Isherwood

The intellectual undergrowth, riddled with the humblest populist metastasis that kills the Czech viewer's thinking potential even more virulently than Troška's comedies, along with the absolutely anti-cool filmmaking, takes on an almost bizarre air, where there is a shallow hunger for vulgar catchphrases and explicit commentary on everything that is happening around us; the other acting stars, in turn, wonder where the money for this will be found.

I stared wide-eyed for two hours as if I were fifteen again. Nevertheless, I have two major criticisms to air. Abrams dragged on the concept of the first film without any significant innovation (the timing of the action scenes fits more or less one-to-one within the runtime) and, most importantly, he hardly works with the villain (and Cumberbatch provides him with what few others can). When I watch it the second time is when I'll decide if it was all on purpose and it's still all about the fire of catchphrases, perfect characters, and "absolute" moments like falling from space, or if J.J. is already on the other side of the galaxy with his thoughts.

I kind of expected it and I'm glad for it anyway. The main star of the third Iron Man is actually Shane Black, who was as comfortable with Iron Man as anyone before him. The trailers beckoned to the darkened paths trodden by The Dark Knight, but the result is ultimately the most refreshing summer mix of a spectacular blockbuster adventure. For over two hours, I admired how Black makes it a personal race to be the better screenwriter or director, without compromising his claims to be the most entertaining character in the Marvel universe. He also does it with a sovereignty that is admirable in a man who is only in his second year behind the camera. Iron Man has ceased to be the pedestal of Downey's ego and instead is firmly gripped in a story that works in all areas without any of them fundamentally excluding each other: From great dialogues, perfect characters, great action, and an emotional whirlwind. For example, the episode with the little boy, where two tech enthusiasts meet, simply reminds the viewer that some of us never grow up. And then there’s the unconventional love story... when it's personal, you just perceive the action a bit differently, and honestly, without the suit. I'm tempted to shower superlatives like I rarely have before, but I'll allow myself at least one single (but for me perhaps quite crucial) criticism: in terms of the ultimacy of the action, the raid on Stark's house is just a slight hair better than the ending, so the action orgasm comes a bit sooner. Anyway, thanks for everything, Shane. And thank you, Marvel, for having the courage to trust your kids with unconventional creators. (How about the Asgardian god in the hands of Alan Taylor?)

I was slowly beginning to pigeonhole Bassett as a future horror talent, but after those successful low-budget flicks, I didn't expect this sort of failure in the big leagues. At first glance, everything is fine, because it's the same old Silent Hill as last time, with fancy sets, good special effects, a show of makeup skills... but there’s absolutely nothing on top of all that. It’s a routine copy of Gans' vision, which even after 6 years still stands as the best big screen adaptation of the game. In this film, Bassett fails to provide a single original idea of his own, and it’s quite a cold shower because I believe other ambitious filmmakers would sell their own grandmothers for this stuff. The question is how much Konami had let him do his own thing when writing the script. However, showing off a few directorial tricks hasn't killed anyone yet. The desperate ending is also a minus. Next time I’d prefer muddy Czech scenery again, or deserted Irish islands...

With all due respect to Rob, for me, this is a "no!" I appreciate the aesthetic games with the scenery, which I admired in the second Halloween film but I am not able to digest this plot even with all my will. The first two-thirds do exactly the way we like from Rob, which is to say the atmosphere is very evil and the characters are dragged through hints of physically unpleasant experiences. The final third, however, is an escape into another dimension, in which you try to decipher what is at stake, only to find yourself completely clueless at the end, which is the worst possible calling card. Rob doesn't make audience films that are for everyone, but I thought we had a perfect rapport over the years. Apparently not. 2 and a ½.

I had forgotten Wimmer's name in the screenwriter column and went into it with no greater ambitions, but also without any fear. So as long as Wiseman reminisces about his childhood spent at arcades, it goes pretty well, although Colin doesn't really enjoy it and Jessica definitely doesn't. The entire film is carried by Paul Cameron's circling camera and Kate Beckinsale enjoying her unacknowledged role as the Terminator. However, it gets worse with each new dialogue that you just can't get out, even if you had half a kilo of coke shoved into your head in Recall, so I found myself smiling at times, even though the creators didn't intend for that to be the case. For a hundred and twenty-five million, it’s a pretty decent ride, but it should have taken at least half an hour less.

Bradley is strongest in action, so for having little money, he offers a lot of functional old-fashioned escapism that doesn't need unnecessary pixels to work. Unfortunately, mentally the film was thirty years behind the times, so I was just as angry as I was watching the original. I'm not willing to put up with the teenage guerrilla war, despite what I said above. Bradley doesn't update the original except to replace the Soviets with North Koreans, and all he would have needed to do was to tighten up on the exaggeration or drag the kids through a proper marathon of blood and filth. Instead, they’re standing painlessly somewhere in the middle and beating their chest proudly while flags with stars and stripes fly in the background. For all the technical positives, this gets insanely boring at the end. I don't believe it sat in the vault for those three years just to squeeze more money out of the Hemsworth name. Clearly, more of the people involved had no idea how to handle this $70 million fail. 2 and a ½.

The bandana over the face is dogma and the beaver on the beach is progress. Which is funny and sad at the same time, but the ten minutes of poetic filler is better than a blow to the head (without bread).

A calm Nordic winter, a five-year-old femme fatale, and me, unaware of the plot or anything else, sitting in my seat in the movie theater, and knowing that in six months I am to become a teacher too. It’s pure in terms of the genre to the point where words about sliding on the surface come to mind, yet it cuts under the skin like few things have in recent memory. I haven't felt my throat this tight in a long time.

This is resonant nostalgia for today's generation of forty-somethings, while for me an utterly monstrous collection of a combination of muddled plot, monotonous musical numbers, and horrifying masks. I took it with a grain of salt for the first twenty minutes, but once you arrive in the "land beyond the mirror" it slides into something so indescribably bizarre that even though you start to hate it and pray for the ending, you want to keep pushing it straight into your veins. It’s a film full of paradoxes, which I will recommend to everyone, but I never want to see it again.