Isherwood

The screenwriter duo of Yuri Zeltser and Cary Bickley took the "best" of what the series JAG had to offer and put together this product. It may not be all that terrible, but unfortunately, the "bad ending" syndrome had to show up here as well. It’s as if the filmmakers didn't realize that it is not necessary to "crush" the viewer with the final five minutes. And they could easily have cut out the combined ten minutes at the end that created one very illogical fact. Director Carl Franklin seems to be struggling with the film. He narrates the plot slowly with completely unnecessary verbosity, although it is true that not too drawn-out but he forgets about the main thing, which is the audience. There's nothing about this film that impresses. The time-honored theme of the U.S. military's foreign screw-ups, the legal wrangling, the weird secrets, the grizzled veteran who manages to pull himself together... No, thank you. Oops, I forgot about the actors. The main trio, Ashley Judd, Morgan Freeman, and Jim Caviezel, try their best, but what good is it to them when they are acting in such a poorly made film? Indeed, High Crimes is the type of bad movie that always makes me realize how good a movie Rules of Engagement, by William Friedkin, is.

The answer to the question of whether Gallipoli is a bad war film is not all that clear-cut. Peter Weir is one of those filmmakers who have a brilliant command of both form and content, and that's why I was unpleasantly surprised by Gallipoli. Indecision is the main stumbling block of the entire film. For an hour and a half, Weir indecisively narrates about the theme "war is foolish," juxtaposing an idealist with a realist and letting it all unfold slowly in the very blatantly cheap setting of the endless Australian desert. In the last half hour, as if the budget had miraculously increased in size, he heads to Turkey and tries to achieve pure war action. However, unfortunately, it is not very war-like, and it's not so much about giving off a cheap impression, but rather that this material does not suit Weir at all, and he handles it quite indecisively and awkwardly. And yet there is a strong directorial involvement throughout. The "idea" of conveying the horrors and cruelty of war is what he wanted to express, but the presentation's form fluctuates, and not even the excellent performance by Mel Gibson in the lead role can change that.

Screenwriter Steven Knight and director Stephen Frears succeeded in perfectly tarnishing the "purity" of tourist London. Knight wrote one of the most original and darkest screenplays, in which he sharply delves into the issues of immigrants and illegal migrants. The atypical story of a Nigerian refugee and a Turkish "traveler's dream" portrays the harsh life of these people, who not only confront their own past but also a cruel present and an uncertain future. Presenting this material to the storyteller of gloomy tales, director Frears, turned out to be an excellent choice. Frears tells the story at a fast pace, pulling the viewer along with him into the action. However, the pace and narrative content is the director's main stumbling block. Frears is "just" telling a story, the characters have no dimension that would allow us to fully understand them. Just ask yourself where Okwe got so many willing friends or how he managed to get so close to Senay, who is a typical Turkish Muslim woman, i.e., almost "allergic" to men. To convey all of this, the film could have used an additional twenty minutes, which every viewer could have easily endured. But you know what? You won't care about any of this when you watch it. Frears is precisely the type of storyteller who can captivate the audience and make them forget about everything else. Accompanied by Nathan Larson's unusual synths, he will tell you what you didn't need to hear and what you didn't want to see. Despite the slightly creaky, almost fairytale-like ending - which, however, has a very non-fairytale form - there is no reason not to reward the film with a perfect review. Rightfully so? Maybe... I guess? Yes.

As a novice with only a tiny fraction of the Coen brothers' filmography passing through my hands – moreover, the least pivotal works – I sometimes felt like Alice in Wonderland while watching The Man Who Wasn't There. The script is ordinary at first glance, "dabbling" in all sorts of brackish waters, but as a whole it totally unique. The film is filled with plot twists, with each situation leading to a contrary outcome from the established logic. Director Joel Coen presents everything in a slow, retro style reminiscent of post-war America in the 1940s. He acts as a meticulous guide, pausing with the audience in each scene and offering a detailed analysis of the characters and their diverse personalities. Ed's description of meeting his wife - including the "pause" - is brilliant. Behind the camera, Roger Deakins works with his instrument just like his predecessors from the 1940s, and when combined with the subtle piano music, you'll regret not living in that era. Actually no, you won't regret it, because the austere description of Ed's life will disgust many a viewer. I know that Billy Bob Thornton is an excellent actor, but only here did I have to prove to myself that he is ultra-brilliant. With a perpetually lit cigarette, he walks, talks, and acts in such a stylish manner that you feel like inviting that guy for a drink, over which you both would vent about life. The Man Who Wasn't There is exactly the kind of film that turns zero expectations into gold. More of this!

