Mastroianni in the Mirror: Searching for a Soul in La Dolce Vita

If you know Spanish, "Dulce" means "Sweet." And "Vida"means "Life."  La Dolce Vita is an Italian film but you can easily see that both Spanish and Italian are siblings in the Romance language family, and the meaning is plain: The Sweet Life. 

The iconic Fellini film was cutting edge as a harbinger of the fading of Existentialism and the dawn of new philosophical age, the Age of Irony, later re-labeled Post-Modernism. Irony has become a central characteristic of the postmodern world. Where modernism (the existential response to Nietzsche's Nihilism) still believed (even in its despair) that meaning could be recovered or rebuilt, postmodernity surrendered to the wink, the shrug, the knowing smirk. Nothing is sacred, nothing is serious for long, and sincerity itself is treated as the ultimate naïveté.

In Fellini's La Dolce Vita (1960), Marcello Rubini (Marcello Mastroianni), a jaded tabloid journalist, drifts through the hedonistic high society of Rome in the late 1950s. Over seven nights and dawns, Marcello chases fleeting pleasures—orgies, celebrity scandals, intellectual debates, and miraculous hoaxes—while searching for meaning, love, and artistic fulfillment. The film is ultimately a portrait of the moral emptiness and spiritual malaise beneath the glamour of “the sweet life.”

While watching, I couldn't help but think of the opening scene from a book I'd read about Johnny Carson. It begins with a party. The crème de la crème of Hollywood are gathered at some luxurious home, awkward and slightly uncomfortable until Johnny and his wife finally show up. The author, Carson's personal attorney, paints a cynical picture of a houseful of superficial people living shallow lives.

You can see why that scene comes to mind as La Dolce Vita delves into the same themes of fame, decadence, and the superficiality of celebrity culture. It's a film about the contrasts and contradictions within high society as well as a nuanced commentary on the nature of fame and its impact on the individuals who covet it and the society that is infatuated with it. 

Some people have called La Dolce Vita one of the most influential and visually intoxicating films ever made. Like all major films, it is replete with memorable images, scenes and lines. I doubt that anyone watching today, however, can avoid thinking about Princess Di when celebrity star Sylvia (Anita Ekberg) is being pursued by a barrage of paparazzi.  

The famous set pieces—the opening shot of a helicopter carrying a statue of Christ over modern Rome, Anita Ekberg’s midnight frolic in the Trevi Fountain, the haunting beach sequence with the dead sea creature and the unreachable girl watching from afar—have been heralded as staples of cinematic history. 

"Marcello." Wine and pigment on 
illustration board

Mastroianni’s performance steals every scene: weary, charming, self-loathing, and at times unexpectedly cruel, a lost soul in a sea of decadence. The supporting cast (Ekberg, Anouk Aimée, Yvonne Furneaux, Alain Cuny) inject vivid life to Fellini’s gallery of beautiful, broken souls.

The film is both a celebration and a brutal autopsy of excess, and its critique of celebrity culture, paparazzi frenzy, and spiritual bankruptcy. 

This kind of moral bankruptcy is nothing new. We're more than familiar with the decadence of King Louis XIV, or the Emperors Nero and Caligula of Rome who spent fortunes on palaces, jewels and bizarre amusements including lavish public games to display dominance and curry political favor. The Gilded Age in America (1870s-1910s) featured palatial mansions and extravagant parties (with solid gold flatware and full orchestras while millions lived in overcrowded tenements.) The Belle Époque in Europe (1871–1914), the Roaring Twenties, and the Lolita Express are all reminders that there's nothing new under the sun. For evidence, check out Psalm 73 from 1,000 years B.C. 

La Dolce Vita is currently rated 8 stars out of 10 at imdb.com, and its stature continues to climb. If it has any flaws, perhaps some might give a demerit to the film’s 174-minute runtime. Yet even its sprawl can also be interpreted as deliberate, mirroring Marcello’s endlessly aimless wandering.

"Eddie Did It"

Me with 2 of my 3 brothers. L to R: Don, Ed, Ron

It's been said, and oft repeated, that the weakest ink is stronger than the strongest memory. For this reason, countless people keep journals, genealogical and legal records as well as baby books. Our diaries, and photos, preserve our memories. 

According to our family's baby book, where (among other things) my mother recorded my our first words, my brother Ron's very first sentence was “Eddie did it.” 

