novoten

Chris Rock took a gamble, bet it all on a single card – and if such a thing were possible, would even have lost his own pants. After the opening monologue, stitching into the black and white issues of the past weeks stopped being funny, and even potentially strong moments (Lady Gaga) sadly faded away due to collective guilt; in the worst case scenario, it even reeked of parody. Combined with the fact that the film Mad Max: Fury Road, which I personally do not like, got a chance to become the most successful film of the evening, I ended up surprisingly often being quite annoyed. Thanks at least for the well-deserved statue for Leonardo DiCaprio, my nerves will finally get some rest with each of his nominations.

There's a great idea behind Hail, Caesar! that is worth honoring, but it takes a wrong turn. The plot involving the communists, in which George Clooney (a standby of Joel and Ethan Coen) plays the fool, is not funny at all, no matter how hard you try to laugh. But the saddest part of it all is that the film, which is supposed to express love for the golden age of cinema, ends up portraying it with an almost satirical perspective, as a result of a comedy of errors.

Season 1 – 90% – With its psychological complexity perhaps even exceeding that of Daredevil, it only took a few episodes for me to know everything about all the characters, even the minor ones, to an extent for which other shows would need at least two seasons. It is a unique achievement that fundamentally deviates from all superhero conventions, but Jessica Jones manages to showcase two important relationships. Surprisingly, the stronger and more emotional one is the girl power between Jess and Trish, a bond that is possibly the most unbelievable and vital comic book friendship of all time. The second is, of course, the toxic power dynamics between Jessica and Kilgrave, a tension that largely defines the main character. However, this is where my only concern lies. Even though a second season is needed within the successful Netflix universe, I am not the least bit certain about its necessity due to the story of personal growth and forgiveness towards others and oneself. As a standalone story, it is definitely a five out of five, but with this eleventh-hour reservation, I will wait and see what the future brings. Season 2 – 85% – While the other Defenders have their typical settings or conflicts, with Daredevil facing moral dilemmas, Luke dealing with social issues, and Iron Fist handling mystical elements, Jessica still struggles with herself the most. She doesn't really need the backdrop of New York; she doesn't need Kilgrave to be her enemy, she doesn't really need anything, and that makes her the most independent creation of the Marvel-Netflix alliance. She is also the most interesting and strongest character. I was shocked that the whole season managed without a long-term antagonist because the newcomers either subtly contribute (Pryce) or there are no antagonists at all (Alisa). Surprisingly, the most hated character of the second season is undoubtedly Trish. Not because of her performance of the popular megahit "It's Patsyyy" or her contradictory relationship decisions, but because of her actions that seem deliberately harmful to her loved ones, including Jessica and herself. Therefore, the experience of this season is slightly weaker, but the fact that the show can keep up the tension with the gripping first thirteen episodes, even without you-know-who, is commendable in itself. Season 3 – 80% – Not surprisingly, it is still very melancholic, painfully truthful at the right places, and above all, it reveals that sometimes, the most urgent inner demons come to the surface in seemingly mundane problems in society. The final season of the titular heroine's wandering is by far the most artistic one. Although it does not develop any long-term storyline within the entire Defenders universe and only sporadically mentions her companions, I like that the ending is appropriately melancholic. Again with Jessica, whose best friend is either a bottle of good drink or a step-sister who causes more troubles than joys. There is an absolute minimum of purely comic book elements this time, which may be the reason why the farewell was relatively well-received by both critics and viewers. However, I will remember Krysten Ritter's mocking smile with appropriate gratitude.

