POMO

Django turned upside down. An odyssey into the emotional and mental state that results from the loss of dignity and absolute humiliation, quietly conveyed in wide-angle shots of marshy Louisiana with music by Hans Zimmer that is reminiscent of his score for The Thin Red Line (Williams’s strings would have worked better here). The unimaginative but “safe” Hollywood narrative template keeps the film unnecessarily tame and moves it away from the original character we had hoped for from the film’s director, Steve McQueen. He made a huge mistake by casting the likeable Fassbender in the key and most complex role of the sadistic, evil and weak Epps. Even Benedict Cumberbatch would have been a better fit for this paraphrase of the character of Amon Goeth (Ralph Fiennes) from Schindler’s List and, with a more believable embodiment of ultimate human evil, the last third of the film escalating in the final flogging could have been the most powerful movie moment of the year.

The new Jack Ryan wants to be Ethan Hunt and Jason Bourne, but he won’t even get close to Peacemaker. This spy thriller made in 2014 does not have a single action attraction, interesting location or unexpected twist. Obviously, there should have been respect and fear of the main bad guy, when even a scene involving an attempt to hack his computer would create suspense. But it doesn’t work. It is clear to the viewer that such a cookie-cutter scenario would not dare hurt Jack’s sweetheart. For Kenneth Branagh, it was a simple and lucrative Hollywood job, where he got money for both direction and the role of the villain, and that’s all. Let’s move on.

This independent American film project similar to Leaving Las Vegas or Boys Don’t Cry is based on a story about an interesting outsider and his excellent portrayal. Exploring the personality of the main character in detail, it is a captivating movie experience that doesn’t let you turn your eyes away from the screen. The transformation of McConaughey’s Ron Woodroof from an arrogant chauvinist redneck into an understanding and desperate, yet persistent fighter for not just his life is the most powerful character study of recent years. The creators of this movie are modest, minimalist, do not rely on acting eccentricities or technical and visual enhancements; they focus only on telling the story by the most classic means, with an open and sensitive approach to the topic. The film is fantastically written and directed. In terms of morality, Woodroof is the exact opposite of Jordan Belfort and I’m afraid that DiCaprio has no chance against McConaughey with the Academy.

A retro farce with great costumes that nonetheless unfolds at a sluggish pace and is full of actors showing off unnecessarily. I consider American Hustle far from masterfully directed. On the contrary, at such a slow pace, it is striking that the ambitious plot disintegrates in the tangle of character motivations that got out of hand. But would you do any better if there was a scantily clad Amy Adams prancing around your set? The acting performances are fantastic, however. Christian Bale tries hard, but Jennifer Lawrence turns in the best performance here. Amy Adams is super-hot (let’s be honest – would you be able to restrain yourself in the bathroom scene?) and the icing on the cake is the unexpected Mr. “XY” from Miami in the best mafia role in recent memory. With his appearance, the pace picks up a little. The nomination for best film and director was probably secured by Bale’s necklace.

I’ve been struggling with Walter Mitty, even after watching it for the second time on the big screen. It has beautiful landscapes, an upbeat soundtrack and a positive mood. But when I stop to look at it intellectually, it seems like a coloring book that doesn’t make much sense and its message about life is too half-baked and insubstantial to be more than an exotic yet forgettable family flick. Walter Mitty sees the world through the eyes of a carefree and cheerful child with no real life experience.

If I was a director, I’d rather shoot nothing than these harmless banal flicks blatantly advocating positive values, which would end up with a “TV film” label if it wasn’t for the expensive cast. The four acting aces are of course super likable, but the story’s too lame for words.

Kevin Hart as a chatty black sidekick is more unbearable than any other chatty black sidekick before him. But if you set him aside, Grudge Match is a clichéd but funny, well-balanced feel-good chill-out movie, which you might find even touching in places. And that’s all I remember from it, so two weeks after my initial evaluation I’m decreasing my rating from four to a strong three stars.

I can’t wrap my head around the fact that one of the most significant European filmmakers (producer Luc Besson) put his signature on such a script.

The introduction is OK. The middle – and longest – survival part of the film is stunning, visually well-arranged and efficiently conveyed, with several chillingly brutal scenes. The climax is ridiculously simplistic political propaganda for the average US viewer. Overall, Lone Survivor is good film for relaxation, but it will sink into oblivion as fast as all of Peter Berg’s action flicks.

The first two-thirds of the second Nymphomaniac retain the power of the first film and, with the sadistic “Mr. K”, increases the audience’s discomfort to risky heights. But the final, “criminal” third raises the suspicion that Lars von Trier either didn’t know how to appropriately and meaningfully finish his work or he was overruled by the producers, who aimed for the biggest box-office profits possible (the absence of Shia LaBeouf in the role of Jerome, while all the others actors reprised their roles, suggests that the last third was filmed as an afterthought, after his contract expired). Finally, the last scene of the film is a bad joke, a slap with a glove full of coins that Nymphomaniac earned also by being split into two parts. In said scene, Trier completely (and unnecessarily) destroyed Stellan Skarsgård’s Seligman, a very important character for the story.