Isherwood

The megalomaniacal intro, which manages in a split second to both honor and parody what Michael Bay loves so much, unfortunately, represents the high point of the entire film. It then spends the subsequent ninety minutes dealing with one personal realization, which it gets to through stiff dialogue, forced jokes, and lemonade sentiment, kept afloat by a replaced John Powell and a hamster with a hellish cadence of deadly catchphrases. The rest of it is unwatchable.

Seven years later, I again watched the film that got me interested in film in the first place. I was surprised that it hasn't lost any of its appeal over the years. Perhaps the fact alone that I remember those legendary moments vividly enough to still be frightened or tense. But that's a purely subjective feeling. Scott's thoughtful direction, in which all the essential elements - the cold spaceship design, the play of lights and shadows, Goldsmith's music, the rational crew and, last but not least, the legendary uninvited guest - are perfectly in place and can still captivate me even all these years later. To today’s generation (my contemporaries), for whom cinematic horror is produced in the form of screaming teenagers and remakes of Asian boogeymen, this space opus probably doesn't really do much for them, but over the years it's not what, but how! Without a drop of nostalgia, fully aware of "getting older," it’s still an absolutely riveting blast.

An acting exhibition, but like wrestling itself it’s a bit "fake" - the eyes see enough and the emotions evaporate as you leave the scene. Two hard hours in the ring, but no significant resonance in feelings.

It’s very predictable, but in many moments also damn truthful and above all outrageously entertaining. It’s a rather late burial of genre films developed long ago, which scores points with its sincerity, sensual curves, and wonderful music. And James Marsden unleashed to the max. The funniest film of winter 2008/09.

Ed Burns, a former police officer and teacher, and David Simon, a journalist, have observed Baltimore’s streets long enough to know that most of them are dominated by the criminal business in any form, and the drug business in particular. Years of experience were put to good use in writing the books and also the script for this series. The result is an incredibly complex, sophisticated, and unfortunately also reflective-of-everyday-reality crime drama, pitting special units, assembled by superiors from the unpopular guys to show goodwill to politicians while possibly being able to sink them for their incompetence, against drug dealers. However, don't expect a tale about a bunch of losers who kicked everyone’s ass. This bunch celebrates partial successes but in fact also constantly struggles with how to avoid their feet being pulled from underneath them by the higher-ups, how to keep their temper within the limits of the law, and how not to lose their necks because the other side also suspects and acts. The sophistication of the two worlds, which are equally shared, is the main driving force behind the series. Elaborate characters, with whom you would normally have trouble shaking hands, uncompromisingly draw you into a whirlwind of action that certainly doesn't end with the clacking of handcuffs and the slamming of bars. If you like the CSI series, or anything similar, where the heroes are supplied by modeling agencies to catch a killer based on a forgotten hair or a perfectly focused photo from miles away, feel free to avoid this one. This shatters all romantic notions with unprecedented vigor. From my point of view, its definitely the best series I've ever seen.

Wiseman may be a tragedian who steals from where he can, but against Tatopoulos he is a virtuoso. Or I’ll film lightning, raindrops, sword swings, someone’s face, and a splash of blood on the wall, cram it all into a single second, and repeat it several times in a row... and now I have an action scene! As an added bonus, it will have a demented plot that wouldn't even succeed as a non-committal B-movie, bored actors (Nighy’s demonicness and Rhona's sex appeal nowhere to be found), the absence of a single moment worth remembering, or at least one to help you snap out of stereotypical lethargy. And this is the result. This is the most moronic thing with dudes in leather rags holding swords since Pathfinder, and it puts its two predecessors to shame, though we could actually say that it’s not really even possible anymore.

Danny Boyle got rid of Alex Garland and brought a cheap fairy tale to the West, exactly according to the Bollywood model. Its aesthetics of dirty slums and the search for happiness in it obviously earn touching moments with the audience, standing applause, and gilded statuettes. Unfortunately, to me, it smells of cheap calculation, which is only kept afloat by the fantastic passage with the little kids, which is funny and sad, and above all real, which cannot be said about the rest. It’s not that I don't appreciate the effort, but I yawned through the efforts of this hypocritical world - the visuals are like one of Tony Scott's Mexican trips and the good music (Boyle’s trademark) is nowhere to be found. I understand the general enthusiasm, I just don't share it.

Zelenka has imprinted a very specific visage on a strong fabric that would tighten "on its own," which straddles the line between pure art and something "other," which is what so many people call for from Czech cinema. I give Zelenka a standing ovation for the way the film managed to get away from theatricality by not letting itself be carried by the (otherwise without exception top-notch) actors, by giving it a distinctive cinematic shape through editing, cinematography, and especially the music. One of the best Czech films in a long time. Bravo!

It couldn't have been filmed better (probably). This thought popped into my head during the closing credits. Singer has turned a theoretical weakness (the viewer knows how it will turn out) into a major strength and subordinated everything to a perfectly refined style. Complaining about a certain coldness in a film that takes place in a setting of perfectly cut uniforms and precise military hierarchy is like accusing romantic films of moving you. Cruise is whipped to the max in the company of the (mostly British) acting elite, with Singer taming his ego enough to make his character serve the story as well, not the other way around. I’m tempted to give it full stars for the tense quarter of an hour that immediately follows the explosion. But I'll save the last star for when the DVD version is at least 20-30 minutes longer, which will fix the minor mistakes (I’d like to see stronger motivations for some of the characters). 4 ½, knowing that this is one of the strongest cinema experiences of the year. Edit: After seeing it a second time, I send all the criticisms to hell and give the film the full thumbs up it deserves.

Kathryn Bigelow understands the tough guy heart better than half of Hollywood's major league action directors. This film about a group of bomb squad technicians stuck in the heart of Iraq and struggling daily with the problem of "red or blue?" could not have been made in any other way than as a suspenseful thriller with a sultry atmosphere of hot streets and desert distances. This is perhaps the first cinematic contribution to the subject that doesn't moralize about the good/bad side of warfare or try to understand the souls of Islamic fighters. Instead, it gives us a glimpse into the lives of those who are left with nothing but cynicism and the belief that any proper course of action to disarm is one that doesn't make you scream. Scenes of pulling bombs out of the ground, searching for a detonator in a car, or saving a suicide bomber are all worthy of a discharge because they make your blood run cold. However, the director is ultimately undermined by the screenwriter's stiffer dialogue and the cheap escapade with little Beckham. Otherwise, it’s damn great! 4 ½.