novoten

Season 1 – 80% – It took me quite a while to get used to the fact that despite the constant chaotic outbursts of various characters, I had trouble grasping the essence of the central storyline. Kekkai Sensen is wild, lively, and at times literally and figuratively crazy. But as soon as it calms down or Leo reflects on his own fate or the direction of the entire Libra organization, it's a different story. The atmosphere suddenly speaks to me up close in all possible moods, whether it's the action fantasy of Klaus fighting in the arena or the crazy humor of Zapp. Whether it's the pleasantly unexpected twists or the opening and ending, which make me happy to be part of this otherwise gloomy world for half an hour. Season 2 – 100% – Better in every detail (the background of individual agents) and simply superior as a whole (the escalating tension of dangerous situations) in every way, and therefore one of the most surprising genre rides. Action and humor that are not afraid to slow down and wait or, conversely, unleash unimaginably insane moments one after another.

Anyone who has been watching Woody Allen since the sixties until now will paradoxically be at a disadvantage. You just need to take a list of his most famous trademarks and check off all the topics. War, faith, psychiatry, paranoia, hypochondria, literature, screenwriting – it's all here. Not in the form of a purebred series, but rather in the form of a fragmented film with a total length of half an hour. The television format suits Allen less, as he shoots at the same pace and in the most typical mood we have experienced in every one of his retrospectives or nostalgic reflections, something that seems almost inappropriate in the age of streaming services – and for the first time in his career, unfortunately, a bit mannerist, because it does not bring anything new to the genre or even to himself. I would like to forgive all of this, but for the huge casting mistake in the form of Miley Cyrus. I really wished for this incomprehensible move to work out, but any scene with the former child star is a real torture and an example of genuine non-acting. I also have a little problem with Elaine May, whom I have loved to see by the Master's side for a whole sixteen years since the legendary Small Time Crooks, but from whom, despite all her charm and effort, you unfortunately can't understood every other word. Thanks to a truly wild finale, a blissful feeling began to spread all over my body, but although I want to give a higher rating, I would then be just a blind fanboy and Allen does not deserve it for something cute, but still merely recycled. However, if this was his last leading role, he could not have performed better, because even this far from the eighties, he is a master of his neurotic stuttering.

