novoten

Ethan Hawke has been hanging in my memory as a top performer in Richard Linklater's Boyhood, a kind-hearted rascal and the father of the main character all in one. It was precisely because of such a mature role that I was eager to reach for the overlooked story of a young baseball player – and I was left sitting frozen. While the sports background went completely over my head, every scene in which Hawke appears and starts terrorizing his son more and more forcefully with each next sentence is a demonstration of his acting chameleonism. It's nice that Hawke helps unknown films gain attention with his participation, but in similarly small, intimate films, he is quite wasted. If only The Phenom itself had aimed for higher ambitions and hadn't let the second half quietly slip away apart from the last few minutes, there could have been much more success to celebrate.

Sergio Leone had a great gift. After just a few minutes of the usual silence, he takes the cigar out of his mouth and I tremble, hoping that the paths of the two gunmen finally cross. And when it happens, and the motivations of the characters start adding fuel to the fire, I must shockingly admit that if any of the director's epics come close to the legendary Once Upon a Time in the West in terms of quality, it's these few dollars more. The symbiosis of image and Ennio Morricone's music doesn't quite reach perfection yet, but it's damn close.

The dynamics of the crew are the main focus here, as the relationships between the characters (and the chemistry between the actors themselves) are the key to the whole story. While the first installment was about finding one's true self and the second deepened the relationships, this time the Enterprise embarks on an episodic space adventure, which unfortunately loses some steam after the intense action in the first encounter with Krall. Luckily, the dialogue does not fall far behind, and the change of gears in the story is quite beneficial, as Scotty and McCoy have more space than in the previous films, while Uhura surprisingly takes a backseat. Without a perfectly graded finish, I'm not sure, I'm not sure. The individual storylines sometimes struggle to come together, the antagonist doesn't have a chance to gain points until his (albeit expected) identity is revealed, and it is only when the dusty motorbike kicks into action that the true cosmic ride begins with all the promised thrills. A stronger 70%, which paradoxically works perfectly as a farewell to the current crew.

The content says something about the fact that the viewer will realize that all this about mountain biking is not just about riding downhill. However, in Signatures, all I see is the going downhill and a few hesitant shots of monkeys, socks, or a sausage, and the triviality of the entire documentary changes nothing at all.

Duncan Jones tries to appeal to fans of all kinds of the source material, as well as those unaffected by Warcraft, but in my case, he only made it halfway, stumbling along the way. When unfamiliar characters appear a few minutes into the film, looking deadly serious and throwing around unfamiliar names, titles, or at least mysterious words like "Gul'dan," I didn't believe I could get into the story. Luckily, the whole mythology is not complicated, and everything starts to fit together, especially when combination with the adventure where something is always happening, and there is never a moment without one of the main characters fighting, enchanting, or at least flying around a battle or spell. The problem is that beyond the initial visual destruction or emotionally well-crafted soundtrack, there is nothing else. The battles, romances, pacts, and wars lack entertainment value, and the entire First Contact takes place without me starting to root for Lothar and his comrades. On the contrary, the only character who truly interested me and for whom I was rooting for dies in a shockingly routine manner. I wouldn't mind a sequel because with such breadth, there will always be something to develop, but here, there was a lack of soul that would have made this newly discovered universe feel close to me. 50%

An impactful, audiovisual thriller work that is nearly perfectly crafted in terms of the gradation of all key moments. Blake Lively effortlessly navigates through all positions, and when she emerges onto the board/whale/rock just a few centimeters away from the jaws of a shark, I thought I'd be left with the cinema armrests in my hands. Therefore, it is a pity that in the end, it doesn't deviate from going predictably over the top and you have to say goodbye to a great show as it instead turns laughable. Those genre boundaries that Jaume Collet-Serra skillfully tried to sweep away for a while are needlessly beaten up by the shallows at the very end.

