gudaulin

I wisely avoided Borat during its premiere because, based on the initial reactions, I clearly identified that this style of humor would not be my cup of tea. However, when it was served to me on a silver platter on TV, I couldn't resist confronting my feelings with the enthusiastic reviews of some viewers. My intuition did not let me down, so even though I sympathize with Cohen's goals, his humor is overall indigestible to me. It's fine that he takes shots at political correctness, hypocrisy, sanctimoniousness, uncritical religious faith, various forms of dogmatism, and human stupidity in general. However, he lacks (and at times desperately so) a sense of moderation, elegance, and nobility. Cohen is exactly the type of comedian who won't hesitate to stick his head in a bucket of feces for the sake of audience response, and he somehow reminds me of the clown Krusty from the popular TV show The Simpsons. I suspect that political correctness means absolutely nothing to Cohen, as he doesn't want to criticize anything or fight for anything, and he simply wants to sell his one-man show as best as possible. At times, he succeeds in doing just that; I definitely can't deny his sense of irony and ability to escalate a certain joke. I also definitely laughed more than is customary for contemporary comedies. However, there were certainly more moments where I cringed at the concentrated awkwardness. I'll skip the exaggerated exclamations like "Best comedy of the year!" because everyone, myself included, has the right to their own indulgences. Overall impression: 40%.

I am sympathetic to Aki Kaurismäki's intimate social melodramas and I have given some of them a 4 out of 5 rating. In the case of this film, he did not change his creative method and style, but he took one of his typical creative traits to the extreme, i.e., his interest in various kinds of outsiders. World cinema is full of nobodies, desperate people, and failures, but they usually have some sympathetic qualities that make you root for them simply because you feel sorry for them. Koistinen is by no means the biggest outsider you could come across in today's cinema; someone like Max Horowitz from the film Mary and Max by Adam Elliot is much worse off, whether it's his loneliness or his overall miserable existence, and yet you feel much closer to that character and root for him. With this film, the problem is that the main protagonist is simply a self-centered idiot. He has been one in the past, he is one now, and within a few minutes, it becomes clear that he will remain one in the distant future as well. And for all his bumbling, inability to communicate, and lack of self-reflection, he has only himself to blame. Identifying with such a character is a matter for masochists. If you find yourself saying vengefully, "Hit him one more time and finally finish him off, so he can be done with it," then something is not right. It could still be seen as an analysis of a certain type of human being, if the plot's development corresponded to the logic of the characters. But it's all just a directorial construct because there was no need to send Koistinen to prison and there was no need to deprive him of another job. The director simply wanted it that way and didn't feel like coming up with a plot that would move the story forward. Overall impression: 25%.

I usually have a problem with East Asian films due to the difference in culture, so I tend to be reserved in my reviews. However, Departures had an impact on me with its message, and I had no problem accepting it. The only reservation I have is the pace of the storytelling, which doesn't rush, and the runtime, which could be daringly shortened by about 15 or maybe 20 minutes. The main protagonist Daigo faces the problem of losing his job and the collapse of his life's dream, and in distress, he settles for the first job he finds in an advertisement. It turns out to be a truly peculiar profession of a guide for the deceased, who prepares them for their farewell with the bereaved and funeral rites. From this, it follows that Departures is actually a film about coping with death and the loss of loved ones. It skillfully balances on the edge of sentimentality and evokes truly deep emotions without any cheap gestures. Beautifully written, directed, and acted. Overall impression: 85%.

I don't have much experience with Thai cinema, and as of today, I have only seen two horror films and Citizen Dog, which, however, convinced me that Thailand is experiencing economic growth and that there is a sufficiently educated and large audience for non-commercial productions. Citizen Dog resists the classic templates of commercially successful genre procedures and resembles the experimental flights of European filmmakers. Combine the fragmentary nature and ironic detachment of Tati's films, Terry Gilliam's visuals and poetry, plus the surrealism of Jeunet, add Buddhism and local cultural traditions, and you get Citizen Dog. It is a playful film that is not about the plot, but about the feelings it evokes in the viewer. It is a humorous story of a villager who leaves for the city in search of happiness and, after a series of adventures, finds by falling in love with a charming girl. There are numerous functional and original gags, such as when the protagonist's grandmother, faithful to Buddhist tradition, transforms into...well, you can guess. Although this combination appealed to me and I don't hesitate to give it an overall impression of 80% it is not really a film for everyone and will most likely satisfy fans of the aforementioned filmmakers.

Wings of Fame was filmed at a time when Polygram began expanding into the field of feature film production and had ambitions to become a counterpart to the American Majors and the largest European production company capable of regularly producing commercial hits and festival successes. One of these was supposed to be Wings of Fame, an intellectual play on fleeting popularity and human vanity. This was also reflected in the star-studded cast - although Colin Firth still had his biggest hits ahead of him, Peter O'Toole was at his peak at the time and his colleagues were generally predicted to have a very decent future. The plot depicts a journalist and writer played by Colin Firth, who writes a book about the first-rate actor Peter O'Toole and, after desperately trying to contact him, accidentally kills him in a fit of rage. He also loses his life and both of them go to a place where the living are forbidden to enter. However, that world is far from the pictures painted by the major religions, and the status of the deceased is determined by their earthly fame. The plot is truly interesting, but I feel the whole execution is driven by festival ambitions and it somehow feels cold to me. Overall impression: 65%.

