Matty

Bumblebee is something like E.T., but with a transformer instead of an extraterrestrial: an outsider without a father or friends finds a kindred “spirit” in a visitor from outer space. The whole film is set in the American suburbs in the 1980s, which, in addition to numerous hit songs of that decade, also involves watching Alf on television and a reference to The Breakfast Club. Like the early films from Amblin, it works flawlessly, without slowing down and without a scene that would sooner or later fail to find its justification in the overall structure of the narrative. Though Travis Knight does not offer such uncluttered and spectacular 3D action scenes as Bay, he dedicates much more time and space to the characters, whose actions have comprehensible motivations and are easy to connect with on an emotional level (yes, that includes Bumblebee). The film very skillfully avoids having the protagonist resolve all of her problems (low self-confidence, no friends, longing for her father) by means of getting a car. Thanks to the adventure experienced, she finds the necessary resources within herself. In the “blockbuster for the whole family” category, there is not much to complain about in this film. A very pleasant surprise. 80%

This film makes me sad. Not because of its content, which goes to such extremes that it loses its persuasiveness, but due to the fact that Nadine Labaki squanders her talent by presenting two gruelling hours of shots of sad (often crying) faces of emotionally and otherwise destitute characters (often children). It is basically just a pile of evidentiary material explaining why twelve-year-old Zain decided to sue his parents for conceiving him. I hope that was not the intention, but the film, which borders on poverty/misery porn (it crosses that line in scenes underscored by sentimental music) throughout its runtime, gives the impression that poor people, whose motivations are not in any way clarified, should not have children at all. The system represented in the film by the judiciary and the police by all accounts seems to work, and the complicity of the upper class is not taken into account at all. The final “corpse” is apparently supposed to refer to The 400 Blows, but Truffaut’s adolescence in difficult conditions did not deprive him of all joy and he did not make such a terribly didactic and one-sided film that basically goes nowhere, but rather only clubs us to death with misery, loneliness and suffering and more and more unfortunate twists of fate. 40%

Chained for Life is a film about making a film, a contemporary arthouse horror movie with physically disabled characters (the title refers to the exploitation film Chained for Life from 1952). In addition to “normal” actors, the filmmakers decide to cast actors with the required physical disabilities. The lead actress becomes friends with the man with a deformed face who plays her lover. However, it is not clear whether her feelings are authentic or if she is only pretending in order to make herself look like a better person. We can ask the same question about the other actors. The boundary between the story in front of the camera and the story behind the camera gradually becomes blurred, the transitions between filming and being filmed become less and less obvious. Through adroitly directed, long, fragmented shots using self-reflexive drama (with elements of horror satire), the film endeavours to truly capture the experience of disfigured artists (the director himself has a deformed face). It does not attempt to portray them in an overly positive light according to the usual narrative formula of a monster with a good heart, thanks to which the beautiful lady realises in what the true value of a person consists. All characters have physical or character defects and it is not possible to anticipate how they will behave toward each other. In this way, the film beneficially and inspirationally deconstructs certain stereotypes associated with how someone looks and reflects the extent to which our perception of people who are physically different is influenced by their established media representation. 75%

Even though Eeyore was my favourite nihilist before Bernard Black, I never became a member of the Winnie the Pooh fan club. Therefore, I was curious about Christopher Robin, a sort of sequel to the previous animated films, mainly because of the director and one of the screenwriters (mumblecore veteran Alex Ross Perry, whose influence is apparent especially in Eeyore’s heavy existential lines). ___ A total of five screenwriters alternated in and out of the project during its development, which may be the reason that the result seems so clumsy and disorderly, and that the film never gets a firm footing and does not work as family viewing, as Disney apparently intended. The story, which is about an overworked man focused on profit and performance who evidently suffers from PTSD due to the war and neglects his wife and daughter until he rediscovers his inner child thanks to a talking teddy bear (and a pig and tiger and donkey) or, rather, until he stops denying his existence and hiding the talking stuff animals from others, is mainly inconsistent. At times, it is basically a serious drama about an empty, bland existence, and at other times exaggerated slapstick (especially the scene with Gatiss, who is reminiscent of villainous capitalists from classic Hollywood movies). The style is predominantly very naturalistic, with desaturated colours, a hand-held camera lying alongside soldiers in the foxholes of World War II, and animated characters that look like actual soiled stuffed animals from the protagonist’s childhood. At still other times, however, its playfulness lends the film a touch of liberating magical realism á la Paddington (chasing Pooh around the station, the final pursuit). The rhythm of the narrative is similarly unbalanced, as it lacks momentum and a clear aim. The film is unable to decide whether Christopher’s priority should be his family life, his career or his relationship with Pooh, as if completely forgetting about one of these motifs for a moment and blindly following another instead of somehow cleverly combining all three. Some scenes take too long to get to the point (the fight with the Heffalump), while at other times a segment of the story explaining how a character gained certain information seems to be missing (for example, Madeline’s knowledge of the napping game). ___ The film is in large part too serious and sombre for children, and is even frightening during scenes from the fog-enshrouded Hundred Acre Wood (especially in combination with the red balloon, which is apparently intended as a reference to Albert Lamorisse’s film, but it’s impossible not to recall the psycho clown from It). For adults, the film is sloppy in dealing with the rules of the fictional world, unconvincing with the forced optimism of the conclusion and banal in its approach to psychology (the miraculous transformation of Robin’s thinking), relationships and corporate capitalism. ___ At a time when we need to more vigilantly watch where the current world is heading and act accordingly, the central idea that doing nothing and looking nostalgically to the past can improve our present and that our childhood misses us as much as we miss it is a bit off base (though fully in accordance with the constant churning-out of remakes of old films and the fetishisation of past decades, not to mention that the call to live in the present will certainly resonate strongly with today’s proponents of concepts such as mindfulness). Other films (such as Toy Story 3) have dealt with a similar idea more sensitively. But in the end, this idea was the main reason that Christopher Robin was made and more or less holds together. 60%

