novoten

From the first more intimate dialogue, physically intense spectacle, three hours in Adele's skin is surprisingly little. Or at least it would be, if the script didn't sometimes play a slightly repetitive melody. The hotly debated and open love scenes could really use some editing. Not that the first liberating one didn't have its place in the film, but the others no longer offer any surprises and, in one case, even slow things down. It's a pity, especially since the situations are so believable and inspired by life, when a person has a smile from ear to ear under all circumstances, because no matter what happens, they are simply happy. On the other hand, I won't get over the moments when you have a heavy feeling in your stomach together with the main protagonist because nothing is okay for a long time. Abdellatif Kechiche is obviously a peculiar patron, but for allowing me to live Adele's life, I must thank him without hesitation. It's even more disappointing that she grinds to a halt at the very end and in a crucial moment appears almost helpless. And I don't want to remember the sincere, vibrant Adele as helpless.

Every shy boy will eventually grow up and become a man. For some, maybe for me, a specific stage of life is responsible for it, while for others it's a certain place, for someone else it's a girl. And for Duncan, it was the people who saw more in him than his own family. And when one of those people is Sam Rockwell, once again proving that every few years he's capable of breaking any film with his presence, it's all over – and suddenly The Way Way Back becomes a powerful emotional film. Not a perfect one, because the adult problems seem inappropriate and maybe even cruel through the eyes of a teenager. But with the story of Water Wizz, it's not about what happens, but how it happens. And Nat Faxon and Jim Rash won me over completely with that. Writing a screenplay and then, after the directors they had in mind couldn't do it, directing it themselves as their debut is pretty cool. It doesn't seem too long ago that I used to watch films about barely recognizable internal growth in order to find answers. Today, I watch them and feel like advising the main characters on how to handle it and telling them that it'll all be better someday. Fortunately, that's not possible and everyone will (hopefully) figure it out on their own.

The European Road to Fantasy, endowed by Tomm Moore with his typical mysterious veil and lightly growing spirit of adventure. The Celtic legends, in their freshness, enchant you perfectly well and there was no need to get into a confused bearded man or a fight with the owls. Just a look at the group of seals and it is clear that something great is beginning here. Ben's journey to save mythical creatures and his own adulthood is an unobtrusive but all the more impressive bit of magic.

Each further rewriting of the notoriously well-known history is riskier, but the path in this direction is more than promising. Laeta Kalogridis and Patrick Lussier confront iconic scenes head-on, showing us explicitly the use of time travel and giving Arnold Schwarzenegger a chance to break his metal jaws himself – and he fulfills this deadly task perfectly. At the moment when it is clear that Mr. Schwarzenegger will not leave any scene without proclaiming it properly, Terminator: Genisys becomes almost a family spectacle, which perfectly suits the fact that the changes concern exactly those storylines that used to disappoint me with their pessimistic outcome. Even a heretical thought crossed my mind that this ending could be a complete conclusion and end the whole saga with a thirty-year gap. If I am really just naive and the subsequent installments will crush my optimism, it will be a great pity. The Terminator no longer chills you like it used to, but considering that it doesn't even try to do so, such a transformation is accepted surprisingly easily in view of zero expectations. Especially since Emilia Clarke throws Game of Thrones far behind her and becomes a Sarah Connor straight from the most ambitious fan fantasies.

After a long time, a horror movie that captures our attention with its subject, grabs us by the throat with its trailer, and confirms with the film that good ideas (even if subtly collected and rewritten from elsewhere) still work in this underestimated genre. It would be very easy to criticize a few overly easy riddles that Scarlett effortlessly solves or even the premise itself, but that would take away from the fun of the whole concept. The found footage format finally makes sense again, and those few damn well-crafted moments (most of which are stolen by the black-haired girl) were so intense that I found myself cheering on the main characters more and more, even if it only meant they would get got around the next corner.

If you tried to categorize and recommend Eden of the East to me, you'd have a tough time of it. The story of Saki and the strange foreigner works like a fairy tale, despite not containing an ounce of magic. It can play with romance, and yet all the emotionally strong moments seem to happen almost by chance. And in the end, the entire main plot is about uncovering the past or flying rockets, but when I recap the whole series, I remember something completely different. That the charm of the normal and believable can be so strong, even with a lazy storytelling pace like this.

At one point, an inconspicuous high school newcomer is recounting his experiences, at another he gives space to a glimpse into the life of a notorious schemer, and at still other points, a headless rider from ancient legends takes the forefront. And it's not a parody. This anime with the most inexplicable title manages to blend the stories of seemingly ordinary heroes, who couldn't be closer to our school years, with supernatural self-discovery in a way that works completely effortlessly, seamlessly, and believably. Moreover, in moments when we see the situation from Mikado's perspective and completely different moments from Celty's perspective, they are relatively transparent storytellers, yet consistently impressive. I actually don't even want to write about the detailed twists and turns of the plot, because in such a complicated narrative structure, even the smallest surprise is an important piece of the mosaic. For fans of unconventional scene arrangements and significant changes in narrative pacing, the fates of the characters from Ikebukuro are a must.

