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In terms of the craftsmanship and the acting, it’s a precise reconstruction of events, there’s no question about it, and if I was an ardent fan of motor sports I would probably jump in joy, but I can’t put up with the motivational naivete and the explicit fairytale story, where the evil Italians deride the heroic American designers, whose bosses are blithering idiots. The cinematography and, especially, the sound of the races are awesome and Bale is great again, but I would cut twenty minutes off and pay more attention to the balance between the three climaxes, of which only one worked for me. That said, this is a pleasant film and I’ve no reason harbour any hate towards it.

Narratively speaking, the most remarkable film of the year. Scorsese is still a master of his craft, he connects each scene and time layer of this massive story in one smooth and consistent continuity. Thanks to this, a complex story with many characters and motifs from the ranks of the mafia and high politics doesn’t feel chaotic, on the contrary, from the first long camera ride onwards, it grabs you by the hand and never allows you to not get deep into the story of the protagonist – unlike Casino and, to some extent, Goodfellas, which are more about the world of those characters rather than the characters themselves, Irishman is a sincere and, by the end, painful confession of a man who lived, killed, followed orders and also felt. The end of an era that they love to relive in their older years, in an armchair and with a piece of bread soaked in fruit juice. The de-aging effect was alright and, more importantly, justified; the actors themselves, on the other hand, especially Pesci and Pacino, are as great as when they were at the peak of their physical strength.

Wonderfully touching and visually authentic filmmaking that in a beautifully slow pace unfolds the story of the two protagonists, while undermining the saving value of the American dream, keeping a shallow flicker of hope. The biggest share of my intensive viewer experience comes from the beautiful female presence of Marion Cotillard, who’s great, but James Gray proves again his feeling for intimate and psychological stories that don’t take place or end as could be expected for the standards of classic Hollywood tales – and for that he deserves my admiration in this case, too.

It’s sad perhaps that Episode IX works better as a stand-alone film than as the culmination of a (bloody) expansive story, but that was inevitable after Disney’s takeover. Episode VII worked on weakly recycled material that, in the style of the original trilogy, only served to present the potential core conflict of two mysteriously related characters; Episode VIII, in the hands of a new and confident director, developed the motifs in an impressive manner and boldly closed some of them, but the loud critical responses of fans from the pop-corn herd lead to the return of the original director, who, in the face of sure defeat, was afraid to follow the established plot and narrative mode of The Last Jedi. Thus, at the expense of the development of the story of the characters, he had to bring back a long-forgotten villain, who becomes the only driving force that moves the characters on the chessboard. And here we get to what bothered me the most in this film: it was not about what actually happened, but how it happened and the ways in which it was achieved. The principle of chance and a permanent Deus ex machina, the questionable decisions of the characters that only serve to speed up the story and keep it on its forced path, the copying of proven approaches from SW, due to which the ending is very shoddy in terms of motivations, and that the promising relationship of Rey and Kylo Ren can never escalate in a wholesome way. And yet, I was able to accept this old-new forced cliffhanger and get tuned to a fast adventure note, and in the end the climax didn’t irritate me. Unfortunately, they arrive to it very hastily and, doing away with the unwanted motifs, the only thing that stands out is the hackneyed concept of the desperate fight, but this time with a lousy villain and an awful intervention from an ill-conceived plot. At least, by borrowing the final one-liner before killing the villain from Avengers: Endgame, Disney admitted that The Rise of Skywalker served more to expand their toy line than to competently close the most popular film saga ever. Weak 3*, out of respect for the definitely surviving original characters, John Williams and for my final sympathy towards Rey and Kylo’s line.

