novoten

1st season – 55% – that measured quality of the British, excellent ratings, and above all thematic similarity and even sisterhood with my beloved Ripper Street brought back memories of sad anniversaries. But that transition to the present failed because for me it lacks that English dryness and elegance. It was an average-looking case study in television that couldn't be saved either by the main heroes (who are truly unlikeable for most of the time) or the plot twists, which any nerve-racking case should have demanded. The tension only builds at the last moment and in the end leaves nothing but the bitter taste of wasted potential. 2nd season – 60% – I understand the creative effort to repeat the formula that worked on their audience, but this is too much of the same. Shadows of the past again, conveniently knowledgeable sidekick again, and an ordinary story that could have worked so well. The series quickly gets old in the current era of overwhelming numbers of Nordic and other detective stories, because either way it wasn't possible to take such a collection of clichés seriously (OCD and alcoholism at once?). The tipping point, which paradoxically moves it ahead of the first case, is the portrayal of Ray by the always unpleasant and crumpled Phil Davis. His storyline of the greatest adversary, who has the most to lose, is at least a glimpse of what I expect from a mystery series from Her Majesty's kingdom. 3rd season – The Murder in Darkness – 40% – On the downhill slope. A routine case, an unbelievable amount of digging into the past, unnecessary epileptic flashbacks to create a sense of fear, and on the contrary, the absence of tension. If it weren't for the pleasant moments when the two main heroes open up and showcase their decent chemistry, this case would already be lost in the void. The Hunger for Mercy – 40% – The increasingly ridiculous attempts to humanize the main characters result in entrances and melodramatic exits of seemingly important characters in a matter of seconds. It's a shame that the series undermines itself and with the already worn-out pattern of comparing history to the present just leaves me rolling my eyes.

The screaming repetition of several jokes with a predictable plot and an incomprehensible combination of dark humor and graphic depictions of medical mishaps that I never needed to see graphically depicted. Casting Jon Hamm as an older version of the main character initially seemed incomprehensible to me, but over time, Daniel Radcliffe incredibly imprinted himself onto his future. It's just a shame that it had to happen in this unappealing conglomeration of lost souls. One good joke is enough to get easily two episodes past my perplexed blind eyes.

A disparate group of people connected by a gunshot. An interestingly developed concept of a classic detective story transferred into a social drama, but it fails from the first to the last act. Connecting a precise investigator, a torn politician, a harassed military officer, or a clergywoman with unresolved personal relationships promises a comprehensive view of the social crisis in Great Britain, but in practice it only throws out topics like they were cut out from yesterday's news. Many participants serve as mere hangers for pressing questions of yesterday and today, but they never fit together other than as dead ends.

Hill's collection Bobby Conroy Comes Back from the Dead is pleasantly old-fashioned, surprisingly often discontented, and chilling in several places. Overall, however, its title promises something different, specifically a compilation of small unpleasant horrors that an uninformed reader would expect from King's son. The Black Telephone, on the other hand, is one of the weaker pieces in the book. It is a short suggestive story full of only partially fulfilled potential, with two successful parts, and what harms it the most is the fact that it takes place in one location. Promising a film adaptation seemed like a very bold idea to me, but Scott Derrickson and C. Robert Cargill surpassed themselves. They dug deep into the story, where in the original only names jumped out, they added significant plot lines, and they turned Gwen, played by the incredible Madeleine McGraw, into an equal main protagonist. And yet I'm not sure about the way they explain key events. In many places, they only mention one sentence (the mother's death, the father's motivation, conditions in Finney's prison, the killer's convenient blindness towards broken or tidy things, the willingness of the police to listen to unorthodox solutions), but they rarely expand on it. Of course, I was able to read between the lines in this case, but it's a solution in the style of "If I see it there, then it's there". But if it was really just viewer theories and lucky writing coincidences, it would be dead ends or even plot holes, and that would be a shame in this case. So I lean towards the version that everything is perfectly thought out and that's exactly how I should feel – torn.

