Ah, okay. I get it now. All it took was a second viewing of Quentin Tarantino’s ninth movie, and the knowledge that this really is about enjoying the ride because while there is a destination it’s one that’s brought about by external forces and the calendar, rather than any internal plot devices. Fair warning, the review which follows is rambly, unfocused and full of sidelines. But if that’s good enough for Quentin…
After taking in the movie when it opened, writing a slightly disgruntled review and letting that sit for a few days, I began to read other articles on Hollywood. More than I normally would for flicks I hadn’t enjoyed, because I wanted to know what I’d missed that everyone else seemed to love so much. And for the very most part, the pieces I read didn’t fill in any particular gaps for me. They just reiterated the list of reasons I’d been dissatisfied, albeit in glowing terms.
COMMUNITY Because even among the critics’ community, the most perfunctory points here are open to interpretation. One take notes that while Margot Robbie’s Sharon Tate introduces herself at the cinema box office, she watches The Wrecking Crew incognito to soak up the audience reaction. No mate, she puts on those massive glasses to emulate her character on-screen, looking around at the audience every time ‘Miss Carlson’ gets a laugh from them. She’s trying to be recognised, that’s why she went out of her way to be noticed at the box office - no one in Hollywood knows who the hell Sharon Tate is yet. Her actual claim-to-fame came at the hands of the Manson family - something Tarantino throws in the bin as he gives the actress the Happy Ever After she was denied in our reality. A gift from a film-maker who bleeds celluloid and lives for the micro-detail of every performance he sees in every in every B-movie and supporting feature. I got that the second time. The first, I was just wondering where all this was leading.
Elsewhere, some are saying that the brutal fight finale is "classic Tarantino". It’s not. It’s far closer to something that his buddy Robert Rodriguez would do. While it’s true that Death Proof has some nasty moments, it’s Rodriguez’s flip-side movie Planet Terror that’s the really gory flick - and so is the scrap at the end of Hollywood. Truth be told, it can barely even be called a fight in the interactive sense, more the tonally justified slaughter of three absolute wrong’uns.
DEVELOPMENT And those are two tiny details to pick up on, but that’s what Once Upon A Time In Hollywood is; a lengthy string of tiny details, the minutiae of mundane lives being lived in an unorthodox business in a town famous for creating non-reality. The phrase ‘love letter’ has been flogged to death in reviews for this movie (yeah, even by me), but it’s as much a series of winks to QT’s own career as anyone else’s*1.
And yet he eschews the traditional format of cinematic storytelling. The first 25 minutes of a movie are usually used to establish characters and motivations. Here that lasts for two hours. The second act will be the part where those characters run up against an obstacle which will need to be resolved before the story can end. In Hollywood we get a caption-card that reads "6 months later". Tarantino is openly telling us that the events of 8 August 1969 have precisely nothing to do with anything that happened in the previous half year. It’s just that here they involve characters who’d been moving in and out of each other’s circles back in February. And as for the third act resolution? Well here it’s more Clint Booth meeting some barely-remembered faces from the past and everyone else meeting for the first time.
That disregarding of structure bothered the hell out of me the first time I watched this. And to a certain degree it still does and probably always will.
MY NAME IS EARL While the ‘Once Upon A Time’ in the title implies that a tale is about to unfold which isn’t beholden to historical reality, it also creates the expectation that the audience is about to be told a story - ie something with a firm structure and a roadmap - rather than just trailing along behind characters for a few days. And while there are things to look at along the way, that’s not the same as telling a story. This movie is acted, shot and cut beautifully*2. My initial problem was that nothing is happening. A second viewing excuses yet underlines this in equal measure.
Throughout Tarantino’s career, there’s been a secondary level upon which his films can be enjoyed. Not always a subtext in the regular sense, but something which, upon second, third or hundredth viewing, a viewer can dig and try to figure out what Quentin was channeling when he put the scenes together. Wondering what was going on his his mind, in addition to the main plot structure (ie the heist, the con, surviving the night or maybe just trying to assassinate Hitler). The problem facing more casual audiences here (hell, me included) is that Hollywood exists almost entirely on this other level. The main ’what’s driving the story’ element doesn’t exist*3. Stuff just happens because it happens*4. And while that’s arguably true for the likes of Pulp Fiction, that movie at least had intersecting and cyclical motifs matched with a tight pacing. Hollywood doesn’t.
