Filmmaniak

An hour and a half of lethargic acting performances in a film where none of the characters really knows what they are doing and even less is known by the director, who takes a dull and unimaginative approach to the potentially interesting story of satanic murderers who break into a girls’ boarding school. There is zero atmosphere, suspense or period stylisation and the sporadic attempts at humour are cringe-worthy. I don’t understand the positive responses from overseas critics.

The ultimate food-porn. A supreme tribute to French gastronomy, in which most of the characters are hedonists and gourmets, top chefs and experts in the areas of food, animals and nature. They’re also great conversationalists, so they also talk about food and its origins and history in an exquisite way. A large part of the film is composed of scenes of cooking refined dishes and their subsequent consumption, for which viewers are prepared in the opening half-hour sequence featuring dancing between cooktops and serving on the table, accompanied only by the ambient sounds of the kitchen and epicurean sighs. The connective tissue between courses is a tender romantic storyline in which expressions of love are never delivered without a candlelit dinner and the shared stirring of vegetable broth or Burgundy sauce is a prelude to intimate moments. A film in which the way to one’s heart is really through their stomach and in which even the anatomical description of eating sounds like love poetry.

This looks a bit like film-noir shot in the 1960s by Orson Welles according to a screenplay by Fritz Lang,  who played around with the subject of an enigmatic murder at an annual conference of theoretical physicists and twisted it into the form of a mysterious metaphysical sci-fi crime thriller set in the Swiss Alps. Among other things, the movie’s theme is based on the multiverse. Whereas other filmmakers often use the concept of the multiverse to build hectic stories packed with wild ideas, here it is conversely part of a loose, elliptical narrative intended for a more discerning audience. The film itself is a multiverse in terms of its visual and stylistic aspects, as various forms of black-and-white film from different decades come together here thanks to the camerawork and manipulation of light and shadows. However, the interestingly written characters interact with each other in an increasingly less coherent story that is already utterly unclear, especially in the last quarter of the film. Overall, The Theory of Everything is interpretively stimulating, but it also runs up against the limits of the viewer’s willingness to engage in inferring the connections and meaning in the intertwining of the individual storylines.

This animated family film about the friendship between a glowing boy and a girl with a lively imagination, who live in an apartment building that is a picture of a society contending with the thirst for power, anxiety and the inability to listen to itself, manages to appeal to children and adults alike. Tony, Shelly and the Magic Light deals in depth with the theme of accepting differences and sensibly shows us how, despite those differences, mutual understanding can lead us to accept ourselves much more self-confidently. The film provides a valuable lesson without the necessity of literally explaining everything and combines magical fantasy elements with the sorrows of both growing up and parenthood, and hints at other serious issues without losing its radiant fairy-tale nature. In addition to that, it works beautifully and deliberately with colours and light.

A simple metaphor for violence in society and the absurdity of conflicts, Vincent Must Die starts out as an adrenaline trip with elements of black humour, but it ultimately runs only at half-throttle and the rather slower narrative pace is given priority. Particularly in the first half, a number of scenes are entertaining, but then the film starts to get bogged down in its own inconsistency and a lot of questions come up that it is unable to answer. Furthermore, the plot shifts over time from being about the necessity of adapting to newly established rules in order to survive in a world in which violence is spreading like the plague to a bizarre romantic storyline, which is an unwelcome diversion from the most interesting part of the film.

Up until the final quarter, You’ll Never Find Me is a rather gripping and cleverly directed minimalistic psychological study of two characters whom fate has brought together in an isolated location and between whom nervous tension is skilfully built up over a long period of time. This is aided by solid work with darkness and editing, as well as the sounds of the storm raging outside. However, all of that is spoiled by the confusing denouement, which at the last moment attempts to weave together all of the motifs that have been broached and surprise or even shock viewers with new twists, but it comes off as too rushed and chaotic.

