novoten

A family saga set in three locations, striving to be ambitious in its theme, length, and message. However, it suffers the most from plunging into endless machine-gun monologues from Denzel Washington and leaving the viewer to absorb the atmosphere through excessively long babbling about nothing. In non-dramatic moments, the otherwise powerful performances of the main duo are needlessly diluted, and it is here that the film's major flaw, the inability to break free of the theatrical format, is most evident. The intended refined story about ordinary people in an ordinary time and place is somewhere hidden there, but due to the discouraging prologue and empty epilogue, I can only reach it with great difficulty.

An uncompromising thriller about everything bad being good for something. James McAvoy shines fully, supporting characters deliver adequately, and if it weren't for the fact that the script occasionally pushes too much, I would leave with nothing but applause. The subject matter, which is professionally close to me, is just sufficiently overdone at the edge of the supernatural, so it could perhaps open the eyes of a few people. M. Night Shyamalan is, to my great delight, once again being hailed by the public as the king, but I don't plan to welcome him back. Because, for me, he never left.

That the most bees in my bonnet lately have come from an unkindly underestimated animated mishmash of various Victorian and overall European contemporary elements, to which I could add whatever I can think of, is what I call a surprise. Nonetheless, it was a success for The Empire of Corpses, even after I was skeptical about the premise of the mysterious John Watson. However, I very much like the recently concluded (and also underrated) series Penny Dreadful, one of its storylines focusing on the experiments of Doctor Frankenstein and the physical and mental consequences that ensue. Ryôtarô Makihara's spectacle thoroughly analyzes this storyline in an emotional, technical, and grand steampunk direction, and out of what seems like a mishmash (of universes, philosophies, and incompatible authors, there is truly a huge abundance here) it becomes, at times, an almost existential work, yet still based on adventure. Questions and reflections on one's own mortality, supported by an ambiguous conclusion, swirl to an unforeseen extent after watching it.

Justin Kurzel has found that fabled compromise between portraying his own vision and sufficiently pleasing the fans of the games. In the current storyline, the contest for the apple still takes first place, but it is cleverly and necessarily minimized to its basic functions and outlines. There's no point in lying to ourselves, as this artifact has a line around it that is initially interesting, then tolerated, then in the end sadly stretched. The suppression of supernatural side motives is therefore only to the good, giving Callum the space to become a flesh and blood hero (something his gaming predecessor Desmond could only dream of for a long time). Michael Fassbender also works equally well as a torn victim of fate and an unbeatable Aguilar, forcing me to hold my breath and tense my muscles in the action scenes. But what I appreciate the most is that as a player (I have successfully immersed myself in the world of Abstergo and Co. a total of six times and the Ezio trilogy or Black Flag are damn high on my list), it doesn't just make me tick off obligatory trademarks of the story or genre, but on the contrary, it squeezes me unbelievably while waiting for a leap of faith. My only complaints are therefore about th elogical errors, which sadden me even more because I try my best not to dwell on them. However, the absence of anything other than police batons is a glaring handicap for the guards, and at times it bothers you, as does the unclear extent of Callum's genetic memory capabilities, which then obscure the most emotional scene of the entire movie. Despite these bumps in the road, Assassin's Creed has managed to land in the position of my favorite game adaptation, and their flop at the box office will disappoint me for a long time.

I like stories of people who have most things wrong in life and yet wouldn't change a thing. It's a devil's deal that such stories often take place in Texas. From Toby and Tanner's robberies, I feel a burning longing for old times that will never return, and Jeff Bridges' grumbling ranger saws the contours of a Western almost to perfection. In combination with perfect cinematography that captures all the vast expanses with absorbing haziness, I'm not far from giving this the highest rating. There's only one thing preventing me – the persistent feeling that it borrowed too much from No Country for Old Men.

Here's to the ones who dream. About the fact that the factory of dreams can give everything or take everything. About dreams that sooner or later must collide with reality. And finally, about the fact that when someone says they will never stop loving you, it is possible that they really mean it. From the first published image of the dancing couple, I knew that Damien Chazelle was making this film for people like me. And with the epilogue, he proved that he left a considerable part of his heart in La La Land.

Even when I was enjoying the universally loathed reboot of Fantastic Four, I knew that this director would be worth closer examination, and Chronicle confirms that many times over. But it's not just Josh Trank's merit. The script by Max Landis combines idealism and at the same time an upstart inflexibility, which are never closer to a person's heart as when they are in their late teens. Moreover, when all the usual clichés of a hero's origin are turned upside down and Dane DeHaan confirms that his style is is truly irreplaceable on the current scene, all that's left to be added is just the spice of Trank's predatory direction. The last twenty minutes constantly made me marvel at how these scenes were accomplished so effortlessly, while at the same time I could hardly restrain the wildly accelerated pounding of my heart.

The supporting role with Tatiana Vilhelmová should have remained in the background and not inexplicably come to the forefront. Its transparency and, consequently, its lack of finality is what ultimately causes Home Care to fall through the cracks. It's a shame because the buzz was decent, Boleslav Polívka gives his first perfectly normal performance in years, and thanks to a topic that is close to my heart professionally, I was prepared to meet the film halfway wherever I could.

Some sagas can't deliver the development of a superhero even in a trilogy as convincingly as Steven Moffat manages in just an hour. With the Doctor's one-year absence combined with perfectly cast Justin Chatwin, Peter Capaldi's sorrowful gaze, and his usual playfulness, even though it is definitely the weakest special in competition with the last few years, it reliably spread an optimistic and comic mood in our home.

As always when I meet the Danish prince, I had to struggle a little with fragmented mood and plot shocks in the first act, but once it gets going, I was glued to my seat. Benedict Cumberbatch plays a bit less emphatically than, for example, David Tennant a few years ago, but because he was born to play Hamlet, with his stubborn face and unpredictable expression, he has an easier time of winning over the audience.