I was his older brother by two years. With this utterance of “Eddie did it,” he was simply proving that at a very early age he had entered the “Adam and Eve Blame Game," the age-old drama of finding creative ways to avoid responsibility and shift the blame to someone else.  

When we dislike the negative consequences of poor choices we make, we let others take he rap. How hilarous that this was my brother's first sentence! 

It's a profound insight when we finally learn that we are responsible for the things we say and do. This truth runs contrary to the Freud-based pop culture assumption that my parents or circumstances or society made me the way I am, that I have no choice but to be this way, to behave badly or whatever.

Politicians are especially good at this blame game. When an initiative fails, it was not their fault. "I inherited an impossible situation," they often say. Or maybe, "Don't blame me. My intentions were good." This is why the public lost respect for their elected officials.

In many work environments, the blame game can make it almost impossible to learn from previous mistakes because rather than get a proper diagnosis of what happened, all the players become more concerned about covering their tracks. In his book On Advertising, David Ogilvy stated that when we have autopsies without blame, only then will we discover what killed the patient.

Mistakes are inevitable in life, and in business. Some decisions in business are simply educated guesses. New product introductions do not always find welcoming arms to greet them. For example, the Polaroid Camera required a very long runway before it got off the ground. It took a lot of faith and persistence to stick with that one. Many other products, however, were doomed before they left the lab. Does this mean we should simply stop trying? No, each failure is an opportunity to learn.

The real tragedy is not that we fail; it’s that we waste the failure by refusing to own it and learn from it.

When a company launches a product that bombs, the first instinct is rarely “What did we miss?” Instead people say, “Who can we pin this on?” Marketing blames engineering for a buggy prototype. Engineering blames sales for overselling features. Sales blames the customer for being too stupid to “get it.” The corpse lies on the table, but instead of an honest autopsy, everyone reaches for the makeup kit. In the next launch, thecompany is doomed to repeat the same mistakes, only with better PowerPoint excuses.

Healthy cultures—whether families, teams, or communities—grow precisely because they replace the question “Whose fault is this?” with “What really happened, and how do we keep it from happening again?” NASA’s turnaround after the Challenger disaster is a classic example. The Rogers Commission didn’t hunt for a scapegoat; it hunted for the truth. O-rings, cold weather, and a broken safety culture were laid bare without finger-pointing. The result? Painful reforms, yes, but also the safest space program in history for the next 17 years.

Owning our part makes us uncomfortable because it strips away the anesthesia of blame. But it is also the only door to real understanding. The moment we stop saying “Eddie did it” and start saying “I did it, and here’s what I’m going to do differently,” we step out of childhood—personal, corporate, or political—and into maturity.  

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Feel free to comment. Was there too much moralizing tacked on to what was essentially a personal anecdote? I was aiming for an Aesop-style insight. If I got carried away, I blame no one but myself.

Imaginary Interviews: Noam Chomsky on America and Propaganda

I first encountered Noam Chomsky's writing while preparing to go to work at an orphanage in Mexico in 1980. In the 1950s and early 60s, Chomsky, a linguistics professor, wrote books about syntax, sound patterns, etc. It was during the Vietnam War that he become more vocal politically. Chomsky’s academic insights about how humans generate meaning evolved into examining how languages are used to manipulate public opinion. Just as linguistic structures shape how we think, political language shapes how we interpret reality.

Because propaganda has been a life-long interest of mine, Chomsky's ideas have been a recurring periodic theme in my readings. 

Today is Noam Chomsky's 97th birthday. Born December 7, 1928, Chomsky grew up in a Jewish working-class community in Philadelphia steeped in debates about socialism, Zionism, fascism, and labor rights. I find it fascinating that he wrote his first political essay at age 10, criticizing the rise of fascism and the spread of propaganda in popular media. Long before he became a scientist of language, he was already a political observer.

What follows is an imaginary interview with the elderly Chomsky. This is a fictional encounter that attempts to convey his ideas and views pertaining to propaganda.

EN: Professor Chomsky, you've often argued that the most effective propaganda is not imposed by force but accepted as common sense. In your view, what core assumptions about America’s role in the world are so deeply internalized that most citizens don’t even recognize them as propaganda?
Chomsky: One of the most powerful ideas is that the United States is a uniquely benevolent actor—motivated by ideals, not interests. That assumption is so thoroughly woven into education, media, and political ritual that questioning it feels almost heretical. It’s a kind of background radiation of public life. When a superpower sees itself as inherently virtuous, its actions—no matter how destructive—are interpreted through a moral lens. Once that frame is in place, evidence becomes secondary. The ideology becomes invisible.