As much as I enjoyed this the second time round (and I did), I still stand by every one of my niggles from the first. I’ve long maintained that you should be able to get something new out of seeing a film again, that’s why I do second-pass reviews and beyond. Once Upon A Time In Hollywood is a prime example of how and why that re-evaluation is possible.
Although by the same token, I don’t think you should have to watch any movie twice to enjoy it once. But here we are…
Well, that’s the question isn’t it?
What have you seen that’s like this?
It is, with a certain amount of caution.
It is.
Yeah let’s not go mad, okay?
Even though I’ve now changed my mind re-ordered my opinions on this, still yes.
I don’t normally change scores between viewings, but I’m happy to make an exception here. While this and my previous review are obviously subjective (as every review is), I obviously couldn’t go so far as to say the film is badly made. But there are aspects of it which I did not enjoy, and that is a fact. Appreciation is one thing, but it’s not everything. And that’s more what the number is in this case. Not how ‘good’ I think the movie is, more how it made me feel. Last time it was a frustrating 4, this time it was a 6.
My own change of heart certainly makes me wonder what the long-term response to this movie will be, and how much expectation will be placed upon QT’s tenth (and allegedly final) film…
*1 In no particular order: the aerial shot of the Pan-Am plane is a throwback to Kill Bill, Funky Fanfare from QT’s Grindhouse days plays at the drive-in next to Clint Booth’s caravan, the airport interior is a nod to Jackie Brown’s opening sequence, the saloon section is an obvious reference to Django Unchained and the ‘Die You Nazi Bastards’ scene likewise tips its hat to Inglourious Basterds. And unless I’m very much mistaken, the crossroads at which Clint Booth is waiting when he sees Pussycat for the first time is the one from Pulp Fiction where Butch runs into Marsellus Wallace. But I’m going to have to wait for the Blu-ray to confirm that one, because I’m not downloading a bootleg just to do a side-by-side, okay? [ BACK ]
*2 The sequence in the shack at the Spahn Movie Ranch is camp perfection in itself. The undeniable tension as the wildcard ’Squeaky’ sits slumped in front of the TV. Clint padding around the old dilapidated house holding unknown dangers, the feint of a false climax, the music from the suspense show becoming the scene’s diegetic soundtrack. Wall-to-wall gorgeous. It’s just a shame that it’s not actually needed because there’s no story for this to fit into. [ BACK ]
*3 Even though there’s a lot of literal driving around in this movie. And it’s not aimless, ‘take in the scenery’ driving, but it’s not plot specific A-B driving either. It’s mostly the characters on domestic journeys like going to work or running errands. And y’know that’s fine but Quentin, mate, I’m not going to let this one go: nothing happens in this movie until the end. [ BACK ]
*4 Or, to be more cynical about the whole thing, Rick Dalton needs to have a conversation about a flamethrower early on to explain away the fact that he’s got a working flamethrower in the house for the finale. Likewise, Clint Booth needs to be shown as a skilled stuntman to explain the fact that he’s instinctively competent at combat and self-preservation even when he’s off his face on acid, and he needs to be on acid to explain away the utter brutality with which he smashes his assailant’s face off every damned surface in the living room. It’s almost - almost - as if the movie’s climax was written first and the whole thing was ret-conned from there. That said, if QT has fully shot any of the TV episodes we see clips of or produced amended episodes of the ones he’s altered, and if any of those are squirrelled away on the Blu-ray extras for the movie, all will be forgiven… [ BACK ]
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
When I informed Mrs Blackout that I’d stopped on my way through London to catch a documentary about Satanists positioning themselves as an accessible mainstream alternative to America’s evangelical Right, her reply was "Because of course you did". It’s a subject I’ve found morbidly fascinating since reading the book behind this year’s Lords Of Chaos, if only because it’s great to know that the subculture of wearing needlessly provocative t-shirts and pulling evil faces in the mirror while listening to Slayer apparently hasn’t changed in the 30 years since I was doing that as a hobby. And so, to the USA…
JOURNEY Director Penny Lane takes us on a journey beginning in 2013, in Tallahassee Florida. Lucien Greaves, leader of The Satanic Temple has gained publicity by winding up The Westboro Baptist Church (so the audience is instantly on-side), and is determined to position his organisation in opposition to the non-specific religious Right (although Catholicism takes a lot of flak, for obvious reasons). A host of talking heads whisks us through branches at Salem, Detroit, Boston, Santa Cruz, Little Rock and Tucson. Members of the organisation and other experts and pundits discuss the aims and outcomes of The Satanic Temple, while debating their relevance in today’s society. The Temple’s claim is that Christianity has become the default option rather than a considered choice, allowing more insidious fundamentalism to creep into America’s infrastructure. So far, so reasonable.