Basic was supposed to be a comeback for both Johns McTiernan and Travolta. Well, neither of them made it back into the spotlight with this film. But finding the culprit is a little more complicated. The idea of screenwriter James Vanderbilt was not bad at all. The various combinations of one theme - the death of a despised officer - leave ample room for the audience's imagination and contemplation, only to be ultimately shocked by the "twist" at the end. I would like to say that I "swallowed it hook, line, and sinker," but that wasn't the case. No, I really didn't guess the final scene, but I also wasn't given the opportunity to do so. The barrage of flashbacks, where testimonies, events, and even characters change, didn't glue me to my seat. About half an hour before the end, I completely gave up on the whole resolution of the case, and without much interest, I let the film sail to the "end," which, after the whole escapade of making fun of the audience, feels more like a precisely aimed slap in the face than a real "shock." Director McTiernan also doesn’t get away unscathed with a pass saying, "it's all the screenplay's fault." The opening foray into the jungle is so reminiscent of Predator that it brings tears of emotion to weaker souls. McTiernan definitely knows how to handle action, but in this film, there is not enough of it – after all, it is a "detective drama" – and he has never been one for too much blabbing. The characters are introduced quickly, but so briefly that I only realized after the end credits that the only truly standout performance was by Samuel L. Jackson as the leader of the West team because he was a real bastard. I would like to write more about other characters, but how can I write about someone when I don't remember them the day after watching the movie? John Travolta reprised his role from The General's Daughter but this time, he seemed even more tired and overacted quite a bit. When he casually laid his not-so-young body on the table during an interrogation, it made me feel strong discomfort in my stomach. Connie Nielsen seems to be afraid of Travolta and in his presence, she retreats into the background and recites her learned lines without a hint of interest. Basic isn't actually a bad movie, it's just poorly acted and badly and tediously directed. After fixing all these flaws, we’d have a "military investigative drama" that fits perfectly. I’m giving it three stars mainly because I also gave them to West's The General's Daughter, and besides, this film is slightly worse than McTiernan's latest work, which is not a victory for John either. Actually, for neither of them.

To the accompaniment of hip-hop and rock, American "niggas" and Taiwanese clash under the guidance of a Polish director. So is this a multinational action movie or what? The intellectually engaged viewer will answer no, while the one who turns off their brain just before starting the movie won't care at all. Acclaimed cinematographer Andrzej Bartkowiak belongs to the category of "producer filmmakers." They don't care what they are filming - it can be anything - as long as they are filming "something." Jet Li, DMX, and stolen black diamonds. Yes, the story is exactly as the previous three clues suggest. I'm tempted to say that it's not about the story, that it's all about the action, but that's not the case with Cradle 2 the Grave. It's not that the action lacks creativity and pace, but there's not as much of it as an action film should have. Despite Jet Li taking the lead role, there is surprisingly little martial arts action in the film, and considering that the "niggas" are armed, the gunfights are also quite scarce. But whenever I remember any scene, I can recall it very precisely. Angry Dobermans, a wrestling arena, or a quad bike. It's not easy to forget, but the fact that I want to remember more is insistent. Jet Li's (non)acting is something I've become accustomed to. DMX is one of those rappers who can also somewhat act. He probably won't get an Oscar, but he doesn't have to worry about the Golden Raspberry either. The quirky, wisecracking character of Tommy played by Anthony Anderson is fantastic. So what if the chances of him actually acting are probably as likely as him losing at least 100 pounds? Even though Cradle 2 the Grave is "just" a disposable action film and it is not advisable to think about it, it barely reaches an average rating because even in this genre, it definitely isn’t among the best, which is a bit surprising considering the director's name.

Real folk entertainment, the pinnacle of bad taste, or just a reflection of societal wit in the realm of folk humor? When I gave Bad Joke 2 two stars, I had a glimmer of hope for better times. However, Zdeněk Troška presents irrefutable evidence of his directorial impotence. No, he's not a bad director because of what he films, but because of how he films. For an hour and three-quarters, I was incredulously shaking my head at how someone could juxtapose absolutely brilliant jokes with the most dull and unfunny ones. He cut the branch under himself that had the strongest structure of the entire (thankfully, very poor) tree. Of course, there may not be much of a story, but there is definitely a solid central point to the whole narrative. With surprisingly coherent decency, the film presents jokes about gypsies, but immediately afterward (un)intentionally pushes the envelope when it awkwardly confronts the moralizing subtext about the Czech attitude towards this ethnic minority. No, the state of society is not what he managed to present in his film, even though he clearly intended to do so. He will be criticized for this, because he was trying to tell something he couldn't. But the anger and resentment also give way to jokes that fill the remaining part of the "film." Their quality can be doubted just as well as the director's execution. Perhaps if Troška had taken the camera and gone for a little walk around Prague, he might have captured much more humor than what the actors recited in front of the camera. There’s nothing left to do but cry. Perhaps only Josef Laufer deserves special praise for his perfect Leo Kohn, although not everyone can stand his endless lamenting. To summarize, it seems that despite Troška bringing jokes to the film that were missing in the previous two installments, he crossed the line between awkwardness and humor at completely different moments than he intended. Let's hope he's done with this topic for good, even though his reflections on serious projects evoke even more goosebumps than the fact that Bad Joke 4 is on its way with new jokes that have never been seen before.

