One Battle After Another

One Battle After Another

A film that feels like a cinematic reflection of what we read and watch in the media today, One Battle After Another unfolds as a crime–drama–thriller rooted in the uneasy realities of contemporary America. The story moves between the believable and the unbelievable—yet everything feels disturbingly close to what is already happening on the ground.

Spanish-speaking revolutionaries assist illegal migration and engage in terror activities aimed at destabilizing the nation, while officers—some driven by white-supremacist ideologies—counter them in the name of protecting the country. These larger conflicts are told through deeply personal lives: an ex-revolutionary (Leonardo DiCaprio) and his mixed-heritage daughter (Chase Infinity, in a striking debut), bound together by survival, memory, and flight.

An officer obsessed with “cleansing” the country (Sean Penn) resurfaces from the past, haunting the father and daughter and forcing them into a desperate escape. Surprisingly, help comes from an old revolutionary network long believed to be dormant. Their journey takes us through an illegal immigrant camp run by a legal immigrant (Benicio Del Toro), while the officer seeks to destroy the only evidence of his own moral collapse—his illicit desire for those he is duty-bound to kill.

The narrative is gripping and layered with suspense, brought vividly to the screen by Licorice Pizza writer-director Paul Thomas Anderson. Cinematographer Michael Bauman shoots the film in VistaVision, recreating the rough, muscular nostalgia of 1970s cinema—raw, uneasy, and forceful.

An adaptation of Thomas Pynchon’s Vineland, the film shows Anderson at his best, inspiring both cast and crew to deliver performances that resonate in every frame. DiCaprio deliberately restrains his performance, perfectly fitting the weary ex-revolutionary, while Sean Penn explodes with unsettling energy as an officer who commits terrible acts in the name of order.

Believable and unbelievable at once, the film ultimately offers international audiences a visceral sense of life along the borderlands of present-day America—messy, dangerous, and morally fractured.

PS:

Not an expert review, but a personal reflection of an ordinary person who likes to stay informed and attentive to the world one lives in... 

Amy Carmichael

In Memory of Amy Carmichael on her 75th Death Anniversary on January 18th. 

Living with her in our hearts,

The way she loved Jesus

A love that filled her with joy and peace,

A joy she lived to share with others.

From that love she found the strength

To do what seemed impossible,

To give a home,

To become a mother to the orphaned.

In Jesus she found courage

For every obstacle that crossed her path.

Remembering you, Amy,

Light and inspiration,

A model of love and quiet joy—

Teaching us to give everything

To what we are called to do,

Whatever our life’s circumstances may be.

Happy New Year

A year is passing by.

For some, it has been joyous; 

For others, sorrowful;

And for many, a mixture of both.

Whatever this year has been to us personally, 

It is still a year of our life.

Let us bid it farewell,

With the quiet satisfaction,

Of knowing that we gave it our best,

Untroubled by outcomes beyond our control.

Thank you!

As you depart, a part of us goes with you.💐

_May the new year 2026 receive you gently._ 

🥳*Happy New Year*🎊

Zundert Flower Parade

Zundert Flower Parade Paints a Town in Dahlias

From bicycles to towering floral sculptures, the Dutch tradition blooms into the world’s largest dahlia parade

ZUNDERT, NETHERLANDS — Each year on the first Sunday of September, the small town of Zundert bursts into colour with the world’s largest dahlia parade, the Bloemencorso Zundert.

What began in 1936 with flower-decorated bicycles in honour of Queen Wilhelmina has grown into a spectacular procession of giant moving floats — some reaching 19 metres long, nine metres high, and 4.5 metres wide. Each float is built by one of the town’s 20 neighbourhoods, using up to eight million dahlias grown locally across 33 hectares of fields.

The work is entirely volunteer-driven. In the final days before the event, residents young and old attach each bloom by hand, in a meticulous process known as prikken en tikken. A children’s parade two weeks later ensures the tradition is passed on to new generations.

