DaViD´82

The Leftovers are similar to the French Les Revenants. It is also about the consequences of the mysterious phenomenon that affected ordinary people and about losing it and coping with it; whether the characters were influenced directly or indirectly. It is also heavy, intimate, psycho(logical), inconsolably melancholic and very depressing, about people who are fucked up in one way or another, but do not live a life, but rather simply exist without the prospect of a better future. And everyone has a legitimate reason for this (and we gradually find out all about it). It's entirely about living characters that you will give a damn about. If you expect or perhaps demand a replacement for Lost (and it is true that on paper the combination of Lindelof and the “two percent of the population" being missing may raise these expectations) in other words a series that is in the box of mysterious sci-fi, which deals with "how and why", I would rather recommend you to watch FlashForward because you will not find out and it was not even the intention of the creators. In any case, the creators made full use of the original idea and they managed to create the impression that "if two random percent of the world's population inexplicably vanished overnight, three years later this will be the plight of ordinary people in small town USA". Everyone will seek an answer, whether in the church, in different cults that are rapidly emerging, in nihilism, in drugs, conspiracies or in pretending that "nothing had happened". The credibility of science fiction (if you insist on calling this science fiction) is in seemingly insignificant details, in matters not explicitly stated, but incorporated in such a way that create a functioning society. And in this respect, The Leftovers is unrivaled; whether you take the movie as science fiction, satire on the American dream or perhaps an allegory of the world after 9/11, The Leftovers are convincing. And it’s unrivaled in other respect too… In emotional experience; you won’t find another so non-superficial (perhaps nowhere else than in HBO's production would the brave step not to make episode nine the pilot not have been approved; it makes perfect sense, because it's much more impressive and overwhelming) emotion-drainer anywhere. Season two and three then unexpectedly and nicely change the style, even the genre to some extent and the overall focus. It is indisputable that these seasons are a lot tighter, much more is happening (and it makes sense), this pure "cinema" at the peak of serial production, it draws on your emotions like nothing you’ve ever encountered and so I can’t fault it one bit. But personally, I somehow liked more the first season about ordinary people from the middle of nowhere rather than the other two about people (seemingly and from their point of view) in the center of all "existential" events. In any case, all the seasons are magnificent and so unique that you will not find anything like it. The finale scene is simply excellent and aptly follows the essence of the whole series in terms of "the necessity of any kind of answer, even a cheap religious (or not) explanation, within us, versus the impossibility of answers and eternal uncertainty". | S1: 5/5 | S2: 4/5 | S3: 4/5

It could be watchable (the plot is sturdy enough, progress uncompromising and it looks great) if only you could listen to it. Which, I dare say, you can’t. A series where the characters do not speak, but all their communication on principle consists of shouting from the top of their lungs. A series where, from the top of their lungs, the characters bellow abuse, full of pathos. A series where, by bellowing abuse full of pathos from top of their lungs, the characters on principle cry out things that are already patently obvious on the basis of past events. In practice, it’s like this: character A shouts for five minutes about how and why he or she feels like they do (a fact which viewers already know from what they have seen so far) only for character B to pick up on it seamlessly and start a shouting match of touching grief for another five minutes. And even though they both scream away for ten minutes straight they just don’t say anything at all! And on top of all this they all behave like brainless asses, which wouldn’t be a problem if it didn’t take itself so deadly seriously... Is anybody still surprised that I was totally on the side of the silent titans and wished they would feast on every single character in the slowest possible way, so that each one of the soppy cry-babies would have to endure at least a remotely similarly devastating torture as the one they subjected me to?

