Lima

There was only one Vláčil, this doesn't even come close. It's not a pose to say that I really like slow-moving films with an emphasis on atmosphere, but this one wasn't atmospherically slow, just annoyingly slow, and in the first half it was visually like a production of the Brno Czech Television Studios, full of static declaiming dummies. Just the kind of post-revolutionary pseudo-art by a fresh FAMU graduate who thinks he’s the shit :o)

Respectfully weak for Boorman standards. It doesn't have the right kind of kick to it like Deliverance, nor does it have the unique sound that you can tell your mates about over a beer. But not to be pejorative, the actors are great, they really had to suffer during the shooting, and it's a fine survival drama for most of the runtime. Unfortunately at the very end it turns into an trite horror movie with ridiculous make-up effects, not to mention the twist, which not even a collage of X-ray image can save.

Poster tagline: THEY ARE TOO WILD FOR ONE WORLD!!! Bud Abbott and Lou Costello were a comic duo whose popularity in the 1940s and 50s was comparable to, say, Bud Spencer and Terence Hill two decades later. But how to rate this? The filmmakers took a ride on the growing popularity of the sci-fi genre in the 1950s, but the title is a bit misleading. It's not about Mars, in the first half we're frolicking in New Orleans, in the second half on a planet Venus inhabited only by women. The story doesn't lack interesting ideas at times, the effects are nice (the rocket ride through New York, the giant Venusian dog) without any flashy rear projections that will scream at you, the production design is lavish, supported by the exclusive participation of misses from all over the world, but the film has 2 major problems: the humour and Lou Costello. The humour is hammy, at times infantile, often predictable, although there are a couple of hilarious jokes. And the other problem is Costello himself, an actor, if I may call him that, who hasn't a shred of talent but thinks the opposite of himself, awkwardly goofing off and constantly throwing glances directly at the camera as if to highlight the joke he's just made – watching him produces almost agony. The rating is mixed. The film never gets boring, it passes quickly, there’s eye-candy, but the whole time you feel like shooting Costello all the way to Pluto. Summary: 3 stars.

A wonderful story by the sensitive Scott Cooper. Minimalistically served, modestly presented but profound in its message. The moments of silence, thoughtfully spoken dialogue and knowing glances were more engaging for me than the scenes of horror and violence, which also have their place. I can see why this flopped in theaters, in this day and age of superhero Marvel and DC dreck, this old-school style of narrative is out of place with 99% of today's film output. And I understand why Christian Bale wants to make films like this, and I thank him for that and wish him well in his future film career.

Poster tagline: THE HORROR OF ALL MANKIND TERRIFIES THE SCREEN!! SCIENTISTS TURN MEN INTO BEASTS!! YOU SEE IT HAPPENING!! First of all, I have to applaud the producers' decision to replace the contrived studio sets with the real natural scenery of the Montana mountains. The pine forests and here and there the last remnants of snow look very nice in black and white. It's a pity that what starts as a likeable horror film turns into a weepy melodrama towards the end. If only there was a better director behind the camera than Freddy Sears, creator of the most ridiculous monster in the history of cinema (yes, that punk giant bird in The Giant Claw), maybe I can think of a Jack Arnold; if he had made it, it could be a classic today, because obviously no expense was spared, and the werewolf make-up is very nice. The reason that the film fell into oblivion is also due to the fact that in the 1950s there was simply no interest in the werewolf theme anymore (cinemas were dominated by UFOs and radioactive mutated monsters), and the days when Lone Chaney used to run around in a werewolf mask in classic Universal horror films were over. The filmmakers tried to keep up with the times, as the local werewolf mutations were caused by radioactive injections, but otherwise they were a good ten or fifteen years too late thematically. Which I don't give a toss about. It’s a shame, without the poorly acted character of the expressively sobbing wife, I would have given a pleasant 4*.

Del Toro's film was a respectful homage to the kaiju genre and despite its shortcomings (insubstantial characters, action entirely at night to make it easier to render the CGI) it had a kind of charm and for someone who grew up with Godzilla, Gamera and co. it was actually a nice experience. This sequel is just crap for the infantile Fuku and for kids with claws greasy with popcorn. That said, there are four lessons we can take from this: 1) Hollywood is now definitely firmly attached to Chinese titties full of giggles and with its head up to its ears buried in its OWN ass 2) Boyega has surprisingly the acting skills of a reliable movie star and will show us more in the future 3) the gender balance of today's Hollywood already goes back to prepubescence and I wonder in fear whether the next Bond won’t be a 13-year-old girl 4) Scott Eastwood is a wooden actor and doesn’t sweat it.

The script has more holes than a Swiss cheese, which you can see especially during the well narrated heist and then the final twist, which is anything but clever, even though it wanted to be something like The Usual Suspects. And what do we have otherwise? A clash of two strong personalities and a story that relies on atmosphere rather than action, which we only see at the beginning and the very end. So it's a kind of second-rate Heat, and Butler is no Al Pacino, Schreiber is nowhere near a DeNiro-type personality and Gudegast can’t hold a candle to Mann. But if don’t compare, then the emphasis on the characters, the slower pace, the atmospheric realities of L.A., and the ultra-macho Butler as we want to see him, all sat well enough with me and I'll give the four slightly overrated stars, despite the botched twist.

Making fun of a scum like Stalin and the Bolshevik cadres deserves praise, but I didn't find the film very funny. The humour was quite forced and ham-fisted, I guess I'm not the right viewer for such unbridled shenanigans. The casting, with the exception of Khrushchev and Molotov (the always reliable Buscemi and Palin) was one big blunder, especially with Stalin himself, who came across more like a nice old man than the charismatic, demonic Satan.

Watching this surreal flick puts you in the position of a lab mouse, or a hamster, thrown into an aquarium with a king cobra. You loathe what you are looking at, but you are so hypnotized by the sight of the cobra that you just stare into its eyes in fascination until the snake swallows you. You can't take your eyes off this excrement, it has an undeniable charisma, as absurd as it sounds. It's like throwing a bunch of soap-operas, Red Shoe Diaries, a subtly conceived episode of Emanuelle, and the complete bibliography of Rosamunde Pilcher into a big blender and mixing it with tabloids and gossip magazines, spiced it up with Zdeněk Troška, Ovčáček, Turkish Star Wars and the nightly TV broadcasts of tarot readers on TV Barrandov, drinking this shit bottoms up, or drowning in it. I’ll watch this at least once more with my mates. PS: Thanks to the curators of The Shockproof Film Festival for the great titles!

It's been a long, long time since I've seen a film that flows so gracefully. P.T. Anderson is an Artist, Day-Lewis displays an excruciating lightness of acting, Vicky Krieps is a tremendous acting discovery, and the music, the brilliant music, suits the film as well as Woodcock's dress suits the women. The way the story builds up and ends cynically was a feast for my senses and black-humored soul. Fantastic experience!