Marigold

Master Waltz by Bryan Singer and Ian McKellen. All you have to do is admire how the director magician manages to step over the abyss that traditionally divides attractiveness and depth in Hollywood. Singer's language is intelligible, yet full of emotion and atmosphere. Everything works civilly, precisely, expressively. The drama of the individual scenes is perfectly constructed, the constant overflow of "teacher x student" tasks keeps the intensity of the film at a high level and the drastic dream scenes only increase it. There is no doubt that there are more impressive portraits of evil in man, but Apt Pupil is rare in that it retains the attributes of a good American spectacle without undermining or being nice to Singer's homeland (the final composition of a newborn monster with an American flag in the second plan is almost provocative). Great credit again goes to the phenomenal Ian McKellen, behind whose mask of a kind old man resides incredible brutality... however, the English virtuoso is able to play even this role in such a way that Kurt Dussander does not seem monochromatic and schematic. Compared to the brilliant performance of the old master, the young pupil Brad Renfro still gives off a significantly weaker impression, but he also shows a considerable amount of skill and talent. Apt Pupil is an excellent film where everything fits the way it should. What I leave out in my rating, I add as a message: It is not history and ideology that are responsible for the evil in man. It is man himself.

Typical Besson in his strongest period. He deals with the strong and attractive theme without an excessive emphasis on gloss and shallowness, and vice versa: he concentrates on the undercurrents and the psychology of the characters. The action and the spy gloriola are tactfully set to the side, meaning that the human dimension of the story of the woman who was given a second chance gets more room. The action is minimal, but it is very inventive and contains a considerable portion of cynicism, not unlike Tarantino's later poetics. Anne Parillaud acts with incredible commitment and plays the drastic rebirth of her character with an extraordinary degree of persuasion. Besson's form is also evidenced by the "cleansing" episode, which, thanks to the performance of Jean Reno, is amongst the classics of film. Personally, I'm quite bothered by the synthetic soundtrack and the somewhat wobbly step of the storytelling; however, La Femme Nikita is still an absolute classic, which is a fact that will not be changed even by a traditionally stupid American remake.

I really like movies about toothy uncles who drink the blood of white virgins. Whether it is the black-and-white and silent (yet so suggestive) gems, to newer color compliments of history (Coppola's Dracula opus, Herzog's remake of Nosferatu). However, Blade is nothing more than a fast-paced action shooter that wants to look modern. Unfortunately, it is only stupid. Even Underworld, with its relatively vague connection to the world of “Vampire: The Masquerade", feels like a finished gem with an atmosphere and hints of logic. Blade is an illogical slag, which turns vampires into a bunch of mongoloid old uncles on the one side and stoned techno party participants on the other. The complete absence of any drama and mysticism is supposed to be replaced by the supernatural musculature of Wesley Snipes, who is a vampire, but still a human... But what can an actor who shows nothing but convulsive anger save? What can be saved in a film that is dominated by such a sparse script? Logic is a bad word in Blade's world, but it's an action, blockbuster and popcorn film. However, this does not excuse Stephen Norrington's B-movie and confusing direction, absolutely zero tension and no invention. And do you know what happens when a black vampire meets an untalented director and together they form a blatant mess that has no idea what it wants to be? Yes. This is a Boo! And the fact that I really like vampire movies just crowns this film with a manure wreath.

If Corpse Bride is a cute necrophiliac kiss that will delight the masses, Jack Skellington's story is a rotting goulash for the taste buds of Burton's gastronomes. Danny Elfman is in first place this time, whose great soundtrack and excellent vocal performance in the lead role turns the film into a real experience. The macabre animation, which clearly overcomes the Corpse Bride through cascades of colors, sharp color rasters and large units, is also very pleasing. In terms of playfulness, it's between the land of the dead and Helloween's kingdom. The visual ingenuity of the creators knows no bounds, and with small gags, the film is as worm-eaten as a dead body (my personal champions are the vampire hockey players). The story is, as usual, typical Burton: the main character straddling two worlds, belonging to one and trying to understand the other... it always works, and it does so here as well. Perhaps I'm missing the greater warmth Burton has achieved in the love story of Viktor and the dead bride. The Nightmare Before Christmas keeps its grave distance and I was truly warmed up by the snowy scene at the very end. However, it is impossible to compromise on the absolute score - not if one is a shy lover of the film and literary poetics of Tim Burton...