A high-quality classic comedy based on witty dialogues, well-written characters, and excellent casting, where there is a real spark between the individual actors and all the wordplay is well-executed. Compared to this tried-and-true classic, the overwhelming majority of today's comedic productions seem desperately unfunny, tasteless, and poorly acted. I guessed that Ingrid Bergman's character was about forty, and embarrassingly, I couldn't identify Goldie Hawn at all, even though I kept thinking that I must know her well. The film barely missed out on a fifth star, and a few extra jokes would have been enough, but what's already there truly works. Although the individual characters in their actions are foolish and twenty-one-year-old Toni behaves like a sixteen-year-old teenager, the exaggeration never crosses the boundaries of the possible, and the whole story is entertaining and believable. Overall impression: 85%.

One remote French settlement in an area where harsh winter rages for 5 months a year, and even when the snow melts, foxes bid a good night. One farming family whose younger generation longs to escape social poverty, numbing toil, and bleak prospects. And one naked female body, a crime that disrupts the peaceful lives of local residents and brings the police and members of the justice system to the scene. The Burned Barns is not a typical detective story or even a crime thriller; it is rather a psychological drama, a clash between two strong personalities, though extremely different in temperament and experiences, yet attracted to each other precisely because of the strength of their characters. Alain Delon in the role of the investigating judge and Simon Signoret as the mother who defends her children threatened by suspicion. A captivating acting concert and a surprising resolution. The atmosphere is enhanced by the music, which often uses organ motifs, and the camera, which circles around the expansive farm from overhead, only to suddenly shift to a close-up detail. Overall impression: 80%.

The Lives of Others was a strong emotional experience for me and represents the peak of reflection on the communist past of Central Europe. Compared to the thematically similar Czech film Kawasaki's Rose, Hřebejk's film significantly lags behind in terms of understanding the subject, quality of execution, and approach to reality. His film does not surpass the Czech borders and participation in several festivals, whereas Donnersmarck's masterpiece is sufficiently internationally and interculturally comprehensible to convey knowledge about communist dictatorship on a global scale. And I truly do not have the slightest feeling that The Lives of Others was filmed with Oscar ambitions. In the case of this drama, it is not essential whether such a story actually took place because the story of the Stasi officer serves the director to reveal the mechanisms of state surveillance and manipulation of citizens, while also addressing morality on a general level, which is a timeless and universal theme. There are many great scenes where the temptation of power and conflict between moral values and the reality of the regime clearly collide in their details, e.g., the elevator scene where the investigator meets a little boy. "You work for the Stasi?" - "You don't even know what that is." - "Daddy says they lock up decent people there." - "And what's his name?" - "Who?" - "The balloon you're holding." The film is in its own way brilliant in its minimalist approach and allows the viewer different interpretations of motifs and actions of the film characters. One of the many myths related to that time divides the population into "us" and "them" and demonizes members of the secret police and repressive forces. The difficulty lies in the fact that in reality, they did not differ significantly from the rest of the population. I knew one Stasi officer, and it must be admitted that I wouldn't want to spend a vacation with him, but in our professions and in everyday life, I have met people who had a significantly more distorted value system, but fortunately, they have never pursued such a profession. That Stasi officer already had a certain value system before, which may not have corresponded to what we would identify with, but he certainly did not consider himself an immoral monster. He just once did something that was not in line with his official duties, and then there was no escape from the path he had taken. And his nature did not fundamentally change with that turning point in his life. Overall impression of this superbly directed and flawlessly acted emotional film: 100%.

When watching Pollock, I recalled the words of Miloš Forman when he spoke about his doubts about whether and how to shoot Amadeus. He considered biographical films about troubled artistic souls to be the most boring genre that could appear in the film industry and simply did not know how to approach the material. With biographical films of this caliber, you only need to know a few (and basically, you can count them on one hand) biographical facts, watch the first few minutes of the film, and deduce what to expect in the next two hours without much effort. Ed Harris simply wanted to make his artistic film, through which he would break free from established acting stereotypes and show himself in a good light as a director. Though the film is honest and well-acted, it drags on and the film as a whole is boring, unless you are fans of Pollock's artwork or Ed Harris. With biographical films, it really is true that your satisfaction is directly proportional to your relationship with the character the film is about. Personally, I prefer biographical films that present a specific historical epoch and place their protagonist in a certain society, rather than those that depict the torn artist's soul. The only attractive scenes for me were the ones depicting Pollock's creative process. Overall impression: 45%.

Scorsese is a director who is two classes better than Avildsen, and the same can be said about Robert De Niro compared to Sylvester Stallone. However, I won't give more than 3 stars even in this case because boxing is as likable to me as encountering an agitated swarm of wasps, and testosterone-filled Jake LaMotta is not the kind of guy I would want to share a double house with. As a study of masculinity and uncontrollable jealousy, it is quite decent, but the film didn't captivate me in any way. Overall impression: 55%.