The Duke

But honestly, how can one NOT want to go out and try to make the world a better a better place after seeing this film?
It was cast excellently. A solid mix of amazing knowns, and newer faces who held their own. Directed by Roger Mitchell, who adored Jim Broadbent, and Broadbent adored him. Unfortunately, Mitchell passed away right before his film premiered.
Based on a true story, the idea was originally proposed by Kempton Bunton’s (played by Broadbent) real son. Set in a small English town in the early 60s. At the time, anyone who owned a TV with the capability of receiving the BBC channel, was required to pay for a license to watch it. Bunton whole heartedly believed that pensioners had worked hard enough and shouldn’t have to pay for this license. To the point of sitting at a booth in the rain, to actual jail time.
The rebellion is obviously a message for greater injustices. The 60s, while full of free love and aloofness, was also a time of incredible cries for justice and equality.
Don’t believe that this film is some serious, stand for what is right. It is an absolute romp. I may have been the only non-silver in the theater, but I laughed through the whole thing. Bunton is portrayed as a ridiculous, unfiltered, lover of life. He is also a writer. Writing such incredible ideas as, what if Jesus had been a woman? His play, about a woman named Susan Christ.. Broadbent did his character such justice, and then some.
And while the license requirement WAS eventually abolished for pensioners, it happened long after Bunton had passed.
Watch the film, and feel the fire in your belly to stand up for what you believe in, unapologetically, no matter how small it may be.

The girl who kept her heart behind a glass door in her chest

There once was a young woman, whose skin was hard and silver, and whose heart was made of precious stone. She kept it behind a glass door in her chest, and at night it would glow like the full moon at midnight. She lived deep in the forest where she danced to the music of the breeze blowing through the leaves and the laughter of the gently, flowing creek. Each night under the smiling moon, her skin would sparkle like diamonds, and her heart would shine like the bright, Northern star. And each night, men would come to the forest, drawn to her, intrigued by her light. And she would open the glass door in her chest for their pleasure, and she would feel so alive. 

But as the night began to lose to the dawn, the bright sun would push the moon away, and dim the glow of her heart. And the men, drawn stronger to the warm and encompassing sun that brought the world to life, would shut the glass door in her chest, and leave her. 

And each time the door shut; a crack would form across her heart. Until finally it had become so fragile, she feared to open the door ever again. 

She locked the glass door in her chest and sat down on a low rock. She sat while the moon danced in the sky with the sun, while one season acquiesced to the next. She sat while the leaves fell from the branches, and the creek was lulled to sleep. She sat as the air grew cold, and frost began to cover her hard and silver skin. 

And as the moon held dominion over the sky, a man came through the forest. He was drawn to her frozen, still form. Such a woman, with fallen leaves all around her, staring towards a creek that didn’t flow. Such a woman, whose silver skin had become tarnished and covered in frost. Such a woman, whose heart was locked behind a glass door in her chest. 

His warm thumb drew a trail through the frost on her cheek, and he thought, if such a woman were to dance under a smiling moon.. (unfinished)