Isherwood

The film is overall reminiscent of the final thesis from the camera exams at film school, which Raimi spiced up with an insanely cacophonous musical accompaniment and clearly portrayed his directorial trademarks. Cheryl Guttridge has a nicely constructed mouth that stands out especially during the terrifying scream, while Scott Spiegel takes on a position not unlike Michael Myers from Halloween. Given when it was made, it’s hard to determine what the inspiration was. Other than that, it is definitely a good suspense film with the excellent purposeful dropping of the whole plot into a self-parodic conclusion. Bravo Sam!

It is perhaps bizarre but original. Unfortunately, it's also a somewhat uncoordinated affair, which after a rousing opening starts to rehash the stereotypical system of musicals without any further innovation or invention. Sharman earns points with promising hints, but he could have pushed a little harder. That’s quite unfortunate because this madness stands on its own two feet only thanks to the divine Tim Curry, whose tranny creation is unparalleled on screen. All in all, it’s as entertaining as De Palma's (sadly underrated) Phantom of the Paradise.

From the very first minute, Aronofsky bombards the viewer with an audiovisual whirlwind (a proven collaboration with cinematographer Matthew Libattique) that the senses are unable to take it all in at first. Searching for a cure for the disease called death is an incredibly gripping (the plot), at once cathartic (the form) and especially perfectly intimate (the partnership) spectacle that demands multiple viewings to be fully absorbed. A surreally powerful piece of cinema that manages to grab you by the emotional strings with its mysterious medievalism, the mystical relationship between man and the tree of life, and the dull reality of today. A must for all cynics who see contemporary cinema as too pale.

The film could have come off as a cheap criticism of the society that drove the two men to carry out an act, it could have become a throwaway argument about the need for the ultimate punishment, or it could have been just a bland thriller about a heartless crime. However, if that were the case Richard Brooks would need not to direct it so shakily that his film would not be, like Capote's brilliant book, a "mere" non-participatory reconstruction with documentary authenticity, which also earns points in terms of the formal aspects (camera, editing). However, despite its apparent detachment, the film ultimately comes across as a pretty solid emotional wrench that evokes neither pity nor sympathy, but instead a cold sense of satisfaction, albeit one that is somewhat crippled.

After a bit of time goes by that is diligently devoted to thinking, and after a second viewing, I finally came to like this film that is Carnahan's baby. It is true that the trailers promised something completely different, but the result is an entertaining stylistic film that is definitely currently above average (let's blame it on clever marketing this time). Mainly thanks to the perfect direction and excellent casting (Ryan Reynolds is great!), this rather disparate whole holds together quite well. Unfortunately, as is still apparent, Carnahan isn’t a great screenwriter (Buddy's existential drama), but he's more than adept as a craftsman (changing one cool camera unit after another, the actual shooting races). He definitely can’t be compared to Guy Ritchie because they are both playing on completely different fields. This film is a much crazier and at times twisted spectacle, which is certainly not boring, but it is true that when a director makes a pure action spectacle, those far beyond the borders of Hollywood will bow down to him.

A legendary entwined (drugged-up guinea pig Rodriguez sweating blood to save on the budget, two real stuntmen changing disguises, and completely contrived end credits, all of which are the fault of Rodriguez himself) low-budget stylish film that means for action what Jackson's Bad Taste means for splatter. The oft-maligned clichés have been given a cool new coat, which the director has stitched together with the help of simple cinematography, some funny finesse (the sped-up image when the phone is being dialed), and a good portion of perspective that holds this mix of road & revenge movie together. Of course, some critics will see it only as a failed stylistic exercise for a later ride, while a genre-laden fan will see it as very peculiar guilty-pleasure entertainment with a hint of something grander.

Fulci's image composition is, by default, stunning. He has plenty of ideas, and he added some clever and original elements to the classic living-dead extermination (thew incredible underwater action). The fact that there is also more emphasis on female sexuality elsewhere than in the roles of defenseless victims gives the film a much more erotic feel. Combined with the distant glances of the eyes of the fairer sex (note that the main characters' eyes are either green or blue), this creates a rather mysterious and much more provocative feel. On the other hand, I couldn’t help but notice that if the director had been more careful to control his own filmmaking process (finishing a scene as a whole, establishing shots, a bit of plot clearing of otherwise stagnant water) the whole composition of butchered bodies would have stood out much, much more. Although it has to be admitted that maybe that's what this Italian film wave was all about...

This couldn't have been filmed better! Tom Tykwer took Süskind's seemingly unfilmable story and retold it. Like the author, with his colorful descriptions, the director also uses visual finesse to convey a subliminal sensation that the film medium deprives us of, and which leads the viewer's senses into a state of their own dubious confusion. With this film, there is no point in arguing about the strong implausibility of logic, etc. For the first time since Run Lola Run, Tykwer proves that brilliant craftsmanship can say (almost) everything.

A simple glance at the thickness of the book suggests that the task of cramming a sprawling plot into two hours of film was a daunting one for the director. Wright opts for a rather unfortunate method of occasional abbreviation, which produces a terrible stew of names and family-social ties right from the get-go. This hesitation is unfortunate because if the runtime had been extended by 20 minutes, the beautifully staged emotions would have stood out a hell of a lot better. Thus, all we have left is a promising hint of how catchy of a story the director can tell: the cinematography is charming, the set design is settling, the actors are decent - as befits the English - and the overall composition smacks of the sweetest kitsch. However, this merry-go-round of engagements and weddings is so sensitively, humorously, pleasantly, and above all sincerely filmed that much can be forgiven. At present, the boundaries of the genre could not be better.

Mel Gibson has definitely left the mainstream and after boldly stepping out with his religious opus, he confidently follows his own cinematic path, disregarding critics, audiences, and dollar expenditure/revenue. Yet while Jesus Christ’s last few hours carried plenty of emotion (in whatever way) to every viewer, regardless of any religious or social feeling, the end of the Mayan civilization is a bit more difficult. The simple story of a journey to hell and back is based on the viewer's mere perception of an audiovisual orgy, without any deeper emotional feedback. In order to fully appreciate the hour-long (!) sprint through the rainforest, Gibson should have focused more on the relationships between the characters in the initial exposition, and not just mindlessly joke about one of the protagonists' lack of potency. Also, the film’s form loses steam as the minutes go by. The use of the digital camera didn't work (the entire thing would have looked much better and more cinematic using classic film material) and Horner's music is slightly monotonous towards the end. Still, there is nothing boring about it and I applaud Gibson's efforts to make Hollywood tell stories in a different way.