novoten

The attempt to do a good thing does not necessarily make a good film. Day by day and scene by scene, Selma is simply a motion-filled chronicle, in which only the atmosphere around a few songs and David Oyelowo's physically perfect transformation into Dr. King, played in the same vein as Lincoln from two years earlier, is worth paying attention to. Paul Webb's screenwriting approach annoys me not because it is necessarily boring, but because of its one-sided and calculated targeting of the collective subconscious, which does not deviate from the predictable central path throughout the entire two hours.

Sometimes it's sad to see how a perfect-looking blockbuster can crumble into smaller and smaller pieces with each scene. What starts with the absurd scenes with the Russian family the script calmly continues with random scenes without no explanation of bizarre names, theories, and memories, and it absolutely triumphantly concludes with Eddie Redmayne in a perfectly annoying acting role in front of a pre-embalmed corpse that cannot produce a single comprehensible sentence. Lana and Lilly Wachowski should be glad that Channing Tatum smoothly switched to air skating, because without his aerial antics in the final fiery inferno, the rating would unquestionably drop into even more terrifying places.

Genesis – 85% – While from a distance I saw an incompatible combination of crazy escapades, steampunk, zombies, dragon fantasy, divine and demonic creatures, and Joan of Arc, up close it was much better. And surprisingly much calmer. The adventures of Favaro, Kaisar, and Amira, after the fast-paced introduction, shift to a pleasant journey of (anti)heroes, during which they encounter either a welcome ally or a formidable enemy. With inventive action scenes, grand war scenery, and an excellent soundtrack, the twelve episodes are truly desperately insufficient, which not only results in the fact that I would very much like to see an explosive continuation soon, but also that this world needed to be portrayed even more. There are embarrassingly many minor characters who can barely interfere with the plot before disappearing again. However, this does not change the fact that Rage of Bahamut deservedly became a hit and that despite its highly exaggerated setting, it combines humor, romance, and action incredibly well. And if you look in my eyes, you'll see I'm not lying! Virgin Soul – 100% – I won't deny that giving the maximum rating to this long-awaited sequel is perhaps a little exaggerated, but because it is quite possibly the best anime series in a long time, I won't resist such generosity. I was afraid of the ten-year time jump, the new protagonist, and that the old familiar characters would either play minor roles or be completely absent, but fortunately, nothing is as hot as what's cooking in this flying carriage. Everyone the audience eagerly awaits will eventually appear and cause exactly the chaos they desire, and perhaps even more. Despite the fact that the entire series universe is based on a game, it has many realms, rules, and moods. From action to melodrama, from religious paraphrases to straightforward silly humor. For some, it may be a confusing headache, but for me, this magnificent and at times excessive world of angels, demons, knights, and dragons is a paradise.

Confirmation that the family of Joss, Jed, and Zack Whedon, as well as honorary members Nathan Fillion, Neil Patrick Harris, and Felicia Day, behaves exactly as you hoped – like a real family. Those who have been remembering songs from Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog or pieces from the legendary Once More, with Feeling for years will secretly smile while listening to this.

It's like when the screenwriter only lets me have a glimpse of someone's biography, but just when I've started reading, they skip several pages. The instant romantic storyline doesn't catch my heart at all, and certainly not the snippets of scientific debates. All credit to Eddie Redmayne, in whom I didn't even see that handsome poster boy from Les Misérables for a second, but with this kind of storytelling austerity, neither he, nor Jóhann Jóhannsson's appropriately sensitive soundtrack, have a chance to take The Theory of Everything anywhere higher.

All the brooding, sadness, decline, or self-examination may not be too original at its core – but that infinitely perfect form is. After two breathless and witty hours, it is almost irrelevant that Alejandro González Iñárritu, as is his custom, once again goes too far and shows even what I don't really need to see or hear in order to understand or enjoy it. Michael Keaton and Emma Stone, however, pass and play solos with such captivating pacing that in the escalating scene of the final performance, I forgot to breathe.

