer through before an action finale almost as delicious as the opening salvo. Yes, yes, there must exist a reason for all the vengeful mayhem, but there are way too many curves thrown into what should have been a fairly straightforward recipe: Instead we have a Bourne trilogy squeezed into one film, complete with mysterious agencies, insufferable romantic interludes, and an exponential body count. Still there's no denying the sheer cartoony thrill of the inventive action sequences, and that's where the movie shines.

Kim Ok-bin is extraordinary as the ruthless kickassassin, especially when navigating a car from hood top, but oh so ordinary as a mundane love interest dealing with a sappy neighbour crush. Ya can't have everything. As an edgy, black comedy about a sympathetic but unbalanced internet stalker, "Ingrid Goes West" has all the pieces in place for cinematic gold. And for most of the duration, it gets it right. Aubrey Plaza as the mousy, cute yet conniving and vindictive Ingrid, is a character handful, morphing her desperate, klutzy loner self into a confident socialite.

Tricking an internet personality into a fabricated friendship, Ingrid's lies pile up quickly, and we know this can't end well. And though her methods are immoral, Ingrid is easy to cheer for as the outcast in search of acceptance. Using Social Media as a friendship platform is a brilliant stroke: So what exactly is a friend these days? And who is real? Or at least a film that kinda loses it's way at the end, as the fibbing train derails, things turn dark, and when a killer ending is needed, a kind of sappy conclusion is inserted instead. Oh well, still a pretty damn good film for the most part.

Place all SNL movie prejudices aside, this is one sweet flick well worth the screening. Current tv regular Kyle Mooney writes and stars in a deliriously charming story of James, a sheltered manchild taking baby steps in the real world, with the help of his childhood VCR fixation. Brigsby Bear, a fictional character doling out life lessons amidst interstellar adventures, and the only friend to a clever, lonely boy, is actually much more than that. Not all is at it appears. This lifelong television obsession threatens what is deemed a normal existence once James is introduced to the real world, and we are off to the races.

Kyle Mooney is exceptional in a sweet, wide-eyed role, one that could easily fall flat in self-parody, but retains an honest innocence throughout. When serious, life-altering issues arise, tough answers are left on the table as James forges ahead with optimistic zeal on his magical journey, never wavering or falling into cliche realization or self doubt. Twisty movies can be god fun, but as is the case with "The Ghoul", they can be quite unsettling. What starts out as a standard police drama slowly melts into an endless, dark, psychological journey, where everything is gradually turned upside down.

Not an easy watch, this: Filmed in dark, bleak confines, "The Ghoul" works, not inspite of it's micro budget, but because of it - relying on claustrophobic interaction from the players. Fans of linear cinema need not apply, but those wishing for a jarring, thought-provoking experience will be rewarded. I can take it. Despite a plethora of gushing reviews, "Baby Driver" is not a great movie. Passable, but not great. How can this be? Car chases, tricky heists, great cast, and director genius Edgar Wright at the helm. Surely this must be one helluva grand cinema going adventure?

Well, it is, but only in very short spurts. Cartoonish characters, good and bad, in any action flick worth it's salt lick, gotta have some, um, character. Something sorely lacking over here. Worst of all is newcomer Ansel Elgort, who fits the title profile - he can drive and has peach fuzz - but brings nothing to the table. The opening scene is great: Wright films style like no one else, but here, he forgets to pepper the thing with substance. This movie requires some effort. What starts off as a brutal exploitation flick, surely to weed out the meek, evolves into an absorbing treatise on primal human conditions in a barren, deserted wasteland.

While Ana Lily Amipour's sophomore effort contains pulpy roots, littered with outrageous characters and circumstances, it also tackles some grand topics. Our white trashy heroine Arlen is unceremoniously turfed out of society to fend for herself behind a Texan fence, where lawlessness and depravity are the rule of the day. She is soon captured by a tribe of cannibals, and mayhem ensues. Dystopian futures as these don't seem all that far fetched any more. Much like the "Mad Max" franchise, it is a world full of crazies scrambling to survive in glorious sunbaked vistas. Sporting a primo porn stash, Keannu Reeves pops up as a bizarro, robe clad cult leader.

