Matty

The fate of the women in the second Sicario is either to look on sadly (Catherine Keener) or to be rescued by men (Isabela Moner) who, when solving problems, apply the logic of “when force doesn’t work, use military force”. In this respect, the film does not much differ from its predecessor, though Sheridan’s ostentatious nihilism and desire to shoot a vicious film and vicious people take on parodic proportions. The “philosophy” of the film is best captured by the motto of Brolin’s character, “F*ck it all”. Sollima’s direction is mundane and Wolski only imitates Deakins through mannerisms. For the most part, the scenes are shallow and devoid of atmosphere and tension (because, among other things, all of the characters are such assholes that you do not care about them at all). The only authentic moment comes when Del Toro’s antihero can drop his forced macho pose for a moment and carry on some quite ordinary “human” dialogue (albeit with sign language). The extreme slowness given by the mechanical narrative (one bad plan is replaced by another, even worse plan, over and over again), the lack of catharsis and resulting unsatisfying resolution does not come across as an attempt to express existential anxiety caused by a world overrun with evil to such an extent that there is no way out, but rather only as the result of shoddy work and the compulsion to make a sequel at any cost. In the bizarre climax, where the remnants of logic vanish and we become witnesses to the birth of a monster, the film comes close in its exaggerated nature to the later work of Sam Peckinpah (e.g. Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia), but without the crucial sense of humour, which Taylor Sheridan unfortunately does not possess. This sequel is absolutely unnecessary, but it’s probably not the last one. I will be surprised if, after a week, I remember anything other than Josh Brolin’s stylish footwear (crocs) while inflicting psychological torture – the effectiveness of which, by the way, the film does not question in any way (unlike Zero Dark Thirty). 45%

“Of course it was wrong to want to change people, but what else could you possibly want to do with them?” Five episodes from the life of a narcissistic schizoid alcoholic with suicidal tendencies. With its relentless pace, large number of jump cuts, persistent inner dialogue, alteration of slow camera approaches and symmetrical compositions done with a roving hand-held camera, the first episode, mostly anchored in Melrose’s agitated mind, is reminiscent of an hour-long panic attack – “concentration like a flamethrower”, convulsions, tremors, suicidal thoughts. Melrose doesn't want to get sober and calm down, because he knows that he would fall into his damaged mind and get kicked around by traumatic childhood memories that hurt more than a burn or needle puncture and that are approximated by the outwardly light, but at its core horror-like, second episode (with his father as a dreaded monster), thus transforming the meaning of the first episode (we initially gleefully laugh at him and then we regret it). ___ Patrick is too honest with himself to be able to completely deny part of his self and pretend that nothing had happened to him (like the rest of the upper crust to which he belongs, at least based on his origin). Drugs and alcohol help to distract him from his thoughts and the voices in his head. ___ Melrose’s determination to take control over his own life, starting at the end of the first episode with the initial manifestation of years of supressed emotions, continues in the third episode, which at first is as apathetic, slow and humourless as a man kicking his addictions. The onslaught of emotions is strongest when Patrick is alone. On one hand, going out means seeing people who are just as unbearable as his father. On the other hand, the party to which he was invited primarily shows how the same disturbing patterns of upbringing are repeated in aristocratic families and the same humiliating rituals take precedence over human decency, which is something that Melrose will strive to avoid at all costs. The work culminates in one of the best-written, acted and rhythmised dialogue scenes that has ever appeared on the small screen. Melrose confides his darkest secret to a friend and expresses his desire to become part of the real world and to somehow be more beneficial now that he has more or less gotten clean. However, he worries that if he gets rid of his bitterness, resentment, sarcasm, snobbery and self-loathing, there may be nothing left. His friend suggests that he should try to fill his life with something more valuable, such as love and parenthood. ___ Again presented predominantly from Melrose’s point of view, the fourth episode shows, however, that even if you surround yourself with high-quality people, you will not necessarily begin to believe that you have any value yourself. Melrose strives to protect his kids from the family curse until he again sinks into depression and addiction. Though his son is not being abused, he finds himself in a similarly uncertain and stressful position as Patrick did at the same age. The final episode shows another cycle of Patrick’s debilitating struggle with himself and, at the same time, concludes one lifecycle, when Melrose buries his mother, who followed his father in death. His alternately growing and weakening belief that he can now keep himself upright on his own two feet is expressed by the alternation of two levels of the story, two motions (falling inward and moving forward). If he wants to succeed, he will have to give up not only drugs and alcohol, but also his dependency on his father, mother and everyone else who influenced him, and gain his independence from the idea of the kind of life he should lead and who he should be. Thanks to the precision, perspective and perceptiveness with which the series depicts his struggle marked by ups, downs and repetition, viewing all five episodes has something like a psychotherapeutic effect. Patrick Melrose is very entertaining, very dark and very powerful, making it the highlight of this year's live-action television production so far (and probably of Cumberbatch’s career).