If I were eight years old, this is a movie I would want to see every day, if possible multiple times. From the perspective of two brothers, it is perfectly placed in an adventurous mood, to the extent that it doesn't even need the breathtaking wow moments the original Jurassic Park is known for, even after the tenth screening. On the contrary, the world in this movie is conservatively sparse on action, and even when it is clear to everyone involved that everything is going to hell, the central T-Rex surprisingly appears sparingly. I can even imagine there might be viewers who are bothered when the screenplay can't decide whether to pay a beautiful tribute to the original or blatantly remake it. But fortunately, there are more positive aspects. Chris Pratt, who shamelessly steals every scene like a thief, Bryce Dallas Howard, who finally has a full-scale blockbuster on her resume, and the final message that plays on the feel of the Steven Spielberg original. But what raises my spirits the most is the fact that audiences still yearn for spectacles that occasionally shoot off nostalgic warmth.

Season 1 – 60% – A wonderful concept for an engaging miniseries, which grows increasingly diluted over the generous length of twelve hour-long episodes. It has enough room to explore everything positive and negative related to the effort to be different in medicine, particularly in the 1960s when you are a woman or an innovative pioneer. At the same time, it thoroughly examines not only the great characters and storylines (the central research of Bill and Virginia, the fate of Barton Scully), but also the somewhat tired (Libby) or even uninteresting ones (the overconfident Doctor Langham). There is generally a slight problem with the male characters, although it is influenced by the time period. However, this does not change the fact that it is occasionally difficult to root for conceited Ethan and stubborn creator Bill. Hopefully, the continuation will delve into the characters and their relationships with greater intensity and passion. At the outset, I am entertained by all the motivations and desires, but genuine emotions are awakened in me only rarely. Season 2 – 70% – The more 60s, the better. While the start suffers from the same flaws as the previous season, Libby's storyline is almost annoying and everything is at a standstill, a complete turnaround occurs in my favorite episode, Asterion. The time jump provides an opportunity to develop entirely new storylines, bring back familiar faces, and finally allows both Michael Sheen and Lizzy Caplan to fully showcase their talent. I still can't shake the feeling that Masters and Virginia are mainly interesting through their research and their personal lives must have been wildly twisted by the writers (thus disregarding real events). However, as long as the pace continues to rise steadily and the characters continue to deepen pleasantly, I have no reason to hold onto historical prototypes. Season 3 – 70% – Solid as a rock in terms of dialogue, surprisingly insecure in its mood swings, and actually in the same place as before in terms of the appeal of the characters. The third stage of the narrative about an extensive effort at enlightenment suffers from the same issues as the previous years. Perhaps everyone who is at the center of the story for even a moment, not only my favorites Betty, Lester, and Barton, but also Libby, Tessa, Paul, or Dan, is more likable or admirable than Bill and Ginny. And that is a serious mistake in moments of absolute despair or love tactics of the main protagonist. The creators' balancing act between significant milestones in the lives of the main characters and completely invented (and therefore somewhat cliché) wanderings is quite questionable. Do not get me wrong, the use of historical setting to tell (a)typical human stories still works. But a good series needs just a little bit more. However, there is still plenty of potential, so I still believe there will be at least one truly great season. Season 4 – 90% – For the first time, it feels like a portrayal of the era and a functional and meaningful relationship drama, for the first time I care about everyone finding their happiness, and last but not least, for the first time, it brought tears to my eyes. Masters of Sex has found its ideally balanced mood, it doesn't exaggerate with Bill being in the center of all the relationship issues, and in the storylines of Betty or Libby, it surpasses everything that the series has portrayed about women in an unsympathetic society so far. The episodes in the middle of the season (starting with the coat party) are so perfectly illustrative that I can't believe I have been watching the same series for the past three years. The unexpected cancellation by Showtime feels like a bad joke, but for very few shows, it holds true that they clearly end on a high note.

Of the inconspicuous attempts at comedy of the 2014-15 TV season, OBH came across as the most promising to me, thanks to its clever concept and especially Elisha Cuthbert's return to the world of TV series. When she was joined by yet another beauty who had been a regular occupant of teenage boys' computer screens some time ago, it seemed like half the battle was won. However, the usually likable Kelly Brook chews the scenery unbelievably, Nick Zano seems more and more irritated with each passing episode, and the script desperately needs to shout multiple times in those twenty minutes at any cost that Lizzy really is a lesbian. Considering that the viewer understood this after about two minutes and then waited in vain for six episodes for a more consistent plot to develop from the original premise, the only positive remains Miss Cuthbert, once again shining like an invincible sun. Everything else, however, is an unexpectedly loud failure.