Marigold

Quite symbolically, Menzel's film ends with a long shot of the descent into the darkness underground – because that was its destiny for years to come. One of the last examples of free cinema of the 1960s now gives off a raw and unchained impression – different image quality, sharp cuts, flaws in the image, all reminiscent of the forced oblivion that caught up to Larks on a String. The creative method chosen by the screenwriter Menzel-Hrabal duo is also raw. A harsh poem in film prose, where the lyrical part is provided by the dismal camera runs on the panorama of the steel kingdom of the beautiful Poldi, the epic one with fragmented and strongly stylized dialogues. Larks on a String is a unique narrative affair that says little about its actors, the main speech amounts to the magnificent acting of all involved, and then the deliberately uncommented absurdity that Hrabal and Menzel sophisticatedly put into a provocative mosaic. It does not complain and pathetize, but in the style of the New Wave it documents and reveals the true form of things, their essence, it casts into the world the terrifying absurdity of the 1950s in all its sheer nakedness. We find a parallel with Hrabal's poetry (Krásná Poldi) and prose (Inzerát na dům, ve kterém už nechci bydlet), but also with the complaining narrative neutrality of the novelist Josef Jedlička (“Kde život náš je v půli se svou poutí"). The symbolic world of the scrap yard, which mirrors its times, is an obvious metaphor for transforming man into amorphous blocks of scrap, excellently captured characters in turn corresponding to the sample of society after a class battle... One of the best testimonies about a cursed time, which requires an attentively perceptive viewer. I guess that's why it's never going to become a generally accepted classic.

Jirotka's book has long been one of my favorites, and it must be admitted that dry English humor works much better in the book than in the film. This has the right period tuning, but in some places I would almost say that the lines from the actors' mouths aren’t great and the result is a slightly overacted and affected comedy that loses the inimitable dry charm of the book.

Perhaps it’s a bit more childish than How to Get Dad Into Reform School, but it still has that relaxed mood created especially by the lively Tomáš Holý. A proper classic in the family comedy genre.

It's a very relaxing film with good gags, a great grandfather-water goblin (who always gets to me), a nice bucolic rural atmosphere, and sensitive direction by Marie Poledňáková. Strangely enough, I still like it even though I’m older.

The pretty good script filled with nigga antics by the average comedian Lawrence is able to entertain, but unfortunately during the ending it turns into a typical macho action with a lot of stupid cool poses and typical "jokes" (not that the film contains any non-typical jokes, but at least some of them are fun to watch). The editing is good, the acting performances and the action sequences are good, and the whole thing is a slightly dubious but bearable B movie.

Unfortunately, after the fourth attempt the Harry Potter movies remain for me only a slightly above-average fantasy spectacle with a big budget. I didn't expect any miracles from Mike Newell (when even a strong author like Cuarón couldn't do it, what do you expect from a conservative Englishman?) and I didn't get any, either. The first part of the film is a boring sequence of unmemorable episodes and conversations that mirror the director's insecurity and lack of familiarity with the fantasy world of J.K. Rowling. The fourth Harry Potter unsurprisingly finally gets going during the prom scene, which fits Newell's sentimental-comedy nature and is brought out with British charm and humorous ease. Another positive is the second part of the film after the interlude, when Newell is better able to evoke the much-rehashed dark atmosphere. Although he is constantly desperately helping himself with guaranteed props (rain, fog, gargoyles), even a viewer unfamiliar with the book has a chance to find some grateful spots (maze, underwater scene) in the more dynamic sequences of Master Potter's magic tirades. If I put it together retroactively, it's a slightly disparate splinter that lacks firmer motivation and a stronger story to make a skeleton out of it. Moreover, the logic of the book (as I asked) is quite leaky, and the film does not count on uninitiated viewers in places. The ending suggests that perhaps next time we Potter-infidels will be watching something other than the endless series Hogwarts 90210. I summarize: the fourth Potter film is far from achieving the qualities of Cuarón's predecessor - it is again more childish, starchy, less civil, old-fashioned, but mainly much more supported by props. The acting is once again mediocre (but Hermione confirms growth in all aspects, which is nice to see). Technically, it's fabulous, spectacular, pampered. Unfortunately, it's a little hard for me to look at beautiful color pictures for three hours when I lack deeper emotions behind it. But that's just my problem.

