Marigold

Two Nil for a concept that Abraham adheres to strictly, even though boredom threatens and nothing really happens. But even that zero has telling value greater than the awkwardly proclaiming Italians and the unbearably witty chatter of the "intellectuals" in the skybox. If the film only stuck to the "natives", who after a while completely fall into football color and obviously forget that they are speaking into microphones, it would be a relatively withdrawn, but proper documentary. But these attempts at foresight only drop the whole thing down a level. Despite them, however, this is a rather peculiar and distinct view of the league's "crowd" and a kind of Czech response to Ruben Östlund's sociological experiments.

A film about the importance of large sailboats in times of fast ships and a romantic dream of a return, thanks to which Bond survived half a century. A narcissistic reflection of what I have for years adored Bond films for. Sail on, heroic heart, made weak by time and fate, but strong in will to strive, to seek, to find and not to yield.

If there is anything I hate from the bottom of my soul, then it’s these hollow "Shyamalan" mysterious too-art almost allegories, which are, at their cores, built a) on stupid psychology, b) a tense directing style, which may make one drunk for a while through expressiveness, but they then only kill through unconceptual changes of perspectives and filters, c) on the poser emphasis of the overlap to general metaphysical categories. As long as it looked like a (flimsy) psychological thriller, I was willing to accept it, as soon as it went into a "spiritual" mode, it turned into a repulsive poser film without content. Society in chaos? No, movie speech in spasm. Instead of relief and a flurry of human heat, for the last twenty minutes I felt an urge to see those rotten blind zombies (because they're not characters) die. In fact, Blindness is as banal (if not more banal) as Hollywood disaster movies in which a family is united by disaster. But at least there you can enjoy it.

Of course, the editing is at medium (at least), and it's alarming that the director can't work with such trivial prototypes of the characters he prescribed, but I really enjoyed the structure of the film, which is not stupid at all - it's even playful and reflected. It is a combination of computer game fields (de facto 3 distinctly stylized maps - realpolitik London, punk Glasgow and the medieval Highlands) with a plot of descent into the heart of darkness (including highlighted moments of "transitions" of space-time zones - a steel gate, a steam train and a tunnel under the hill). To take it apart a little more seriously: on the one hand we have pragmatic politician-dominated London, in between an anarchist zone of pure libido and uncontrolled instincts, and on the other hand the "science and intellect" spectrum, which has degenerated into a dark tyranny of the enlightened mind. In the meantime, the protagonist cheerfully surfs, does not negotiate a world remedy and returns to where the whole film belongs - to the cheerful, decadent and entertaining-cannibalistic level (by the way, if the action sequences are edited shitty, the cannibalistic pop culture feast is brilliant!). The order of politicians is corrupt, the scholars have gone mad, so the slightly mutilated Rhona Mitra is one of the raffish Scottish punk and anarchists. No great salvation. I'm very sorry that a second film won't be created, where the suits will fight the enchanted cannibals in kilts. For a long time now, no "childish revolt" had amused me as much as the purposefully naive anarchist rebel Doomsday (a luxurious shiny Bentley vs. Mad Max wrecks... a steaming crowd waiting for a ration of human flesh with plastic plates... like WTF? This is simply brazenly stupid and not superficially stupid). Marshall simply serves declining entertainment without pretense - human meat is grilled to the sound of pop hits. Oh yeah.

Looper is a solidly thought out and well-shot and narrated "semi-indie" sci-fi film, which actually only takes a proven foundation and adds nothing new to it. So if you've seen "time travel" classics like Donnie Darko or 12 Monkeys (or The Butterfly Effect and others), it will become clear to you in the middle of the film that someone who returns from the future to fix the past tends to find out that his actions are part of the events he seeks to prevent. And unfortunately, the film goes along these tracks without any surprises and any significant excitement. After a fairly fresh introduction, an overly sleepy passage comes in the second half, which tries to motivate the rebirth of the hero's younger self. It makes sense, it doesn't offend, but at the same time it's not a big deal - rather a solidly written conversation film. Johnson works a lot with the characters, less with the world, which is more so sketched out (one must wonder why it's full of trailer trash, why people are so disgusting to each other and why there is a Zen oasis on the other half of the globe). Willis' storyline brings more adrenaline, but also shallow poses, awkward action and love clichés. The two selves meet in an excellent scene in a bistro, but then they each go their down their own storylines until the loop closes. Looper confirms the trend of "intelligent genre films with a lower budget" (Source Code, The Adjustment Bureau, Moon, In Time), which surpass the mainstream with their ambition and authorial vision. But they almost always lack an essential piece in order to achieve perfection. Most likely the piece that would significantly disrupt the well-known genre rules - it is best described by Willis, who, when mentioning a complex time paradox, says something to his younger self in the sense of: "We would have to sit here overnight and draw on piles of napkins. Just believe that things are this way." In the end, the trap is not unlike the one in which their more expensive friends hang. [75%]

