Lima

Poster tagline: FREEZING HORROR!!! ... AS A LIVING NIGHTMARE STRIKES FROM THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA!!! The only interesting thing about this film is its enticing title and poster, otherwise it's an almost unbearable experience. The famed producer Samuel Z. Arkoff probably suspected that it wouldn't be a hit, so he paired it with Corman's (and much better) The Day The World Ended in a one-night-only screening for distribution purposes, which proved to be a shrewd and profitable act – after all, that's how most B-horror films of the time worked. It's not that the 2nd tier actors don't have anything to play, it's just that Milner's direction is really sloppy and what he didn't mess up, his brother in the position of editor did, so that some scenes build on each other in a very clumsy way. And the cherry on top is the monster itself, it’s as unremarkable as the animated tree in Milner's subsequent film From Hell It Came, which can no longer be a coincidence. Unfortunately, however, it lacks that same potential for unintentional fun. The monster spends the whole film peeking underwater, in brief shots of a few seconds, its skeleton is so clumsy that it’s unable to even grasp the leg of a drowning fisherman, and in the final "action" scene the actor has to attach its tentacles to his body to give at least some semblance of interaction. The plot itself is at least slightly enlivened by a detective subplot with a murderer killing his victims with a harpoon, and the character of Dr. King, the head of the Oceanographic Institute, is in physical form a literal double of the infamous "cellar master" Josef Fritzl.

Poster tagline: A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN BY DAY – A LUSTING QUEEN WASP BY NIGHT!!! The beginning, with really terrible image quality (the "hallmark" of the only two outdoor scenes in the film, there are no more), might put the viewer off, but the camera and the narrative improve rapidly as we enter the headquarters of the cosmetics company. The vast majority of the film takes place in four rooms – a conference room, a secretary's room, the office of the company's boss and a laboratory – which is enough for a simple story and you can only dream of some artistic narrative. Fortunately, Corman's approach is quite likeable; the whole story can be taken as a sarcastic poke at the desire of women to be eternally young and beautiful. The costume of the "wasp queen" (i.e. the monster created after injecting wasp serum into the blood of the CEO of a cosmetics company, who craves for an eternally rejuvenating serum) adds a flavour of unintentional parody to the final impression – it looks like a child's Halloween costume with bluebonnets, antennae and a black jumpsuit. Overall, it's not much of a ride, though perhaps unintentionally amusing, as the wasp monster doesn't appear until about 20 minutes before the end, but the likeable cast (especially the interesting Susan Cabot) and the tense jazz soundtrack enhance the overall impression. A better 2*.

Poster tagline: FROM THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA... A TIDAL WAVE OF TERROR!!! In the 1950s, Corman made films like in an assembly line and this is one of his best. The very low budget didn't allow for any visual feasts and the actors spend the whole film shuffling between one beach, a house and a cave, and most of it was probably eaten up by the giant crab puppet – Corman didn't worry too much about the the control cables are beautifully visible (and one the extras pulling them in background is a then unknown Jack Nicholson). Then there’s the quite hilarious underwater shots, which look monotonous and unnecessary given the plot, but as a visual boost, well, why not. The script, which doesn't hesitate to have the crabs communicate telepathically with an isolated group of scientists on a deserted island, is of course terrible bullshit, but especially in the second half the shots of the crabs are not spared, there’s always something going on, so there’s no danger of boredom; and the bitten off head and the hand torn off by a boulder fall are an extra bonus. This film today is still included often in monster marathons of TV stations overseas.

I have the feeling that after his fantastic debut Joe Wright is looking for something, trying new things, formally experimenting, but he just can’t find it. I experienced deep emotions in Pride and Prejudice and partly in Atonement, but I’ve missed them in his other films. I applaud his courage in treating Tolstoy's old-fashioned novel in the first half as a dynamic, rambunctious piece, situated for much of the runtime in a theatrical setting where sets change in rapid succession and actors present themselves with stylized movements (and it's a joy to watch). But the emotions that shook me so powerfully with the Soviet adaptation of Zarchy are simply not here, they don't surface enough and there are no tears in my eyes. I don't know if this is due to the fact that Zarchy approached Tolstoy's novel with a great deal of respect, perhaps more than that shown by Wright, or if the main stumbling block is that Aaron Taylor-Johnson lacks the manly charisma that makes women's knees buckle. Take away the subtle moustache and you immediately expect Vronsky to hop on a skateboard with his high school classmates and Anna Karenina to be in big trouble with the vice police for seducing an underage youth. The tragic ending itself touched me only very, very slightly and that shouldn't happen in an adaptation of such a fundamental novel. Still, gritting my teeth, I give it a merciful 4*, just for the courage Wright showed, because I’m always in favour of creative experiments.

The unreservedly enthusiastic overseas reviews didn't lie, it's a blast. What’s impressive is that the slickest films in A-list Hollywood today are being made by a woman. And I'd like to hear what 'Klaus's Rasputin', the insane Chancellor Hájek, would say about this film, given his popular opinion (one of the many pearls this alien entity has spat) that Osama Bin Laden was a fabrication. It could be fun…

The best of the American indie scene of the last few years. I love it when as a viewer I don't know what I'm in for, and when the director plays with me like a cat with a mouse. That's exactly what this film does. It's extremely atmospheric, full of paranoia and growing fear, where at the beginning you don't know if the main character or his surroundings are crazy, but thanks to your logical reasoning you gradually lean towards the more "sensible" option, only to come to a conclusion that's like a punch in the face. And Michael Shannon deserves an Oscar.

Oliver Stone is still a master. His bold directorial style, tons of visual flourishes, a perfectly integrated soundtrack and songs; it never gets boring. Its form reminded me a bit of his earlier U-Turn, except that this one has a much better script, with a light Tarantino touch, without annoying clichés, and with a conclusion that is a Stone-esque middle finger to the viewer. With the exception of a somewhat hapless Blake Lively, all the actors were excellent and Aaron Taylor-Johnson, the teenage looser from Kick-Ass, went a long way towards charisma.

Nobody writes dialogue and scripts as stupid as Martin McDonagh these days. This one is even more stupid, absurd (in the negative sense of the word) and clueless than In Bruges. I don’t know what this bloke’s playing at, but I reckon we’ll never be friends. If this is supposed to be some fresh, unorthodox direction in contemporary modern cinema, I, as a viewer, don't want to be part of it. Thank God for Tarantino...

America, as we know, is a country of lawyers, closely followed by psychiatrists and sexologists. Although the filmmakers didn't intend it that way, this is for me 90-minute proof why all three varieties of professionals should be avoided like the devil. Otherwise, quite a nice relationship film for the older generation, or rather a light downer, which will solve the dilemma of whether or not to put on a noose. And it's lovely to watch Meryl Streep age with such endearing grace.

Not much of an homage to spaghetti westerns, despite Franco Nero's cameo, rather, some kind of (commendable) anti-racist prod that doesn't even make much sense at the end. The experience resembles a sine wave, as long as Waltz is on screen with his enthusiasm, it's a treat that honours even Western rules. But from the moment we meet DiCaprio, the film goes downhill in quality, where the genre's name would best fit the phrase "typical Tarantino crap" and where the "warrant in your pocket" moment (what a coincidence!) is such a cheap, illogical screenwriting crutch that only a naive viewer can buy it. I could expect anything from Tarantino, but not a cliché like this. And the violence, with hectolitres of squirting ketchup, is so over-stylized (especially in the final carnage) that I'm actually tired of it. PS: The scene with the Ku-Klux-Klan will make anyone laugh, myself included.