Marigold

I feel like Spielberg let himself be seduced by the gloss and forgot that Indy's magic is equally part of the action and the story. There is plenty of the first in The Temple of Doom (perhaps even a surplus), but the second is a great weakness. The whole thing is built too straightforwardly, without real gradation and any noticeable shift. The environment has a rather dull and backdrop impression, so everything must be saved by the divine Harrison and his boyish charisma. Another problem for me is the screaming beauty Kate Capshaw, who, though I don't hit women, I would like to slap. Her role is what it is, it’s acted great, but it doesn't work for me. And one more negative point for that little kid, who is typically an infantile smirk at the child viewers. Yet at least the feast scene and a few other sequences make Jones' second adventure unforgettable.

My favorite Indy... WHY? Because it contains several absolutely classic action scenes, several excellent gags and, above all, Jones Sr. performed by Sean Connery. The Connery-Ford chemistry works in an absolutely fantastic way, as if they both really had a family bond. Of all their scenes, my favorite is the one on the rock after the tank fell into the abyss. Everything essential is in it – humor, tension, feeling. The story may be a little weaker than in the first film, but it has a similarly magnetizing atmosphere and depth that is so lacking in Temple of Doom. And Spielberg's ingenuity in the action scenes has no limits... The others have no choice but to copy and copy. If you say “adventure film", then I hear the whip crack, and out of the corner of my eye I see a character in a hat. Top class, Dr. Jones!

A canon of American crazy comedy. It doesn't only reflect on what is good for it (that which is the most spectacular), but it takes the war film/agitation genre as a whole and reveals its stupidity in complete nudity. Some gags (visual or verbal) are simply unforgettable. So: apt, funny, successful. A clear leader in its field. Some flyers have more than just steel penises...

Zdenda Troška is getting ready for his future master opuses. If anything, then at least this film creates the illusion that it really is a film. A very lousy one, but still a film. The semantics of the word "shirty" performed by Z. Troška: riding stupidity with a few exposed breasts and dicks. It works well as contraception... The semantics of the word "comedy" performed by Z. Troška: humor for those who are less mentally capable. Especially good as a cure for constipation.

The recycled plot of the original The Visitors is diluted so as to be planted in the commercial potential of abounding America, and the result is shapeless crap that has very little in common with the previous two films. Jean Reno in the role of Knight Thibault is but a shadow of the venerable Count de Montmirail, not to mention Clavier, in front of whose Andrew the famous Jacquouille would not even have farted contemptuously. Their mutual sparks are nowhere to be seen, the dialogues are faint, without wit, without pithiness. If I laughed, it was only during the poorly copied scenes from previous films and only in the first part of the film. The second part is a post-American mockery and is a mess, and the only thing it has in common with The Visitors are the poorly acted main characters. The spirit of the previous films is irretrievably lost - the editing, the dynamics of dialogues, the acting performances all don’t work... just nothing. Only a drop of nostalgia saves this comedy from trash, nostalgia which seizes me when I see Reno's face in his helmet...

I don't like films about films too much, and this documentary made me understand why. They completely unnecessarily deal with the details that are magical in the film. And when a documentary filmmaker shows you "how it’s done", a piece of the magic disappears. And with Burton's Sleepy Hollow, it's pretty noticeable. So: a few of the interviews are interesting, but special effects autopsies tell me something I don't really want to know...

An ode to imagination and filmmaking style. Tim Burton has the gift of extraordinary style, which makes his films something otherworldly, teeming with imagination in every detail, in every color. Sleepy Hollow is without a doubt the most artistic horror I've had the pleasure of seeing, with immense visual care in every shot, and every shot has the magic that only real masters of imagination can do. You might argue that Sleepy Hollow is nothing more than a rather haunting story from the late 18th century, mixed with a decent detective story, but in my eyes there's much, much more. As in Burton's latest film, Big Fish, Burton's fascination with the world of rationality and imaginative dreaming and their eternal encounters is evident in Sleepy Hollow. Johnny Depp's Ichabod Crane is not just a cutely insecure character with the self-confident mask and grimaces of an actor from old horror films - he's another of Burton's characters who discovers that not everything is illuminated by rationality and irrationality is an integral part of our world, our lives. But why these analyses? Sleepy Hollow is a film with a perfect horror atmosphere and an irresistibly macabre sense of humor, candy for the eye and soul at the same time. A film that, unlike single-watch thrillers a la The Sixth Sense, does not lose the ever-bewitching magic of moving images. Vivat Buton!

This masterpiece of John Woo hit me in the head like a bullet. The brilliantly filmed story of three friends who, through unfortunate circumstances, find themselves in war-torn Saigon and their friendship is put to the test by the extraordinary and incomprehensible brutality of war. Woo brilliantly combined the dynamic action film made in Hong Kong and a psychological drama, which is surprisingly very good in the film. He thereby created something that will stick in your head not only through excellent action scenes, but also with the surprising power of the characters and their ailing fates. Indeed, Bullet in the Head has all the features of the "fast" Hong Kong school, but in addition to shooting, it can also strike the soul with its rawness and openness in depicting real brutality that overshadows mere cinematic action. My joy was only spoiled by an overly action-based conclusion, which in my eyes favored effect over thought. Which is quite a shame.

An average plot, a repertoire of jokes (perhaps just the heart and Hitler's car are worth mentioning), but still quite watchable, at least thanks to all the actors, who do a routine but good job. Only John Cleese disappointed me, because taking such a bland role is completely unnecessary for such a distinctive appearance. I'm sure you'll find tons of better comedies - but on the other hand, there are tons of worse ones. Rat Race is a nice thing to watch when you have some spare time.

The Blind Swordsman: Zatoichi is a true revelation. Ignore the media presentation, trailer and many comparisons to Tarantino's Kill Bill. Zatoichi is not a "popcorn" film, it is not a film to gorge yourself on, but rather it is a good film sake, which must be drunk in small sips and enjoyed. A gourmet experience. It's a film about the rhythm of life, about sweet stereotypes and harmony, which sometimes needs to be protected by very brutal means. Blind masseur Zatoichi literally shuffles through the story (it's a classic myth that goes from somewhere to somewhere), corrects evil and disappears somewhere again. But much more than a "western plot", this film is full of kind humor, meditative pondering about human things and the phenomena of Japanese culture. If you want to know about the Japanese soul, culture and samurai tradition, Kitano is the right guide for you. The battles are just the icing on the cake - brilliant, basically conservatively realistic. And the whole film is beautifully slow, ponderous, wise... I'm sure it doesn't have the gift to take your breath away, but it certainly has the gift of pleasing. And that's just right from my point of view.