Recognised in 2012 as part of the Netherlands’ Intangible Cultural Heritage, the parade now attracts 70,000 visitors annually. Beyond the Sunday spectacle, floats remain on display the following day, with guided “Corsotour” visits to the build tents offering a behind-the-scenes view.

The Zundert Flower Parade is more than artistry in bloom — it is a living symbol of community, heritage, and the extraordinary power of teamwork.

Amanda Anisimova

Dear Amanda,

My heart ached watching you at Wimbledon. I didn't expect that moment to unfold the way it did—for you to freeze, for the stage to become so cruel. You seemed like such a simple, sincere girl, someone who carries a quiet flame rather than a roaring fire. You had the game. You just needed the mind to hold it steady when everything around you began to slip.

When your serve was broken so easily, and the match started running away, I saw something deeper than nerves. I saw a young woman who had worked so hard, who had probably overcome more than we know, standing in front of the world—suddenly unsure if she belonged. And then you cried. Not because you were weak, but because you cared. Because you reached for something great and the moment didn't offer you grace.

Some people laughed. Some questioned how you got to the final. But I didn't. I saw how far you’d come. Not just through the draw—but through life, as the daughter of immigrants, without the full entourage, without the privileges others take for granted. You came with what you had. You played with your heart. And you made it all the way to Centre Court. That is not nothing. That is courage.

You are not a failure. You are not a fluke. You are a fighter who happened to fall. And I pray you rise again, not just for trophies—but for your own beautiful, quiet redemption. I’ll be watching not for the titles, but for your spirit. You’ve already shown the world what perseverance looks like. One day, you’ll show them what triumph looks like too.

Come back stronger, Amanda. Some of us still believe. Always have.

With care,

A friend from afar who was moved by your tears.

Jesus Revolution

“I really think you’re looking for an excuse to be unhappy”

– Cathe to Greg

This line lands hard—Cathe (Anna Grace Barlow) sees Greg’s (Joel Courtney) hunger for truth tangled up in the shadows of his family life. Raised by an alcoholic mother Charlene (Kimberly Williams - Paisley) and abandoned by his father, Greg learns to crave stability and meaning. But without a strong anchor—like a father’s guidance or a mother’s steady love—he drifts, seeking belonging wherever he can find it.

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Review: Jesus Revolution — When Hippies Found Heaven

Directed by Brent McCorkle & Jon Erwin | Based on the book by Greg Laurie & Ellen Santilli Vaughn | Screenplay by Ellen Vaughn, John Gunn, John Erwin.

Starring: Joel Courtney, Jonathan Roumie, Kelsey Grammer, Anna Grace Barlow

Cinematography by Akis Konstantakopoulos

Composer: Brent Mccorkle

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Cathe’s challenge is more than a romantic scolding—it’s a mirror held up to Greg’s pain. She’s saying, “Are you truly seeking God, or are you using your fractured past as an excuse to remain unhappy?” That moment cuts to the heart of why many hippies of the late ’60s turned to drugs and novel movements—they were searching for what traditional structures couldn’t offer.

The film repeatedly echoes how family breakdowns—divorce, alcoholism, absentee parents left a generation of youth spiritually hungry and emotionally adrift. Greg’s mother is consumed by heartbreak in a cycle of drinking, and Cathe’s stable background contrasts sharply with his chaos. That juxtaposition deepens the audience’s empathy for both characters. It shows how family trauma can drive someone—intentionally or not—to chase fulfillment in places that only numb the hurt, like acid or communal rebellion.

As the film and many critics note, the hippie movement was often marked by “searching for the right things in all the wrong places” LSD, free love, and music festivals offered fleeting highs, but rarely lasting answers. Jesus Revolution captures this dynamic: passionate scenes of acid trips and overdose fallout (like Cathe’s sister nearly dying) highlight how quickly “freedom” slides into self-destruction.