Now, many of the people we meet connected with the church are exactly what you expect them to be. And while they obviously are who they are, their depiction here is doing the movement no real favours in terms of the mainstream acceptance they claim to be fighting for, yet still somehow shun. A narrative thread emerges when the group tries to get a 8½ foot statue of Baphomet erected at the Arkansas Capitol Building opposite a monument to the Ten Commandments, their reasoning being that this counterpoint will bring balance*1. For obvious reasons, legal scuffles ensue and we spend the rest of the documentary in and out of a host of courtrooms. Things then come to a head with infighting, as Jex Blackmore of the Boston branch starts becoming more militant in her outlook, around the time of Trump’s inauguration. Again, not entirely unreasonable.
FOREIGNER Lane’s movie is dryly funny (most of which is intentional) and surprisingly detached, but really struggles for a reason to exist. Hail Satan doesn’t challenge its subjects, but seems unwilling to challenge its audience either. It’s interesting enough as a snapshot of a minority group, but the documentary won’t tell you much about the religious Right that you couldn’t get from regularly watching the news. As for the Good Guys In Black, members of the temple are shown being involved with various charitable and outreach programmes, doing great work at ground-level in their communities.
Ultimately this section is all a bit ‘look at me’. You want to be a good person, go right ahead. You can help the homeless without putting a badge on that to annoy the Christians*2. It’s difficult to take against The Satanic Temple’s aims of counteracting right-wing Christian hypocrisy and abuse, but more atheistic members of the audience will feel that’s a little like trying to take down Coronation Street by showing more episodes of EastEnders.
Although we do also get a brief segue where a few of the members confide that while they’re proud to be called Satanists, they don’t believe in actual, literal Satan. Yeah, I think you’re Goths mate. I mean to be fair, this lot are more actual Satanists than those fascists hiding behind pentagram t-shirts, but the members we meet here go so far out of their way here to be act Completely Normal™ that the only logical response is to wonder why they’re bothering worshipping the devil at all. And ultimately, they don’t get their statue up. As the credits roll, that’s shown to be still in-process, lost in a mountain of appeal paperwork.
SPEEDWAGON So, why now? What does Hail Satan? actually bring to the fore that couldn’t have been said 10, 20, 30 years ago? It’s hard to say, but after running the cameras for three years I imagine something had to be done with the footage. Penny Lane is obviously not here to preach against The Satanic Temple, but without challenging their beliefs or methodology just ends up Giving Them Enough Rope instead.
I’m not sure if it’s the sign of a great documentary or a really mediocre one if the viewer starts judging the subject rather than the film itself. But I’m going for the latter. When I was 17, this shit would have fired me right up. Nowadays it makes me slightly amused but also slightly weary.
Hail Satan? is diverting for its run-time but is, by no small measure, the most measured argument for liberal atheism you’ll see this week.
