Film

Getting a handle on that which does not serve us is one of the greatest personal growth challenges that many of us will face in life. Achieving control over such matters often pushes us to take steps we never thought ourselves capable of, a journey that often includes both victories and setbacks on our way to attaining proficiency. One man’s search for that goal is the subject of one of this year’s most anticipated releases, director Paul Thomas Anderson’s “The Master.”

While “Samsara” has been rather loosely characterized as a “documentary,” that label doesn’t do the film justice. It’s more of a cinematic meditation, a reflection on our world and what’s gone into its creation in its present state. It consists of only images, music and occasional nature sounds, with no dialogue, narration or graphics.

What, exactly, makes us who we are? Are we merely an amalgamation of biochemical components randomly thrown together, susceptible to the ravages of time? An arrangement of thought patterns organized around some unidentified driving force? A collection of memories bound together by some unseen unifying element? Or is it some combination of the foregoing? Those are some of the underlying questions raised for consideration in the delightful new comedy, “Robot & Frank.”

We’ve all heard the expression “hope springs eternal,” and that’s certainly true if we leave ourselves open to the possibilities it affords, even under the most seemingly dire circumstances. Kay and Arnold come to discover this for themselves in a town whose name, ironically enough, embodies the essence of that notion. But then that should come as no surprise, because that’s the kind of magic that happens when we make that expression our mantra, when we incorporate it into the belief structure that brings us what we concentrate on, one that breaks the chains of limitation and ultimately makes it possible for us to live more fulfilling lives.

Moreover, shakeups like this can help to make us aware of our inherent multidimensional selves, drawing attention to capabilities that have been lying dormant within us and that we never knew existed. This becomes apparent in the film, for example, when Quaid discovers his previously unknown commando tactics, skills he didn’t know he possessed but that certainly came in handy when circumstances warranted.

Despite the film’s seemingly lightweight story line, “Ruby Sparks” is anything but frothy fluff; rather, it’s a thoughtful meditation on conscious creation practice. Through Calvin’s exploits, we see that conscious creation is an all-inclusive process that carries with it tremendously potent power.

It’s been said that, where there’s life, there’s hope, and that’s certainly the case for the beleaguered City of Gotham in this picture, as well as in our own often-troubled world. As long as we never lose sight of that and are willing to become our own Dark Knights, we can hold on to the prospect of bringing it into being for ourselves.

If you knew for certain that the world was going to end in three weeks, how would you spend your time? Wrapping up the loose ends of your life? Making amends with those you’ve wronged (and who have wronged you)? Those are all questions raised in the thought-provoking new comedy, “Seeking a Friend for the End of the World.”

Time travel is a notion that has intrigued readers and writers for ages, and its depiction on the big screen has offered viewers a host of interpretations over the years. But temporal excursions can have both advantages and drawbacks, some of which carry loaded consequences, implications explored in the quirky new indie comedy, “Safety Not Guaranteed.”

So while it may indeed be possible to search for the gods, will proof of their existence sufficiently satisfy our curiosity about our creators or will it leave us unfulfilled, especially since there’s the possibility of something more profound, and more elusive, than what lies beyond any such “lesser” revelations?

There’s this thing we call life that we all go through together. Yet, despite its inherent connectedness, sadly, we often fail to see or appreciate this attribute. We tend to look upon ourselves and everything in our existence as separate components loosely linked by certain limited degrees of commonality. And so, when some kind of manifestation arises made up of elements – people, places, things, etc. – that don’t seem to belong together, we find it even more inscrutable, failing to sense the intrinsic validity or value in it.

iven that we always have access to an infinite range of probable existences through the conscious creation process (or in accordance with quantum physics principles, if you prefer the scientific perspective), it’s possible for us to tap into any one of them (including their respective temporal elements), depending on our prevailing beliefs at the time.

Many of us have come to fear change, that the disappearance of the familiar will leave us sad, disoriented or less well off than we’ve grown accustomed to being. But it need not be that way at all. Change just means doing something differently, and it doesn’t automatically equate to things being worse than they have been; it could indeed be the start of something far better than we could have possibly imagined but that we have not previously permitted to materialize.

It can be easy to let our fears get the best of us. And it can be even harder to shake them once we allow them to settle in and become comfortable. But rising above these self-imposed limitations is crucial if ever we hope to get by in life, even under the most trying of circumstances, a notion explored in the new cinematic blockbuster, “The Hunger Games.”

Movies with conscious creation-related themes fared well once again at this year’s Oscars ceremony in Hollywood on Sunday night. There weren’t many surprises, however, with front-running nominees taking home most of the awards as expected.

The economy has been on everyone’s mind for several years now, and many have justifiably pondered how we got ourselves into this mess. But, as is becoming increasingly clear, the causes go beyond economics, having as much to do with human nature and what we create as it does with money. These questions are examined in meticulous detail in the Wall Street drama, “Margin Call,” now available on DVD.

Hotel waiter Albert Nobbs (Glenn Close) is an oft-described strange little man. But then that’s probably because he’s not a man at all. Rather, Albert is a middle-aged woman who, because of the need to fend for herself financially, has been intentionally disguising herself as a member of the opposite sex since she was 14.

Director Sara Terry’s film examines the workings of a grass-roots initiative known as the Fambul Tok program, whose name in Creole means “Family Talk.” The program is based on traditional village bonfire gatherings in which victims and perpetrators address one another, not only to make amends, but also to help restore the longstanding Sierra Leonean tradition of “community” as a way of life.

To be sure, there are some conscious creation themes explored in the film, most notably those related to facing fears, examining unexplored probabilities, understanding the nature of the reality we experience, embracing change by letting go and appreciating the inherent connectedness of all things. However, the passing and often-haphazard treatment they receive reminds viewers of just how many other pictures are out there that handle these subjects much more deftly and substantively.

At its metaphysical core, “The Iron Lady” showcases one individual’s efforts at practicing conscious creation, the philosophy that maintains we each create our own reality. This theme is perhaps best summed up by a quote from the protagonist: “Watch your thoughts, for they become words. Watch your words, for they become actions. Watch your actions, for they become habits. Watch your habits, for they become your character. And watch your character, for it becomes your destiny! What we think, we become.”