Kaka

The seventh episode lacks a bit of pace and the right cinematic dynamics, but it depicts authentic Tokyo like few other things and, as is usual in this miniseries, it is absolutely unpredictable, without any clichés or crutches. Praise for that, no matter how watchable and audience-appealing it is.

The directorial quality, structure and direction of the whole series goes down a bit, but on the other hand there is quite a lot going on and intense card shuffling. The finale will be interesting.

The first one was youthful, impetuous, restless and surprisingly a lot harder and less predictable. The second one plays on safety. Lest it sound bad, it's a great movie. What Bruckheimer was able to produce, Kosinski to shoot, and Cruise and co. to star in will be in the textbooks for the next decade on how to make an "aerial film." All those polished shots, breathtaking camera twists and F18s rolls (and it wouldn’t be Tom Cruise without a Cobra at least once per film) are truly eye candy and you can't help but smile at the commitment of the actors. But there is not a single surprise, not a single unexpected scene throughout – there is one hint towards the end, but after a few seconds the sensation dissipates in another onslaught of clichés. Of course,we are speaking about clichés with refinement, elegance and overall acceptable consistency throughout, though. The filmmakers partially develop the story of Maverick and actually kind of recreate the fan-favorite moments of the first film for audiences three generations younger. The older ones smile because they know, the younger ones stare wide-eyes because they don’t know and they like it a lot. That means everyone is a target and that's why Maverick will make a bundle and deservedly so. However, the screenwriting qualities are not nearly as high as the technical ones. But that in the end is obviously not such a problem for a high rating, because when Cruise puts on his dusty jacket and sits on his motorbike at sunset, it's hard not to just slap five stars on there out of nostalgia.

Probably the best and most intensive episode so far. It mainly dramatises the situation around the main female protagonist and brings the inevitable clash between the two Yakuza clans. Some of the movements on the chessboard are utterly unpredictable, thumbs up for that.

The fourth episode looks as if Michael Mann was behind the camera again. The cool detail with the clock in the restaurant, the ambiguity of the character of one of the Yakuza members and a strong female personality in the middle of the "male underworld". The pace quickens, with the fate of the main characters often hanging by a thread.

The third episode keeps the pace of the second, which, being the middle of the entire series, it’s almost too slow and cautious. It could use more dynamics, because the characters work well and the criminal underbelly is OK too. Moreover, the realities of Tokyo and its customs are depicted with care and respect for Eastern traditions.

Detailed and elaborate work with character development and motivation at the expense of story dynamics, which, considering the styling of Tokyo Vice, is not surprising. The major cliffhangers and big story twists will probably come a little later. Great big city atmosphere and exemplary Japanese production design.

An old-school detective series that seems to honour the classic narrative of the straight crime story, but is shot with the modern technology that we love so much about Mann, and he has been experimenting with it successfully for about 15 years. That is, a welcome amount of authentic handheld camerawork and a concrete/neon big city atmosphere. Last but not least, we can probably look forward to the bad guys, as is also customary in the master's work.

A unique achievement. A minimalist, evocative, authentic probe into the heart of a toxic relationship, the distorted emotions and warped personal values of the two leads. Scenes from a Marriage is not only notable for its naturalistically staged emotional scenes and impassioned dialogue, but above all for the fact that it tactfully and subtly takes neither side of the protagonists. Both of them are naked (sometimes literally) in front of the camera, fully displaying their emotional fragility and anger, tears and laughter, love and hate. From a third-person perspective, disarmingly rewarding and true to life. Sometimes it's extremely difficult to "just let go" and Hagai Levi's miniseries tells that story as exquisitely as few. Emotional hell to the sound of monotonous music and static shots of the snowy front yard. Piece of art.

A conclusion that directly, and in various hints, explains the vicious circle of a toxic relationship and the whole absurdity around it. The last piece in a phenomenal mosaic. More conciliatory and not as expressive as the previous episode, but still suggestive and full of emotion.