A hospital at the turn of the twentieth century in an original series where its biggest strength is also its biggest weakness (well, more like just a weakness) because when Soderbergh took all of the clichés from series set in a medical environment and very consistently, bleakly, uncompromisingly and almost cynically turned them inside out, the moment of surprise is lost because whatever motive or storyline comes up, if you turn it one hundred and eighty degrees against what you would usually expect, and you know exactly what’s going to happen. In any case, this criticism fades in the light of everything else; the production design and the accent on disturbing period details to start with (definitely nothing for a nostalgic romantic “those were the times") and to finish with the acting performance (I wonder if Thackery was inspired by W.S. Halsted). Looking at this purely in terms of filmmaking, this is at the very head of the (not only) series pack. If nothing else, I should mention the operations. Soderbergh presents this crude butchery so realistically, with no embellishments, intensively and originally (the rhythm of the shots!), for my life, I can’t remember when I had to turn my eyes away so often due to feeling squeamish; and it’s not just to do with the explicitness of the shots, but also thanks to the fact that it’s all presented so strictly pragmatically that it’s far more effective than if they were operating with emotional blackmail alone. And a special thanks traditionally belongs to Martinez whose seemingly inappropriate and out of place background music does a whole lot for the series.

It suffers from exactly the same problems as Arrow's earlier episodes (before it became a well-deserved TV comic book leader), but here they're less detrimental. Because where, at first (and in a way to this day), Arrow’s super serious, fateful and dark style clashed with the typical “teenage telenovela bravado" approach of the CW Television Network, The Flash takes a much lighter, classic superhero stylization (it is, in a way, only a slavish variation on the first Raimi Spiderman), which can better withstand the traditional CW ills. Gustin is also quite likable despite the handicap of having facial expressions identical to those of Tereza Kostková. So if Arrow feels like a (mostly successful) effort by CW for a serious approach without superpowers, which DC chooses for its film projects, The Flash has profiled itself in the style in which Marvel pushes its film projects. And (so far) it's not detrimental at all, and in the better moments/episodes it even works in exactly the way it wants to; that is, as a consciously naïve, relaxed comic book of the most classic superhero style in television garb. It just needs more variety in the way the individual episodes are created and, above all, more excellent episodes in the style of the eighth "Flash vs. Arrow".

The mid-life-crisis of a depressed taxi driver. Just imagine: eighteen years of marriage that continues more out of habit than lasting love, a daily routine at work full of assholes in the backseat, kids at that age when they hate you purely on principle, your boss is a haughty idiot who takes his bullshit out on you. And there’s you and your simple nature on the lower rung of the middle-class social ladder surrounded by dubious "pals". No special education, no special ambitions, no special talents worth mentioning. Well, no wonder that when the opportunity arises to become a “slut for everything" for a local gang with a shiny car, you jump right in. Not so much for the cash, but purely for the excitement, to disrupt the relentless routine and maintain sanity. The thing is that after the initial intoxication with new-found "freedom", the voice of common sense cries out "that it would be a good idea to shift into reverse and back out" and you realize that you are in deep shit. Absolutely and utterly... The BBC and other their genre movies combined with a considerable emphasis on social drama and character study of the protagonist. And again it worked and again the main character excels in it (this time David Morrissey). It's not as psycho(logical) as Good Cop, which is another movie of the type mentioned above (although in the end it is something completely different) and maybe in certain parts of the three episodes it might want to step harder on the gas, but “just goddamn good" is nevertheless still goddamn good.

When an author adapts his own (so complex) work for the silver screen, it rarely bodes well because there is too much personal involvement. This doesn’t apply to Flynn, who wasn’t afraid of cutting up and changing her "mirror holding, not-so-much-crime-thriller, satirical, cynical bestseller about relationships" to suit the needs of another medium. So she got rid of everything not directly related to the central storyline. Due to this there is drastically less about those two (and so the main snag with the original book, that these two are puppets who behave according to the momentary needs of the story and that they aren’t living characters, becomes much more apparent) and more about the investigation storyline and the influence of the media on public opinion. And so the movie did include Nick’s unfulfilled ambitions as a writer and Amy’s magazine quizzes in everyday practice. Even the diary entries are edited to the bare minimum; it’s simply whittled down to a stump. And as much as this approach didn’t work in the book, the better it works on the movie screen; especially Fincher’s so apt, coolly depersonalized concept which is taken a level higher by the disquieting hypnotic background music from the Reznor/Ross duo. In any case, the most important parts of the book remained. The evolution of the Nick/Amy relationship is cleverly written, like the best horoscopes. I mean in a way that any couple in a long term relationship can recognize themselves in some respect (I’m talking about the first half here). And in this situation you might take it personally, because this creates the impression that "this could happen to you too". If it isn’t happening already...