This lavishly spectacular epic looks back at the wildly ecstatic and tragically sad stories of movie stars whose dreams and livelihoods went up in smoke when interest in them waned. The return to the 1920s, when talkies were ascendent, serves not only as an expression of love for films as such, but also as an extraordinarily sharp criticism of Hollywood as a factory built on oppression and the trampling of human rights. This hypnotising picture switches between genres depending on the prevailing moods of the characters – the first third of Babylon is a dreamily magical and merry narcotic trip, the second third is more of a comedy and the rest is drama-oriented with crime elements. Though the film as a whole may not seem entirely cohesive and it flirts with bombastic excess right from the start, its individual parts are masterfully directed in most cases. Throughout its runtime, however, it is primarily a stylised and exaggerated behind-the-scenes look into filmmaking that illustrates how many of the films that we love and admire were often made in a sea of iniquity, blood, sweat, vomit and excrement.

In the first half of Elvis, emphasis is placed on, among other things, the rebellious Elvis’s clashes with the censorship board, which considers his gyrations to be obscene, whereas the second half focuses primarily on Presley’s conflicts with the people close to him, whose expectations he either refuses to meet on principle or, to his own disappointment, he is unable to meet. A running theme throughout the film consists in Elvis’s steadfast effort to preserve his own exceptional personal and musical identity, which is the only key to the artist’s success and immortality. The charismatic Austin Butler, a gifted singer in his own right, is absolutely excellent in the title role. He is not only able to captivate without batting an eye during the fantastically filmed musical numbers, but he also manages to naturally and sensitively convey a broad range of emotions even in the quieter moments. Most of the supporting and peripheral roles are also well cast according to type. Of course, the great Tom Hanks has the most space in the film as Presley’s manager and as the narrator, who in his commentary repeatedly tries to convince us that he always meant well by his charge, but his actions, captured by his image, tell us the opposite is true. His perspective as an unreliable narrator naturally complements Elvis’s perspective and the film is based substantially on the transformations of their friendship and family/business relationship. The story adheres to a precisely rhythmized structure, in which Elvis’s performances always comprise the climax of individual segments and time periods. Director Baz Luhrmann does his best work since Moulin Rouge and he also excels as a phenomenal audio-visual storyteller and master of the edited montage, who needs only a few two-second shots and appropriate musical backing to instantly capture the right mood of the given moment, setting and circumstance with unparalleled brilliance. In the genre of biopics about music legends, Elvis is a gem that presents its title character in many different situations and styles, engages your interest regardless of whether or not you know his life story and songs, and simply cannot conceal the identity of its director thanks to Luhrmann’s many recognizable trademarks and filmmaking techniques. From the opening scene onwards, it is an audio-visually riveting and engaging film that demands to be seen on the big screen.

An extraordinary torrent of creativity in the best comedy of recent years and, at the same time, a surprising update of slapstick for the 21st century. It’s as if Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd joined hands with Bugs Bunny and Wile E. Coyote, with the late, great Czech fantasy director Karel Zeman in the director’s chair, having just discovered the possibilities of computer graphics. This film is definitive confirmation of the proposition that a small budget is not an obstacle when you have enough ideas and creative ability. In the case of Hundreds of Beavers, the filmmakers have ideas in spades and they pack so many of them into the film that they easily fill the whole runtime, thus turning the limited resources for making the film into a strength, so the result, including the visual aspect, is outrageously funny, creative and endearing. The plot never slows down for even a minute, the individual gags progressively evolve and build up to unpredictable levels, and the film works superbly with the characters and recurring motifs while making full use of the snow-covered forest setting and the associated props. Hundreds of Beavers is a unique film and clearly a future cult classic.

A film about two brothers whose lives are shaken by several events, including the unintentional serious injury of an elderly lady and the hospitalisation of their dying father somewhere in faraway Luxembourg. The tone of the film shifts vaguely between serious social drama and comedy rich with scenes and dialogue abounding with black humour. The narrative is similarly unfocused, as it initiates minor storylines and then abandons them, seemingly without leading to anything in particular. However, the ending brings the brothers’ journey to Luxembourg and offers a few pleasingly constructed twists, so the film ultimately redeems itself with verbal humour together with a series of fateful moments full of the ironies of life.