DaViD´82

Czech-Korean-British-French-American collaboration on an unusual sci-fi about a “train that doesn’t stop, never stops, never stops anywhere" where people behave like animals. And it’s obvious who made it. The same as in his other works, this refuses to follow the rules, sometimes making it seem a little gratuitous and exhibitionistic, but most of the time it benefits to movie.

A must for lovers of modern Scandinavian design; no other series has such stylish interiors with such attention to detail that it makes the heart rejoice. The series itself however isn’t such a reason for rejoicing (apart from the finale double episode where, amongst other things, they work nicely with the biggest Norwegian historical “skeleton in the closet"), nor for moaning for that matter. The greatest shame is that from the line taken in the opening episode, which is somewhere between State of Play and Larsson’s storyline about editorial staff and work in “Millennium", gradually shifts toward a more common version of the modern Scandi thriller. I repeat, it’s a shame, but it isn’t bad. Why? Because even so, it is sufficiently high quality and suspenseful (and it is probably no coincidence that the last two episodes have a "Nesbø feeling" about them), but it’s just rather ordinary; there’s a surplus of Scandi thrillers, but no quality thriller about journalism in sight. The damp and drizzly atmosphere and the subdued acting performances, and the clever work with genre clichés are pleasant. What isn’t pleasant is what plagues most of these productions: convoluted grafted-on over-elaborateness.

A movie with two different halves. In the first, Marvel departs from its usual, inoffensive colorful safe family content into as yet unexplored waters of the more seriously-inclined comic book movies like those from DC. And believe it or not, this does the Captain unexpected good; the hand-to-hand, nineties style action is exactly what Marvel movies so badly needed. Unfortunately, everything falls apart after the bunker in New Jersey when the movie suddenly turns into a parade of one dumb deus ex machiny after another. Which wouldn’t necessarily have to matter in a standard, painted “ha, ha, ha" Marvel cartoon, but it seems really out of place here. When you add the unnecessarily disproportionate length, the unused potential of certain characters and with regard to all preceding contact action in the form of utterly unsuitable, commonplace CGI, editing-party finale, then... This way, this is certainly a good Marvel movie (and one of the three best so far), but nothing more. And the pleasant first half promised “more" in a style that I have been waiting for from Marvel since the first Iron Man.

Despite the somewhat unfortunate final five minutes, this is an achievement that finally brings this directing duo out of the deep shadow of their masterpiece (yes, Internal Affairs). It was about time.

As soon as this flops over into a type of Hitchcock, it loses its seal of originality. Because it begins to strum on well-known genre strings, but nobody knows for sure how they will sound. Not that it all goes to pot at that moment, but it does become rather more ordinary, while still remaining sufficiently unusual, uncompromising and dirty mirror holding to stop it becoming just another run-of-the-mill genre movie, immediately forgettable as the closing credits come up.

An unfortunately executed adaptation. It is based on an ironic (and funny) anti-bureaucratic toned, House-style novel by Mørck and a psychological depiction of the investigator and the victim. Contrarily, the standard genre plot is more an essential excuse linking everything together than anything else. But here the two most special assets that make this different from the regular productions of this genre are thoroughly overshadowed and the stress is put purely on the crime storyline; and that is as run-of-the-mill as is possible in this genre.

Nothing for xanotphobes, arachnophobes or an audience who would like to see something more than just a regular, run-of-the-mill Lynch movie. And my theory “what’s going on and what are these gigantic, totalitarian spiders and loss of identity"? Villeneuve just wanted to make Jon Peters happy.

The Tolkeinite inside me is surprised to find where the Hobbits disappeared to when Isengard was flooded. The believer inside me is incensed over disrespect to the Word of our Lord and the unbeliever in me just shakes his head in disbelief over that really current “love Gaia" message... In any case, the movie has its own style and is interesting in the best meaning of the word; however much incongruous and slightly (really) slap-dash. Two thirds is a post apocalyptic vegan version of The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers which perilously frequently topples on the brink unintentional ludicrousness, but doesn’t fall over it, thanks mainly to the charisma of Russell Crowe. The last third, however, suddenly becomes a heavy, existential intimate psycho-thriller with classic (although unfaithful to the Book) Old Testament dilemmas. And that is utterly outstanding. It just doesn’t have any connection with the preceding catastrophic epic fantasy.

I can't shake the feeling that it would have been better suited to the form of a two-hour film rather than a three-hour miniseries divided into four episodes, but it's still highly topical and, in its "it could happen in your neighborhood" realism, disturbingly chilling.

A female True Detective. Or isn’t True Detective a male version of Top of the Lake? It’s not just that it has the same cameraman and therefore has the same film-like and really darkly gritting appearance (the presentation of the beauties of New Zealand do not remind one of Lord of the Rings; apart from the fact that it’s all rain and fog and if you get lost you can toss a coin to find out if you’ll die of hunger or exposure). In both it applies that the case itself is of secondary importance (and here this applies a little more, since “who and how" becomes clear in the middle of the first episode). Both play more with symbolism, reading between the lines and the omni-present subliminal tension. In both it applies that when, on occasion, it lowers itself to be literal, it immediately loses a lot of its magic. Both have ambiguous characters, excellently written and played. Both play on a disconcerting string. Both are primarily about the characters, about life and all that... and both are perfect.