Giovanni Ribisi slips in several rambling, asylum escapee diatribes, but it is an unrecognizable Jim Carrey who absolutely steals the movie as a wizened bagman. There's enough of these gloriously awkward moments in "The Big Sick", to bring much needed levity to the very tired romcom Hollywood game. Maybe because it's based on the pretty crazy life experiences of comedian Kumail Nanjiani, "The Big Sick" resonates better than most cookie cutter plots. Sure there's sparks, joy, conflict, and tears, but there's also religion, racism, and history. Best of all, there's great chemistry between the leads and the various convoluted familial web players. Yup, Holly Hunter is in this, and of course, she is fabulous.

Almost steals the movie. In fact all the performances are great, including several juicy supporting roles. Nothing can get in the way of Kumail and Emily's fabulous love story. Hilarious, charming, and sneaky smart. Whatever the case, the big screen's most famous moustache finally lands a career changing role as a septuagenarian. Once, and only once, Lee Hayden was a big screen cowboy presence. Now, now he gets by with voice overs for barbecue sauce. But oh what a voice. Real life parallels abound: Elliott is best known for small cameos, tv and commercial work, but is still a much loved and recognized celebrity.

As the ticker is about to roll 72, Hayden is given some terminally awful news, giving the ol' coot some pause to ponder a stalled career and failed family life. A December - May romance gets the ball rolling, as our hero sets out to make some amends. What could have been a terribly sappy piece of fluff, is actually a lovely paced rumination on the very complicated topic of existence, with a wonderful, understated, and vulnerable performance from Elliott: Hollywood's new leading man. Guns are illegal, and then there's the whole immigration tension going on. Tommy Akhtar wild eyed Riz Ahmed is a typical, hard-drinking, tough talking, fistcuffing gumshoe with a heart of gold, trying to solve a missing Russian escort case whilst his very complicated past comes back to further cloud the perpetually rainy skies of London.

Ahmed is perfect in the lead, offering equal parts macho and empathetic soul; the gutsy dick able to take a beating, romance a good woman, and stand loyally by his loved ones. Beautifully shot in wet, dark London, sparkling with Christmassy bokeh lights popping out of ominous shadows, this is one gorgeous looking film. A little messy and cacophonic at times, this stab of celluloid is saved by a splashy, vibrant style that is pure eye candy. No matter, this is why the good lord invented subtitles: Sequels are dicey propositions, especially after such a long nap, but Danny Boyle's in charge, and he makes sure not to mess with a good thing.

And "T2 Trainspotting" is indeed, a good thing. Our mangy quartet of Spud, Renton, Sick Boy and Begbie, have fermented quite nicely with time, retaining their youthful vitriol but now faced with the dread of middle age. Makes for a more complex series of mini plots, whilst retaining the vinegar and piss spirit of the inner children running about. As Begbie, Robert Carlyle steals the film with his ridiculous mix of comedy slapstick and scary sadistic sides, but all the characters have their moments. Guilt, spotty money schemes, back-stabbings, betrayals and a tricky romantic triangle, bring the gang reluctantly back together again, for some whipsmart, stylish cinematic moments courtesy of Boyle.

Best of all, while T2 just looks and feels great, it also completes the dangling story lines of the original in a tidy, satisfying matter. For the most part, this is a terrifyingly terrific movie, full of creepy, shadowy scenes, hair-raising tension and clever comedic quips. Our trio of trailer trash Sherlocks are very engaging as they stagger into a complicated and dangerous world, not so much for possible riches, but also for adventure. Taunting cryptogram clues, a sinister hood, and creepy voice messages; the Zodiac put the "K" in killer. Great stuff, but it is almost ruined with a messy, straight forward, by the numbers, uninspiring climax.

Which in turn is then inexplicably thrown under the bus with an attempt at an open ended, confusing conclusion. It really does suffer from a proper wrap. Still a pretty good thrill ride. The stealth bribe turns comical as Norman finally eyes the ridiculous four-figure price tag upon transaction. The nuanced shock, is quietly covered up with a secretly resigned, awkward purchase. Norman is Jewish, and even though he has successfully gained the trust of a very powerful man, he is deeply wounded by getting gouged. Richard Gere of all people, pulls off this complex character with just the right mix of disdain and empathy.

