novoten

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.

You can never get enough of fairy tales, magic, and the power of true love, so it's no wonder that the creative duo of Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis decided to explore Wonderland, which had thus far only been briefly outlined, in greater detail. Without the Mad Hatter, but with a decent portion of new and completely amazing main characters. The anticipated audience favorite is the sincere Knave with his heart in the (not so) right place, Will, and in my case, the villainous Jafar. The way Lost veteran Naveen Andrews savors every raise of his eyebrow, not to mention his truly despicable deeds, is irresistible, and it's worth waiting for every malicious line he delivers. And when I realize how much I have grown fond of that unique winking doll's acting style of Emma Rigby, I have to admit, with slight hesitation, that the least interesting central character remains the love-struck Alice herself. Not that she irritates or hinders the plot with her decisions, but Anastasia or Cyrus did a better job of holding your attention. However, the most important thing is how smoothly the storylines fit together, despite various obstacles (the inconsistent quality of the effects or the changing rules, just like in the original series), and in the second half, they even manage to thrill you and move you. One season in Wonderland may be just right, with significantly positive impressions thanks to the unstoppable momentum of the final episodes, but that's why I'm already missing this world of genies, flying carpets, and hurried rabbits.

Season 1 – 80% – Kevin Spacey chose an apt place for his resounding comeback. As a powerful and morally unbound politician, he can act magnificently in gripping dialogues, mischievously wink at the camera, give the viewer a sense of belonging, and convince with his charisma that sometimes doing something bad could be beneficial for one's own cause. The whole house of cards has the strongest foundation in Frank's tension with Zoe (and in general, the influence of these two characters), while some fail to fully captivate you due to their too calm storyline (Claire), or irritate you with their decisions and actions (Peter). It is the atmosphere and mood, which are not afraid to use a dose of irony, that make the series unique in its own way. Certainly not because of the script. It loses its presumed sophistication at the moment of the first revelation. Then the magic of the shocked viewer fades away, and with every plot twist, I suspect a bigger plan. However, thanks to specific characters and pleasantly ambiguous progression, it hasn't started bothering me yet. Season 2 – 60% – A surprisingly frustrating experience. The gradual carving out of the most interesting characters and storylines leaves the path paved for regular politics with all its routine dirtiness, and at that moment, the magical satire that could captivate the audience the most disappears. What's worse is that none of the sidelined storylines are satisfactorily concluded, and most of the closing scenes are just shortcuts or unbelievable jolts. Characters with nothing new to offer and are just cheaper versions of ones who have already left the Congress, the White House, and other locations, are pushed into the foreground inexplicably. Despite the occasional paperwork rustling in purely political circles, the pleasantly unsettling atmosphere never completely disappears, and Spacey manages to chill you with every raised voice. However, that's not enough for a series that wants to be an unforgettable event all at once. Season 3 – 70% – Surprisingly, even though it reaches higher political circles, the show plays on a more personal note, but it is not enough for victory. It is played using pawns whose role in the whole game is undeniable (Jackie, Remy, Seth), but if they are not in direct contact with Frank, I have no need to see them at all. Their side storylines are just filler, just like last year, not to mention Doug, whose driving force, an obsession with a certain redhead, should have been resolved long ago, but instead keeps repeating itself in tiresome loops. Luckily, the central antihero, who has found an equal opponent in Heather as well as Petrov, and best of all - in Claire, is still present. It's precisely the cautiously escalating dialogues between Spacey and Robin Wright that always captivate me as Mr. and Mrs. FU, even if the other storylines are unnecessary. Originally, I was aiming for a higher rating for the third season because politics this time aims pleasantly in the current direction, but the ending itself flinches. Unfortunately, it shows that showrunner Beau Willimon wants to appear very sophisticated, but at the same time lets go of the vast majority of possibilities to really work with supporting characters and instead randomly pulls them wherever it suits the next episode. Season 4 – 80% – For a while, it seemed that even the remaining sophistication would transform into pure politics, which would be a disaster for the original premise. However, in the fourth episode, it dramatically deviates from the indicated direction, and the whole House finally breathes lightly, bringing back to the game to my great delight almost all the more significant supporting characters from past years, and giving Spacey a chance for previously unseen acting expressions. The character of the writer Tom shows how creatively seemingly finished characters can return to the game, while in the case of Doug, for several years now, it has been shown that Michael Kelly must have some dirt on Netflix; otherwise, I don't understand why they insist on keeping him in the main cast at all costs. Thanks to the unexpected and daring development, I would believe in the whole project again, except for one thing holding me back, the departure of Beau Willimon from the position of the main creator. Even this season was far from flawless, but continuing at any cost without him seems highly risky to me. Season 5 – 70% – In the first two-thirds, I enjoy watching Frank's subversive deeds and have a great time until the climax of the election storyline. However, everything that comes after works worse, especially because the main couple is surrounded by increasingly uninteresting characters. Mark, Cathy, Alex Romero, Seth, and unfortunately, Jane Davis portrayed flawlessly by Patricia Clarkson, unfortunately, mean nothing to me, and most of the time, they only function as an advertisement for how perfectly Kevin Spacey and Robin Wright can play off each other due to their contrast. I would still believe in the series at this moment if it knew where it was going, if it wasn't for the events that left the show without its biggest draw. Season 6 – 40% – After Spacey's departure, I believed that the creators knew what they were doing. That the swan song wouldn't be just a weak attempt to pass the baton, that there would simply be something to play for. Now, on the contrary, I regret that the series wasn't canceled because the ship sank when the scripts started getting rewritten. I like Robin Wright, but without her eternal counterpart in the form of Frank, she is sadly an add-on to the picture, no matter how much she plays with the ongoing female victories. For a change, I even appreciate Doug for the first time in a long time, for there to be a decent counterpart at all and an attempt at a balanced dynamic. Otherwise, the Shepherd siblings steal a huge amount of space. Never-before-seen characters are positioned as the grey eminences of all of Washington, without whose oversight perhaps the entire cabinet won't turn around. When other bland Mark-type antagonists are added, it becomes definitively clear how far a once-ambitious undertaking has fallen. Long-running side characters hastily leave the scene to get any absolution at all, the finale fails to bring any logical point to the events so far, and the revelations that have been awaited for the entire eight episodes come across as a travesty, not to mention the overall direction being too much at the mercy of behind-the-scenes events. A regrettable ending that is only saved from ignominy by the quality of the actors they managed to get for even the smallest roles.