It’s been long since a sequel made me this happy. Dr. Sleep lacks the author’s vision and unpredictability of Kubrick’s The Shining, but Flanagan builds a meaningful follow-up story that richly develops the possibilities of Kubrick’s secondary themes, smartly blending it with the events of the previous film. This smart director takes other things from the legendary filmmaker: the approach to the protagonist and the narrative style – throughout the film the adult Dan Torrance is an almost surprisingly passive figure under the control of a girl with a strong shining (in a similar way the hotel controlled his father), while the story gradually shrinks, both in time and space, with Flanagan, like Kubrick, using small time lapses to illustrate it. He also manages to imitate the main style characteristics of the previous film, likewise with the music motifs, the reliance on details of the actors during tense moments, the absence of shallow jump-scares, which are replaced by the strategically organised movement of the characters in the mise-en-scène, and the identical staging of some scenes, which both pays homage to and reinforces the narrative connection with the previous film (McGregor’s conversation with Bruce Greenwood in an office looks the same as Jack’s interview with Ullman at the beginning of The Shining; on the stairs, Rebecca Ferguson uses similar gestures as Jack Nicholson; the conversation with the barman, etc.). The long runtime isn’t a problem, either, the film works from the get go with three strongly motivated camps of protagonists (or rather, antagonists) that are slowly being brought together, plus the brilliant return to the iconic hotel, were all the sequences will be gold for the orthodox fans of the original. The Shining told the viewers that the Overlook was the only evil and dangerous place for people who shine, Dr. Sleep expands this into a vast fictional world where Danny gradually assumes the role of his mentor Halloran and his childish self is replaced by a girl who’s going through a similar development (which is highlighted by the film’s very last shot). The very positive impression is completed by a ton of welcome references, the character of the climax and the excellent actors, led by the traditionally likeable and credible McGregor, though the divine Rebecca Ferguson also deserves praise, she’s convinced me again she’s the most charismatic actress of today (and for me, maybe the past, too). If only every sequel of a famous brand was at least half as good as this one. 90%

If due to some obscure coincidence of fantastical circumstances I found myself in the mid 90s as one of the most powerful Hollywood producers, and I was approached by Stanley Kubrick and Steven Spielberg telling me they want to adapt “Lord of the Rings”, I would throw them out of the office and immediately call Peter Jackson and would tell him to drop everything so he can shoot it “again”… Because I don’t think there’s anyone in film history who would be able to suck the viewer so flawlessly into their own world and make them experience an epic but leisurely built stor, with characters with whom we would immediately go till the end of the world. LOTR is a cinematic gem and The Fellowship of the Ring in particular is the most beautiful heroic ballad that has ever been materialised in front of the camera. PS: I didn’t read the book.

A film full of conflicts. On the one hand, its quite gripping, intellectually rich and brilliantly cast and acted, but also uneven and fragmented among potentially strong motifs that all deserve more attention. The film is carried by the premise itself, and the criticism of the Soviet state authorities also deserves praise, but it still leaves the aftertaste of the unexploited potential of the story about the worst mass murderer in Russian history, whose rage and personality the made-for-TV Citizen X fails to fully portray. 70%

A very bizarre mix of werewolf horror and a drama about ageing and coming to terms with the past. If it’d had an A-list Hollywood director and budget, it could have been a fundamental multi-genre movie, but it didn’t and it shuffles on one place, with dodgy make-up effects that prevent the villains from causing much fear. But it’s alright, the concept of the monthly preparations for the next werewolf attack is original and Nick Damici imprints inimitable charisma to his grouchy, tough character. To watch once and weak 3*.

Good intentions and several thrilling scenes wrapped into a messy narration that fails to draw in the viewer and in the end leaves them with more questions than they would like. I appreciate the unorthodox approach vis-a-vis the characters, the work with the music and the unexpected bursts of violence, but the story doesn’t make any sense. Even A Serbian Film, which was more gratuitous and morally reprehensible, left me with a better impression.

The idea would be fitting for the early 1980s, but given the trend in Grindhouse of the last two decades, it’s also acceptable for more ambitious B-movie waters. The execution of the story, however, is pretty terrible – there are a few decently edited scenes, the make-up effects and the gore are alright, and there are a couple of very good ideas (the transformation into a werewolf is pretty funny, likewise the sex scene with the beautiful red riding hood), but the promising concept is killed by a pointless twist and the ending is just boring and bland. At least Sarah Lind is a candidate for the sexiest bartender in film history (though in her case it was a little different). 35%