Marigold

Though the subject seemed woefully Gilliamian, its processing into a worn and uninteresting script with extraordinary consistency filtered out everything that went beyond the first plan. Gilliam was left with a visually engaging but desperately empty narrative about two brothers hunting down false ghosts until they find themselves face to face with the real supernatural. Thanks to the direction, it was not a completely reprehensible mess, but despite this fact, The Brothers Grimm offers little more than a lavish quest, decent tricks, uninteresting music, mediocre performances by the main characters and good performances by some of the supporting characters (experienced Gilliams Stormare and Pryce, and the great Bellucci). Instead of a carnival somewhere on the uncertain edge of rationality and irrationality, instead of the dazzling imagination and cinematic magic that Gilliam wields like few, all that remains is typical Hollywood with a flimsy script, colorful backdrops, and a few good gags (but weak-minded by Gilliam's standards). I understand why Terry had the worst shoot of his career... his worst film came out of it. Three stars for an immeasurable and futile effort to turn a fart into a ball.

This intimate thriller from the controversial Canadian maniac on the director's stool is one of the most enjoyable surprises of the year. After outings like Naked Lunch, I wouldn't expect such a masterpiece from David Cronenberg, with good craftsmanship but extraordinarily stylish filmmaking. Of course, I'm not pretending that I didn't follow his last steps, so A History of Violence seems like a real slap in the face out of nowhere. While this film cannot be put on a pedestal of exceptionalism, it is actually a very conservative thriller about a man who reacts unnaturally coldly in a dangerous situation and pulls off a merry-go-round of questions, exclamation marks and dark places that threaten his very identity. Tom Stall, played superbly by Jacksonian good boy Viggo Mortensen, is the driving force behind the film – an archetypal hero "with a question mark". This time, the cleverly seated narrator is not out of line with the standard, and is "only" well mastered in terms of craftsmanship and keeps the fundamental question of "who is the protagonist?" open enough. The family environment that Tom defends with all his might worked brilliantly, which Cronenberg portrays suspiciously harmoniously in the first part of the film. In addition to the great acting performances of the whole ensemble and the well-written script, it is worth mentioning Howard Shore's inconspicuous but sensitive soundtrack and, of course, the perfect direction, which does not show off in any way, but sensitively looks at the story, carefully draws the viewer into it and alternates with incredible ease the intimate plane with almost naturalistic brutality, in which Cronenberg can be recognized a mile away. There's no sign of self-purpose, pathos, heroism... the final duel with Cronenbergian eases into intimate tones the spectacular black-and-black action that Tarantino can only quietly envy in his older colleague... The end of the film takes place without words, only gestures, hints and sounds into the quiet like a cry to which the viewer has to answer for himself. Will Tom get another chance, or will his actions destroy him? If it weren't for the drawn-out details and the slight loss of gradation at the end, this would have been an almost flawless film. Even in this form, however, A History of Violence is a mature and inspiring example of a psychological thriller, which, while not arousing deep questioning about the meaning of being, nevertheless captivates, absorbs and entertains. Without giving in.

A really great film. Cook up about 40 mostly below-average action crap films, engage a dilettante modeling circle to rummage through its collection of trains and prepare tricks below the level of the silent era, ask an actor who has passed his zenith for a few light years and mix it all into a terrible borscht by a clumsy director. Sprinkle on top a soundtrack that would make even amateur porn feel ashamed, and edit it in a way that resembles an epileptic seizure, or a tour of a photo collection after a bottle of Absinth has been consumed. And what do we get? A film for TV Prima and an evening when you got tired of an activity as philosophically deep as picking your nose.

I don't like Ben Affleck, and comic book adaptations that endlessly variate the decoction of Burton's Batman get on my nerves... that's why I don't really understand why I liked Daredevil so much. Perhaps because the blind hero is a nice guy, Farell is true to tradition excellent, the music is listenable, the choreography standard (albeit chaotic at times) and the atmosphere is decently darkened due to the tragedy at the end of the film. It cannot be overlooked that director Johnson is slightly above-average and does not offer us any great visual feasts, even using the gift of the main hero rather non-inventively. Despite this, Daredevil is a very pleasant and easily digestible film, which, while it cannot compete with the comic book elite, is good enough in its weight category.