Even in the most instructive fashion, Studio Ghibli never fails, and through its amazing characters (Baron), surprising amount of lines (I was tearing up from laughter during the chase in the labyrinth), and touching soundtrack, I could only stare in surprise at how comprehensively this short fairy tale works, even though it is based on a concept very similar to the year older Spirited Away. If not for the persistent feeling that in the end The Cat Returns functions almost like the first installment of a really epic series, I would have given my review the highest rating, but even so, the memories of the adorable Haru will remain extremely positive.

The universe is being built again, and this time where it is completely unnecessary. The intended original team is undermined from the first minutes because someone from the Justice League is inserted into all the major origin stories that no one wants to see at that moment. It distracts from the new characters, and the uniqueness that was so proclaimed in the trailers is suddenly gone. Even the song soundtrack doesn't really pull me in because with every other old-school hit, I can't shake off the impression that the Guardians of the Galaxy, who are so closely related in terms of genre, are being shamelessly plagiarized. At least Steven Price's orchestral accompaniment supports the action to dizzying levels and makes us forget that it's dark, raining, or dark and rainy in every shootout. Unfortunately, the most significant battle saved for the finale feels forced, with villain motivations that are laughable and, surprisingly, poorly executed in terms of special effects. It's with this battle it becomes most apparent how the second half of Suicide Squad has become weak, both in terms of its lines and its actions, which makes no sense given the supposedly psychopathic roots of the characters. However, the film does have one big positive surprise, and that is Harley Quinn, who is exactly as good as I thought she could never be in Margot Robbie's portrayal. She steals every scene, delivers the most self-assured dialogue, and, along with the charismatic Deadshot, they are the only ones who deserve to return in future adaptations. The biggest casting disappointment remains Jared Leto. Not that he didn't try, but while someone like Heath Ledger in The Dark Knight was able to frighten just by appearing on the screen, Leto has to rely on empty performances, makeup, or various props – and because of that, he is just a noisy attraction, leaving an aftertaste of wasted opportunity. Just like in the entire Suicide Squad, which sometimes offers up something good, but without exception, it is always followed by ay least two things that are bad.

A continuation I had resisted and wished for a long time that it would never happen, because the original trilogy works as a perfect action-spy diamond that doesn't need further polishing. And as The Bourne Legacy has already shown, continuing from elsewhere is not the best idea. Nevertheless, here we are and as expected, it reminds me so much of Paul Greengrass's previous contributions that it almost feels like a quote. I see the myth in specific scenes or twists, and the plot paraphrases The Bourne Ultimatum, and before all the flashbacks and assumptions settle in, I didn't have a very light feeling, especially when one of the targets is the surprisingly terrible Tommy Lee Jones. But it's still there in Matt Damon's bulldog face, and even though the action this time already slightly steps out of its established boundaries and flirts with (by previous standards) a surprising lack of realism, the physicality and uncompromising nature of it still raise my adrenaline level so much that it stayed high the whole way home from the cinema. Along with Nicky's return, the unreadable Heather, and the incomparable atmosphere, it is indeed an unnecessary digging into something already resolved, but the personal subplot ultimately fulfills its purpose perfectly. 75%

A third season would have served our heroes from San Francisco far better and the café dialogue scene would definitely have been the best episode yet, but Andrew Haigh still managed to pull it off. He combined the prayed-for finale with an almost inexhaustible avalanche of truthful sentences, bidding farewell to the entire series, perhaps even fatefully. After an hour and a half of conversations about life, anyone who has ever been slightly troubled by relationships must reflect on where they are heading or where they would like to go. Or on the fact that those who behave a little like asses hide an irreparably broken heart deep inside. Or on the fact that even if we mean well, the other person can perceive us (often quite rightfully) as a coward. Or simply on the fact that even if we get burned a hundred times, we do not wish to remain alone. Thank you, Patrick. Only a few characters have shed as much light on life lessons and slaps in the face as you have succeeded in doing.