Until the last moment, I didn't believe that in today's time, especially after the infamous results of the second movie, the whole project could be successfully brought to a conclusion, and I was even more excited after the first viewing. The series that introduced me to the continuing television stories is back and has everything that it succeeded in years ago. The most positive surprise is the realization that it is continuing without hesitation in the same tone where it left off last time. The final (and now almost legendary) two-parter The Truth has closed all the original avalanche of questions and the following (partially rejected by fans) I Want to Believe is not about the search for visitors, conspiracies, and hidden truths, but about the search for oneself. However, its mood is closest to the new stories in terms of my enthusiasm. Its own doubts are, in fact, the driving force behind the entire revival, and surprisingly, they find their place in EVERY episode. Perhaps most satisfying for me, surprisingly, are Darin Morgan's two episodes, Founder's Mutation and Home Again, which are sufficiently scary but primarily surrounded by moving family storylines, proving that the events surrounding William in the last seasons have an essential and inevitably tragic undertone even after so many years. Among Morgan's episodes, the more wild Mulder & Scully Meet the Were-Monster discreetly slipped in, which understandably caused outrage or misunderstanding among unfamiliar viewers, but for those who remember legendary lighthearted rides such as Bad Blood or Jose Chung's 'From Outer Space', it brings perhaps even more enthusiasm. Because, in addition to the typical narrative methods, the creators also brought back the self-depreciation, which will only be fully appreciated by those who paid attention years ago and remember more than yellow Tooms' eyes or glowing forest insects from the original series. Chris Carter remains a chapter entirely to himself. While, for surprisingly high percentage of viewers, the long-lasting background full of abductions, colonization, or black oil was to some extent a necessary evil, for me, these stories redefined the word mythology. All the storylines, including those related to not-so-lovingly-known super soldiers, were always something more, which reliably magnetized me every time, even during weaker periods. That's why I was shocked when I had to admit after the opening My Struggle that such a weak mythology episode had never been before, and I was genuinely worried about the fate of the requested revival. When the aforementioned trio of episodes proved me wrong, another episode written by Carter, Babylon, came – and again, it disappointed me because, like in the previous case, it worked in its details (the bond of the main duo, allusions, jokes on the edge of parody), but as a whole, it was chewing on a desperately uninteresting story. That's why the boulder that fell off my heart after the final My Struggle II was as heavy as the largest meteorite. Right there, finally, someone-you-know-who reveals a glimpse of their eternal plans, right there, more close encounters threaten, and I am genuinely concerned about the fate of the legendary heroes. At the very end, I'm not angry that the six-part nostalgia, originally intended as a final tribute, ends up being a regular series that will likely have a continuation. I'm not angry because the moods during the viewing experience haven't changed much over the years, and they fit into the series without any problems. I am genuinely moved by Gillian Anderson's performance, which unexpectedly overshadows even the otherwise perfect David Duchovny. While he plays Mulder as someone who has been beaten up, whose blind faith and destructive skepticism have already taken their toll, Scully's role as a regretful, insecure, and hopeful woman until the very end is quite tough, and as the episodes progress, it becomes clearer that some roles simply cannot be dropped. And I want to believe that this is just the beginning of something bigger.

The main protagonist still cannot argue using any other concepts than "family" and "friendship," there are literally countless characters this time, and the assumption that Yuu and Mika are deeply in love with each other becomes almost a certainty. Occasionally, the story is rushed, at other times an entire episode consists of meaningless dialogue. And I am watching every new twist or perfectly animated action scene in fascination. Battle in Nagoya may not have the highest ambitions and I would not dare to argue with its disgruntled viewers, but it immediately stole my heart. The wait for the new season will be unbearable.

The classic that BBC had to serve me on a silver platter, for which I can only give them my thanks. When the mess of many characters turns into a proper web of relationships, it's got you. All the moments of love, hate, and emotional intensity are polished to perfection, and the central trio of characters – the lost Paul Dano, the charismatic James Norton, and especially the radiant Lily James – who the viewer believes in her naive charm from the moment she first blinks, won my sympathy from the very beginning. If it weren't for the deceitful Kuragin family, I might even go for the highest rating. Nevertheless, the modern War and Peace has become a classic that doesn't hurt, but is instead tailored precisely to the viewer who enjoys being carried away by the inexhaustible stream of British television.