There is no backstory to Norman. There is no family to dote on. No home to go to. Nothing exists but the layers of clothes on his back, a bulging satchel, and the constantly ear-budded smart phone. Norman is an overeager pitchman, constantly on the move, chatting up everyone in his path, promising connections left, right and centre, and hustling his best to make good on his little white lies. What a refreshing movie! It's all talk and no action. And it's the career film of the very surprising Gere, whose charmingly obnoxious Norman is easy to love and despise in equal doses, but oh so difficult to ignore. Easy answers be damned.

Wide eyed Rami Malek is hotel concierge Jonah, working alone, late nights, cleaning expansive rooms of various shades of brown. It's reminiscent of "The Shining". And like Jack Nicholson before him, Malek's character is quite complicated, with the line between reality and illusion basically a stretchy skipping rope. Without a brilliant, terrifying, sympathetic and comedic performance from Malek, this film may not have worked at all. He dominates every scene, and is terrific, whether he's playing playing with his precocious daughter, or pooping into a kitchen pot.

Swell part about this engrossing, conspiratorial, head scratcher of a flick - apart from the ensuing, post-viewing dissections - is the sheer entertainment value, casting the lure for repeated viewings. Evelyn and John cruise Perth school yards, fishing for teenage girls with friendly Aussie banter and car ride offers. The pleasantries end right there. As the secret predator couple in the neighbourhood, Emma Booth and Stephen Curry are spectacular in their complicated performances. Charming and congenial, slick and methodical, brutal and sadistic, vulnerable and suspicious; all bases are covered. Not in an exploitative manner most of the cruelty is off screenbut in its believable depiction of perversion, and the matter of fact execution by the monsters.

Sporting a cheesy moustache, Curry presents a tiny, unassuming wimp - he is humiliated and berated about money owing. Yet deep inside he is a tight wound ball of explosion, and the creepy manipulator of all crimes. Evelyn is a more than wiling accomplice, but she has a wounded past, shows some semblance of sympathy, and is thus the weak link in the monster couple. How all this plays out in the most recent triangle is expertly framed by newbie filmmaker Ben Young. Thanks to a biased push courtesy of present foodie king Anthony Bourdain producing this doc and offering visceral cameos"The Last Magnificent" is a bit of confusing celluloid.

It's all a very juicy story: And that's just a mere sip of the nectar. Our chef is indeed a towering figure, transforming the culinary world with American Cuisine, and inventing the celebrity cook persona which he was born to berth and star in. Chez Panisse, Stars, Tavern on the Green: Food aside, there's much more to the delicious history here, which, unfortunately is handled clumsily at times. His sudden retreat and decade long hibernation from the restaurant world, is never truly explained. As much as this film is chock full of glorious revelations, it is missing large pieces of the Tower puzzle.

A pompous, arrogant, entitled, talented character who elicits both disdain and admiration with alarming frequency, the mythical Jonathan Tower remains a true enigma, and quite possibly, the next reality television star. Intriguing, charming, exotic, insufferable and frustrating; Tower and film both. Sure to befuddle many, this moody documentary concentrates on Lynch's visual art, barely touching on his filmmaking claim to fame. Revealed solely through his smoking words, "The Art Life" presents absorbing childhood recollections while Lynch creates his stark art pieces. It's beautifully shot, methodically paced, with a rather unsettling quality.

There is no external opinion to be had, as the film exists entirely in Lynch's world. We see him making art, talking art, pondering art, and then making more art. He is obsessed, focused, but friendly and charming, whether in the midst of molding a creepy canvas, groping his shock of white hair, planning his next canvas move in a cloud of smoke, or interacting with his tiny daughter. The mystery of Hollywood's extreme outsider remains deliciously intact. Especially when John Denver's joyful country pop hybrid is emanating sweetly from the van's 8-track.