Enter Lonnie Frisbee (Jonathan Roumie) and Pastor Chuck Smith (Kelsey Grammer), symbols of a radical spiritual rebellion. They flip the narrative: instead of searching externally, they invite the broken to find healing in a community of grace and forgiveness. The film shows how this shift from self-medication to spiritual awakening provided genuine hope where drugs failed.

Mass baptisms in the Pacific are powerful visual reminders: baptism didn't just symbolize conversion, it embodied clean living, forgiveness, and communal embrace.

The movie thoughtfully captures how broken homes and spiritual voids propelled a generation into chaos and into hope via faith. That dialogue between Greg and Cathe crystallizes the core conflict: searching outward before healing inward. It’s a timeless reminder that real revolution starts within—and sometimes it begins with admitting: “Yes, I’m looking for truth, but maybe it’s time to seek it honestly.”

The whole of the movement is held together by the band 'Love Song'who weren't just a band, they were the first chords of a new kind of revolution.

In a world where long hair and bare feet once walked away from churches, 'Love Song’s' melodies brought them right back to the cross but this time with guitars and soul-searching honesty.

Emerging from the heart of the Jesus Movement, their music gave language to restless spirits who had tasted the world’s promises and found them hollow.

They sang of grace, forgiveness, and hope not with hymns wrapped in stained glass, but with the raw, earthy sound of rock and folk that spoke the language of the streets.

Their songs turned coffeehouses, beaches, and makeshift churches into holy ground.

For a generation that had tuned in, turned on, and dropped out — Love Song helped them tune in to something real, something eternal. The film captures beautifully captures the essence of the band. 

They weren’t just performers — they were fellow wanderers who had found their way home.

The distant ripple of Normandy at Kochi

The Distant Ripple of Normandy at Kochi

D-Day Remembrance | June 6

On this day, long ago, the winds and the birds that blew and flew over Normandy felt and heard not just the sounds of war, but also the heavy hope of a world yearning for peace.

Though thousands of miles away from those bloodied beaches, the impact of D-Day was deeply felt even in small colonial towns like Kochi, nestled along the Malabar Coast.

On the shores of Normandy, France, over 156,000 Allied soldiers—from the United States, United Kingdom, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and Free French forces—landed under relentless fire. Many were barely out of their teens. They began that day not knowing if they'd live to see its end.

They did not fight for conquest. They fought through terror, steel, and fire to end the long night that fascism had cast over the world.

In 1944, Kochi was part of British India, tied closely to the fate of the Allied war effort. Families here waited anxiously for news—of sons, brothers, cousins—serving on faraway fronts. War updates crackled through All India Radio, arrived late on newspapers from Bombay, Madras, and Calcutta, and sometimes came in the form of fragile letters from the front that took weeks to arrive.

The Port of Kochi, strategically vital during the war, stood on high alert. Ships came and went. Supplies were loaded. British officers paced its piers. And the people of Kochi—shopkeepers, fishermen, schoolteachers—lived their days under the long shadow of a war that had reached their shores without ever dropping a bomb.

Today, we do not glorify war. We remember the cost of freedom.

Their bravery didn’t just shape the course of World War II—it gave us back the world we know today.

They died with names we may never know, but they live on in every quiet morning, every free election, every child laughing in peace.
Because of their courage, the war did not last another year.
Because of their sacrifice, millions more were spared.

Many young men from Kochi and across India served on multiple war fronts around the world. And back home, their families lived in silent worry, trying to hold together work, faith, and home, clinging to news—any news—that spoke of life.

Let us not reduce their memory to a paragraph in a textbook or a minute’s silence once a year.

Let us live our lives in a way that honours the gift they gave—
a world where peace is possible,
and justice can prevail.

🕯️ We remember them.
🕯️ We thank them.
🕯️ We vow never to forget.

On this day, we also honour the quiet resilience of communities like Kochi that bore the weight of a war fought on many fronts.

The sacrifices made on those distant beaches of Normandy shaped the future even here—
fuelling conversations about freedom and independence that would soon change India forever.