Season 1 – 80% – The fear that with my minimal, largely theoretical knowledge of American politics I would have no chance of keeping up with the references, was definitively dispelled by the episode about unflattering epithets. Much more than about a behind-the-scenes look at the White House and other key government buildings, Veep is about telling jokes in completely inappropriate situations and situational Murphy's Law, which shows that if an embarrassing moment can become even worse, it definitely will. The series, which I tried purely out of a desire to reexamine HBO's brand of humor, has become not only a very pleasant and intelligent certainty, thanks in large part to the brilliantly omnipresent Gary, but also guarantees an almost constant stream of grins. Season 2 – 80% – Uneven, but all the more appreciated in the end. And above all, confident. Dan is burning with even more frequency, Gary is even nicer, and the really good episodes are among the best that the sitcom scene currently offers. But the real triumph here is Julia Louis-Dreyfus. Her expression and facial expressions are so disarming that I would join her team almost without hesitation. Therefore, the weak episodes in the second half of the season, which, due to the plainly irritating characters (Furlong, Andrew), tended to outrage rather than amuse, are a great pity. Season 3 – 90% – If you blink once you'll miss a great line; if you blink twice, you'll miss the sharp punchline altogether. The creative team around Armando Iannucci has always been sharp, but only this year have they managed to shoot sharp scenes throughout practically all five hours of running time. Queen Julia has never enjoyed her role as much as she does now. The sophistication that many people see in the second season of House of Cards, I found in the third year of Veep. Maybe it's the pinnacle of the whole series, or maybe it's just definitively found its own face. Season 4 – 85% – Even sharper and more vicious to its characters. But the more trouble Mike and Gary (not to mention poor Catherine) get into, the better I understand all the acting and creative nominations for various TV awards. Anna Chlumsky, in particular, blossoms from season to season, and the mishaps the writers prepared for her character, Amy, this year pushed her towards performances bordering on chilling perfection. Luckily, it's still a smart and purebred sitcom, so there's always an apt retort just around the corner (like from newcomer Ericsson) or a perfectly mismatched beef quote from the naive Richard Splett. Along these lines everything continues to work, and I really wish it would continue to work even after the departure of the current showrunner. Season 5 – 100% – I wouldn't even have expected new showrunner David Mandel to complete the journey to the very pinnacle of quality, even in my wildest dreams. As a result, not only do we have perfect viewer pleasure in the darkest self-talk, but we also have louder and louder sighs about the lack of international awareness of this gem. While Julia Louis-Dreyfus has been deservedly winning Golden Globes year after year across the ocean, in Europe the Vice President(ess) is likely forever condemned to the blue spectrum, as evidenced by only a few hundred ratings. And although I often do not care about majority opinion, in the face of perfect running gags (the resemblance between Marjorie and Selina, Catherine's references outside the boardroom, the ambitious Candi's attempt to get a job at the White House), I keep wondering why this ignorance keeps happening over and over again. Countless types of humor packed into half an hour have not tasted this complex for a long time. Season 6 – 80% – This year, the writers felt for the first time what it's like to have a free hand. They can finally aim beyond the political spectrum, and it really shows in the result. Any deviation from Washington or previously common topics is written as a truly wild ride, but it occasionally veers off the standard I'm used to. Once the main character finds herself at various celebrations or parties, the plot and humor go so far beyond the imaginary line that the escapades of all involved sometimes seem a bit forced. But as soon as they get back on track, the sharp wordplay returns in full force, and any line that falls from Louis-Dreyfus's flawless mouth to any of the other characters present is perfect gold. Catherine, as usual, gets the most of it, which is a pity considering her naivety and cuteness, but it's also impossible to tear your eyes away from these verbal battles. Season 7 – 80% – With all the accompanying features and a precise dose of specific running gags. And yet even its exit from the scene does not merit a perfect score, even though the screenwriter's intention was completed exactly according to the long-term plan. With each subsequent season, Selina becomes the person who is capable of throwing anyone under the bus, even any nearby secretaries and assistants, and even with perfect exaggeration, it's not easy for me to watch. However, I still insist that Veep is the best in terms of acting and biting humor that I have ever seen in political series, and the final scene between Selina and Gary is the best moment of the entire seven years.

Thor may not have his hammer, but he does just fine with a keyboard and a screwdriver. And Michael Mann, due to various technical finesse, sometimes tries the viewers' attention too much and cannot shoot for a clean target, but his electrifying style is still equally captivating. Predecessors like Heat and Collateral are occasionally clearly visible, and that's a good thing. Digital, bullets, Chris Hemsworth, hands gripping the armrests, and a pulsating soundtrack by Harry Gregson-Williams and Atticus Ross. And a heart still beating to the rhythm even now.

At the previous stop in Moonrise Kingdom, I was starting to worry that Wes Anderson was only running on autopilot. Fortunately, I was mistaken. This conservative man has started building his own worlds again, and he enchants so powerfully that I can't help but be amazed. From camera-charming scenes (the museum), he transitions to grotesque ones (the Winter Games), and just a few seconds after what seemed like a harmless moment, the blood unexpectedly freezes in my veins. And despite the omnipresent optimistic atmosphere, his beloved accommodations have such a strong nostalgia for old times that it hurts my heart several times. It falls just short of the highest rating due to a few plot surprises, but that doesn't change how shocked and fascinated I remain. Because every time it seems like this bumpy cable car must inevitably stop, a welcome familiar face appears and we keep going.

Is there a line? The Black Swan of 2014. In a younger guise, with liters of sweat, blood, and tears. And with a visual side that, with its precision, cuts, and interconnection with the unrelenting rhythm, does not allow you to exhale. Every attempt at harmony, every moment when you push Andrew to finally rattle the drumsticks in a satisfying way, which will keep the demon Fletcher under control for at least a few more minutes – they always result in the same thing: accelerated breathing, tensed muscles, heightened senses. Whiplash grabs hold, crushes, and does not let go. And it chewed me up to the highest rating, because even just a few years after it was shocking, it had aged in a remarkable way. However slightly it pinched me towards the end of its time and I wanted just one more hint, today I wouldn't change anything in the movie at all. It runs at full speed the whole time and in the era of increasingly predictable academic elections or nominations, it remains possibly the last surprising choice that pleasantly caught the critical and audience public off guard. And now I'm going to catch my breath. With every longer viewing, the finale physically exhausts me more and more, although I'm afraid to even move one bit.