Yup, this is Quentin Tarantino territory, and director Ben Wheatley has done his homework. Filmed in glorious western-hued yellow-brown, "Free Fire" is a tense, late night gun deal gone wrong, pitting the itchy-fingered buyers against the itchy-fingered sellers, in a dusty warehouse shootout. As plots go, this is pretty pedantic. Sure there's a nice little twist here and there, but this film succeeds on the hilarious interaction of the many quirky characters. Everyone gets shot, often several times, and treat their wounds as irritating inconveniences. Soon the warehouse is full of crawling, bitching wounded.

Plenty of stars aside, this is Sharlto Copley's movie. As the slick polyester-suited, South-African accented arms salesman, Copley's cartoonish character steals every scene. It's a bit of a cultural mess really. And when she receives an invite to a festival her firstit opens a hallway of doors, and possible answers to many burning questions. Raised by her Chinese grandparents, the thrilling mystery of Rosie's missing parents is soon revealed, as is her place in the world. The Western - Eastern - Muslim triangle is handled impeccably through Rosie's adventure, some well placed history lessons, and bouncy animation.

Yes it's a heart-tugging, feel good flick, but when told this well, goes over ever so swell, and it looks great on the big screen. Years after successfully escaping his small-town for the big city, the dapper financier is forced to return to collect his grandmother's ashes. This leads to a very uncomfortable reunion. Peter has obviously moved on, literally and figuratively, but not his old neighbour pal Donald. Donald is still the same old high school hoser, super keen to rekindle the good old days. It's a classic premise, that works well on a cringe, comedic level, as Peter, the desperate, reluctant hostage tries valiantly to escape the eager clutches of the oblivious Donald, who seems to be dealing with some disturbing baggage.

Writer, director, star Kris Avedisian is quite the talent, and his take on the wide-eyed, gung-ho man-child Donald is a character for the ages. They are but a rudimentary channel for the mindless cattle to shuffle to the icy killing field. As hockey movies go, this is no "Mighty Ducks". Filmed in dungeon hues, where nothing, and I mean nothing is ever presented in a good light, "Hello Destroyer" is a tough, brooding, slow, depressing slice of adolescent life, and perhaps, the most truthful film on the subject ever made. Anyone who's ever been privy to a dressing room screaming tirade from a demented coach will know.

There's very little spoken - only groaned and grunted - as is customary in the Canadian junior leagues that is littered with hopeful, but immature athletes. Scholastics are not high priority here. Sporting a prisoner of war hair crop courtesy of the customary hazing ritual, Tyson Burr is a tough rookie, elbowing his way into the macho club clique, and stumbling quietly and dutifully through the only life he knows. Very few actually succeed at hockey, and Tyson's path is derailed quickly after an unfortunate on ice incident. Hung out to dry by his team, the sensitive teen's career, and life, now hang in the air. A spellbinding and very important film.

Without reproducing abilities, the "hungries" are really not much of a threat - you wait out one generation and presto: The trick to any relevant movie going experience is to draw the viewer in, and the only way to jump ridiculous plot holes is with exceptional smoke and mirrors movie making. Not only a heart pounding thrill ride, it posits a scenario that actually makes for suspense sense: Melanie, a creepy, vulnerable and quite smart, hungrie girl is at the story centre, posing a possible solution for the dwindling human population. Scientist wants to dissect her. Soldier wants to kill her. Teacher wants to nurture her. This rag tag bunch on the run have depleting options in what could spell the boom or bust future of Earth.

I remember riding a metro in Barcelona when I saw a group of American women sitting on the opposite side. I looked over and saw them wearing nice black dresses. Then I looked down and noticed they were also wearing white flip-flops. I can understand it was a hot summer evening, but the image of someone going out to a club in flip-flops was absolutely revolting. European women wear stylish clothes with either open toe or closed toe flats. Things are much less rigid. She knows it and you know it: They had a well-paying job, a car, even her own apartment at times. Of course, not all the women were that successful, but most women were pretty serious in what they wanted out of life.

A lot of it has to do with maturity. As soon as I jumped over the pond, the flakiness rates nose-dived. That has been indeed refreshing. Tomorrow it will be just normal. Join The Maverick Insider's Club.


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