Marigold

In a way, the fourth Bond film was a revolution in the history of film. For the first time in an acted film, the action takes place partly under the sea, which was made possible using a special underwater camera designed for Thunderball by specialist Lamar Boren. Young's third opus again finds Sean Connery in great form, surpassing his dazzling debut, and his Bond is the real Bond in terms of Fleming's "may go wild beyond probable, but not beyond possible". And so we meet up with 007 as a smiling vacationer, as a wounded and frightened fugitive and, of course, above all as an intrepid, manly super agent who can deal with villains as well as beautiful women. The plot is indeed classic, the main villain (still only number two in the SPECTRE hierarchy) is a little bland, the women beautiful and underwater sequence riveting (especially the final harpoon pile). Bond is arming himself with more and more handy gadgets, and bond movie reputations as "high-tech" movies gain real footing in Thunderball. Moreover, when it comes to Connery's dry catchphrases, Thunderball is an abundant spring. If it weren't for the grotesquely accelerated final scene with the brawl on the Disco Volanté bridge, the fourth Bond would have been the perfect film... ___ Bond song: "Thunderball" (Tom Jones)

After the famous success of Dr. No, the Saltzman-Broccoli production duo thought about which book would be best suited as a continuation of Agent 007's triumphant journey on the silver screen. In the end, a rather unexpected factor spoke for From Russia with Love... J. F. Kennedy declared this book one of his favorites, sales rose, and guys from MGM knew what to do. And so, six months after the Cuban atomic crisis, a film appeared in movie theatres in which Russia and the West stand unknowingly on one side of the barricade, manipulated by the clever gambit of the Czechoslovak Kronsteen and the SPECTRE organization, headed by the mysterious Blofeld (note that there is a question mark next to his name in the headlines). The plot is very well tangled this time, but as a result it a fades out (or rather into other episodes). The myth of James Bond as a super agent is beginning to take shape, with Q, a multipurpose briefcase and a camera-recorder appearing on the scene, and yet this film takes place even more in the intentions of a classic spy film. A lot of dialogue, a few sympathetically-flowing action sequences (especially the fistfight with Grant on the express is worth it), even more ticklish scenes than in Dr. No, a beautiful Bond girl with a Russian accent... and a slightly weaker Connery, who just shadows his famous performance from the first movie. However, From Russia with Love has one of the best entangled stories of all the Bond movies and, of course, a sheer 1960s atmosphere, so I can't give less than Dr. No... actually, yes I can....a debut is a debut. Terence Young just knew how to make Bond movies. ___ Bond song: "From Russia with Love" (Matt Monro)

In 1962, a willing studio and a handy pair of producers (Saltzman-Broccoli) were finally found, able to realize ambitious plans to transfer the fates of Fleming's agent 007 from book to screen. Among the candidates for the lead roles were names such as Roger Moore (he was too young) and Cary Grant, but the choice fell to Scottish badass Sean Connery, who convinced with his musculature, rough smile and charisma that shone from him on all sides. And it was the right choice, that's obvious from Dr. No. It is basically a very conservative spy film with (for today's) minimal representation of action. It's based on a relatively realistic screenplay, so no big inventions, no Q. The plot is, say, a little more lukewarm, overly stretched and not diversified by anything particularly interesting (the main villain seems to be on the edge of interest), but Connery plays Bond with such grace and persuasion that no spy upgrades and action escapades are needed. The whole film holds firm thanks to the main character and his charm, and I dare say that the birth of the Bond cult was largely the work of the Scottish man in the early days. He provided the skeleton over which the super agent myth eventually began to wrap. Dr. No is a Connery film, it's entertaining, it's got English sarcasm, and perhaps too unhurried from today's point of view, but that's what its unique charm lies in. Let’s not kid ourselves, the power of 007 wasn't in super-weapons and incredible action performances, but in the steel-cold smile and calmness of a true gentleman... That's why pretty Brosnan can never become a real 007 agent, but he'll remain "just" an action hero.

Peter Jackson has a very perverse sense of humor and an even greater talent. Although this film is amateurish from head to toe, it is shot much better than the vast majority of "official" splatter productions. Although all the props and used effects are horribly transparent, that's exactly what Bad Taste is all about. An ode to bad taste, a terrible script, a brain, gulls, intestines and a mobile BEATLES enjoys the amateur and B-movie style, rolls in it happily and benefits from everything good it can benefit from... entertainment, black humor, excessive perversity, truly tacky music, fooling around instead of acting (P.J. really enjoyed his role, you can see it from his numb eyes), and crystal clear action. It amused those who made it, and it amuses those who watch it. A simple equation. So, if you don't automatically pick up your suitcase when you hear the words splatter and gore, welcome to Jackson's deli. I'd like 200 grams of spleen, a meter of intestines, and cut that lying cerebellum finely with a chainsaw.

