Marigold

If this is some sort of sophisticated post-modern meta-game to demonstrate that if you sew together disparate rotten pieces and forget to give it a brain, a retarded monster will result, I apologize for not picking up on it. Otherwise, load up and kill it.

You are empty, Mr. Bond, and you live in a world full of ruins. I think this was heard somewhere, and Mendes filmed it. Spectre is lethargic in its pace, muffled by Hoyte Van Hoytema's darkened visuals. Only Newman tends to push it forward dramatically. A Bond film wrapped in squid and drenched in the ink of ruin. In many ways naive, superficial, but it kept my attention reliably for 150 minutes. Objectively, the film does not deserve to be under full fire, because in a similar rank this year, a thematically similar MI V reigns uncompromisingly. But this stumbling walk through depopulated areas before demolition concludes in a dignified way the four-part psychotherapy of the most tired Bond, who doesn't really want to be who he is. But he doesn’t know how to be anyone else... If this is the end of the series, I'm happy. Btw. props for the hidden message that Heineken is only good enough for watering mouse holes.

At a time when there is such a huge information disparity, this type of engaged and openly subjective blog-documentary is not only excusable, but in fact desirable. In addition, Andrea Culková's packaging is appropriately neat and thus somehow fits into a wave that is already laughing at the BIO label and looking for a free and attractive platform for its opinions. The documentary is as useful as a blog. Why wouldn't it be? If one of the parties controls the information channels with propaganda, this counter-propaganda with acknowledged personal bias is appropriate. Sugar is bad and this fact should be talked about. In the meantime, it has to be shouted about in an engaged manner. Which, to some extent, excuses the absence of argument in this "blogomentary". Its level can be discussed, but the core of the message is without debate. P.S. I am fascinated by the fact that it bothers people that a mother is involving her kids in this. The sugar industry has been involving children in it for decades. Children are virtually blissful, while the real ones are often irreversibly damaged. Striking evidence that we cannot reflect the accepted ideology.

Even in Macbeth, Justin Kurzel can indulge in what fascinated him in Snowtown - a moral vacuum that arises around extremely ambivalent characters, torn apart by violence and manipulation. Of course, in collaboration with Adam Arkapaw, he powerfully uses the rugged Scottish landscape as a mirror of the inhospitable interior of the two main actors, who (filmed mainly in relentless detail) form the magnetizing center of the adaptation. The Macbeth couple and their gradual decline into madness usurps almost all of the space, and if the actor doesn't have the talent to play in a small area with a fascinating intensity like Sean Harris, he's out of luck. It's not a bad thing, because Fassbender and Cotillard act with an intensity that easily withstands the uncompromising choice of detail and faithfulness to the original’s language, although the strongest moment is when Macbeth sheds a “tear of madness" in the middle of a wordless scene. Kurzel chooses a gloomy, very slow tempo, which in the middle finds itself in the stereotypical arrangements of monologues / protagonist dialogues (an obvious screenplay defect), but for most of the rest of the runtime, it is only thanks to the fascinating interplay of Arkapaw's eye and the ears of Justin's brother-composer Jed that the film holds a very intense charge. The battle scenes are on the verge of Refnov mannerism, but for me they fit into the overall tone of "naturalistic lyricism". Yes, Branagh's blasé attitude breaks under the dictates of darkness, and even the BBC cycle The Crown feels airy compared to Kurzel's adaptation. In some ways, Macbeth is very close to the controversial but captivating adaptation of Andrey Arnold's Wuthering Heights. He also seeks in the classics the forgotten taste of blood, the smell of sweat and the slime of mud. And he won me over. [80%]

Villeneuve at the top of his game. A brilliantly directed thriller one-time watch that will drive your colon into your brain through its brutally slow pace and Jóhann Jóhannsson's post-apo thunder. The ruthless trepanation of the skulls, which resembles through its ultra-dark vibe the prose of Cormac McCarthy, but otherwise is completely without claim to philosophical overlap. A bloody history from the frontier that documents that the second art Quebec surrealist has matured into one of the best mainstream directors. Casting a woman in the title role of this raw slab of meat is a brilliant move that completes the entire championship piece. When I compare the "mainstream films" this year in terms of price / performance / experience, Sicario wins. [90%]

