Isherwood

Major Fawcett was no Dr. Jones, but it wasn't until the second half that I realized I was watching an unconventional "based on a true story," film because something so old-world, so austere, and yet so nourishing in terms of audience enjoyment would not have been approved by any legitimate producer, even if it cost a mere 30 million. Unfortunately, it didn't make even a third of that, and since Hollywood is ruled by accountants, I'm a little worried about the blue-eyed blond Hunnam, who (in Czech movie theaters) gave two diametrically opposed charismatic performances in the space of a month. It's really too bad because it deserves a stronger audience response if only for the darkened atmosphere, the focused and careful direction, and the very unobtrusive glosses of the period.

My Lord in heaven! A dark fantasy in a ball-busting visual barrage, where everything is so horribly over the top that I fully understand the viewers who sent it down the drain. This film takes all sorts of genre motifs and glues them onto a gritty story with the amount of gusto the director last had seventeen years ago. I was still a little hesitant at the intro with the gigantic elephants, but then in a brilliant cut Arthur grows up and I knew it was home run. This was because we got Ritchie's beloved staircase run with Pemberton's punchy underscore, and it doesn't lag during the special effects orgy when everyone knew they could break free from their chains, including the actors. Jude Law plays the villain in the same style as in The Young Pope, and it's an absolutely decadent blockbuster. And Charlie Hunnam? Even in Pacific Rim, I thought he had suspicious charisma for a sweet 20-something girl idol, and here he's taking advantage of it in the best possible way. I was pretty hesitant about going to the movie theater because the trailer campaign was very bland, but seeing that with a budget of 175 million, it has grossed (2 months after the premiere) about 145 million worldwide, it's clear to me that someone at Warner had cardinally screwed up. The best fantasy since The Lord of the Rings.

A fascinating production background and a demonstration of the capabilities of a Hollywood blockbuster at its peak. However, there’s no emotion in there. It's like a war documentary but without the distinctive voiceover. I understand that this was the creative intent, but for the first time in my life I was missing Nolan and suddenly it felt like when a girl cheats on you after being in a happy relationship for years. I'll give it another chance in time, but I'm afraid that without the assistance of the IMAX format, my opinions will just be solidified.

The film features excellent screenwriting and above all directing, with a strange white panopticon, a properly soaked racist mindset, and above all the insistent feeling of "what the fuck...?". The intensity, where you pray that the plot will keep moving and you will learn a little more, works mainly because the protagonist maintains a rational approach throughout and the plot never once allows him to slip into a genre crutch. Moreover, this is brilliantly caricatured by the character of the best friend, who both introduces and breaks down traditional creative practices by commenting on upcoming events over the phone. It's terribly simple and yet perfectly thought out and embellished in detail, a work of art straight out of a magazine. 4 ½.

The idea seems terribly mixed and archetypal in the crime genre. A balding thug in a flowing shirt and a stuttering, sleek intellectual in a suit are searching for a sadistic killer. But Alfaro, despite his reckless fists, is a good guy, while Velarde is a light sociopath, and together they function in a sometimes incomprehensible symbiosis. Rarely do we see such a brilliant script that plays to the classic notes, but handles all the characters and situations in a completely different way than the average viewer is used to. Above all, the theme of the motif of the murder of old women is quite unusual and the director is not afraid to flirt with hints and explicit violence, serving up both exactly when you’re expecting the opposite. It's surprising, daring, and aptly black-humored in every way. From the scene with the abandoned kitten onwards, it then takes on an incredible momentum, which not only doesn't lose its pace when the cards are dealt, and instead multiplies, as the major plot twists happen only "by the way." If something like this emerged on the other side of the Atlantic, it would immediately be considered an "instant classic." I'm surprised Warner Brothers isn’t already shouting rumors of an immediate remake to the world.

