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A Julian Fellowes script just before the start of Downton Abbey, directed by the otherwise genre-perfect Jean-Marc Vallée, the enchanting Ilan Eshkeri soundtrack, and the rarely failing duo of Emily Blunt-Rupert Friend as the main couple – and yet this slightly idealized story of the young queen is a disappointment. I only believe half of the romance, historical realities are almost completely disregarded, and the concept of love letters fails completely, as does the unreadable (and consequently unnecessary) Lord Melbourne. It is sad that I cannot believe so many grand words and emotions. I'm giving it a third star for purely selfish reasons only for the music.

A subjectively suffered good deed and Intensive game of contrasts. Both in visual terms from the light and darkness in the two workplaces, and in auditory terms from the nervous silence and bone-chilling vibrations or ringing tones. However, I would consider its most attractive asset the semantic contrast, where the lone sentence on the recording can affect the viewer completely differently every time. I won't argue that it's more than just a suffocating genre film, but it's so well done that I will gladly join the growing buzz.

Even though at first glance, and maybe even after the first scene, everything seems the same, Sicario 2: Soldado doesn't reach the heights of its predecessor. It can't, because the majority of the key participants from before are missing. Denis Villeneuve and his perfectly convincing direction, Joe Walker with his precise editing, Jóhann Jóhannsson's pulsating music, and above all, Roger Deakins' engaging camera, which turned an above-average experience into something unforgettable. And all of them have now been replaced, except for the key acting duo, and at least Taylor Sheridan returns. Once again, he has decided to cut deep, but this time he lacks the more human dimension that resonated with the viewer in the first film thanks to Kate's character. Her successor, in the form of the constantly bedraggled Isabela Merced, cannot handle a similar task because she only serves the plot without getting her own scene, at the expense of the machinations, action, and stubbornness of Josh Brolin and Benicio Del Toro. As a standalone genre film, Stefano Sollima's vision certainly holds up, thanks to the charisma of the aforementioned actors, but as a sequel to a film that shook the cinema three years ago, it is damn too little.

Ron Howard diligently pushes grand shots even where the viewer wouldn't expect them, and strives to make us forget about how formulaic the whole series feels. The supporting characters unnecessarily dilute the attention, and Felicity Jones' lukewarm performance doesn't help either. But what's even sadder is that even after a long break from Angels and Demons, it's clear that the screenplay is just trying to pick out the better ingredients from that and from The Da Vinci Code without adding anything new. Despite Tom Hanks' still surprisingly vibrant performance, my score remains below average, and I remain confused by this mishmash until this day.

With its confident approach, better team dynamics, and the abilities of the main hero expanded by a hair better than the first installment, it is also surprisingly a strong part of the whole universe. Given that it has not deviated from its heist schemes, family pathos, or even purely physical comedy, Scott Lang himself (and now perhaps Hope van Dyne) is an easily fitting piece of the puzzle that can shine on its own.

Most of the short stories written by Philip K. Dick contain entertainment, mystery, ideas, and messages. In fifty-minute versions, however, perhaps it is only the idea that remains, in some cases annoyingly stretched to an unbearable length, sometimes only material in the first act and then shamefully abandoned. Despite a few successful melodies from Ólafur Arnalds, Electric Dreams remains an unfinished effort, in which only the episode Human Is captivated me, in which Bryan Cranston once again plays Bryan Cranston. Such a charmingly eloquent paradox.

Season 1 – 100% – It is incredibly easy to take the concept of a peace-seeking protagonist and start laughing at esoteric meanings, militant vegans, and producing more simplistic humor. Because I am decently removed from such directions, I dare say that it is enough to just stop for a moment and hopefully it is clear to everyone that The OA does not tell any similarly instructional story. As someone who dislikes when something tries too hard to set itself apart from others and be extra alternative, I am glad to see that this is the exact opposite. A series full of emotions, subtle twists, and tension that becomes increasingly oppressive as the series progresses and paradoxically, even more inconspicuously presents itself. Season 2 – 90% – From the first to the last episode, I don't know what rating to give to the continuation. At the beginning, it provokes the viewer by not addressing the end of the previous season and instead piling up a heap of additional question marks. Later on, it only reluctantly connects the three plotlines to each other, occasionally winking at the viewer (pocket mini-robots), occasionally testing the viewer's endurance (Nina on stage in the club), but never backing down from the next potential step towards originality. I liked this series in no small part because it was different, and that always does it for me. But the fact is that it developed into broader frameworks and it saddens me that I can only blindly guess where it would eventually end. The bold manner in which the script slapped me in the face in the last minutes of the season, and thus the entire work, is so reprehensible and yet daring that I still have no words. Brit Marling is an even greater personality for believing that more than just a handful of devoted fans would watch such an elusive series.

Given the huge production difficulties, I do not understand how it is possible that the outcome turned out this well. Some things were reshot, some scenes were cut, some things were added with a bit of force, but Solo remains a successful adventure film that is perhaps most disruptive precisely because it is stitched together from so many different pieces. Gambling, chemistry with Lando, the train heist, the divine Qi'ra, and against all odds, Alden Ehrenreich leading a new Star Wars Story into a successful blockbuster, which loses in its episodic parts. The droid evil that L3 represents bothers me, as it brings ideas into the saga that I definitely do not need to see in it. The second misstep is the mining escapade, which feels like it came straight out of an average salad. I could do without the final cameo, which unnecessarily disrupts the (at that point incredibly intense) pace for fan viewers. Despite moments that may throw you off, the first financial failure in Star Wars history is a more than worthy fairytale that happily shoves the overcomplicated Rogue One into its pocket.

A sad look at the domestic perception of our own history in filmmaking. David Mrnka, a screenwriter and director in one, has transformed into the author of a ninth grade essay question. One in which most direct speech consists of sparse sentences or pseudo-dramatic slogans. When these types of mottos are delivered with the usual dull dubbing (a particularly sad paradox in Czech cinema), the quality of the acting is more or less nullified. The only one who manages to shine is the underestimated Vica Kerekes, while the judge Aňa Geislerová or Jiří Vyorálek's Gottwald as an avid vodka drinker are, without exaggeration, in the category of parody. Milada herself, portrayed by Ayelet Zurer, works as an actress, but what she is forced to say is so absurdly profound that even she fails to handle it. When she melodramatically utters "Communists are like Nazis..." at a moment intended to be pivotal, all that's missing is a mischievous wink to the camera. It was not clear to me until the end whether the film was supposed to be four hours long and a lot had to be cut, or if Mrnka printed three pages of text from Wikipedia and just ticked off each item. Otherwise, I cannot explain absurd moments like "the main heroine is sentenced to prison, only to cheerfully return home in the following scene". Those who knew something about Milada Horáková before the start of the film will be disappointed, and those who knew nothing will end up with a helluva mess.

I understand that all the participants in the project dedicated a considerable amount of time to it, but they did not have much luck in their timing. Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris have filmed a pleasant period spectacle that, without any subtle nuances – quite the opposite – fights for women's rights then and now, whether in sports or in life. However, they did it shortly after a thematically similar (and narratively more generous due to the TV format) show, GLOW, had appeared on Netflix. Despite the traditionally excellent Emma Stone and the unbelievably spot-on casting of Steve Carell, it is a disappointment when we reach the actual Battle, after significant historical facts are omitted and a few too convenient twists are added, despite the use of the exact dialogue. I did not want to believe that this clichéd and rather TV-esque production is supposed to be that historical turning point.