Stereotypes destroying a look into the motorcycling community. The director chose a seemingly typical biker, Ron “Stray Dog” Hall, as the guide. Thanks, however to an empathetic approach, we find that he is a sensitive man who gradually tried to find in Buddhism, Christianity and paganism the spiritual balance that he had lost fighting in Vietnam. The documentary presents Ron to us as an extremely sensitive, spiritual man who lovingly takes care of his Mexican wife (he is not a racist) and his puppies (he loves animals), and it is not a problem for him to cradle his grandson (he loves kids). If he has any kind of dark side, we’re not going to find out about it. Every newly revealed layer of Hall’s personality only confirms the good-heartedness of his character. The film thus lacks any unsettling undercurrents. Granik chose simple “fly-on-the-wall” observation. She avoids interacting with social actors and does not use nondiegetic music or offscreen commentary. The scenes are arranged chronologically as the events happened. I really expected more from the director of the uncompromising Winter’s Bone than a purely observational, affectionate family film about the goodness of people and social rejection that evokes nothing more than the pleasant feeling that one gets from the titular subject of the film. 60%

Slacker is a well-thought-out narrative experiment that does not bind the story to a single protagonist, but rather to the overall mood of paranoia (reminiscent of Rivetto's debut, Paris nous appartient) and several leitmotifs (media manipulation of reality, mistrust of public opinion). Just as the film’s characters do not live according to standard social norms, Linklater seeks an alternative to mainstream storytelling through his chosen structure comprising a sort of narrative relay (which he starts himself). Unlike his characters, who are either sociopaths conducting bizarre rituals (cutting photos out of a yearbook, throwing away things left behind by an ex-girlfriend) and carrying on paranoid conversations about a major conspiracy, or stoned slackers discussing Smurfs and Krishna, Linklater is relatively successful in his effort to capture the postmodern zeitgeist. By combining numerous different stories (which differ in the lightness of their themes and the characters’ degree of sanity) and many different media and formats (video, Super 8, 16mm), he succeeds in expressing the unfocused perception of Generation X, whose members flit among a tremendous number of stimuli, but are unable to dedicate themselves to any one thing. The film is thus constructed as a succession of diversions from a particular topic or someone’s story. The viewer’s desire for a coherent plot is thus never fulfilled, but our attention never falters nonetheless, because we have to get acquainted with other characters over and over again. Though human characters are used in a utilitarian manner (as bearers of meanings and functions) in every story, their subordination to the narrative is accentuated in Slacker by the fact that they are used like any other narrative means, such as editing or camera movement. Instead of obscuring the narrative structure and inducing the impression of documentary immediacy, multiple perspectives and the randomness in choosing what we will see next, the formulas that we have adopted by watching films with a traditional narrative force us to be more sensitive to how Slacker unfolds. From this perspective, its main content is not a portrait of a generation, but rather the very act of storytelling with all of its fixed (cause-effect model) and variable elements (independence from the main protagonist and the main storyline). 80%

A postcard for people who lust after food porn. At the same time, the film idealises food in such a way that it can impress you with the detail of pork ribs and convince you that a soup prepared with love can bridge the gaps between cultures, nations and generations. The characters’ very kitschy, sentimental and psychological motives make for extremely simplistic, yet essentially pleasant pop – though perhaps a bit too pleasant, given the seriousness of the topic (Singaporeans’ hatred towards the Japanese because of the atrocities committed during the war). 55%