EN: In Manufacturing Consent, you describe the media as filtering reality rather than fabricating it outright. How have these filters evolved in the age of 24/7 news, digital platforms, and algorithmic feeds? Has propaganda become more subtle—or more pervasive?

Chomsky: More pervasive, certainly. Traditional media had structural constraints—ownership, advertising, elite sourcing. Those haven’t vanished; they’ve simply been supplemented by new mechanisms. Digital platforms tailor information to users’ preferences, reinforcing existing beliefs and shielding them from alternatives. That’s quite efficient from the standpoint of power: people become self-policing consumers of propaganda. Instead of one centralized narrative, we now have thousands of micro-propaganda streams. The fragmentation creates the illusion of diversity, but the underlying assumptions—about markets, U.S. exceptionalism, the legitimacy of state power—remain largely intact.

EN: American leaders often portray U.S. foreign policy as altruistic, driven by ideals of democracy and liberation. What mechanisms, political or psychological, allow this narrative to persist even when historical evidence frequently contradicts it?

Chomsky: States rarely describe their actions honestly; that’s not unique to the U.S. But the U.S. has an unusually sophisticated cultural apparatus that reinforces the national myth. Education plays a role, as do entertainment media that cast American power as heroic. There’s also a psychological element: citizens of a powerful state don’t want to believe they benefit from oppression. The “good intentions” story is emotionally reassuring. So contradictory evidence is minimized, compartmentalized, or reframed. It’s easier to believe that every intervention, every war, is an unfortunate mistake rather than a predictable outcome of geopolitical interests.

EN: Many Americans believe the country has a uniquely free and independent press. From your vantage point, what structural forces—corporate ownership, advertising, national security concerns—most limit genuine dissent in mainstream discourse?

Chomsky: Ownership and advertising remain central, but professional norms may be even more restrictive. Journalists internalize the boundaries of acceptable debate because stepping outside them carries professional risks. You don’t need overt censorship when self-censorship is built into the system. Add to that the symbiotic relationship with government and corporate sources—who provide information essential for news production—and you have a media environment that can appear free while operating within narrow ideological limits. The range of views is broad compared to authoritarian states, but extremely constrained compared to what a functioning democracy requires.

EN: For readers who want to resist propaganda, what habits of mind or practical steps do you consider most essential? Is skepticism enough, or must citizens actively seek alternative sources and frameworks to understand the world?

Chomsky: Skepticism is a starting point, but not sufficient on its own. Citizens need to cultivate what I’d call “structural awareness”—examining who benefits from a given narrative, whose voices are excluded, what assumptions are taken for granted. It’s also crucial to broaden one’s sources: independent journalism, foreign media, and historical texts provide context that mainstream outlets often omit. And perhaps most importantly, people should act collectively. Critical thinking is important, but it becomes transformative only when embedded in communities that exchange ideas and challenge dominant narratives.

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Related Links
Manufacturing Consent: Do We Really Live in a Democracy?
Eight Stories About Propaganda from the Century of Spin

“But Is It Art?” – Why We’re Still Asking the Same Question Warhol Forced on Us

"From Andy Warhol's Brillo boxes to provocative dung-splattered madonnas, in today's art world many strange, even shocking, things are put on display. This often leads exasperated viewers to exclaim--is this really art?"

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED JULY 8, 2012

So begins the description of Cynthia Freeland's 2002 book on art theory at Amazon.com. The title says it all: But Is It Art? An Introduction to Art Theory. Her book is a stimulating read as the author attempts, in layman's terms, to help readers come to grips with how challenging it is to define why this is art and that isn't.

It's a problem that art students wrestle with and the public ignores, until their home town spends a quarter-million dollars on a sculpture that to taxpayers looks like an unhewn 300-ton boulder. 

The author begins with the shock artists. Why there is so much of blood in art today. By today, I mean the contemporary art scene of past few decades. Why would an HIV-positive artist hang rags dripping with blood over an audience that came to his show? Why would an artist make a movie of himself cutting off his penis one inch at a time? How is that artists feel that shock value is a necessary requirement for becoming noticed as an artist? 