Maybe this didn’t have to be so romantic and airy, but then it would have lost that special aura that makes the length of the movie more than bearable. In any case, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that these are two separate movies (one about Yaeger and the other about seven space pioneers - and both excellent!) that don’t really fit together, forcibly combined.

If you are working with material (very loosely) based on true events about a not so well-to-do family starting from zero that sets up the first ever safari park in interwar Britain, you are vulnerable to about 101 pitfalls that can turn it into a shallow, sunny, overly sweet pitcher of lemonade hiding behind cute animals (and you don’t have to go far to see prime examples of this). But this is the BBC, so they of course managed to fight off that peril and did not create a rather naive melodramatic family series, but a series where “family" isn’t a pejorative classification, but a thoroughly flattering one. In essence this is a pleasant, nonconfrontational period series for the whole family in modern (albeit period) narrative style in a way that, in terms of current series, only the Brits have any talent at.

An obvious romance story dressed up as an adventure movie, wrapped in the beauty of the Scottish Highlands. It’s basically vary kitsch, but the type that belongs to its genre and has a place in the system of things. The plot is sturdy, the casting right, sparks fly between the main protagonists and thanks to the extensive production budget it looks and sounds good; on paper it comes across pleasantly. On paper. And that is precisely the problem - I don’t think there is currently any other series that would suffer so much damage due to its literary roots; or rather on the incapability of understanding that this is an audio-visual adaptation and not a radio play. The storytelling takes place ignoring images. Everything (unimportant is imparted by the main protagonist doing a voice-over quoting the original text. This is a millstone dragging it under in twice over; it is being read from a book where it becomes quite clear after a couple of sentences (if you didn’t know yet) that it must have come straight out of a romantic novel (e.g. over the top melodramatic sentences like "I wished it were a dream, but I knew that it wasn’t.") and things are driven to absurdity when we see a character with a sad expression and we already know why she’s looking sad on the basis of what happened previously, but then the voice-over tells us that she is looking sad and why she’s looking sad. The explanatory voice of the heroine even speaks during the sex scene (no ironic quips, but words of wisdom such as "Sex was our bridge back to one another"). This in combination with the nothing doing story lacking any oomph (a pilot could have replaced most of the series in a third of the time without loosing any relevant information) drives you up the wall. As the episodes go by, it gets slightly better, but it never completely rids itself of this curse. Or if it ever does, I’ll no longer be watching to see.

Judging by the name and the creators’ promises, I was expecting a tough crime movie building on the genus loci of Gotham City, which also happens to be about Batman, but which primarily is able to stand by itself as a gritty crime movie with a sturdy, non-superhero comic-book superstructure for adults. But the opposite is true. The genesis of Batman’s friends/enemies plays first fiddle and Gotham and the criminal aspects play second, which is a shame because those parts are the best that appear in the series. Both aspects hold each other back. The criminal parts are spoiled by the fact that anybody you come into contact with in Gotham will necessarily be someone from the DC Universe and the fates of each of these villains are restricted by the forced grafting into the Gordon storyline; the only situation this doesn’t apply is with the mafia. We see heavily stylized characters that have come straight out of Batman comics and series of the sixties alongside a serious storyline for adults which is taken extremely seriously, no tongue in cheek. It’s trying to catch too many rabbits using mutually exclusive styles and plus it is full to the brim with references to DC characters in every other sentence; which isn’t positive, because the result is something so unrefined and dumbly combined, it’s incredible (while Arrow/Flash is one of the few that can do the same with style). However, there’s no denying that it’s a pretty good watch if your brain is switched off, but that’s about all. Which, in the current plethora of quality series (even those based on comic books), is simply inadequate.