Marigold

Compared to the book, the film is terribly uneven, confused and simplified, not always to the benefit of the cause. I like the civilian actor types in the main roles, well-done intimate scenes (nice dialogues, jokes here and there), the atmosphere of dark Moscow... Things are much worse in terms of the visual aspects, which take place in the spirit of "give a Russian money and he will give you borsch". The horrible mess of hypermodern effects and camera tricks mixed with senseless accelerators often feels tragi-comical and completely kills the atmosphere. It unintentionally feels quite amateurish and clever. The action sequences that were supposed to be the visual highlight are therefore solid, cold, tasteless and odorless. The story completely lacks gradation and any sort of construction, everything happens in a strangely chaotic rush, and the camera doesn't stop at anything long enough for the viewer to create an overview. Nevertheless, a few scenes are nicely captured, the acting is satisfactory (I liked all the central characters), the music is appealing and the Russian desire to be westerner cool has some merit. I hesitated between two and three stars. Out of respect for the original, I round up to three.

I can't shake the impression that a lot of money has obscured the minds of both Twohy and the screenwriters (especially the screenwriter). The Chronicles of Riddick is a film pressured by the desire to create Star Wars mythology, but as a result the only thing that remains is a cheap pomp of effects and a damn sparse and worn-out idea with the destroyers of worlds, led by a very poorly coordinated "Lord Leader" (the Czech translation is both good and bad). David N. Twohy failed to maintain the directorial invention of Pitch Black and is literally drowning in visual gluttony. The film is sometimes confusing and messy, as if it has epilepsy. Certain dialogues are far beyond B-movie debility, which the first Riddick did not include. The atmosphere is, let's say, coldly academic, the tension not very strong. Nevertheless, this sci-fi is watchable. It runs on quality Diesel. The new American hero could no longer maintain the great moral ruggedness (the script did not give him the chance to), but he is still rough as quartz and has typically sharp humor. Everything is at its best on the planet Crematoria, where one almost wonders why they didn’t just stay with this imaginative variation on Pitch Black. However, after dealing with all the nonsense and the lack of originality of the main "epic" line, The Chronicles of Riddick is a decent film that is easy to watch. Yet compared to Riddick's first adventure, it is a mere "almost-successful" attempt. But what I cannot forgive the film for is that Riddick will probably remain a "man on the throne" forever. The handcuffs suited him better...

A love from my early childhood, in which I am only now beginning to appreciate the graceful shapes of gags and the sprightly curves of exaggeration. An acting trip of Mr. Hrušínský and Mr. Kopecký. Beautiful Brdečkov walk-on parts, which, with their stylization clearly refer to the lemonade specter of Czech cinema. The parodies of opera pathos, cheerful folk archetypes (oh, you brave mountaineers!) and the clichés of film adventures are fantastic. It is also excellent that The Mysterious Castle in the Carpathians has a bit of a Verne atmosphere (as if filtered by childish enthusiasm, which we know from Zeman's films). An example of a film that does not get old with age, but rather improves. So up to the Devil's Castle, where horrible deeds happened!

I can't quite understand how I could accept Howard's stereotypical combinations of blows finished off with uppercuts, but he was reliably able to knock me to the ground right when it was needed. I find it difficult to argue why this film is so impressive with all its transparency and clichés. Maybe it's thanks to Russell Crowe, who once again proves that he plays white Hollywood heroes better than anyone else. Maybe it's the grateful blend of a social motif with the male-symbol motif. The fact is that I watched James J. Braddock's duels whilst holding my breath, literally glued to the screen. Yet it is not a biographical film, but rather it is a Rocky variation transplanted into the times of the economic crisis of the 1930s and given the necessary "based on a true story" line. The fact is that the joy of using well-established schemes literally seeps from Cinderella Man, the joy of telling a story using the most proven means. I had similar feelings, for example, while watching Zwick's The Last Samurai. One simply knows what will happen in the next few seconds and enjoys how well it is done. A feature film by the numbers that knocked me out...

Well, Constantine may be many things, but its hardly a second Matrix. Admittedly, both the visual styling and the intertwining alternative world motifs seem like a good foundation. But Lawrence's film does not have the figurative power of the Wachowski brothers' opus, and even the main idea is communicated too lazily, intermittently, as if trying to camouflage its simplicity. Yes, all those religious discussions are bearable and sometimes interesting, but it simply cannot match the postmodern straightforward power of The Matrix metaphor. But that's the only negative thing I'd point out about Constantine. Otherwise, it is a very entertaining and interesting film in all respects. I quite like the torn concept of Reeves, even though the dark side is hard to believe with his angelic face... But Constantine needed a star. The craftsmanship packaging, including the effects and visuals, is really good and corresponds pleasantly to the story. In the end the final gradation and a hint of twist outweighed my complete impression and the good side. A four-star spectacle with a hopeful, half-open ending. I'm just not sure a sequel would benefit Constantine.