Freeland cites John Dewey's 1934 explanation here: “Industry has been mechanized and an artist cannot work mechanically for mass production… “ For artists their work is self-expression. “In order not to cater to the trend of economic forces, they often feel obliged to exaggerate their separateness to the point of eccentricity.” (Art as Experience)

Does this reference to Dewey hold up, though? The community we live in here in Northern Minnesota is primarily service industry jobs. Or medical. Even in the manufacturing realm the majority of employees probably work in accounting and customer service, not production. I really don't think artists are artists as a reaction to mechanization and mass production. In fact, what I see today when I walk through the galleries and art fairs is the incorporation of mass production into the arts like never before with giclee reproductions and other print technologies taking artist's singular expressions and making them available by the hundreds.

As far as the use of blood by artists goes, Freeland notes that historically there has been a lot of blood shed within the context of religious rituals throughout human history. Mayans cut out still-beating hearts, the Greeks and Romans had their bloody rituals, and the roots of Judeo-Christian faith involve the shedding of blood. In fact, if you really stopped to contemplate some of the scenes that took place in the Tabernacle, you might even get ill at the quantities of blood and burnt offerings and the smells. No wonder they burned so much incense.

Freeland points out that when artists use blood it is shocking to us because it has been divorced from its ritual uses and therefore simply become something disturbing. This still doesn't explain why artists would use urine, semen and elephant dung. And in the back of my mind I can't help wondering, "What does your mother think of that?"

But then again, how much of this is really going on in the arts? I have been to countless art fairs, galleries and museums. I have never seen dung or feces displayed or urine or real blood, though at the Steampunk show this spring someone was carrying a vial of what he claimed to be wolf's blood. It fit the context of a role he was playing and most of us knew it wasn't real. And in our red-themed Red Interactive show last year, I heard at least two people comment that they were pleasantly surprised by the absence of blood or violence.

The book does a good job of raising all the right questions though and shows how the "big question" has no easy answer. As she points out Matisse was once described by the critics as a "wild beast" and anyone who knows his work would find this laughable today. Warhol's Brillo boxes and the Pop Art movement received the same brickbats.

Ivan Gaskill's review of Freeland's book at aesthetics-online.org begins by stating just how difficult this kind of undertaking really is, attempting to reach readers who are uninformed about art history and philosophy without addressing them in a condescending way. Despite the book's short-comings I recommend the book to all who are even semi-interested in engaging the arts today, whether artist, collector or just one of the many friends of the arts who simply go to shows to see what's new. It will give you things to think about, and maybe even answer a few questions you've wondered about. And if it raises still more questions, all the better. It will give us something to talk about when I run into you at the next art opening.

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Anchors Aweigh—or Anchors Astray? America’s Maritime Crisis

China builds ships. The U.S. builds excuses.

Sometime within the past year I read an article about how China was actively building or upgrading ports on the Western coast of Africa. More recently I caught a story showing the significant superiority of China's shipbuilding over our American efforts. 

Both these stories came to mind as I read yesterday's story in The Bunker, an eNewsletter I receive from the Project On Government Oversight (POGO). Yesterday's article was titled Anchor's Astray, addressing the phenomenal waste that goes on at the Pentagon. The story outlined a scuttled project to build build up to 20 small warships after the first two came in at two billion dollars, far above budget. 

This led me to investigate how many ships China is building compared the U.S. Here's some eye-openng data peraining to military ad commercial ship production. Commercial ships include domestic/merchant vessels, such as cargo ships, tankers, and container ships.

 Ship Production Comparison: United States vs. China

WARSHIPS

U.S. Fleet Size (2024): 296 battle-force ships (e.g., destroyers, submarines, carriers).

--- Annual Production (2024): ~1.13 Virginia-class submarines (goal: 2.0); 6 new ships requested for FY2025 (below 10-11 needed annually for 381-ship goal by 2042). 

--- Recent Trends: 82% of programs delayed (e.g., Constellation frigate: 3+ years behind; Columbia submarine: 1+ year delay). Net fleet decline projected: -9 ships in FY2025. 

--- Capacity: Limited to a few yards; overall output lags due to backlogs and costs ($40B/year planned but underfunded).

CHINA Fleet Size (2024): 370+ battle-force ships (largest globally). 

--- Annual Production (2024): 11+ major combatants launched (~130,000 tons); 23 destroyers added in past 10 years (vs. U.S. 11). 