Afraid I’m drawing a blank on that one, as documentaries about contemporary Satanism aren’t really my forte (I get the impression it’s a bit like zombie movies, where you’ve got to wade through a lot of shit to get to the good stuff).
It’s quite televisual, which isn’t the worst thing, but it’s also no surprise.
One for the streaming queue.
I have to confess I haven’t seen any more of Penny Lane’s work, although I’m planning on rectifying that.
On some level, that’s likely yes.
There is.
It occurs when the film shows a clip from The Ten Commandments and it’s fucking magnificent.
*1 Okay two things here. Firstly, the film goes out of its way to list and explore Satanism’s Seven Tenets, the guidelines which are obviously the closest parallel to the Ten Commandments. But do they try to get a statue erected with those on it? No. They jump straight for the "and a sculpture of The Big Goat Man please" like a bunch of petulant sixth-formers.
Secondly, the documentary also points out that although several of America’s great buildings have these Bible-inspired statues, they were in fact funded by Paramount Pictures to promote their 1956 film, The Ten Commandments. And okay, the idea behind them may be morally upstanding, but the Satanists may as well have lobbied to get Pizza Hutt’s 1999 Jar Jar Binks statue put there as a response… [ BACK ]
*2 Indeed, for the specific type of Christian they’re setting out to annoy, doing things like genuinely helping society’s underdogs should be annoyance enough, the t-shirts and heavy eyeliner are just a bonus. [ BACK ]
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
It’s always darkest before the dawn, and you know you’re in the heart of the school Summer holidays when your local cinema can only free themselves from swathes of brightly coloured animated features by screening a straight-to-DVD sequel they've picked up from the £3 shelf in Sainsbury’s.
Yes, the law of diminishing returns has brought us to Angel Has Fallen, the third entry in what its star is apparently calling A Franchise*1. Gerard Butler, a feature-length Wellman advert with the focus less on vitamin supplements and more on protein shakes laced with shots of testosterone, plays Mike Angel Banning, all-round Man™ and personal bodyguard to Morgan Freeman’s President Character*2. When Gerry is framed after a botched assassination attempt, it’s up to him to escape from the custody of the security services and uncover the dark heart of the web of corruption and y’know what? You know exactly how this works by now, I don’t have to explain it. It's that film.
SHORT Now I’m trying to keep this review on the short side and lord knows I have a huge laundry list of complaints on why this is not a great movie. But you can tell that from the title, the poster and the cast. I still went anyway, so I'm to blame for my experience in there. Oh look the first sequence has Danny Huston in it as Gerry's boss, I wonder if he’ll turn out to be Actually A Baddie on account of not having played a genuinely sympathetic character since *checks notes* ...1995? Let’s wait and see.
So while it’s Butler’s turn here to live out every Top Gear fan’s daydream of being the Man™ surrounded by a cast that exist solely to either fear or revere him, this could just as easily be a vehicle for Wahlberg. Or for Damon. Or for Neeson. The result would be exactly the same. And far be it from me to big up the career of Dominic Cooper, but his capable, gruff, yet emotionally scarred super-security-operative was dealing with suspiciously acrobatic killer drones two bloody years ago, mate. And it wasn't good then, either. In a failed bid to redress the chromosome imbalance of the movie, Piper Perabo has been airdropped in to be Tearful Wife On Phone™ (Radha Mitchell having finally had enough after doing this twice), appearing every fifteen minutes or so to act as a visual reminder than Gerry is a) straight and b) a family man. Wahlberg would approve, if nothing else.
WATTS Between Huston, Freeman and Butler, there’s so much phoning-in of performances*3 here that British Telecom have an exec-producer credit. The whole thing is almost spectacularly formulaic, which might not be so bad if two thirds of that cast hadn’t already pulled the exact same shit twice already with the same character names*4. But Angel Has Fallen commits that most egregious of all cinematic crimes: it’s relentlessly boring. Although I was quite surprised how linear a conspiracy thriller can get away with being these days. If there’s a man, woman or child who isn’t instinctively able to map out the film's plot structure and resolution after about four minutes then the audience for This Type Of Thing is truly secured.