Season 1 – 75% – I was sure that in the pilot episode, the exhausted concept of a charismatic wisecracking devil alongside a skeptical detective must stop working soon, but luckily I was wrong. Tom Ellis relies on the same note in most cases, mocking God and morality, but mysteriously, I believe him without hesitation, and thanks to his unrelenting playful gaze, I finish each episode with an almost elevated mood. The central hero and his dynamics with all the characters (led by Amenadiel, played by the ageless TV veteran D.B. Woodside) are the main reason why it is realistic for Lucifer to stay on screen for a few more years. Hopefully, the necessary episodic crime stories will get rid of their annoying transparency and uselessness, because then the devilish pianist could grow into a well-deserved supernatural perennial. Season 2 – 85% – The greater space for the supernatural family also means a considerable improvement in quality. The way the main hero can solve even the most cliché-looking case from any environment is on par with the best quotes from golden series like Castle. When combined with the divine storyline, it might be the funniest show of this season, while the majority of sitcoms can only hungrily gaze at its back. The investigative adventures voluntarily minimize themselves to the role of a barely visible necessary evil, and thanks to the unflagging enthusiasm of all involved, I believe even more that this is a golden find. Season 3 – 90% – In its beginning, the show told a continuous storyline in a criminal manner. Last year, it fully began to focus on a supernatural backdrop, and this year it managed to combine the two. But most importantly, it is also quality. Both the search for the identity of the Sinnerman and all the escapades that followed convinced me that Lucifer has matured. It is capable of sustaining all the necessary proprieties of an episodic crime show while also being reliable entertainment with sufficiently emotional moments. The standout episode The Angel of San Bernardino and, of course, the finale A Devil of My World show this in every aspect. Joe Henderson and Ildy Modrovich simply know where to lead the series, and if it weren't for the fact that (due to the later cancellation by Fox) they must inevitably reach some weak points in the twenty-four or even twenty-six episodes, I would consider giving the highest rating after a brief consideration. Even so, Lucifer's third year remains the most surprising event of the season for me, and the fact that we will finally get the long-awaited continuation on Netflix signifies that the growth in quality may not be over. Season 4 – 85% – Perhaps I expected too much of a deviation from the previously seen subjects and schemes after all the promises that the streaming service's wings would start with an R rating. In the end, we return from the break pretty much where we left off with the main characters. I appreciate this natural continuation, but on the other hand, I don't understand the relieving statements from the creators that they don't have to stick to the concept of an episodic crime show at all costs because they this time it deviated from it only in two exceptions. With only ten episodes, I barely have time to breathe with joy that Tom Ellis is back in his element and the story is heading towards an inevitable end. However, it is heading there with such strong reinforcement that I am slightly raising my originally modest rating again. While the others obediently stick to well-known character boundaries (Chloe) or only slightly deviate from them (Amenadiel), the newcomer Eve is a miracle that literally shines in every scene. The casting of Inbar Lavi is ultimately the best thing that could have happened to the series. I definitely disagreed with the decision to make the fifth season the last because Lucifer is one of the few shows I can imagine continuing for many more years. But the opportunity to wrap everything up according to the long-term plan, hats off to Netflix, and the decision to add a few extra episodes, double hats off. Season 5 – 85% – I won't lie, the first part surprised me. It brought a fascinating character in the form of Michael, which definitively proves what a royal actor Tom Ellis is. However, it stumbled almost everywhere else. The fateful bond between the main duo is gained through predictable twists, side characters are led through strange plot twists (Ella), and even Maze, with her unwavering "nobody likes me" attitude, got on my nerves quite often. In the second part, however, everything is different. Dennis Haysbert brings divine calmness to the show, and I applaud the bold creative decision, even though neither the musical episode nor the pre-finale twist hits the mark. But it's a shift towards new possibilities, which is exactly what was missing in the first eight episodes. I am truly glad for the last chapter, which is intended as a gift for loyal fans. At the same time, I have the distinct feeling that it is the right time to say goodbye. Season 6 – 90% – It is wonderful when a series is unafraid to change its face, and Lucifer did it excellently. It maintained its style, mostly its wit, and managed to bring more humor, perhaps even a more balanced melodramatic storyline, and a little something extra in the very end. I can hardly believe that this chapter was originally just a bold idea that was never meant to be realized, and in the end, it may be the best season. I hope Tom Ellis is preparing for an Oscar-worthy role, but what he managed to do with a show that originally felt somewhat unremarkable, purely with his acting talent, will leave me amazed for a long time.

Spoiled pretentiousness with two hours of running time and two twists. Cheaply provocative, grandly announcing something that will never come, and most importantly – completely unnecessary. The attempt to approach the incomprehensible spectacles of David Lynch is too shallow and self-absorbed. I understand that all the colors, wordless minutes, and repulsive scenes have metaphors that Nicolas Winding Refn enjoys talking about, but at their core, they are all so disgustingly trivial that they cannot even touch a clever or sophisticated effect. I was looking forward to more Danish-Hollywood hypnotism because I love Drive, and just narrowly missed Only God Forgives. But the main character's vacant stares don't work here because they have no narrative foundation to draw from, and the supporting monsters in this case are more like screenplay flaws. Nicolas just lost even the most patient of us.

It's hard for me to believe how many beloved faces have succumbed to ridicule towards anyone who has ever tried to find a job. As if a successful attempt at a career was really just about quitting at every small success – and by this style, climbing up the ladder higher and higher like some kind of mystery. Maybe it was meant to be a lighthearted comedy deep down, but there were so many moments when I felt a significant imaginary dagger being opened in my pocket that even the sophisticated casting couldn't save this forgiving evaluation. Get a Job shouldn't have stayed in the drawer of forgotten nonsense for four years, but for eternity.

The unwelcome addition of a long-forgotten joke that turned into a confident surprise. It's obviously over the top in a few places, because Bridget can't do it any other way. But the rest? The moderate Renée Zellweger, the perfectly matured Colin Firth, and finally once again my beloved Patrick Dempsey just the way I like him, as the ideal guy with everything. This trio works even better than when it was Hugh Grant competing with Mr. Darcy, and that's saying something, considering the romantic-comedy merits of that British scamp. The last chapter of the adventures of the very crazy girl next door is romantic, touching, and in a few places unbelievably funny. I didn't expect this to be the best part of the series by any means, so I can now wish it even more success.