--- Recent Trends: 8 cruisers since 2017 (vs. U.S. 0); submarine force to grow to 80 by 2035. Projections: 395 ships by 2025, 435 by 2030. 

--- Capacity: 230x U.S. total shipbuilding capacity; dual-use yards enable rapid scaling.

DOMESTIC/COMMERCIAL SHIPS

U.S. Global Market Share (2024): 0.1% (ranks 19th-22nd globally). 

--- Annual Output (2024): 3 large vessels ordered (out of 5,448 global); ~8 delivered. --- Recent Trends: Tonnage output <0.04% globally; total U.S. post-WWII commercial tonnage exceeded by one Chinese firm in 2024 alone. Focus shifting to revitalization via incentives (e.g., SHIPS for America Act targeting 250 U.S.-flagged vessels). 

--- Capacity: ~80 oceangoing yards, but minimal for large vessels; vulnerable to foreign supply chains.

CHINA Global Market Share (2024): 53% (leads world; 57% of completions by deadweight tons). 

--- Annual Output (2024): >1,000 vessels; 48.18 million dwt completed (up 13.8% YoY); 113 million dwt ordered (up 58.8% YoY). 

--- Recent Trends: 75% of global new orders in H2 2024; dominates bulk carriers, tankers, containers. Backlog: 208.72 million dwt (up 49.7% YoY). Slight dip in early 2025 orders (to ~52%) due to U.S. trade policies, but rebounding. 

--- Capacity: ~150 yards; state-owned CSSC alone outproduces entire U.S. historical commercial output.

Accordiing to The Atlantic, the U.S. shipbuilding industry, once a global powerhouse capable of producing over 5,500 vessels during World War II, has deteriorated into a shadow of its former self, capturing just 0.13% of the global commercial market in 2024 and facing chronic delays in naval production.  This handicap stems from a century-long interplay of policy neglect, economic shifts, and structural vulnerabilities, leaving the industry unable to compete with subsidized powerhouses like China (59% market share) or keep pace with national security needs.  

According to Contrary Research, China is now the leading powerhouse of the high seas. As of late 2025, the U.S. Navy's fleet hovers around 290 ships—projected to decline despite ambitions for 381—while shipyards grapple with backlogs that could take years to clear.  

The roots trace back to the post-Civil War era, when the U.S. opted against sustained public investment in maritime infrastructure, unlike European rivals who subsidized their fleets aggressively. This laissez-faire approach accelerated after World War I, as wartime booms faded and commercial demand for U.S.-built ships waned amid rising trucking competition for inland and coastal routes.  

By the 1980s, post-Cold War "peace dividend" cuts slashed budgets and fleet sizes, shrinking the number of capable shipyards by 80% and output by 90% from 1950s peaks.  Today, this historical atrophy manifests in a fragmented industrial base, where public yards suffer from obsolescence and private ones from overreliance on sporadic naval contracts. 

A core handicap is the acute workforce shortage, exacerbated by demographics and cultural shifts. Shipyards are hemorrhaging experienced workers through retirement—a "generation gap" leaving teams less productive and reliant on inexperienced hires who require heavy supervision—while struggling to recruit replacements.  Turnover exceeds 20% among younger employees, driven by low starting wages (despite competitive averages of $62,000–$83,000), demanding physical conditions, and a societal push toward college over trades.  

Entry-level jobs often demand 1+ years of experience, creating a catch-22 that stifles growth, and limited vocational training pipelines mean shipbuilding competes poorly with less hazardous fields.  This crisis compounds design and production flaws: U.S. vessels are notoriously complex, with "concurrency" (building before designs are finalized) leading to rework, delays (e.g., Constellation-class frigates years behind), and costs ballooning 30–50% over estimates.  Foreign subsidies enable rivals to iterate faster and cheaper, while U.S. monopsonistic procurement caps profits at 6–8%, deterring private investment in skills or tech. 

Supply chain fragility and infrastructural decay further immobilize the sector. Post-pandemic disruptions, inflation, and overreliance on foreign suppliers—even from China for critical components—have spiked costs for raw materials and parts, delaying projects by months. With fewer domestic suppliers than decades ago, bottlenecks ripple through yards, where outdated facilities (e.g., limited dry docks) and modular construction lags hinder scalability. High labor costs—coupled with stringent U.S. regulations like the Jones Act, which mandates domestic builds but stifles volume—make American ships 2–3 times pricier than Asian counterparts, eroding commercial viability. Meanwhile, global competitors like South Korea and Japan leverage dual-use yards for steady commercial-military output, investing in automation and modular techniques that U.S. facilities lack. 