Polish folk songs were never so sexy. Besides that, Pawlikovski’s balladic overview of the history of music and of Europe captivated me with its high-contrast black-and-white camera work and highly economical storytelling with sharp cuts, sudden jumps in time and numerous meanings communicated via the mise-en-scène without verbal explanation, thanks to which the film is able to cover some fifteen years of history in just under ninety minutes. At the same time, the atmosphere remains consistent, while the musical style changes along with the degree of frustration felt by the protagonists, who still do not have that which they desire. Cold War is obviously a film under the spell of post-war European cinema (in addition to its academic format, this is also apparent in the number of European countries and languages represented) – not by any means only Soviet-style musicals such as Tomorrow, People Will Be Dancing Everywhere against which it is critically defined – with which it has much more in common than with reality. At the same time, however, the plot is complicated and lovers are separated by the political repression of the time that discomfited artists in communist countries had to face. The major simplification of socio-political contexts, psychological flatness of the characters and bold stylisation serve well the timeless fatalistic story of unrequited love (in whose case it does not matter too much that we are watching only certain [arche]types instead of full-blooded heroes), but as a statement on a particular time and the people of that particular time, which it also wants to be, Cold War fails for the same reason. But if you want to see a very obliging art film that does not put numerous obstacles in the viewer’s way, it is unlikely that you will see anything nicer in the cinemas. 70%

Deadpool 2 is a touching family melodrama about the importance of traditional values, with a hero who wants to kill himself most of the time, vomiting acid and brutal action scenes accompanied by dubstep or Enya (decide for yourself which is worse). It is as comparably entertaining as the first one, though at the same time darker and more layered emotionally and in terms of storytelling. ___ Retrospectively (like a large part of the first instalment) only the first 20 minutes or so are narrated, after which film-noir turns into a buddy movie (from prison). Only the second half is a superhero team flick (Rob Delaney as Peter deserves a spin-off). The protagonist’s objective and the role of the villain (again played by the excellent Josh “Thanos” Brolin), who arrives on the scene relatively late, unexpectedly change several times. Everything is connected by the melodramatic background with the late/impossible reunion and (re)construction of the family. This primarily involves the main protagonist’s inner conflict, not the destruction of the world as in other comic-book movies. Therefore, I was not bothered by the numerous entirely serious scenes without self-deprecating humour (besides, if you have one of the characters refer to the screenwriter as an imbecile after some bad dialogue, nothing about that bad dialogue changes). Thanks to those scenes, you take the characters more seriously than they take themselves and the conclusion stimulates the right emotions (in this respect, Deadpool is more self-sufficient than Infinity War – in order for you to be moved, you do not have to know the preceding 18 films; you only have to know what you have seen over the past two hours). ___ The best bits are the opening credits parodying Bond movies, the post-credit scenes (or rather mid-credit scenes, as nothing remains after the closing credits) and jokes that truthfully call out the shortcomings of comic-book films that lack good humour, something with which Deadpool abounds. Besides the competition from DC, this is again captured mainly by X-Men, referred to as an outdated, gender-incorrect metaphor of racism from the 1960s. Conversely, it freezes routine action scenes with confusing editing (with the exception of a few more fluid moments, which with their choreography bring John Wick to mind), which, as in the case of most major productions of this type, was probably not under the control of the director himself, but of the second unit (and subsequently the people in charge of CGI). ___ Despite that, Deadpool 2 is very good summer entertainment whose creators managed to come up with enough ways to surprise us both with content and with the construction of the story and by using the conventions of various genres even without the possibility of somehow repeating the “wow effect” of the first film from beginning to end. 80%