To look at the socially very hot topic pedophilia through the camera's viewfinder without shunning or condemning anyone involved is almost impossible. Director Nicole Kassell firmly sticks to the original foundation of the film, which lies in the theatrical play, by keeping the whole thing unfolding in minimally elaborate exteriors and relying on the actors to do most of the work. Moreover, she managed to maintain an independent, professional, almost documentary-like perspective on the whole topic, in which she did not try to side with either of the parties involved. Surprisingly, the main rivals are not pedophiles and children, but rather a pedophile released from prison after 12 years and the parents who oppose him, who (perhaps rightly, perhaps full of prejudice) do not want to allow the criminal to return to society. However, definitely don't expect a sweet and sentimental fairy tale about a reformed poor man who is mistreated by everyone. Walter, in a breathtaking performance by Kevin Bacon, is perhaps a victim of himself - maybe he truly hates himself, and perhaps he genuinely wants to change for the better, but he is still THE ONE responsible for IT. Yet even the parents are not confined to the boxes of "those who refuse to give someone a chance" and "those who fiercely protect their indirectly endangered children." They are also people for whom the viewer can find understanding in their actions. The biggest problem with the film, however, is the lack of coherence in some of the hastily-covered themes and scenes. In spite of its unhealthily short length of eighty minutes, it is also apparent from many of the shots that director Kassell has purposely stretched them out to achieve at least a minimum runtime. The flashbacks "leading nowhere" or long and explicit sexual scenes (of course, among adults) give more than an overtly staged impression of a concocted mess. There is a persistent feeling that someone didn't want everything that should have been in the film to appear. The producers? The censors? Who knows? Even so, The Woodsman is a film that tells a story about something that hasn't been done before (or maybe it has, but I don't have that much knowledge), and it tells it pretty damn well.

As a marketing tool, the Oscar Award is ideal, but as the ultimate measure of film quality, it is definitely not. Sideways had the potential to outshine precisely executed but overly ambitious projects like The Aviator and the award-winning Million Dollar Baby. This was the film that had the power to make that universally accepted standard of quality fall into its hands. But it was too small, fundamentally too ordinary, and at first glance, it went, quite fittingly to its name, too sideways. The screenwriting duo of Alexander Payne and Jim Taylor took the most stereotypical route to the theme of a bachelor party. The move, which is not at all abnormal in a time when there is nothing else to do but revamp the old and give it a stamp of novelty and originality, is slightly risky from Payne and Taylor, but it paid off many times over. At least those two won an Oscar for it. Perhaps it was the desire of the screenwriters to cram something new, unconventional, and especially atypical into the film, or a deliberately aimed symbol in which the tragicomic fate of the film's characters could be reflected. Wine, for an American, is probably as natural a drink as Kentucky whiskey is for a Frenchman. And yet, in the film, wine tasting seems perfectly natural, as if it were an everyday affair for every American. It smells pleasant, a little sour to taste, then comes the sharp taste of alcohol, and when you drink too much, it can give you a headache. "In vino veritas" and Sideways is like the wine. The long search for love, and yet it's not a romance, plenty of humorous situations, and yet it's not a comedy. Besides good ideas, Sideways also respectfully borrows from every genre a certain amount of perspective, from which you can see just enough for a happy-looking ending, depending on who you ask, it must be added. Moreover, "Payne the director" is a completely different person than "Payne the writer." He carefully avoids all the pitfalls of the genres from which he respectfully borrowed and doesn't burden the viewer with conversational boredom or indulge in jumping from one gag to another, and heaven forbid, playing on a romantic string. Payne sticks to everything in moderation, but not in an awkward way. Also, all established Hollywood stars should respectfully kneel in front of the performances delivered by the central quartet in this film. And for Thomas Haden Church to lose in an Oscar race to a standard-issue Morgan Freeman? He really didn't deserve that. Sideways not winning (I deliberately don't want to use the word "losing") the Oscar may not be the harshest crime of the Academy, but it will definitely take me a while to accept it.

Lately, I feel like we've finally seen the end of teen comedies that involve pooping, puking, and I don't know what else, just to make the target audience have a great time. But is that really a good thing? Perhaps the critics will stop tearing their hair out and the audience will have to get used to it. The fact is that when a female director tackles this genre, it will probably be something truly exceptional. Writer and director Amy Heckerling takes pride in her strong romantic storyline. Be that as it may, the romantic escapades of the dorky Jason Biggs (Jim from American Pie) and Mena Suvari (Kevin Spacey’s blonde nympho from American Beauty) are surprisingly enjoyable not only for female viewers. The story won't anger or offend anyone, but at the same time, it won't leave anything but a strange aftertaste like, "Yeah, I’ve seen something like this before, but I can't remember it anymore." I don't have amnesia, but five minutes after it ended I could only recall a few key scenes that will be gone from my head completely within a week at the latest. Maybe that's the intention...