novoten

How else than making fun of everything possible. Woody, characteristically, pokes fun at various political views and at the same time pays tribute to his favorite genre of non-primordial grotesque with a transcendence. Moreover, when I joyfully watch their first directed collaboration with Diane and savor their situational humor, I am enthusiastic as usual.

The pilot is not bad at all, but after two screenings in one year, I can't imagine trying to go through it all again even fifteen years later. DiCaprio is great, but surprisingly, Scorsese can't maintain a good momentum, he gets lost in Hughes' psychoses, and the story that goes to flowers is only fixed in the thrilling courtroom finale.

The naive foolish atmosphere supported by music and dance scared me in the beginning, but when you embrace Branagh's play, you can navigate through that confusion in a calm pace until the end - I would highlight the magically dreadful speaking performance of Timothy Spall.

Several beautiful songs in a very boring coat. If it weren't for the pseudo-modern adaptation of the famous musical, but for the original music composed directly for the film, I would be more reconciled. However, Schumacher directed the film outrageously carelessly and thus destroyed the immense potential that was hidden in The Phantom. Never mind that I hummed the duet of Christine and Raoul for several months after watching it, everything else that comes to mind is confusing choreography of musical numbers, poorly played Phantom, and "fateful scenes" that are anything but captivating.

Western, horses, plain, Colin Farrell... and also Moby. From the very beginning, it is clear that we will go towards jokes, love, good hearts, and comfort. And everything works, it's just that in the end, everything is half-hearted. Each scene unfolds on its own, nothing gets messed up, so there is nothing to unravel. Definitely not offensive, but with a little extra push at the end, the outlaws could shoot much further.

A moment after a moment, sometimes pure romance and heartfelt moments with a long-lasting resonance. Although with a slower start, but with tender chemical attraction and atmosphere.

Optimism, enthusiasm, narcissism, boasting. And suddenly, in the second half, none of it. What is sadder than losing the wit and speech of a corrected womanizer? And what is more boring than a freshly positive film turning into a moral lesson? Jude Law is cool and performs in a role written specifically for him. With a different screenwriter, I would want to see him like this all the time.

A person safeguards their life in a chess battle against Death, both players speaking to each other through bars, while intertwining (dis)belief in God, variously depicted attempts to escape the ubiquitous weight of life or various human weaknesses with anger or desire in the foreground. Bergman's reproduction of sad hope.

Awkward exaggeration, confused action, and overall too different, albeit earnestly ironic Bond film. The final sequence is daring for its time and light-hearted tendencies, but it doesn't fit here.

Arnold is sitting, with a bitter expression on his face, and repeatedly utters sentences like "I saw you there, you were there, you did it" or jumps through the jungle and other antics. But while this used to work quite well before, here I was just sitting in front of the screen, in distress, lamenting the destruction of the action icon. A farewell embarrassment that thankfully was corrected a year later by Mostow with the third Terminator.