Marigold

I was awaiting Steven Spielberg's Munich with considerable tension. Not only because of the fact that the classic of American cinema showed, with his latest film War of the Worlds, that he can brilliantly comprehend, say, trashy themes. I eagerly awaited how the Jew Spielberg was going to deal with such a burning and painful question as Israel's relationship to terrorism. I'm not disappointed. On the contrary. I'm taken aback and emotionally overwhelmed. The scope of Munich is a typical representative of Hollywood in recent years - the massive runtime amounts to weaker spots, polyglots, loss of pace. Nevertheless, a filmmaker of Spielberg's extra class can reasonably balance adrenaline and an idea without one or the other suffering too much. Munich thus alternates adrenaline sequences of individual hired killers with calm meditative sections, in which the heroes reflect on ethics, law and justice. The alternation of the two passages is sometimes captivating (that is, when the idea blends into the action sequence, as is the case, for example, with the action in Athens), whilst sometimes the "ethical" sections seem too sweeping and lose their inner tension. It is extremely commendable that Spielberg avoided, as much as possible, a clear answer to the burning question of "who is to blame?" His only answer is the hero Evram in an absolutely captivating performance (I dare say) by actor Eric Bana. In it, all the ambiguity of justice and the question of morality are connected in the captivating dilemma of a man who, in an effort to protect his home, loses it, together with his identity and his Judaism. The illusion of just retribution turns into a futile hunt for some higher right of revenge, into a growing list of the dead on both sides, and into a mental black hole in which everything one leans on disappears. If you are waiting for a reconstruction of the Munich events, you will be disappointed. The script artfully decomposes the tragedy into a passing story – from the initial acquaintance through period reports to the captivating and devastating finale, which we see as if through Evram's eyes. Munich contains several strong moments that aroused in me unexpected eruptions of emotions (Evram, who hears his daughter's voice for the first time, a love scene intertwined with the massacre of hostages). The film also contains several moments, that seem to be excessive, when the narrative concentration becomes a bit distracting. However, as a whole, the film is extremely consistent, even in terms of ideas, which do their best not to categorize and to avoid stereotypes. Munich is a very impressive and powerful film. In one real event, it reflects all the perversion and absurdity of one of the worst crises of humanity today. The most valuable part of the film, however, is the personal story of Evram, in which everything important is immediately reflected. I also have to point out the excellent soundtrack by John Williams, the excellent camera of Janusz Kamiński and the surprisingly good Daniel Craig. Once again, I need to emphasize Steven Spielberg, who perfectly blends craftsmanship with the confidence of a filmmaker who knows what he wants to say.

The pinnacle of the agrarian comedy genre. You don’t see something so cruelly redneck every day. I watched it with a similar delight with which I sometimes listen to a song by a bad cover band. It's so stupid that it makes you laugh. Honestly naive, shallow and at the same time perversely true in a special way. The stupidity of some of the gags is so crystalline and undiluted that they got me even on the 100th attempt. Although it is a bit beyond the bounds of good taste, it still manages to stick to a certain standard and rough pattern, which gives the film a kind of integrity. If I want to see the real essence of Czech rednecks, I will watch Sun, Hay and Slaps. I do not intend to address whether it is such a redneck film intentionally or unintentionally. It just works. Real film compost with an unforgettable aroma of cow dung and manure.

A film that will primarily be enjoyed in full and in all of its depth by an expert on Murnau's masterpiece Nosferatu. Steven Katz's screenplay is extraordinarily dedicated and builds the drama of the story on one of the possible interpretations of classic expressionist film – as a metaphor for film vampirism. This is evidenced by several scenes: Greta's words about the camera vacuuming her soul, Orlok's fascinated look at the passing film, his words that Murnau is the same as him, and above all the absolutely captivating ending in which the viewer necessarily asks himself who is the life-sucking monster. Is it the brilliant Daniel Dafoe in the skin of an ancient count, or the demonic John Malkovich in the skin of the man behind the camera? Behind the camera, outside of which things cease to exist and in whose obscure eye survive the images with which it sucked out life. These ideas are skillfully grasped by Merhige and transferred to the film with all the requisite fullness and provocativeness. I consider the middle passage of the film to be a bit worse - it seems confused, unfocused and cycled, and in some places, unfortunately, somewhat empty. However, there is still black humor in the film, which is taken care of by the fact that Murnau's crew considers Orlok to be a fanatical supporter of Stanislavsky's methods. The certain cynicism it generates in every shot of the stage is irresistible. Shadow of the Vampire skillfully blends mystification, exaggerated autobiography (the film says a lot about "Herr Doktor" as a personality, the question is whether it is true… :o)), a visually perfect quotation from Nosferatu and thus a kind of intellectual horror. Despite all the complaints, I remained appalled at the end. This is a great film that drinks a lot from the shadow of the film that it is about.