Ratner is not Singer, which wouldn't be such a big flaw if it weren't for the fact that Singer = X-men. The young director inserted so much of his own style into the X-men series that Ratner simply has no options. However, he is able to do the action sequences as effectively as his predecessor, he handles the dynamics and tension well (the film really flows fast), and he also retains a decent portion of chemistry between the main characters. But. He lacks a creative approach to the matter, the new characters are bloodless, superficial, and any deeper dialogues in Ratner's routine performance suddenly sound convulsive and untrustworthy. There’s an increase in clichés and superfluous pathos, which replaces honest work with the main idea, in which Singer was the master of masters. Although the X-Men were never great philosophers, one could not deny them depth and sophistication. The third film has the energy, good moments and the characteristics of the previous parts, but Ratner is unable to imitate Singer's bravura and diligence. Why couldn't Bryan wait one more film? X-Men: The Last Stand could have been the peak, whilst this is just a good comic book film. ***1/2

Zdeněk Troška is a black hole. In the beginning there was talent, in the temporary end... what to call it? A desert, an absolute wasteland, incredible dilettantism, zero leading of the actors (even the old woman from Hoštice acts better than the local "professionals"!), no script (the hint of a plot with a football match evokes the script stage of decomposition according to the motto: I'll have seven beers and one green shot), foully routine, and perhaps only one place where a person laughs at something so embarrassing because it’s just not possible without emotion, and if the viewer does not want to cry or nibble on furniture with rage, he just convulses his mouth. In short, soulless coloring books for television entertainment viewers. I am engraving this on my tombstone: "he persevered until the end, looking for a joke and somewhere along the line he went thirsty and hungry, because rubble cannot be eaten". Goodbye, Kameňák, and for God’s sake please don’t return from the realm of fairy-tale debility and the realm of senile actor debris.

Fantastic work! The creators took the best of Saving Private Ryan (a naturalistic and technically brilliant depiction of the war), got rid of the disgusting patriotic pathos, and focused their series on believable flesh-and-blood characters who make mistakes and behave like real people. The narrative concept, in which each episode focuses on a different point of view and pays attention to different characters, is initially confusing, but once you get used to a few key faces, Band of Brothers becomes a truly addictive affair. The image of war is appropriately harsh, immediate and indeed brilliantly transmitted through the eye of the camera to the viewer's brain. The perfectionism of the camera and the direction is astonishing, and even though we have already seen most of the tricks in Spielberg's war tale, it is only in Band of Brothers that it truly feels immediate. Michael Kamen's majestic music is also excellent, and of course the screenwriters deserve maximum recognition, who managed to mesh the seemingly disparate war images into a completely coherent whole and create the potential for film images as powerful as the miniature love story of the medic and the French nurse in Bastogne. Band of Brothers is not just a spectacular experience, it is also a supremely impressive portrait of war suffering and everyday heroism...