We go through the motions (scowling, grunting, final mano-a-mano faceoff fight on a rooftop which is clearly an indoor soundstage) until Gerry wins. Obvs. There's a sort of mid-credits scene that appears a minute into the credits, so sure is the editor that people will not otherwise be hanging around to see it. The sizeable audience with whom I shared an auditorium still continued leaving during that. They'd seen 'directed by', that was the end, that was the deal and they were damn-well sticking to it. A patron adjacent to me sat and ate an entire full-size tube of Pringles throughout this movie, a level of heart-disease-baiting that I feel is entirely in keeping for a genre which the BBFC are rumoured to be designating a new rating of 'G – Suitable for Gammon’.
Well, one only hopes that when this film hits DVD after the requisite 17-week period, the packaging designers are going to pre-print the 'Gifts For Father's Day' flash directly onto the cover-art, to save supermarkets a bit of time over the next fifteen years.
It is not.
That's likely.
Inexplicably, no.
Like someone in the sound-editing department has gone "No Terry, we're better than that…"
*1 Gerry. Mate. There’s a Subway on my nearest high street where they regularly put notices in the window to say they’ve run out of the base ingredient, bread, and that they’ll be closed before 6pm due to staffing shortages. That Subway is part of a franchise, too. Do you see where I’m going with this? [ BACK ]
*2 I’m sure the words “President Trumball” seemed perfectly benign when this series began in 2013. I mean why wouldn’t they? But the writers are in a hole now, aware that any time Freeman’s character is referred to by name there’ll be an involuntary twitch from the audience at the point of ”President Trum-“. Bad luck lads, what can you do? I mean you certainly can't kill him off, otherwise your leading hero is shit at his own and only job. [ BACK ]
*3 Although it’s worth noting that while Freeman literally phoned in most of his turn for the second movie, this time he opts for being in a coma for most of the run-time. In that respect, his was the sole character I began to identify with. [ BACK ]
*4 Look, we know you’re not trying, Gerry, and you certainly know. But can you at least act as if you’re interested? Sorry, daft question... [ BACK ]
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
So. it's 1968 in small town Pennsylvania at Halloween. A quartet of teenage misfits manage to evade a group of jock-bullies after trick-or-treating and take a detour by the old abandoned house which belonged to the local turn-of-the-century child murderer. Within its crumbling walls they come across a cursed book, and over the nights which follow the team - and their close associates - are picked off one by one as the stories of their supernaturally gruesome deaths appear magically in its pages.
KING So. What begins feeling for all the world like a Stephen King fan film*1 gradually becomes a quasi-anthology as we see a handful of creepy stories enacted. That the characters themselves realise exactly what's happening despite being powerless to change it gives the whole thing a feeling of Final Destination by way of Goosebumps. With posessed scarecrows, zombies and spiders this is classic fare, and it's definitely more an alt-teen adventure than a flat out horror, although the film is all the better for that.
The central cast of Zoe Margaret Colletti, Michael Garza, Austin Zajur and Gabriel Rush are all solid enough individually but become more than the sum of their parts to make things really fizz. The effects shots, while well-executed, are relatively few and far between so the rest is down to good old-fashioned visual storytelling and the tradition of the campfire yarn. And while the costumes and sets display a suitably vintage sensibility, the production and scripting have a distinctly post-modern air*2. The film's plot is not meant to be taken at face value, although the distinct themes of denial and survivor's guilt are plain enough for all to see. Scary Stories works because of its darkly playful structure. We're never expected to believe these events are actually happening as we see them - only that urban legends exist and people of all ages believe them for different reasons.
AND DEAN There are a few scenes of Quiet/Quiet/BANG!™ which the movie is otherwise much better than, and I'm deducting points for the third-act ritual of poking about through hospital archives and newspaper cuttings, and also the shoehorning in of The Mystical Old Black Lady™. Those are all cheap tropes which Blumhouse have flogged to death in recent years and they certainly don't need to be in here.
