Isherwood

A sociological probe into the core of politics so deep that it reliably stings even after thirty years; the wishful thinking of all the analysts, commentators, and ordinary voters is that this would not be the case when the ballot boxes are counted.

In spite of all the media failures (being over-budget, reshoots), Forster presents a rather unconventional zombie spectacle that works more along the lines of a flamboyant action movie in which a middle-class family and the world around them are drowning. The brilliantly paced direction (supported by good editing) pushes forward a plot vacuum that boils down to the fact that it takes the title and two or three prominent geopolitical allusions from a brilliant book, whilst then treading its own path to get to its roots, i.e., the horror in the lab. However, having a tighter dramatic arc, not limited to alternating the three locations where the protagonist arrives and the undead horde a minute after him, would not have hurt the film. [I want the Battle of Moscow, at least as a bonus on Blu-ray] 3 ½.

A pseudo-art game with symbols, vague characters, and a story about revenge and (lack of) forgiveness, in which fantastic cinematography and the unintentional ridiculousness of Gosling's vacant stare reign supreme. Overall, it’s enough for the biggest movie pose and epic fail of the year because I haven't seen a movie in a long time that shows so much of what it wants to be and works exactly the opposite way; I want to read a long analysis of it by a film theorist.

The Sunset Blvd. of the digital age pedals along nicely until the moment it collides with the hallucinogenic Inception. From this, it takes a serious hit, especially in its ability to be more lucid in its storytelling as such, with the effort to get out of it turning into a creative layering of one bit of nonsense after another. This ensures that the second half of the film is unable to function on its own, let alone in fusion with the first; the cameo of "that guy nobody even knows about anymore" is amazing, whilst Dr. Kubrick is completely out of place (given them a Golden Raspberry for the masks, please!).

Tony Scott is in God’s truth and so the throne for the king of sexy filtered filmmaking is once again at the disposal of one man. I never expected Michael Bay to confirm his status as a conversational crime comedy even in my wildest dreams, which is mainly due to the brilliantly absurd script, excellent actors, and the director's obvious desire to make something for his own entertainment. This is definitely the best Michael Bay film since... well, since The Rock.

Another comic book protagonist had to go through the inner darkness of his soul, tormented by the demons of missing memories of his own past. It starts off great. Wolverine against the devious yakuza doesn't take the traditional comic book route but rather weaves a complex mafia-political web that would put any CIA field agent-analyst to shame. And he also lacks the essential skills. The problem arises when the adamantium claws pierce the skin to slice up the evil minions by the dozens. Hugh Jackman can look all sorts of cool (and we can be assured that absolutely no one has ever fit any other comic book role better), but when you send him into serious action, it feels somehow out of place. This is somewhat because it’s an extra aspect compared to the rest of the film, just to meet the demands of it being a blockbuster. And the mental autopsy itself? Barking about how great B.S. was at it is boring, but Matthew Vaughn actually did it better. It's not a bad movie, it's just that routine comic book characters should be left to routine directors.

Del Toro brings us something that has been done before. After all, big cities have already been devastated by The Avengers, Transformers, or Superman to the point that falling skyscrapers are becoming a bit of a stereotype. The director tries to add personality to it by providing some pretty clear action scenes, and by not going too far over the edge in terms of visual sweeps. On the other hand, into two hours he didn't cram in a single major character, a real character who could pull carry better than a jaeger pulling a tin can down the street. Idris Elba has charisma but drowns in pathetic speeches, and the rest of the ensemble is severely uninteresting - Ron Perlman is more of an iconic trademark than a functional character. It goes by quickly, but the most important and impressive scene is still the escape of little Mako from the kaiju through the empty street.

While the sequels of thematically similar blockbusters about madmen who want to take over the world and a handful of last protagonists stand in their way are usually bigger, noisier, and more bombastic in every way, Retaliation paradoxically follows the path of modesty and artificiality, which was obviously the only sensible choice after Sommers' "over the top" madness. It’s not a bad thing, but even 4 years since the premiere I need both hands to list off the memorable moments, and Chu doesn't quite have it in hand as a whole, so the last half hour is a bit yawn-inducing. It is, however, kept afloat mainly by the fact that one likable cast has been replaced by another, only someone forgot to profile them better in this case.

The brilliantly played game of who's going to be the bigger asshole is brought down at the end by the fact that the final showdown leaves the protagonists talking for around for twenty minutes instead of the vigorous five; by the time they leave the estate, we get some fantastic work with genre clichés. All in all, this is the biggest disappointment of this year's Karlovy Vary Festival.

This is a film where I felt sorry for the filmmakers in the theater for such lukewarm applause. On the other hand, it's hard to expect an audience to stand up and applaud a film that often doesn't make the slightest bit of sense, the motivations of the characters are utterly incomprehensible, and the whole thing doesn't let the audience in for even a split second. The cabin fever on land is just as cruel as the one at sea, but I also felt it toward the heroines at the end of the film.