Michael Bay did it!!! I didn't know there was a film that, with its simple pathos, could trump Emmerich's mega-babbling Independence Day. However, Bay scored in a manner so vehement that he broke through the net and beat the spectators in the back of the stands. The first minutes, however, do not suggest any extreme performance, but rather it smoothes everything out into a decent action sphere with good actors and a certain sarcastic perspective; however, at the latest when the President of the USA unpacks his messianic hit and the anonymous mother personally declares to me one of the stupidest sentences in the history of cinema: "He's not a salesman, that's your daddy," Armageddon begins to have the right zest. This is followed by a somewhat weaker passage, where the film goes full-tilt action, everything explodes, is spoiled, corrected... until it turns into slightly boring fireworks. But there's also an excellent ending, where you can finally see some nice compositions with American flags (the actors certainly have them on their shorts) and to hear pearls like "You were the best, Harry!" Bay literally explodes with an orgasm of pathos, cheese and stupidity that knows no bounds. It's an orgasm as powerful as an asteroid explosion, backed up by famously arranged shots and especially (how many times is that now?) an excellent screenplay that has such verbal and stylistic power that it gave me a headache. Don't be angry with me about this waste. It's gourmet waste, the kind of waste I'll probably carry in my heart all the way to my personal Armageddon. I'm just praying something else doesn't beat him. What's that in your pocket, Roland???

The traditional Balkan school can be found in the style of Danis Tanović. The art of a tragicomic situation that balances on the edge of concrete and metaphor, to display a bleak whole, is typical especially for Emir Kusturica, but Tanović seconds him more than proficiently. At first, the humorous paradox of three men who find themselves in caught between the battle lines of Serbs and Bosnians grows into absurd dimensions of personal and super-personal tragedy, which the "Western" world, immersed in its quasi-messianic role, is unable to comprehend, let alone resolve. No Man's Land can be perceived as a brilliantly filmed intimate drama, but it is far better to see it as a statement of the illogicality of one conflict and the inability of Western civilization to be empathetic. The dismal ending is on par with the strongest moments of Kusturica’s filmography, and it is precisely this fact that makes me give it full marks even after the rather dull introduction. One should not only see No Man's Land, but one should also try to empathize with what one who understands more than the reporters of the mass media tells us without unnecessary nationalist passions.

I'm not a racist, but the Hollywood nigga-macho archetype is really getting on my nerves. And when the two come together, they get an arsenal of stupid catchphrases, designer clothes, and a flimsy story about drug dealers... Well, what's going to come of it? An incredibly simple film with great action sequences. I would like to narrow the film down to them, avoid unnecessary interludes and "humorous" speeches by both Will Smith and Martin Lawrence. Two stars for Michael Bay's traditionally great direction, a thoroughbred edit and a colorful camera. Which, unfortunately, doesn't mean you can watch Bad Boys II with your brain online.

Inoculated by the general skepticism that engulfed the camp of the director's faithful, I avoided The Village at all costs. Today I know that it was a mistake, because it is the first Shyamalan film that really has something to it - that is, something more than just excellent technical design and points that get tired after the first revelation. The point of The Village is conceivable from the first moment, just as the Indian wizard's effort to build his film as a psychological study rather than a scary thriller is evident. An interesting game with hints, colors, characters, straightforwardness, sometimes a personalized narrator - all this gives The Village a touch of engagement and creates an atmosphere that is not scary, but rather tense and mysterious. Indeed, the closed society of the "righteous" seems strange, the individual characters are shifted, disturbed, unusual. Shyamalan does their interaction both brilliantly (the excellent Lucius /Ivy love scene) and badly (the unnecessarily starchy dialogues of the "elders"). Sometimes the script is poor when there are too many words where it would be better to keep quiet. Shyamalan's struggle for a new expression that would break away from traditional clichés is persistent and, thanks to the ending, a success. But it cannot be said that it is 100% convincing, but rather wobbly and unbalanced. But I must repeat again, there is a hopeful difference between Shyamalan's delicacies for the masses and The Village. I hope the director doesn't shy away from it.

The terrible "genre" ending completely unnecessarily demolishes the precisely built construction of a dynamic action film with a surprisingly civilian hero and very functional modernist tricks in the direction and camera. Moore struck a tolerable tone that trumped the recruitment subtext and the rather dubious Bosnian backdrop. He manages to maintain the anxiety and, thanks to the quick edit and the aforementioned modern effects, also great momentum, which unfortunately is ultimately completely crushed during the ending by the pathetic musical accompaniment and the overall disgusting conception (the looks of the individual actors are literally the thematicization of all the cheese that can be stuffed into an American war film). But I don't want to give the impression that I didn't like the film - it lived up to its genre fully, it entertained, tensed and flew by. If you want to see a Bosnian conflict at an intellectual depth, watch No Man's Land instead.

Outrageous crap with a sparse script and tons of strange lines, but the Glover-Gibson acting package is incredibly fun, light, natural and original. Although it's an amalgam of manly bullshit, action clichés, and thoughtless humor, the interplay of the title pair elevated Donner's film two classes higher. Personally, I like the scenes from the Murtaugh household, which resemble a family sitcom and contrast wonderfully with the other face of the film – the rough action "detective story". It's hard to imagine a better action relax than Lethal Weapon: it's undemanding, soullessly funny and delightfully cheesy.