Unfortunately, exactly the type of film in which I feel as if someone had let me read “The Watchtower" all night, necrophilic romance edition. The script of the Holy Trinity of J-W-B is a salad made up of pathetic monologues and shabby dialogues without a single hint of lightness. PJ directs some passages typically (jumps to non-event details, expressive subjective perspective, involvement of a monotonous soundtrack), while sometimes there are even fairly solid scenes (searching Pederast's barracks - although logically meaningless, he nevertheless works masterfully with tension and dual perspective). The fragmentation of the narrative perspective is so unconceptual that it prevented me from taking anything in the film seriously and, most importantly, enjoying anything. The visual stylization is quite cheap in places; in fact, it might be worth considering whether the secret of impressiveness lies only in color filters, glowing halogens and "nice objects". Particularly the trick passages are way over done, disgusting, inconsistent, flashy, without any order (even if they had only a subtle hint of the association that would give them shape). The CGI screams sexlessness, such an excessive and at the same time absolutely "backdrop" artistic solution is not seen very often. The involvement of the music is utterly catastrophic - instead of amplifying any emotion, it makes The Lovely Bones into whining emo, from which only stupid sentiment sticks out. I understand that Peter is fascinated by "being between worlds" and that not all family films can be as brilliant as Braindead... and yet the template of a pedophile killer based on Rapist Glasses? In fact, this is low end and Jackson's worst film, and it is a testament to the gradual loss of judgement and self-criticism.

Lots of solid characters and an impressive starting point. Well-combined perspective changes. A very nice scene where the characters look away from the brutal scene below them and the camera only captures their faces, with the only clue to what's going on below being the disgusting sound. Someone was thinking here. Towards the end it is a little too long, but in this rank it is a well-built and well-shot intimate film. Yeah... but they could have at least used CGI for the steam from their mouths.

Dalton is the biggest failure in the history of the Bond series. Let me explain. After the fading era of "Moore" films, an actor came who had great charm, physical potential and the willingness to advance the character, but the production was based on a traditional directing team and screenwriting. In The Living Daylights, the conflict of views is not yet as pronounced, and the ambitions and traditions clashed most markedly here. The effort to bring emotions and the private sphere into play was fulfilled only on the part of the main character, who perfectly combines "iconic" poses (casino) and private characteristics (Bond is a closed loner who, when he does not play the role of an invincible agent with irony in his eye, looks tired, timid, and even frightened in frightening situations). The screenplay attempts to create a story shift, incorporating an overlap (to samurai films and the revenge movie genre), a change in the well-established style, where the story does not serve as an awkward transition "from stunt to stunt", but when the narrative is the alpha and omega. But the key storyline with revenge is unfinished and incomplete, and in the end it captures the superficial props again, and so Dalton and his desire to "understand Bond as a human being" is a soldier in the field. Even John Glen, however much he has moved more towards a realistic style (depicting violence, but also action scenes), still relies on proven trademarks - the problem is that he has never shone explicitly during his five-film Bond career, and he did not take the chance to seize the series in his own way in this film either. Despite all the criticism, it is an excellent feat, referring in many ways to In Her Majesty Secret Service and, thanks to Dalton, shifting the potential of this rejected work. It is a terrible pity that Timothy did not have time to meet Martin Campbell and his contribution to the Bond universe was so fully utilized by Daniel Craig. But it still occurs to me that Licence to Kill was actually ahead of its time - by trying to transplant the myth into a more realistic world and give it "roots" and feelings. It is understandable that at the time when the movie theatres were showing Indiana Jones, Back to the Future 2 or Lethal Weapon 2, it might have seemed quite foolish... perhaps James was only surprisingly close to Burton's Batman.

An ecological agitation film probably like Seclusion Near a Forest (if so, then the new age), only mid-range, and compared to the first film a little less naive and more open to the characters to bear the consequences of their nonconformist attitudes. Otherwise, quite pleasantly lyrical praise of game-keeping and life in the forest inhabited by characters who are no longer as much of caricature as in Out of the City. So, the "cellar" instinctual humor has diminished and weird or serious dialogues were added - but it's hard to deny that as soon as a fundamentalist view appears on the scene, Vorel beats it with an ironic counterpoint. In the end, then, glory to game-keepers who eat mushrooms. The village idyll is alive and I still enjoy it. Tomas, just keep on shooting boars. You will not be able to please us stressed out intellectuals from the city with aggressive urban farces. But I like this massage with cannabis and toadstools.

Solid work. Wheelchair American Pie in a very cultivated spirit and with lots of unpleasant undertones and a minimum of begging for compassion for the handicapped. It's a shame about the working editing and the irritating slipping to a sentimental road movie, but given how it's predictable, it actually maintains an admirable decor. Undoubtedly, more could be garnered from this - mainly from the excellently-acted characters, who are dominated by the supremely unsympathetic antisocial, domineering and brat-like Philip.