But the zenith of Scary Stories is far more imaginative than most of the film's genre-contemporaries, with an almost Whovian edge (and not just because Colletti's part was almost written for Carey Mulligan in Blink-mode).
While the first part of the title may be disingenuous to all but the younger audience members, Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark is an enjoyable movie that many of its classmates would do well to learn from.
Apart from anything else, you'll need blackout-curtains if you're planning to watch this in your living room.
It's worth watching again, but I'm not sure how much replay value there'll be overall.
Let's not go mad here.
Going off the judgement of at least one of my esteemed reviewing colleagues, that's entirely possible.
There isn't.
Level 2: Zoe Margaret Colletti is in this, and she was in the 2014 remake of Annie along with Rose 'Dormé' Byrne.
*1 In all honesty, when I first saw the trailer for this I thought it was for IT Chapter 2. The promo-reel opens with a geeky girl cycling around a sepia-tinged small town, then four teenagers standing in front of a dilapidated house with one of them in a clown outfit. I mean come on mate. [ BACK ]
*2 Despite a marked lack of profanity in this 15-rated screamfest - and well done to screenwriters Dan and Kevin Hagerman for avoiding that easy pitfall. [ BACK ]
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
So wait, the kid - the award-winning kid - from Room and Wonder is doing dick jokes now? Oh, okay then*1.
Good Boys is a Raucous™ comedy directed by Gene Stupnitsky, written by him and Lee Eisenberg. So far so good. It’s about three male, best-schoolfriends desperate to appear cool and to get to a party where they know girls are going to be. Bells start ringing. It’s produced by Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg, formerly of the Superbad and Bad Neighbours parish. And now you know what the film is going to be.
And it’s often very funny. Okay it’s deliberately crass, a little try-hard in places and begins right at the Gross-Out™ stage as the trio of twelve year-olds navigate trading cards, drones, alcohol, drugs and sex toys over the course of securing their places at the party, but it is at least very funny*2.
The comedic core of Jacob Tremblay, Keith L. Williams and Brady Noon as Max, Lucas and Thor respectively are solidly cast, drawing on personality archetypes found in the likes of The Hangover, and Williams shines particularly brightly. That said, it’s largely reliant on those (and many supporting) players' performances as the pacing feels like a two-hour movie that’s been condensed down to ninety minutes. It seems to cruise past its natural end-point at least twice.
As consistently amusing as Good Boys is, the film struggles for stamina after sprinting from the off, while Rogen and Goldberg’s fingerprints are all over this – even in the role of producers. You’re left with the impression that Eisenberg and Stupnitsky have crafted this to please the people who green-lit the project, rather than sating any real creative urge of their own.
Even with its prepubescent cast, Good Boys isn’t doing very much new, and I don’t think it’s got quite the heart that it wants to show. But it’s still a solid Saturday-night flick...
File this on the same shelf as Booksmart, Superbad, Mallrats and Weird Science.
Although there are firm nods to Ferris Bueller and School Of Rock in there, too.
If you're in the right frame of mind and you know what you're letting yourself in for, sure.
This is definitely a beer-and-friends movie.
Although not for your twelve-year-olds.
They'll do that when you're out.
Keith L. Williams is a rising star, here.
Try me.
Not that I heard, although there's one that's pretty close.
Level 2: Mollie Gordon's in this, and she was in that Booksmart with Billie 'Connix' Lourd.
*1 Yeah, he made The Predator in between so what the hell, I guess? I can picture an agent saying to him "Kid, those roles will get you the Oscar for the mantlepiece, but it's the dick jokes that pay for the house around it. Now sign the damn contract." [ BACK ]
*2 And credit where it's due, perhaps my loudest guffaw was at the sight of three children trying determinedly (and failing repeatedly) to get a child-proof cap off a pill bottle. All the better since the bottle was originally for children's vitamins (even though the one in question ends up loaded with molly). Add that to a sequence where the three kids try and cross a busy freeway as a masterclass of cinematic tension, and it's that silliness at the centre of the movie which really makes it work.
[ BACK ]
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