I expected a wild and exhilarating ride, but the result is even more frenetic in the cadence of ideas than my boldest imaginations. Whoever says that there is a lack of action must have confused platforms and boarded a train towards Stará Paka. In this Shinkansen, beloved narrative sources and styles alternate, where Kill Bill shakes hands with the more successful work of Guy Ritchie, while insane twists intertwine with absurd bloody splatters reminiscent of the old undertakings by Joel and Ethan Coen. In the end, at several points, I almost raised my hands to applaud with enthusiasm, as certain moments evoked a great euphoria in me thanks to a perfectly fitting cameo or the perfectly fitting soundtrack. The highest rating didn't come at first simply because it is a mix of genres that relies more on inspirations and quotations than on its own contribution, but it doesn't detract from the entertainment value at all, quite the opposite.

Lots of data, facts, and talking heads. But it's not a documentary, it's a crime drama that has cut a lot of branches out from under itself. With the exception of the fourth act, it is a non-dramatic and worn-out paraphrase of everything that has ever been seen about dirty cops. The only thing that made me happy, but also brought me to the miniseries, is unsurprisingly Jon Bernthal. In the role of a tough guy with a soft spot, but that doesn't stop him from being slapped most of the time, he is cast so precisely that it borders on cliché. Unfortunately, his behavior, like that of most of his buddies, goes from one extreme to another. Three times as a thief, racist, or just a jerk, and then once as a repentant good guy. It is precisely because of this inconsistency and unnecessary non-linearity of key events that I remain negative in my assessment. Nothing new is said about corruption, Black Lives Matter, or the hierarchy of overlooked offenses.

1st season – 85% – A mindless spectacle with no need to educate, explore, or prove anything to anyone. It is exactly as I imagined it when I first saw the poster. Pleasant, sweet, and incredibly accurate in conjuring up memorable butterflies in the stomach. Even in a minimal space with a tiny budget (which probably went towards animated pages and Olivia Colman's fee), everything seems to have succeeded. Justifying (or, on the other hand, erasing) the annoying Ben brings a chance at the highest rating. Ta's humor, Charlie's cuteness, and the irresistible chemistry between any friendly or romantic couple result in an unexpectedly excellent hit, which doesn't want to break hearts because fortunately, it doesn't even know how.

Surprisingly evocative spectacle that surpassed in the technical aspects. Bette Davis is perfect in every pose as Leslie, and her wild gaze in key moments proves that her peepers rightfully appeared in the song by Kim Carnes many years later. So why such a low rating? Because the producer's intervention undermined all efforts. I would rate the play a class above, and the movie should have ended the same way it did, about five minutes earlier. Then came an epilogue that is pointless, illogical, and diminishing of the initial composition; even though Wyler managed to shoot it in a thrilling way, at that moment all the emotions that were in me flew out the window.

One first-class acting performance next to another over unsettling images of American history. But above all it's nothing more than unnecessarily heartrending personal storyline of the main character, an unjustified enormous running time, incoherent narration of the individual scenes, and plot twists. It's as if Oliver Stone is frantically reading to me from a densely written notebook and occasionally jumping into another one where the same script is being written by someone completely different at a completely time.

With the approaching end of the twentieth century, there was an explosion in courtroom dramas, and just about every major star added a piece of that ilk to their repertoire. I distinctly remember how I somewhat despised the genre as something that only revealed the most obvious, because the rest would just be a mere variation on the same. But first of all, that's not true, and second of all, the genre disappeared from film into the realm of the TV series and proper big-budget drama with emotional shouts of "Objection!" for the audience to gape at. And it is exactly Aaron Sorkin's military detour that is the forgotten gem, with its average rating indicating that memories of it are relatively positive, but that the audience did not appreciate it at the time because something similar was sure to come along shortly. And yet A Few Good Men is both a thrilling combination of all imaginable genres and a gathering of brilliant actors, where the 90s star power in the form of Tom Cruise and Demi Moore clashes with Jack Nicholson in what may be his career-best performance, meticulously chewing on each of his lines and where an unguarded moment can turn into the most chilling scene. A treasure that opened the doors to new television phenomena like JAG or NCIS, whose legacy goes on even decades later.