Season 1 – 85% – "There's a lot of sadness in this house." – "It's a funeral home." A perfectly honest drama with all the elements that best tell us that we don't choose our family, destined partners, and fate. Fortunately. The full load of mistakes is less than it might seem, and only characters like Gilardi or Gabriel Dimas can prevent it (although they are believable). However, I'm rooting for the entire Fisher family and their loved ones, hoping they can handle all the negativity they encounter on their funeral home journey. Season 2 – 90% – "We really are just biology, aren't we?" Dear Fishers, you are getting under my skin. While someone like Nate grew on me from the moment Peter Krause's face appeared on the screen, it took me a bit longer to warm up to the others, but now I love Claire and Ruth. I still struggle with the supporting characters, can't appreciate Keith's storyline, and often roll my eyes when Rico moralizes, but as a whole, Six Feet Under is getting better and better. I wish them all the best in rising above things they can't change (David), winning the battle with themselves (Billy), and sometimes I simply don't understand them (Brenda). Nevertheless, I slowly but irreversibly identify with this unspoken struggle for everyday happiness. Season 3 – 100% – "I wouldn't change anything. If you change one thing, that changes everything. And some things are the way they should be." About how life doesn't wait for anyone. About how you can love someone immensely but still struggle to find your place in a relationship. About happiness that hides in the most depressing situations. About how you can find yourself in college but also lose a lot of yourself. About life-changing moments when some feel hopeless and others see a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. And finally, about how I finally understand all of this. Season 4 – 90% – "Maybe it's true what they say, we all pick the same person over and over again. There's something nice about that." We truly love someone when we stand by them, even if we don't understand them. And this time, I don't understand several of them. I don't understand the direction or rules of David and Keith's relationship, I can't empathize with Brenda as she tries to form a serious bond with Joe, and I can't grasp the points of Rico's escapades. But there are still countless positives, and the main one is an increasingly attractive redhead. Claire Fisher is becoming one of the best characters in a TV series, and her journey is currently the most intriguing. Moreover, the sad rule applies once again. If you fear something and constantly worry that it will haunt you, chances are you're right. Season 5 – 100% – "Time flies when you're having fun, huh?" – "No, time flies when you're pretending to have fun." Everything that can go wrong inevitably does, whether in the form of subtle cracks or unexpected twists of fate. But in every such moment, I feel a sense of the last breath of the series. Maybe I will never understand Keith's nature, maybe Rico is destined to be a strangely selfish ungrateful person till the end, but that doesn't matter. That's life, and not everyone in it is understandable to me. The final season keeps questioning my own identity, future, and unfortunately, mortality, and it shows even to the most blind that Six Feet Under is all-encompassing. Because everyone, at some point, wants or even fundamentally needs to capture that beautiful moment. However painfully futile such an effort may be. "You can't take a picture of this. It's already gone."