Federico Fellini in Satyrikon is somewhat reminiscent of the famous and rich Trimalchion from Petronius' masterpiece. Maestro Fellini is gifted with a great wealth of film vision, and in this film he scatters it around like a vain rich man in a form so opulent, over-done and over-stylized that the viewer is soon literally overburdened with it. The experienced "Fellini fan" is accustomed to a very loose narrative framework (basically just a stream of images not bound by excessive causality), but in the Satyrikon it seems to lack a unifying feeling, the strong symbolic subtext that binds the seemingly discrepant. The flow of mythological stories is amplified by the aforementioned visual gluttony, tossing the viewer into a bizarre world of decay and moral perversion, and increasingly tends to dull the senses and completely erase the power of the opening sequences. In them, the Satyricon seems to be a testimony not only about the end of Rome, but also about the disintegration of our civilization, and it is typically raw and impressive. Over time, however, the line of thought withers under the whip due to a lack of self-censorship and increasingly perverse visions. So, what are some of the positive aspects of Satyricon? One example is the perfectly filmed banquet at Trimalchion. Unnecessarily unsmoothed edges of ancient aesthetics and sexuality. Of course, also Fellini's imagination, although its extent exceeds what can be withstood. This satirizing erotic fresco of one period and the "story" of human instincts is simply overflowing with colors and the pursuit of visual exclusivity at all costs. In a rush of screaming sounds and colorful cascades, the heart is lost. But perhaps that's part of Satyrikon's testimony. However, this is definitely not the peak of Fellini's work...

I don't know why I don't like Ethan Hunt... It's definitely not a problem of the lead actor, because Tom Cruise has finally gotten into a productive age and I think he's playing one great role after another. But there is something disgusting about the scout Hunt, who is a great partner, a lover and, moreover, runs in a truly exemplary manner, with exemplary body guidance and the way he holds his hands. One has to sigh: "Look how beautifully Ethan runs..." But that's not the worst thing about Mission: Impossible III - the worst things about this movie are the non-action sequences. The family sequences. J. J. Abrams unfortunately proves that his domain is working on series, and I say without exaggeration that in the movie theatre, I was bothered by his shallow and stupid conception of interpersonal relationships. And through his acting, Tom Cruise reminded me of his worse times. It's too bad, because trying to turn the dummy Hunt into a man is a good way to go, but in my opinion he managed instead to make a completely different kind of dummy. Fortunately, there is still action, and here Abrams does well. Mission: Impossible III is an old school action film, with all manner of explosions, a wild shootout and a minimum of hi-tech directing solutions. The conservatively, but perfectly filmed action definitely escalates with stylish Vatican infiltration. Here, the director shows his television clip school in full field and we can only say: it is beautiful to watch and it has a damn good tension. Another positive aspect is the magnificent and cold-blooded villain Philip Seymour Hoffman... Such a repulsive and perverted type of character really gladdens and creates a strong tension in the film. This tension works despite the fact that the relationship between Ethan and his chosen Jules got a little annoying for me. But the duel between the inventive agent and a slimy dealer is just so exciting and its action is so adrenaline-fueled that the final idyll, containing perhaps all the worst clichés, including hilarious slow motion, just can't destroy my impression of a good action movie. However, it is quite obvious that the creators wanted to make Hunt a great character, which they failed at. He's just a picturesque boy from an American textbook in a very explosive world. It could have been even better, but the third film is probably the best in the series... A stronger ***.

A demonstration of how to screw up a film. The theme provides so much poetry, humor and possible games that a clever director and screenwriter would be exulted by it, but Norrington and Robinson somehow noticed only the passing gloss. Lots of "well-known companies" from the canon of world literature and film fly across the screen, but apart from the names, we can't find anything extraordinary about them - they are just overwhelmed schemes without any magic or energy. Captain Nemo's terrorist beard, Dorian Gray's worldly goatee, Tom Sawyer's sparrow's nest... and then what? Then nothing; a wasteland, bad acting. If it doesn't work in the League, it can't even work in the surrounding units, and Norrington closes the store without a fight. The film is literally soaked in crappy digital effects that reduce the colorful and magical world of fin de siècle to a bunch of pre-rendered art. The story is absolutely bland, the villain is flat and Sir Connery's performance is, forgive me, completely necrophilic. The Americans are butchering well-known literary figures with great bravura; however, the British skunk Norrington puts the crown on it. Crap. Dreadful.