novoten

Filming another life renewal where music plays the main role was the best thing John Carney could do. Those seven years since Once were filled with two films that no one saw, and his talent – that is, to provide viewers with enough optimism to last them at least a year ahead – had been long-awaited until Begin Again. Surprisingly, Carney has matured, polished the formal edges, and no longer feels the need to show in every shot that he is filming the most independent romance anyone has ever encountered. Thanks to the vibrant and perfectly cast central characters, Greta and Dan, he created something even better. More tightly written, even more determined, and speaking to the soul more intensely as one grows a bit older.

As if Christopher Nolan was filming more from himself than ever before. He was already indulging in the smartest twists and tricks in the plot and narrative with The Prestige or Inception, but here he genuinely experiences his omnipresent fear for his family every minute, engraving it into every passionate monologue by Matthew McConaughey and building all the twists around it. It is not easy to accept that this time, too, the driving force behind the universe (occasionally even literally) are his own desires and regrets. But thanks to that, Interstellar soars through drama, ecology, wormholes, water, and ice with Hans Zimmer's organs on its back, aiming for a subjectively absolute rating that has no equal. Because I now have greater respect for distant stars than ever before and at the same time, I would give anything to be even a step closer to them.

Season 1 – 80% – These Boys from San Francisco deceive with their bodies. They appear mainly as a series of unrelated episodes, in which the irresistible boyish smile of Jonathan Groff clearly takes the lead, thanks to which Patrick outshines his two main colleagues. From the very first moment, Agustín is unsympathetic and surprisingly, Dom remains unremarkable for a long time. But then, new blood comes in the form of my favorite TV matadors Scott Bakula and Russell Tovey in supporting roles, and everything changes. Looking gains several new dynamics, the storylines complement each other nicely, and there is not an episode in which some unquestionable relationship truth isn't uttered. The first season, apart from its slower start, also suffers from a somewhat restrained ending, when more emotions would have been more fitting, instead of what the whole gang left us. If next time, they delve even deeper into all the storylines depicted, a new lesson from Looking will settle damn high on my list of pure relationship dramas. Season 2 – 90% – The realism and plasticity of all the characters reach such a high level this time that the slogan "Find something real" fits perfectly. Looking fully realizes its potential as a relationship series with a flawless ensemble cast (especially Groff and Tovey, I would give them an Emmy), which, combined with HBO's decision to make the second year the last, is desperately bittersweet. The potential that the series had in itself could be measured in meters. Looking past a few minor plot detours that sometimes made Patrick seem unnecessarily indecisive, it is clearly the most believable series of recent times.

No entry this time to anyone ignorant of Ryan Murphy's work or people. The Midas of TV series targets its own ranks and instead of a carefully crafted multi-genre addition like American Horror Story or a collection of life truths (Nip/Tuck), it is written out of his family life through Bryan. And it is precisely because of this fact that I cannot help but shake my head and suppress laughter while reading the other reviews. Of course there's no accounting for taste, but criticizing the main creator for making the central character a disgrace to the gay community is short-sighted in this case. The perfectly flawless Andrew Rannells takes that self-parody (producer, singing teenage drama, 101 pop culture reference) to the very edge of perfection and makes the pleasantly "good" series into something more. The rest, by Ryan's standards, is surprisingly moderate play on certainty from a world where every empathic person deserves their moment of happiness. After some typical Murphy archetypes (a devilish aging blonde with the potential for occasionally relenting is an infallible trademark), the first season concludes, which – is truly the conclusion. I've never been satisfied with a good series being canceled right after the first season. These positive feelings wouldn't deserve to be diluted by further seasons, to the point where those twenty-two episodes really seem to function as a closed private photo album.

He might stumble a bit amidst the Turkish intrigues, but the closer he gets to the finish line, the more stubbornly I have to cheer for the prince of darkness in his fight against everyone. Luke Evans can bare his fangs and thanks to his charisma combined with excellent (albeit modestly served) action, Dracula Untold can appear several classes more magnificent than its reasonable budget or minimal runtime would suggest. Universal's ambitions to build a connected universe were somewhat naive from the beginning, but I will always know who would have stolen the show.

Alright, György Pálfi. If you make the effort to piece together an incredible number of fragments into an optimistic whole, you must truly be a people person at heart. A taxidermy that is not forgettable but forgiven at the least expected moment.

Season 1 – 90% – If I slightly feared that the story of the fighters from the previous War, the final pair of whom I already know thanks to Fate/stay night, would have nothing to offer, I couldn't be more wrong. Fate/Zero actually corrects practically all the mistakes its older brother had. It divides the time on the screen among all the Masters (though my favorite Kariya definitely gets the least of it), respect emanates from the strong Servants, the villains instill fear instead of mockery, and a guy like Kiritsugu just loads his weapon and lights a cigarette and still manages to steal the whole episode. Moreover, the intoxicating magic that permeates the whole story also obscures the fact that the last episodes occasionally come to a complete halt. Thickening intrigues and a pleasant cliffhanger teasing a coming action inferno promise a grand experience surpassing the current rating for the continuation. Season 2 – 100% – Occasionally about the power of dialogue, occasionally about perfect action – and the overwhelming majority of the time in gloomy contemplation that those who want to help the world the most also have to sacrifice the most. Kiritsugu, Kariya, and ultimately even the whiny Waver or Kotomine Kirei, who becomes more rotten over time, are flesh-and-blood characters, whose every decision ripens carefully and has immeasurable and irreversible consequences. And watching them, considering the rising number of dead main characters, truly hurts. Fate/Zero has matured into a depressingly toned saga that surpasses its predecessor in every way and, somewhat paradoxically, has changed my view of its characters fundamentally for the better. I have no desire to leave the world of the Holy Grail while walking through the burned city. Jumping on the train called "remake of Fate/stay night" seems like the best possible idea.

I got used to the suffocating stillness of the plot, in which actors recite all the dialogue like a Sunday poetry hour, maybe right up to the night visit to the forest. At that moment, I understood how quickly this timid stumbling through life can change the mood and finally managed to believe in it. Pushing it to a finish succeeds only halfway (mainly because of the presence of four different possible endings), but my sympathies remain relatively strong. Sending such an anti-theatrical morsel to a domestic audience is simply courageous.

The boulder in the belly is heavier than when I, as a child, was anticipating the final shot of Apache Gold – and the realization that thanks to the Russell T. Davies era, Doctor Who will be immortal. Number 10 is my Doctor.

Those were some bad dreams that brought us the audience's favorite antagonist for the Doctor, and in combination with another (although still sufficiently disturbing) megalomaniac storyline about the end of everything and everyone, Russell T. Davies bids farewell in truly royal fashion. Although the entry to the Tardis takes the long way around, thanks to the perfectly emotive relationship between the main hero and Wilfred, and the exhibition of John Simm, David Tennant has someone to play off of and dazzle the whole time. A last breath before a jump into deep cold waters.