It's as if, when Jessica Lange left the position of the perennial main character, they were looking for a new face. Not an acting face (which Ryan Murphy found immediately thanks to the phenomenal Lady Gaga), but the face of the entire show, because this year takes everything possible from previous years. It is closest to American Horror Story: Murder House, borrowing characters and atmosphere, from American Horror Story: Asylum the pervasive atmosphere of goosebumps, and from American Horror Story: Freak Show the storytelling pace with an endless number of supporting characters and detours. However, American Horror Story: Hotel has a crucial advantage over the last mentioned, as it remains gripping, focusing on the same storylines at the beginning and end, and more than ever before, it benefits from a delightful soundtrack. Even this time, the script cannot avoid certain mistakes, and for example, the civilian approach to John and his family's story feels last-minute, just like the reveals from his detective work. The contrast between the suffocating and fresh mood, the captivating performances of Denis O'Hare and the always brilliant chameleon Sarah Paulson, are such seductive temptations that the stay at the Cortez hotel became the second best season.

Wade wasn't kidding: it's a love story. Thank God. As a shoot-em-up comedy/parody, Deadpool willingly degrades itself with his dozens of pop culture references that threaten to turn it into just instant diarrhea at several points. But it always tightens the screws at the right moment, successfully balancing humor on the edge of the most trivial prepubescent enthusiasm, and everything is fine again. But it wouldn't work without the magical Morena Baccarin. Her first real escape from the world of TV series suits her incredibly well, and while everyone is bowing before the unexpectedly huge financial success of the red madman, especially Ryan Reynolds, I wish her success above all.

Season 1 – 90% – HBO is accustomed to dealing with the most ordinary human concerns, and after a few minutes with this quartet, it's impossible not to think of other related pieces from the same network, such as Looking and even more so of Girls. And yet Togetherness takes it a step further because it doesn't rely on an attractive setting. It explores relationships from the perspective of a stable marriage and middle age boundaries and addresses a situation in which two people want to be together and objectively everything is fine – and yet something is wrong somewhere. And to make matters worse, it is something that can't even be named. The writing duo of Mark and Jay Duplass has obviously experienced their fair share, and in their rendering, every partnered dialogue is pure gold, in which you can't help but search for answers to the various questions that plague anyone who takes relationships seriously. The open-minded viewer will reach an understanding that the more experienced may not find surprising. That some things can be resolved, some things will work themselves out, and with some things you can bend over backward, but the problem remains and quietly swells to unbearable proportions. In this endeavor, I root the most for Michelle, played by the beautiful and desirable Melanie Lynskey. When I see how much she wants to keep everything together in the family, even when it isn't easy, especially with someone like Tina giving her advice, I have to wish her familial happiness even more than the others involved. But that doesn't mean I wasn't rooting for Brett and Alex as well, who are the right partners in chaos, and I honestly experienced with them their dissatisfaction with the current situations. And unless we factor in Mary Steenburgen's overblown storyline, there is no competition in the genre of short dramedy. So thanks for this eight-episode series that showed that an unforgettable thing can be created even in minimal space. If this unique atmosphere continues, my decision about this series is clear, and I will recommend it at every opportunity until it becomes tiresome. Season 2 – 90% – Stories of sad realizations about relationships you thought could never surprise you again, in a bad way. Journeys that bring back the sadness of childhood adventures and adolescence that time swept away and that will never return, even if you would trade everything for just a few minutes of them. And a feeling that the Duplass brothers have created melancholy in its purest form. Maybe Brett and Alex are sometimes a bit too foolish, maybe Tina couldn't fully grow on me even in a more acceptable form. But the best stories are sometimes written by life itself. Therefore, the cancellation after only two years is the most painful blow in a long time. The ending, which the creators themselves considered the end of an era, is unfortunately final, but perhaps that's why I can bear it with a smile, albeit a heavily tearful one.

Black Hawk down for good. After watching the murderous footage and a more than thorough introduction, it is clear that this is a dream project, whose author was unrestrained and thus able to fulfil his greatest wishes. And although the motivational speeches or threats about dead Americans bring to mind Pearl Harbor with their quantity, it only slightly diminishes the experience. When it comes down to it, Grade AAA Action comes to the forefront, proving that Michael Bay simply never gets old, but matures in his own way. Every salvo or explosion surpasses everything you could possibly see in the genre with its dynamism, and the increasing fear for the main characters drives towards an overheated and even more exhaustively satisfying finale for the audience.