Season 1 – 100% – The instantly omnipresent love that swarms me the day after it airs, and tries to convince me that a powerful series for everyone has appeared after a few episodes have passed, has been getting on my nerves in recent years. So when this carousel started with Stranger Things, I properly shook my head at it. But this series is saving it by being truly for everyone. It has tension, a mysterious creature, a group of friends led by the wonderfully quippy Dustin, the perfect Eleven, a love triangle, and parental love portrayed by Winona Ryder. She is the one who receives the most criticism from viewers, which I can't understand from my own perspective considering her phenomenal performance, but people rarely welcome genuine and real emotions. The eight episodes are just right to get under your skin, solve the basic chain of mysteries, and leave the viewer begging for more adventures. Season 2 – 100% – Those whom I liked, I now adoringly worship; those whom I hesitated about have moved into the first group. From Lucas to Will, from Joyce to Eleven, and with Dustin and surprisingly, even the new king Steve at the forefront of it all. Stranger Things confirms that it is not a seasonal affair, and although most characters continue their expected development and we shouldn't expect any shocking twists, the second season is exactly what I didn't even dare to dream of. A perfect mix of romance, tension, horror, and a complete range of emotions. The enthusiasm of Matt and Ross Duffer and the fiery chemistry of all the actors involved are impressively evident in the result. After watching it for the second time, I definitively consider the second season one of the best things I have ever seen. Season 3 – 90% – After the nervous tension on multiple fronts, it is evident that the Duffer brothers wanted to add humor, which fully corresponds to the mentality of '80s sequels. However, they added a lot of it, so they cannot reach the emotional level of the previous season (which, after a two-year break and being forgotten by the wide audience, logically reached immense heights). Just as the frenzied relationship madness that pushes it to the edge can please many with its hormonal storm or various pranks between teenagers, refreshing as it may be for some, it can also be so annoying that one may not want to wait for another mysterious ride. The same applies to Hopper, who transitions from eternal laid-backness to an irritated ball of nerves – an unexpected change, but perfectly irresistible in David Harbour's portrayal. In the suspenseful moods, however, it is the most magnificent period with many unbelievably disgusting moments (which, however, you can't take your eyes off), with instantly iconic (re)unions, and so many goosebumps-inducing scenes that there perhaps wasn't an episode where I didn't find my jaw dropping to the ground at least once. I have a slight reservation due to minor genre disarray (romance, Russians, slime, family trauma), which this time stick a bit worse and will be tested upon an inevitable rewatch. P.S.: The wait for Millie Bobby Brown to finally receive some genuinely intended awards is starting to get a bit long. Season 4 – 90% – I'm not surprised by how drastically the series is growing in scale, number of characters, or budget, but I am shocked by how the whole world is still tuned to it. This is no longer an intimate horror, nor is it a children's adventure or a modest story from Stephen King's famous drawer. This is a seasonal blockbuster that is waited for months and years to be talked about, paraphrased, and criticized for a long time. And yet the world nods almost contentedly and religiously awaits the next episodes. And I'm with it, because although the concept is sometimes turned almost upside down, the essence remains the same. Irresistible characters, precise actors, a vibrating soundtrack, countless touching moments, and a period atmosphere where realities are not thrown at the viewer as bait, but actively involve them in the story. Stranger Things is one of those rare achievements that can evoke the feeling that these are my memories, even though my own childhood and adolescence had nothing in common with what is depicted.

Season 1 – 50% – I have been a big fan of Will Arnett ever since his occasional appearances in 30 Rock, and when he decided to venture into the waters of melancholic dramedy, I took notice. Unfortunately, the more contemplative Californication I expected only partially materialized. Chip's story does remind me of a more serious and mostly believable version of Hank Moody's escapades, but it is written so lazily that I don't get much out of it. Additionally, the central character himself is unappealing from the very beginning and whenever he can mess something up, he inevitably chooses that option. In combination with uninteresting supporting characters, one can only admire Arnett for deciding to distance himself from the sins that likely led to his divorce from Amy Poehler. The fact that his alter-ego and even Arnett himself developed an alcohol addiction during the making of the series is even more disturbing. However, there have been enough self-reflective, self-discovering, or simply contemplative cable relationship dramas in recent years, including Togetherness, Girls, Looking, and lastly Californication, that are in a completely different league. I'm sorry, Will, few people want a good series for you as much as I do, but Flaked is not it yet. Season 2 – 50% – It is even more disappointing to me, in the face of Will Arnett's phenomenal performance, that I can't rate it any better than last year. Even though the adjusted number of episodes is pleasing and prevents unnecessary detours and digressions, it still isn't enough. Someone had the crazy idea to make the mediocre sidekick Cooler the main character, and even though George Basil softens his natural eccentricity as much as he can, all of his lines still feel forced and whenever he delves into incomprehensible dialogue, I lose interest. On the other hand, Dennis is lucky with his storyline as his love interest, portrayed by the never-failing Lenora Crichlow as Rosa, can create irresistible chemistry with anyone. And as for Chip, he still has the gift of turning even the calmest situation into a catastrophe, which frustrates me even more. I cannot say with a clear conscience that Flaked is a bad series, and I believe that many people will rightfully enjoy it. However, I cannot overlook the fact that it never takes a proper step forward but always just sidesteps.

Ethan Hawke has been hanging in my memory as a top performer in Richard Linklater's Boyhood, a kind-hearted rascal and the father of the main character all in one. It was precisely because of such a mature role that I was eager to reach for the overlooked story of a young baseball player – and I was left sitting frozen. While the sports background went completely over my head, every scene in which Hawke appears and starts terrorizing his son more and more forcefully with each next sentence is a demonstration of his acting chameleonism. It's nice that Hawke helps unknown films gain attention with his participation, but in similarly small, intimate films, he is quite wasted. If only The Phenom itself had aimed for higher ambitions and hadn't let the second half quietly slip away apart from the last few minutes, there could have been much more success to celebrate.