Kassovitz is certainly a talented filmmaker and he handled Gothika with great clarity and grace, but as is customary in ghost films, the precisely built atmosphere of most of the plot is completely walled off by a routine and far-fetched finale. As long as the unknown is conducted to the protagonist in terrifying visions, hints and excellently filmed "creeps", the atmosphere of Gothika is dense, electrifying and dark. As long as the interesting-looking plot, in which the subjective narrative of psychologist Miranda and the voice of an objective narrator are vaguely permeated, holds mysterious notes, everything is in perfect order. The viewer doubts where the truth is and teeters on the edge of doubt as to whether she is in fact crazy. Unfortunately, the ending offers a conventional bloody finale in which all mysticism disappears into thriller naturalism. It's hard to say whether there's more to be done with commercial ghost films than The Sixth Sense demonstrated, but Gothika is an example of a film that looks promising for 2/3 of the runtime to end up being a better Hollywood loop. It’s too bad. But thanks to the directing, camera, editing, music, Halle Berry and the rising atmosphere, it's worth seeing... Quite similar course and result to Zemeckis's thriller What Lies Beneath. The potential used is only 70%.

Bohdan Sláma did not excite me with his first film, and what is more, his raw documentary style really bored me. I therefore didn’t expect much from Something Like Happiness, and the beginning of the film took place precisely in Sláma’s seemingly dull and unmarked style, which gives an anti-illusory and non-plot impression. But unlike Wild Bees, after a while there is a high degree of identifying with the characters, and soon the passion for the inconspicuous and unforced, but all the more suggestive story. The study of the environment is perfect and surgically comprehensive, the inhospitable Most region creates a resonant backdrop for the tragic life of the main characters, which only intensifies the feelings of uprooting, abandonment and hopeless perspective. Sláma’s film is filled with excellent acting performances, where the Geislerová, Vilhelmová and Liška trio shine among the precisely cast characters. The latter finally threw away the stupid mask of an idiotic clown and created, in my opinion, one of the most impressive male types of post-revolutionary cinema. Something Like Happiness is a cold and bleak film, naturalistic and uncombed, complemented only by a minimalist Spanish motif, which appears as a refrain in the middle of an inhospitable story, from which happiness flows timidly over time, not stupidly sentimental, but real. Sláma was able to capture an unstylized life and, thanks to its extraordinary intensity, I rank his film among the best films made after 1989. Bohdan Sláma is maturing and it is a pleasure to watch it.

Helgeland managed a fairly decent mix of the gritty dude, Lethal Weapon, and the Tarantino crude gangster poetics, in which brutality is sort of danced, humorous, casual. Payback is no directorial opus magni - it is a rather routine film, which owes most of its great moments to the script and to the excellent Mel Gibson, who capitalized on his many years of experience in detective Riggs' skin, only to stand on the opposite side of the barricade. Thanks to him the incredibly stubborn thief Porter becomes a character almost humorously dangerous, who, with raw willfulness, walks through the reinforced concrete barricade for the smallest thing. The central character is the central value of Payback. We otherwise do not find anything particularly original or memorable here, everything works for the benefit of the whole and the result is a quality gangster film from the rough school that delights even with its decent ending.

A beautifully portrayed fascination with death, to which Burton himself confesses as one of the great themes of his work. Corpse Bride is a decadent fairy tale that seems to have been born out of the Baudelaire aesthetic of filth, blessed with typical Burton affection and empathy. The result is an artistically extraordinarily mature film, for which a huge piece of work is done by the famous music of Danny Elfman, excellent actors who give the characters their souls and, of course, the fitting legendary story that Burton interpreted in his own way. It may be a little unfair to forget about Mike Johnson, but Corpse Bride is Burton's companion beyond the grave, breathing from every detail, from every precise verbal and visual gag, from the picturesqueness of places, from the typical neighborhood of the world of rationality and irrationality, on the edge of which the hero finds his true self. It's a poetic, riveting, beautiful film. It has no weak spots, unless one accepts the slightly conventional ending.