In his belated feature-film directorial debut, former film critic and documentary filmmaker Kent Jones offers a sensitive character study of a working woman from a small city who forgets to take care of herself as you she takes care of others. With every scene, this long-resonating, stylistically unobtrusive film is remarkably rich in meaning. Diane relies on a highly subjective narrative, the director’s sense of detail and the deeply felt acting of Mary Kay Place, which strengthens our affinity for the main protagonist while contributing to doubtfulness with respect to her mental health. The film is also valuable due to the matter-of-factness with which it states that at the end of our life story, no major point will be revealed, but only death in loneliness. 80%

In its ability to capture the importance of a certain moment in a young person's life, Eighth Grade is as comparably convincing, sincere and unsentimental as Call Me By Your Name (the monologue delivered by the character of the father also ranks among the highlights of both films). Don’t expect a teen comedy. The film is mainly a drama, sporadically sensitive in its approach to the main heroine and occasionally humorous. Many films merely talk about the need to be oneself. Eight Grade understands that need and shows how terribly difficult it is to accept oneself, to overcome the fear of being embarrassed, of not being cool enough. Age does not play such a role. Some people still experience a battle between their nature and peer pressure even after reaching adulthood. Burnham’s feel for the nuances of the life of the socially anxious internet generation and his understanding for one slightly timid girl of above-average intelligence are exceptional and I hope that he will make more empathetic portraits of young protagonists like this one (or Lady Bird, The Edge of Seventeen or The Diary of a Teenage Girl). This is a film with which I definitely want to spend more time and appreciate more how it involves the soundtrack in the storytelling and how cleverly it works with, for example, the interaction of the main protagonist and her surrounding environment (by means of subjective sound and the size and sharpness of the shots), thanks to which we perceive and experience the surrounding reality just as she does. And, without any exaggeration, Elsie Fisher should be nominated for an Oscar. 90%

My immediate impression of this film was manifested in one of the first names to appear in the closing credits: Philip Nee Nee. Everything important happens in roughly the last fifteen minutes, which are preceded by an hour and a half of hopeless advertisements for wedding dresses, Paris, Audi, men’s shirts, vanilla ice cream, Aspen, sex toys...hollow narration for snobs. Through most of the movie, the only suffering incurred by the protagonists, who are so wealthy that they shop in boutiques where they are served champagne as they pick out clothes, is whether they will make the evening more pleasant with a butt plug, a vibrator or a whip. Instead of Dornan working out on gymnastic equipment, here we have – for lovers of camp – Dornan singing at the piano (this time, unfortunately, we don’t see a poster for a movie like The Chronicles of Riddick). Otherwise, everything between the central couple remains as it was. Anastasia has problems and doesn’t listen. Christian punishes her, which she sometimes likes and sometimes doesn’t. All disagreements in the relationship are resolved by means of expensive gifts. Despite all of that, this particular Fifty Shades is slightly more tolerable than the second instalment in the series, which was ten minutes longer and far more obstinate in its disrespect for storytelling logic and causality between scenes. Though I would not in any case call this art, I find it extraordinary that someone can write and make a film that is so empty that there is nothing in it that you could hate. But it looks good and your brain can comfortably relax. 35%

I was afraid that Flint Town would be a recruitment video heroizing the American police and celebrating their militarisation. However, the image that the series offers is more complex than that and testifies to the creators’ ambition to shoot something like a documentary version of The Wire. ___ Over the course of eight episodes, we follow an underfunded police department in a city with one of the highest crime rates in the United States. Members of the force speak openly about their fatigue, disillusionment and fear of losing their lives and jobs. Their loved ones also fear for the cops’ lives due to the growing number of attacks on police officers. Locals, who face guys with loaded rifles strolling around courtyards, from which they sometimes shoot, then complain that they often have to wait for several hours for a police patrol, because shooting was reported at three other locations at the same time. The community’s mistrust makes sense, but we see that individuals will not change much without support from those in higher positions of power. ___ The behaviour of the officers in the field occasionally borders on unjustified bullying and the documentary does not in any way makes excuses for them. At the same time, however, we understand their heightened vigilance and we know that they are poorly paid and have to work overtime. The police chief attempts to prevent the further deterioration of the already restricted conditions by all possible means, for example by selling discarded police weapons to Flint residents with valid gun licenses, which is a decision that probably best illustrates the absurdity and cyclical nature of the crime problem… The presidential election (the series began production in November 2015) is approaching, and while the “white” segment of the police force hopes for a Trump victory, which they expect to bring greater investment in the repressive apparatus, the black police officers wonder for whom Trump actually wants to make America “great again”. ___ A large part of the material was shot at night; the cameraman delights in grand details and artistic compositions with an orange night sky and figures standing alone in the landscape, ominous atmospheric music plays in the background, and we hear the heartbeat of a cop’s unborn child. At times, it is reminiscent of Michael Mann’s noir thrillers; at other times, it brings to mind an apocalyptic horror movie about a city that is just waiting for someone to set it ablaze. In some ways, Flint Town is excessively tense, but it is in any case an impressive and beneficial work that, overall, adroitly balances on the thin ice and attempts not to anger either conservative or liberals too much.