In addition to the X-MEN series, I enjoyed Spider-Man 2 the most from what the film mainstream has to offer in terms of comic book remakes. Sam Raimi managed to perfectly balance humorous exaggeration, a tolerably sugary love-story and an action level with a very decent and jagged villain. The film thus offers a very nice cocktail, in which are mixed adrenaline passages (the fight on the train is magnificent), humorous moments and intimate vistas into the soul of the hero, who may not even want to be a hero. It is Peter's oscillation between an introverted student and an intrepid super-human - a constant search for himself - that forms a sympathetic second plan under a bombastic spectacle. The relationship is maintained equilibristically, and Spiderman 2 is an exceptionally balanced and bound spectacle almost to the end, which is sporadically disrupted only by Aunt May's excessive pathetic rants. Unfortunately, the word “almost" in the previous sentence is treacherous. The end of the film awkwardly and purposefully walls up everything it had carefully built brick by brick before, and the spectacle is rolled over by an interesting second plan. In the end, the hero does not have to solve the main dilemma of what to decide, because he can have both love and heroism. Oh, how I hate this hypocrisy. Even so, Raimi's spider man left me with many positive impressions. A great demonstration of the mainstream craft, which has long avoided the pitfalls of the mainstream, but a minute twelve it will get there...

Pitch Black is a film that I enjoy. Despite the fact that the script, acting and tricks very much indicate a B-movie, Twohy's interesting directorial rendition and a certain craft routine in working with editing and color filters improve this spectacle interestingly. The film also has a very decent atmosphere, and the chemistry of the "surviving and dying" group is above the level of most survival horror movies. Moreover, as the "hero" Riddick, Vin Diesel is sympathetically unpredictable and unscrupulous, and his cold-blooded deeds testify to a sick mind rather than a true heroic nature. A bit paradoxically, despite the initial potential, Pitch Black turned out more like an A-movie than many other similar genre films... The artistic solution is nice, the pace is well escalated and the end is to the point without any unnecessary pathos. This film is proof that with a little skill, even a stupid screenplay can provide a basis for decent horror sci-fi.

For me, watching Tim Burton films means visiting my home in an alternative world. Each of them is like a cozy house with a fireplace and a family of archetypal motifs, characters and techniques that "make" Burton's characteristic poetics. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory presents a work absolutely immersed in the precise visuality and typical plasticity of the fantastic world of the bizarre chocolate magician Willy Wonka. The incredible explosion of colors and sounds is managed with absolute bravura, and in addition to the dynamic ride on the chocolate river, there is, as always, room for drawing characters. True, the middle passage is perhaps too fixed on the image, but the fireworks of the invention and the great melodies of Danny Elfman are so captivating that one forgives the film for this. The highlight is undoubtedly the parody quote from Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey and also the strange tension between the kindly fairy-tale humor and the suspected edge of black humor, without which one can no longer imagine Tim... But after all this, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory comes out extraordinarily harmoniously and all the supposed sharp edges are ground down with a beautiful finale. The adornment of Burton's delicacy is definitely Johnny Depp, whose Wonka balances somewhere between the fragility of Ichabod Crane (Sleepy Hollow) and the eccentricity of Captain Jack Sparrow. As in Finding Neverland, duet with Freddie Highmore is beautiful, despite the much more limited space. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory may not be as exciting in terms of content, yet its visuals, humor, magic and charm create another gem from the workshop of the weirdo Tim.