A corrupt teacher in Germany, boy style – and above all perfectly funny. I never expected that a comedy from our Western neighbors would bring tears of laughter to my eyes, simply never. And Elyas M'Barek just put a hundred and one bees in teachers' bonnets.

From a smooth start, there was enjoyable entertainment, action scenes with appealing visuals that either left me breathless or silently cheering. And in the end, the widest smile. Leo, Mikey, Don, and Raph may resemble their counterparts from twenty years ago less and less, but thanks to the turtles' witty dialogue machine and the well-cast Will Arnett, it is easily forgiven. The real pity is the altered origin of Splinter and Shredder and the related plot questions and absence of their mutual rivalry. Because who knows how high the final rating would then be climbing.

Morons need friends. While the second installment surpasses the first one in mutating into long action orgies that can only be interrupted by a witty line or a minor plot twist, the last foray into 80s nostalgia surprisingly does the exact same thing. It doesn't stop, it doesn't take a breath, for two hours it throws various fighting tactics at the audience, all enveloped in a disgruntled retirement subplot. Moreover, Mel Gibson's unsettling ex-Expendable works brilliantly, especially because he isn't a villain in the classic sense of the word, but a guy whose nerves are on edge (though his own nerves occasionally lightly hold him back). Thanks to Sylvester Stallone's unbreakable buddy chemistry with anyone, this team of walking bulletproof vests managed to reach such heights. Considering the zero box office revenue, it will likely remain there – and considering the maximum satisfaction and sense of closure at the end credits, I can actually live with that.

A surprisingly out-of-breath Prison Break that even the usually reliable Mikael Håfström had no chance of saving. Apart from an original introduction, well-aimed jokes, and a few minutes of Arnold Schwarzenegger's five minutes of glory in the finale, the plot, twists, and actual escape only work with the viewer's well wishes and goodwill for the nostalgic mood. It is completely saved from an average rating by the fact that I was genuinely looking forward to the main duo – the unlimited Expendables limit – and Sylvester Stallone's bass voice, capable of pleasantly looking down on everything with the slightest hint of irony. From my initial smile, however, only a small cramp remains.

One great battle game that surprises you from beginning to end. First, by slowly revealing the individual Masters and Servants, later by the intensity of the tension and successful twists in the final cliffhangers, and ultimately by the positive impressions it leaves behind despite the main hero's fatal incompetence. I have never encountered anyone like Emiya Shirou in anime before. From start to finish, he is in demand from allies, enemies, and himself, and he consistently behaves in the exact opposite way than expected. It is therefore seriously striking that despite his desperately infuriating actions, the Holy Grail War eventually grew close to my heart, for which I can attribute the merits primarily to brave Saber and the mysterious (yet greatly underutilized) warriors, Archer and Lancer. When one of these three starts a war dance accompanied by a perfect soundtrack, chills run down your spine with the first clash of metal against metal.

I am Groot – and that's great. Complaints about the fact that Guardians of the Galaxy turned out to be just an "ordinary" Marvel movie can be attributed primarily to the extensive media massage all around, which deprived us of any surprises. It is difficult to imagine a stranger situation than when the main blue-black villain is faced with a group consisting of an 80s fanboy, an unfunny fighter, an unpredictable talking raccoon with a machine gun, and a tree in the foreground. And, of course, it's another pursuit of the devilish stone that can destroy everything. Because why not, when all the teams, villains, and artifacts successfully merge into one pile a few years later in the spectacle called Avengers: Infinity War. However, for now, the Guardians are struggling as a cohesive group with an incredibly positive song-filled soundtrack, shockingly self-assured direction by James Gunn, and an opulent finale that dazzles with every new idea, even in a relatively small space. I usually don't find pure space journeys particularly enjoyable, so this exception is all the sweeter.

Surprisingly boxy, slightly abbreviated, yet irresistibly charming as a whole. Jiří Vejdělek sews together individual escapades of the main and supporting characters, not necessarily with a hot needle, but haste is often evident in the screenplay nonetheless. He is saved by the suitably enchanting Lucie Šteflová, lightly wooden-yet-paradoxically more believable Robert Cejnar, and most of all, the chameleon-like Hynek Čermák, who can perfectly sell even the most obvious lines. And as the whole amusing spectacle draws to a close, the smile doesn't seem to leave my face during those true tender moments. Once the central melody starts playing on the piano in full splendor, I realize that nostalgic stories about first loves have been able to knock me off my feet for quite a few years now, and apparently, that's not going to change.