This high-octane action flick speeds forward at such a suicidal pace that its end comes before the Road Runner can blurt out his trademark “Meep Meep”. The stereotypical characters (a corrupt psychopathic cop, a desperate honest cop, a jacked rival in love) are seriously reminiscent of characters from an animated grotesque. After all, Premium Rush does not demand any other kind of (more serious) viewing from us. Everything is overwrought and simplistic in the manner of a B move as if it was about power, even though it is about life. However, that does not mean it is a stupid or bad film at all. The simplicity of the plot and the flatness of the characters allow us to fully enjoy the ride, whose fluidity takes priority over all of the narrative components. ___ With textbook efficiency, Koepp uses only a few characters whose paths cross several times, each of which is fully utilised, sometimes simultaneously on multiple levels (Wilee and Manny compete not only to see who will be faster and thus help to resolve the plot, but also to see who is the stud and will get the girl). The condensing of the narrative, structured into several acts with its own deadline, flashback and climax, is manifested in the characterisation of the characters on the run (because there is no time to stop) and in the confident management of time as a very flexible variable (stop, rewind, coincide). It has been a long time since I last saw action so consistent in the use of every minute of the runtime. ___ Though the film bears an obvious eco-message (in a depersonalised major city, only cyclists stick together, while villains live and die in cars), there are a lot of “trends” in relation to modern communication technologies. Wilee uses a smartphone that guides him to his destination based on the example of a map in GTA-style video games, where it is usually also necessary to arrive within a certain time limit. In the fashion of video games, it is also possible to read a visualisation of the protagonist’s possible decisions on where he should continue on his ride. As in games that allow the player to return to the starting position after a failure, we see the consequences of bad decisions. These scenes concurrently help to illustrate the nature of the protagonist, who basically does not use the brakes and does not stop himself – time has to stop him. He is obviously a maniac, but thanks to Gordon-Levitt, he is a likable maniac in whose case you have no doubt that his “moral compass” will always point him in the right direction at the last minute. The actions scenes, which were shot mostly without CGI right on the streets of New York, are highly entertaining. Thanks to the greater vulnerability of a cyclist compared to a motorist, we almost physically experience the seductive battle against time. ___ Premium Rush is not just incredibly fast-paced action, but mainly action that is fast-paced in such a well-thought-out way that there is still enough room for jokes, ecological agitprop, romance, family melodrama and thorough topographical mapping of New York. 80%

If you want to tell about the life experience of a closeted high-school student, you should take care to ensure that half of the story does not focus on his straight friends, who are also better drawn (and played by more experienced actors). Love, Simon is a model gay romance for the white heterosexual audience (especially for all fag hags) dreaming of an ultra-tolerant world in which everyone can be themselves if they find the courage to do so. In the fictional world of the film, which is reminiscent of the social bubble in which many liberals live, homosexuality is not understood by only two dumber classmates, who are promptly admonished and do not cause any further trouble. Other manifestations of misunderstanding are not connected with who Simon is (with his identity), but with how he behaves (his character). The storyline with Martin serves as a contrived pretext for at least some sort of conflict in this fairy-tale-ishly non-confrontational and dramaturgically monotonous film. Most of the plot is based on the hard-to-accept premise that a young man shares the intimate details of his life with someone whom he does not know at all (and, despite that, with whom he is in love). More convincing is the second level of the story, which shows how, because of an unhealthy fixation on a person we mistakenly consider to be the only kindred spirit who understands us, we can lose the favour of many other people who actually care about us. Love, Simon is a welcome addition to the subgenre of high-school films for a broad audience, but in comparison with other teenage romances of recent years (Lady Bird, The Edge of Seventeen), let alone compared to more distinctive queer films (Call Me By Your Name, God’s Own Country), it is a matter of playing it safe with the rough edges ground down too far. 65%