The only negative of the film Downfall is its formal aspects. This is not a key and fatal negative, as some "I always have to write something different than the others" reviewers try to prove in their analyses. The director and screenwriters chose as the main narrative perspective "documentary distance" from the story and, adversely, a very expressive approach to the atmosphere. As a result, the dialogues have a austere and non-stylish feel, while the suffocating atmosphere of the bunker is abundantly and impressively complemented by sound effects (silence vs. rumbling), a camera (which sticks to the characters and promotes a claustrophobic and hopeless feeling) and editing (combining the illusion of interiors with naturalism in exteriors). While the expressive component of the film works perfectly, the documentary aspects tend to slip into excessive semi-pathos, multi-wording, and boringly branched dialogues, which, with a certain repetitiveness, take away momentum from the film. Not fatally, of course. The introduction of a "secondary" narrator in the form of Traudl Jung also proved very useful, who mediates a civilian view of the icons of the Third Reich - a civilian view which, in its naivety and blindness, is perhaps the most tragic feature of the film. And Jung's documentary suffix only points him out in all his nudity "...I should have been more interested..." A chilling finish of one of the storylines. But "Downfall" has more storylines, and it must be admitted that director Oliver Hirschbiegel was able to portray them all with certainty and persuasiveness. The result is a film with a raw atmosphere, teasing with questions (which the viewer has to answer for himself), and it is oppressive in that it does not hide anything with the poor decoys of heroic pathos. German cinema successfully passed the state exam in post-war adulthood...

In the first half, the atmosphere of the film is truly captivating and emotionally devastating - The Mothman Prophecies attacks via short cuts, a disturbing unspokenness of shots that would be played out to the end elsewhere, and with unpleasant sound bursts. The ambiguity with which the story unfolds helps one to empathize with the promisingly knotted story and, unfortunately, whips up ad absurdum expectations. However, after the phase of tension comes the phase of disappointment - exceptionally not because the source of the mystery is something silly (the Mothman will haunt me in my dreams for a long time), but simply because the mystery is used in traditional Hollywood idyll. The message of The Mothman Prophecies reminded me a bit of the thriller version of Ghost, which is, let's face it, quite a horrible impression. Throughout the film Mark Pellington could not avoid his obsession with props, and in the second part it is excessive, over complicated and tragically ill-conceived. What initially served as a disturbing hint ultimately functions at the end only as a surplus proprieties, the use of which is "explained" by the otherness of the world of ghosts. Truly in a buck-passing way. The acting, which over time falls into the tirades without persuasiveness, also feels somewhat weak. It’s too bad. If Pellington et al. kept the great tension from the beginning and did not allow themselves to supplement the already strong story, this film would be a thriller of the highest quality. Even in this form, however, the tension and intensity of fear of The Mothman Prophecies surpass without any problems the most frightening shots from The Sixth Sense.

An utterly exhaustive look into the disgusting kitchen of John Carpenter and other creators of the cult horror film The Thing. The attention to every possible detail and informational value are almost devastating, but the film, unjustly trampled on in its time, deserves exactly that level of care. I must definitely recommend it to fans.

How to put it best... I really like the topic of vampirism and I don't mind the pop culture mutation of “Vampire: The Masquerade". I am more bothered when there is too much of the same thing in Hollywood, which is exactly the case of Underworld. I quite liked the atmosphere of some of the shots, and I also liked the vampire guru Viktor and his counterpart, the Lycan "Pepa Vojtek" Lucius. Otherwise, the characters lack motivation and, what’s worse, they are played tragically (particularly Barbi Kate is dismal). The biggest loser, however, is director Len Wiseman... the film might be stupid but also attractive, but in its current form it is only stupid. I would forgive the completely obvious and non-artificial copying of the visual style of the Wachowski brothers, but it is very difficult to forgive the totally chaotic and choreographically-weak action scenes, which culminate at the end with a confusing swarm of uncles in black coats... Trying to figure out who is who in the cannonade of cuts is useless, and this characterizes the entire film. Underworld lacks strong conflict and drama bearers, a clearly defined storyline, and mastered choreography. In some places the film does not lack decent action momentum, but the mentioned chaos and dialogues conducted in a ridiculously ceremonial spirit undermine the film and make it weaker.