An extraordinarily poetic and kind portrait of one fateful summer, one family, one adolescence and one tragic period in European history. Paskaljevič does not establish any metaphor mirroring the fate of the great world in the small world - on the contrary, the fate of the family of District Judge Cvetkovič is deliberately set aside and student storms from Paris, Belgrade, and the political unrest of the Prague Spring are only seen through the television, the politically active daughter and bearded student-rebel Cile. The sequence of love outbursts of his son Petar is full of Amarcordian kindness, foresight and well-modeled characters, which are led by the typical Yugoslav "grandfather" Mija Aleksič and the categorical general of the family, Veselin Cvetkovič, in an excellent performance by Danilo Stojkovič. Petar's search for true love symbolically culminates on August 20, 1968, at night with Czech girl Růženka. When the young man finally finds great love, the big world intervenes in the small world and mixes the fates of insignificant characters on the chessboard of European history. Nevertheless, The Elusive Summer of '68 amounts to praise of the harmonious and basically peaceful petty-bourgeois family, which lives at its own pace and hides from the noise of historical events, for example, by the father taking away the television. Goran Paskaljevič imbued his film with a calm rhythm that, more than the wild rides of the Balkan brass band music, resembles Romance for Bugle with peaceful humor. I must repeat myself - Yugoslav cinematography is good for my soul and The Elusive Summer of '68 is no exception. In a way, it’s the Yugoslav answer to Cosy Dens.

Had I seen it for the first time in my teenage years when I enjoyed similar stories, I would probably give it a definite five stars. Unfortunately, I watched Zemeckis' legendary sci-fi for the first time last week, which killed a bit of my enthusiasm. The story is very entertaining, some of the gags and situations are very nice, but I don’t really care for the "teenage spirit" and the unmistakable aesthetics of the 80's. Both of the title characters are really good, and the game with the influence of past actions on future things is also fun. This is a very successful hybrid with a great idea and a quality script. But aging… what can you do?

Ingenious juggling on the edge of the trapeze. One of the best depictions of human debility and misery. An ode to football and other redneck aspects. Absolutely adequate performance of Čtvrtníček, which with its persuasiveness surpasses even Horník.

It doesn't seem silly and dysfunctional at all to me. The details fit together, the partial scenes are shot very well, the atmosphere of the rainy city and the greenish filter of the camera perfectly evoke the depressing genius loci. I was fascinated by the convincing Jennifer Conelly and little Ariel Gade. The Brazilian, Salles, embarked on a Shyamalan-tuned intertwining of thriller, horror and social drama; unfortunately I would enjoy Dark Water much more as a psychological film than as this wonderful monster. The imported ghost story with a dead girl from the neighborhood is terribly transparent and completely unnecessarily dilutes the film's potential into something average that has been seen a hundred times over. The attempt to transform the fairground touch of the ghost jump-scares into a deeper message about motherly love is awkward and the end of the film fades out in false tones. It’s too bad, because I really like the atmosphere of Dark Water and it is definitely higher than average amongst the competition of similarly-tuned films.

Michael definitely shot himself in his debut, honing his unique sarcastic style. If there is such a thing as a feature documentary, then Moore creates something like a documentary game. The seeds of his irresistible demagoguery can be seen in the choice of types of people for the interviews... this is especially an unreal sample of human debility and hypocrisy, on which the creator literally grazes and which he incites. He is great at playing with the viewer's sympathies, but Roger & Me contains only a few places where all the cynicism goes smoothly, without awkwardness, and hitting fully. Moore names the paradox best at the end. Nevertheless, all the while the unhappy portrait of Michael's "hometown", crushed by the iron logic of capitalism, makes one feel chills, and the occasional dislocation and painstaking extraction of lightness from the stream of narration change nothing. This is where Moore's inexperience manifests itself, which, however, does not result in any embarrassment, but rather in sincerity... The honesty that was missing in Fahrenheit 11/9, for example... Roger & Me is a rather rough documentary, but precisely because of the fact that the creator defends his city and his people, this cheeky accusation against capital feels very fervent and urgent. There is thus no need for intrusive pathetic gestures, which personally bother me a lot about the later Moore films. When one loses a job, it's a tragedy. When 30,000 people lose their jobs, it's a statistic. Ideologies are changing, paradoxes remain?