SPOILERS.  Diligence, will, determination. Strictness, concentration. No emotions. Yet the need for emotions. How will this journey from childhood turn out in the Swedish manner? The demands of society force two girls, the older of whom replaces the younger one’s mother figure, to choose extreme solutions when seeking their tickets into the (masculine) world of grand ambitions and self-confidence. The endangered species throughout the film is not women, but rather the men who can be charged with sexual harassment because of a mere careless gesture and whose symbols of boyhood (a horse, a rifle) are mastered by women (the closing scene beautifully embodies he saying “to be in the saddle”).___ Sara peculiarly vents her frustration caused by her lack of control and obeying the orders that Emma personifies for her (therefore she also tells her sister that she hates her) by destroying a plastic pony, as she is not yet strong enough to saddle a real horse. The motif of control and the feeling of power appears in the opening scene, in which only the dog is submissive. However, the father (rather marginally present, like all of the male characters) later proves to be as equally obedient, as he prefers to oblige his daughters in everything. ___ The effort not to lose her newly acquired and barely identified power is, in the end, the cause of the breakdown of the relationship between Emma and Casandra. Nevertheless, we are left in doubt as to whether what was born of their silence is actually a sincere friendship or just a calculated move aimed at gaining a more advantageous position. Though Emma trusts her new friend/girlfriend, as the scene with the blindfold shows, she also views their relationship as a form of experiment, after the dissolution of which she takes back her financial deposit. Even though Emma does not resist the relationship, she accepts it more or less passively, feeling that it weakens her extraordinarily strong will and making her more vulnerable. (In the end, the one that is actually wounded is Cassandra, who unsurprisingly displays more emotion.) The fear of losing control creates in her the need to return to her old, cold-blooded self, when she had her feelings thoroughly under control. ___ Information is doled out to us very slowly and with Scandinavian frugality without unnecessary speeches and emotions. Nearly an hour of the film has passed until we hear Cassandra’s name for the first time. Her identity thus becomes at least more important for us and, in the end, it is easier for us to pity her as a victim. Until then, it was not necessary for us to know her name. Thanks to the large space provided for the viewer to infer connections, the film does not serve to malign one particular type of upbringing/family model (what happened to the mother?). We come to know something sufficiently late so that this revelation prompts us to reassess the previous behaviour of the characters (who is Sebastian, actually?). The style of directing is as “tense” as Emma herself. The static camera, the repetitive introductory and final shots and the even more impactful culmination of built-up tension in the climax, when there must inevitably be a western-style duel (there is also the obligatory shot with a bunch of wind-blown straw), which surprisingly turns out to be the perfect antithesis of spectacular cowboy shootouts. Girls simply sort things out in their own way. Especially in Sweden. 80%

How much must a woman sacrifice in order to be heard? The piano, a symbol of advanced society, gives Ada a privilege, thank to which she becomes, in the eyes of men, a woman from another, mysterious world, by which the traditional battle of the sexes is enriched with a no less determinative clash of cultures that has a slight whiff of anthropology. While Baines longs to have deeper knowledge of Ada’s world, her husband wants to control it, to colonise it. At the same time, the large musical instrument, which is dragged along like a burden, represents for the protagonist an opportunity to escape into her inner world. Thanks to Baines, she gradually discovers music outside of the realm of her own playing, though at the same time she is distancing herself from her daughter, whose loss would be a greater blow for her than being abandoned by her husband. Whatever she decides, happiness does not await her; at most there is only more pain and humiliation. Though the core of the film comprises a classic love triangle and Ada serves as a magnet for all suffering in accordance with the rules of melodrama, Jane Campion did not make a banal melodrama. Most obviously, her feministic bending of the genre’s rules (for example, she much more clearly demonstrates that a man treats a woman as property that he can trade as he pleases) is evinced by an unexpected evasive manoeuvre just before the end of the film. A strong statement about emancipation emerges – with considerable pain – from a love story about a woman, a man and a piano. When I think about the beautiful music and camera work along with the strong emotional experience and Holly Hunter’s acting, for which I have no words, the highest rating seems to be adequate. But in too many scenes, The Piano offers nothing but that music and nice images, and the director’s concept frequently takes precedence over credibility in the characters’ actions. In this respect, it is unreservedly melodramatic without being subversive. 80%

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%