Paradoxically, Zemeckis exaggerates it with that elegance on a rope. Petit's high jinks are staged openly as a theater / myth - the protagonist's personality is a stepping stone to an eccentric expedition to a place where there is no death, only "splendor" and everything is dominated by the avantgarde pose of the artist as an acrobat, a man who is not afraid of the abyss, because death is only about not inviting the depths to a duel. It's simple and naive, but in defense of the film, let it be said that this is exactly what it is aiming to be. The regression into Petit's childhood is Burtonian poetic (and unfortunately quite exaggerated), the very performance of the magnificent "coup" is again stylized as an exuberant and exciting heist. Apart from Gravity, the moments on the rope are quite possibly the most significant thing you will experience at IMAX. Unfortunately, in time, everything else is flat, very flowery, and emotionally completely barren. The only perception that really exists in this film is the dizzying depth underfoot. Everything else is just an epic narrated shallowness, streams of lightly spoken words of the exhibiting principal (Robert and Joseph), their funny exuberant "accent", which unfortunately do not help the drama very much.*** 1/2. P.S. I'm looking forward to the analyses of the neo-formalist wing - the film seems to really want it.

Best Ridley since 1982. The master finally left behind his megalomania and unique sense of over combining anything potentially impressive and filmed a technically brilliant, moderate yet emotionally nourishing celebration of humanity as a tenacious community that overcomes all problems with cynical humor and potato growing. Damon is the heart and soul of the film, which falls into model sentiment in a terrestrial storyline, but thanks to an unquenchable storehouse of optimism and catchphrases on Mars, keeps the viewer in an uncompromising bind, which it will use in the last quarter of the weightless finale. Ridley Scott quotes himself nonchalantly when he lets the freezing echoes of Alien be heard at the beginning, then turns the man battling the inhospitable cosmos into something completely opposite - in a feel good movie that triumphs over all its mistakes and loss of concentration with the immeasurable enthusiasm and intelligence that is still quite rare with pure "entertainment". Humanity will rise from shit. Je suis Martian. P.S. I suggest that it be voted that the Master has already found the Lost Paradise and can retire.

Daredevil has fit everything that Marvel lacks on the big screen into thirteen well-built episodes that don’t bore or waste time, because they are driven forward by an influx of famously cast side characters, as well as a great conflict between good and evil...but actually...are we able to talk about something similar in Hell's Kitchen? The villain Fisk is completely at odds with the Marvel film canon, built with a biblical ambivalence of love and hate, tenderness and cruelty, and from the beginning Matt has doubts about how good should be done. The series thus offers viewers two answers to the question of good and evil - one short and the other very long. A very challenging and unpredictable journey leads to all (justified) comic clichés, adorned with great directing and an unusually spectacular conception of man-to-man fights uncommon for television. Sometimes one wonders how people in the world of The Avengers can have such mundane and real problems. Daredevil balances its social level with iconic enlightenment, yet the impression that it is the "rea deal" and not escapism still prevails. All the more intoxicating are the moments when the symbol triumphs over an overly complex fact, where there is no sterility and the two-dimensionality of Iron Man, Captain America and others. For me, the best comic book film since The Dark Knight. No debate about it. Drew Goddard is the man.

An unbelievable mixture of routine and yawning action and a retarded semi-chick-flick where, instead of by the timid junior, the central role is played by his macho father Ray Stevenson, the only character who has at least some fuel here. Just like the Hitman restart, it’s unbelievably awkward. Delamarre is shooting a lousy commercial for Audi. Even there, they seem like boring posh cars.

In terms of acting, probably the most balanced Czech film in recent years (perhaps just the etude with home video feels quite amateurish during the shouting), at the same time a Czech film in a long time that has the courage to go amongst the bottom and mix actors with non-actors in a ratio that simply works out. Noha undoubtedly has a natural aptitude for the non-stop demon with dirty hands, it's nice to see Čtvrtníček act so relaxed and natural, and it's gratifying to watch a film that isn't afraid to move between the bottom without elements of excessive exploitation and ridicule. With a bit of exaggeration, the Czech version of Porumboiu's Comoara, which, paradoxically, is brought down by only a little clumsy work with genre props. As a look into the life of a red neck who is desperate to escape his own limitations, it's simply good and fun. Four stars out of sympathy.