Being the screenwriter of a billion-dollar franchise must be a bitch. Sniffing cocaine out of the asses of L.A.'s top prostitutes and knowing that no matter how much shit you do on paper, you'll get away with it and someone will actually film it eventually. Don't be fooled by the perfect production glitz because this is Hollywood sludge that lacks even a shred of judgment. I don't mind the overblown action orgy, where stuntmen go all out and everything is tuned by special effects artists who were paid handsomely for their overtime. It bothers me that it flies around the world without anchoring itself in the plot, that so many Deus ex machina enter the plot, and that even the zombie is supposed to be excused by the fact that family is the most important thing. It’s overpriced kitsch that does not caricature the trend set by the fifth film in the series but instead degrades it.

Laughing in atheist Czechia at the Catholic Gibson going over the top in the story of a soldier who refuses a gun for religious reasons seems like a cheap pose to me. The truth is that just as Gibson does not discount his position as a devout Christian, he does not discount filmmaking compromises. The first hour might have deserved to be turned up a notch and let the viewer peek inside the heads of those for whom a gun is a certainty in war, but the second half is a Rambo-esque rendering plant that, with its refined camera, editing, and sound-chiseled aesthetics, turns a wartime hell into an almost hypnotically artistic experience. This was last done by Ridley Scott at the start of the new millennium. You can have whatever feelings you want about it throughout, but when Garfield's limited acting works at the end, it turns into an emotional waterfall that for once I didn’t feel awkward about. 4 ½.

After the light-footed The Martian, I assumed that Scott's age is just a number that comes from subtracting the number on his ID card from the number on the calendar, so I wouldn't blame it on senility. Rather (and this is worse), I attribute it to creative indiscipline and an overgrown ego that has become a tumor of a uniquely creative mind that neither respects the canon nor offers a new approach. The opening is confusing and the characters have no background, so we're following a group of really, really stupid assholes. The plot is very transparent, with the banal (the bloody mess) taking precedence over what is in fact really interesting - and in terms of the development of the series - more important (the creature). Scott wants to impress, but the character of David could stand in for Kryten in Red Dwarf, so instead of holding your breath, you're both laughing and cursing through your teeth. Visual variety, Scott's long-standing asset that has saved many a film, is also absent, with this often looking like a more expensive episode of Stargate, which is the level where the rest of the film actually belongs in terms of its quality. PS: Kurzel's audio is a dark nervous fantasy that the film is not worthy of.

My disappointment with the last film was so great that I avoided the trailers for the third one, feeling their uselessness. However, Reeves was either kept sedated or some brave producer really believed him, and I can hardly resist getting excited about arguably the boldest summer blockbuster in years. The opening action is still very forced, but then for the next hour, four monkeys, whose CGI rendering is a CGI reality approaching perfection, track a military unit through a snowy landscape at a slow but cinematically precise and deliberate pace. All the while, they are driven by the best possible cinematic engine, i.e., the desire for revenge. It was clear that all would be forgiven and I just prayed that it would keep going like this, as Michael Giacchino conducts the minimalist retro score and the cinematography flirts with the turn of the sixth and seventh decades of the last century. And that’s not all. Woody Harrelson varies the best possible creation of khaki madness spewed from the heart of darkness, and after the famous dialogue with Caesar, the film jumps on the dark wave of the erratic nature of desired good and the lure of ambiguous evil to bring it to an epic end. Even amidst the cheesy interludes and pathos of heroic self-sacrifice, it still keeps a grim face that relies on heroes who are no longer amusing apes who can do funny gestures, but solid figures whose emerging evolutionary supremacy is not to be doubted.

I can think of all sorts of phrases, but the one about so much work and so much stupidity is probably the most appropriate. If you type "movie mashup" on YouTube, dozens of funnier things come up. I really wanted to enjoy it more, perhaps if the plot had gone further than from the first seat to the movie theater screen. I've never seen a film being given up on after half an hour by more than a third of the audience, even at the most obscure festivals.