Revival efforts, including the 2025 "Restoring America’s Maritime Dominance" executive order and $32.4 billion in FY2025 funding, aim to address these via workforce training, allied partnerships (e.g., with Japan), and supply chain fortification—but progress is glacial. Without bolder subsidies, immigration reforms for skilled trades, and a pivot to simpler designs, the U.S. risks ceding maritime supremacy, with dire implications for trade, deterrence, and surge capacity in conflicts. The industry's plight isn't inevitable; it's a policy choice, one that demands urgent, comprehensive reversal to rebuild what was lost.

Related Link

The Warship That Shows Why the U.S. Navy Is Falling Behind China

The Dire State of Our Shipbuilding Infastructure

The High Cost of Doing (Shipbuilding) Business

Sources: realcleardefense.com, americarenewing.com, The Atlantic, usni.org, freightnews.com

Film as a Philosophical Lens

Last week I uploaded all my blog posts from 2008 to an A.I. called NotebookLM. I requested an analysis and overview of the contents of my daily entries from that year and was both intrigued and surprised by the feedback. 

The six page report outlined six categories which most of my content fit into. One of these, which surprised me but should not have, had to do with reviews or references to movies. There's a sense in which it became clear how much our culture shapes up more than we realize.

Here's the section of that report assessing my 2008 writings about film. This is followed by links to five movie reviews, three from 2008 and two others from later.

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Film as a Philosophical Lens

The author’s film analyses consistently transcend simple plot summary or critique, instead using cinematic narratives to probe intricate philosophical and ethical themes. This approach is evident in his treatment of a wide range of films from 2007 and 2008.

Morality and Chaos: A preoccupation with the nature of evil and the struggle for order emerges from the reviews of No Country for Old Men and The Dark Knight. The author is captivated by Javier Bardem's portrayal of Anton Chiguhr as a relentless, "pathological, human version of The Terminator," a force of pure chaos operating outside conventional morality. In The Dark Knight, he identifies a similar dynamic in The Joker, whose goal is to "destroy all notions of order and decency." The author is drawn to how these films explore the ethical compromises necessary to confront such chaos, noting that Batman must "violate his own code of ethics in order to reach an ethical conclusion." His assessment of No Country for Old Men is marked by a telling ambivalence. While he praises the film's execution as "flawless," he simultaneously identifies "a number of problems," including a performance by Tommy Lee Jones he found to be a "caricature of himself," the questionable "star power" of Woody Harrelson for such a brief role, and a "confusing" ending that undermined the film's intense buildup.

Reality and Illusion: The author uses the films Vanilla Sky and The Prestige to engage with classic philosophical questions about perception, reality, and self-deception. He praises Vanilla Sky as a "vision realized" that explores the "philosophical conundrum of the ‘brain in the vat’" and forces the protagonist—and the viewer—to choose between a perfect fantasy and the harder challenges of reality. He highlights the film's use of the two-faced Janus figure as a key symbol of this pivotal transition. Similarly, in his review of The Prestige, he quotes the film's central premise: "You don't really want to know. You want to be fooled," using it to discuss the human desire for illusion over truth.

Character and Storytelling: A strong preference for authentic, character-driven narratives over formulaic productions is a consistent thread. He praises a film like There Will Be Blood as a powerful "character study" and celebrates its director for employing the "preeminent rule of storytelling: show, don’t tell." Conversely, he criticizes films he views as shallow. Sofia Coppola's Marie Antoinette, for example, is described as being trapped in a "bubble" without historical context. This contrast underscores his high valuation of deep character exploration and masterful storytelling craft over surface-level spectacle.

The Prestige

https://pioneerproductions.blogspot.com/2014/01/is-prestige-greatest-movie-about-magic.html

The Mission

https://pioneerproductions.blogspot.com/2010/10/missions-pointed-question.html

There Will Be Blood

https://pioneerproductions.blogspot.com/2008/04/there-will-be-blood.html

No Country for Old Men

https://pioneerproductions.blogspot.com/2021/04/throwback-thursday-no-country-for-old.html

Vanilla Sky

https://pioneerproductions.blogspot.com/2008/02/vanilla-sky.html