DaViD´82

It continues in the style set by Shin Godzilla; that is, a procedural satire that can weave in the bureaucratic processes of government institutions as well as paying retro homage to classic kaiju battles. The first half hour actually could work as a direct sequel to that film, it has the same “viewer unfriendly” static overhead shots of people sitting at computers (one sentence shot from the floor, with a blurry office chair taking up most of the frame and only the top corner containing the object of interest, followed by a cut to the next sentence to a shot as if under a monitor in front of a keyboard, etc.). In the second plane, kaiju battles, with seemingly awful CGI effects, but following in the footsteps of the classics with models and costumed dudes. But from the end of the second Ultraman appearance onwards it goes downhill, unless you are a die-hard Ultraman fanboy. If, like me, you're not, it will turn into a childishly naive episode from the original Doctor Who about aliens playing with planet Earth, secret organizations, nature, governments; and it’s boring. In fact, if it wasn't for the opening half hour, it would be more likely that Higuchi is not up to the task without Anna. Thus the fault lies purely with the uninitiated viewer, who lacks the context for proper fan appreciation.

Two commissions, two ambivalent narcissists and a lot of tensions, things left unsaid and affecting history. Unexpectedly emotional and working with characters for a Nolan film. Spectacular in all its intimacy, transparent in all the time-playing frenzy of characters, names, and events. Three hours of dialogue condensed into what feels like a much shorter running time. The tangibility of it all, the acting, Göransson's score, the editing... Everything is at the highest bar, but that's no the reason to love it. The reason is how it totally nails it, how it grapples the issue in an unscholarly way asking the big questions of life, and how damn good it is as a film.

An anime road movie about a journey through Japan from the south to the north and about meeting people and the adolescent self-discovery of a girl who doesn't quite know what to do with herself, her emotions and her loved ones. And by the way, in the second mythological plane, it's about fighting earthquake-causing giant tentacles, and that is the biggest problem with the film. On one level, it is melancholically intimate and relies on characters and emotions. On on the other, it's overwrought, especially during the monumental finale, which, however, doesn't clash with the rest of the film in style and delivery at all. And so, rather than the fight over the fiery plains, the most impressive thing in the finale is the emotional “passing of the wooden chair”.

It opens up important issues, such as the disruption of ecosystems (is it really disruption?) and the role of the "common man" in it. Is it right to protect a once highly endangered species even when it begins to flourish in one particular area and disrupts the established order? How to coexist with an overpopulation of seals (or seals merely returning to original numbers not remembered in the area by the current generation) that threaten the livelihoods of fishermen and attract man-eating great white sharks to the shores of tourist-dependent holiday areas, yet both seals and sharks remain untouchable? Is it right that a decades-old law that does not reflect the current situation is still in force? Is the safety of the people, a declining local economy or the protection of nature worth the price? Where does that fine line lie? And can it be balanced so that all this coexists instead of "either you or them"? Those issues are important, but the people behind this film have not extracted anything from them. They slide too much on the surface, giving space to every view, but none properly, which is a pity, as they chose the respondents and objects of interest well. The scene around the carcass of the humpback whale and the gradual packing up of "all those involved" is the most bearing and telling. It is worth watching, because even if the film doesn’t look for answers to its own questions and arguments, you can think about them over a beer and chat afterwards.

“Dude, it would be weird to work in a restaurant and not completely lose your mind.” A pressure cooker of emotions, insecurities, ambitions, characters, depression, food, joys, self-destructive behaviour patterns, anxieties and the enslaving daily routine in the "kitchen behind the scenes". All this in a frenetic, adrenaline-fuelled guise (it's constantly in motion, everything and everyone is spinning, five dialogues running over each other, etc.), but it's always first and foremost about the characters. The way they are handled, and how Storer wasn't afraid to do a 180 degree turn for the second series and still stay true to the concept – respect! It feels like an indie film from the 1990s, with Sorkin on steroids writing the dialogue. Despite all the cinephile allusions (Storer isn't afraid to repeatedly make it known how big a fan of Michael Mann and Ridley Scott he is), it's idiosyncratic, haunting, captivating. And despite (or because of) all the adrenaline, chaos and emotions, it can take you by the heart and devastate you as well as make you smile. | S1: 5/5 | S2: 5/5 |

The collaboration of the McQuarrie-Cruise duo is a well-established brand promising a modern take on old-school action in an edgy, thrilling and adrenaline-fuelled setting, and that is absolutely true this time as well. Many things could be praised, but the best way to describe it is that even though we've seen chases through ancient buildings in a small car or action in an out-of-control train countless times, the way it is paced, plotted and delivered here is both breathtaking and riveting in a way that will make you sweat your shirt off from the sheer dodging and clenching of fists. A genre film that defines (though does not redefine) the genre to the core. Too bad about the apparent lack of closure and the bland villain. Hats off and pure enthusiastic curiosity about where they want to take it in the finale.

Amazing “single-take” scenes, solid stunt choreography (pity about the blatant CGI in the explosions, crashes, etc., though), without any bollocks, dialogue outbursts or wisecracks during the action; it just rolls along at an exciting pace. And with sheer action filling well over half the running time, there is undeniably much to be genuinely excited about. But... It trips over its own feet with the opening and the ending. The first action set-piece happens in the 20th minute, and all that mandatory “let’s pretend we have a story and characters” filler would be sorted out in five minutes in a timeless action flick. Also, the climax has the problem that the final showdown (itself solid) is significantly overshadowed by all the previous action passages.

“Never have I seen such a maelstrom of bad taste and sheer magic.” Two feature films in one, each about something different. One is riveting, bold, frantic, brash; like a Mad Max: Fury Road of the film industry during the silent era. The other is also very good, but classic in themes and concept. It's about nostalgia for bygone times, inevitable progress and the love of cinema. Both are superb, though each in their own way. The first is an ocean liner better, for it is purely Chazelle's. The latter, for all its qualities, comes across as "merely" Chazelle's respectful homage to Sunset Blvd., Cinema Paradiso and the like. The worst thing for both films, however, is that they pretend to be one, which doesn’t help either of them.

A cut of soliloquies with greats reverently remembering a great. It's not entirely about Leone, it's not entirely about his body of work, it's not entirely about his legacy, it's not entirely about his influence on world cinema, it's not entirely about nostalgic memories and "set stories", it's not entirely about personal aspects. Basically, it’s like a shallow tour of Leone’s world. Useful only for someone who has no idea that Leone ever existed, that he had some of the best cinema to his credit and left behind a distinctive style that influenced many.

"Where she dies is where we stay." A riveting standalone prequel to the Sheridan-Verse. Two decades after the end of the Civil War, a rough journey of a few pilgrims in search of the dream of a new home or beginning. A journey through a captivating inhospitable landscape where dog eats dog, where uncrossable predatory rivers or lack of resources are the lesser of the constant challenges and obstacles. An uncompromising western of a journey through the wilderness. So excellent that it is all the more disappointing that almost every episode has superfluous filler. Watchable, solid, but useless and not deepening or serving anything. If it was condensed into seven or eight episodes, there would be no reservations. Anyway, everything that we like (or dislike) about Sheridan is here by the handful.