Despite the awkward reception, I have to give Hřebejk one victory... he finally made a film from the Czech present, which I find both funny and true, and it is a film that is telling. It does not drown in self-serving vulgarity (like Angel Exit) or in a violent cool style (Loners and other Ondříček films), it has a solid screenplay, which finally has both a meaningful course and an excellently pointed ending – I am willing to forgive a lot for the bleak ending told with a minimum of means. Forgive what? The absence of a uniting atmosphere... without light nostalgia and melancholy, it’s like Hřebejk could not find his optimal narrative position, and the magic with color filters is thereby futile. Especially somewhere in the middle, when a father and son are reunited, the film is falls apart into long shots and unnecessarily drawn out dialogues. The essential fact is that they are not self-serving and lead somewhere, so momentary suffering and loss of concentration make sense as a result. Having learned from Pupendo, Hřebejk does not make an incoherent band of funny gags at all costs out of Loop the Loop, but he does put catchphrases and anecdotes into the flowing plot. Unfortunately, some sketches protrude roughly and remind us that Jarchovský regularly exaggerates this in an effort to be soulful. Even so, Loop the Loop made me laugh more sincerely than his previous picture. Betting on the strength of the acting worked – I was personally most surprised by Jiří Macháček, whose Bejk is a wonderful piece (and the statement: "There is no God, that's why I'm a fan" captures his entire unhappy insides). The theater actor Forman is also excellent, who does especially well in scenes with Emília Vášáryová... however, I did not find an important character who was walled off by an acting performance. Playing with different genres came out in the soundtrack, the color filters didn't work, but that's besides the point. The most important fact is that this statement about the state of society and the individuals in it, the study of tolerance and the multifaceted reflection on the problem of minorities, has a purpose, content, a message... I can't think of a better word than "meaning". And although the filmmakers have to chew on the huge chunk they have bitten off, often with great difficulty, Loop the Loop is still a fun, quality film...

The master's wonderful farewell to the world of film and to the world as such... What does he leave behind as a testament? An exciting, erosive and mysteriously poignant essay, a parable of the inconspicuous crisis of a relationship between two people who are pushed apart for a moment by one dream, one feeling. Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman's fascinating duet is primarily a sign of the visual superiority of the former, but better convincingness of the latter. Dr. William Hartford, an inherently happy, contented and confident man, learns one fine evening from his wife about an unrealized love adventure, and this story, rather an unfulfilled dream, gives him the impetus to go on a surreal and unreal journey for temptation, to soothe his painful male ego. During this journey, he slowly ceases to be himself and becomes a man who wears a mask... and, surrounded by pleasure, perversion, and pervasive temptation, he eventually becomes involved in a strange game that is full of dangers and unknowns. And even his mask can't protect him from the inevitable. Kubrick is as disturbing and suggestive as ever, the atmosphere of pre-Christmas New York adds a great inner strength to his film with geysers of gaudy colors, beautiful female nakedness and a story of tremendous inner strength. Every shot is a delight. Sensual, riveting. The acting... fantastic. The music – minimalist, fitting. A masterful parable with one single point...fucking. Fact. Dream. Agitated perception. Deep dreaming. Eyes wide shut.

I never really liked Roger Moore's Bond. To this day he still seems like an old man (you can see it well in fights that were infinitely more brisk in Connery's performance), but on the other hand, I have always appreciated his perspective and excellent sense of self-irony. And I really loved The Spy Who Loved Me as a kid, and with a little bit of nostalgia, I still like it today. The script is really good, Jaws is a scumbag, Barbara Bach is gorgeous, and the action sequences have flair and wit (especially the one with the car-submarine). This Bond movie has everything I love about agent 007 - an engaging story, power disputes, a perverted villain, perspective, and a tolerable dose of naivety (e.g., Moore's ridiculous "skiing" in front of the screen). The only thing missing for the last star is the only true Bond – Sean Connery.

I've written it many times in variations, but I have to say it again – Petersen is a master at filling out Hollywood templates. His relatively good directorial name will provide him with great actors, a decent budget, and as far as the choice of scripts is concerned, the German film matador always chooses quite carefully... His films don't fail, but they also don't make giant marks on the world. A deadly epidemic is a proven recipe for a disaster film, which is improved a class higher by the absolute realism of the subject (if I am able to judge it), and by the excellent gradient and quality of acting performances... In particular, the titular "Precog – agitator – determined warrior" Dustin Hoffman has the right choleric flair and, as they say in English-speaking countries, drive. Petersen does what Hollywood taught him to do – he doesn't really add his talent into the film (he showed it elsewhere, right?), he does everything the way it's supposed to be done in a disaster movie, he puts the pedal to the gas in the action scenes when the pace is fading and the grunting of the infected becomes annoying and monotonous... And once again, they create a beautifully worked and filled template, which is a joy to look at and for which it does not pay to remember who the great W.P. once was...

Handsome, this Pierce Brosnan. Unfortunately, in every film, he's almost identical in his pretty little facial expressions and perpetual macho talk. And while I'm not a lady or a minority man, I have a hard time with Brosnan's films, which aren't exactly based on a quality script. Unfortunately, Live Wire is a reactive thriller about an evil gentleman who makes whatever he touches explode, and about another gentleman who is in a marital crisis but still brings the first gentleman to his knees... And by the way, he can solve the crisis as a little side project... It might have been explosive if it hadn't been legible, cheesy and, in places, stupid. Rough detectives in a crisis have been done a hundred times better, for example, by Willis in The Last Boy Scout, and in the powerful genre competition, Duguay's work will hardly be anything more than a padding title for commercial television.

A successful series... it seems that at present a quality detective series stands and falls with the charisma of the main protagonist (see the great Midsomer Murders). Monk is really an exclusive piece, with a bit of Poirot editing. His meticulousness, light femininity and stiffness in the end are very reminiscent of Columbo rampaging about, although it's different... its unique. Endearingly insecure, receptive and very non-heroic. Plus, it is often backed up by great scripts that are thrilling, funny, just... catchy. So I'm putting Monk in the panopticon of strange detectives whose investigations are worth following.