POMO

I feel a little sorry when I am (almost) the only one to see the exceptionality and perfection of a certain film. It means that its creators won’t get the credit they deserve... Elegy is an incredibly mature, sensitive and psychologically complex movie that is creative in its filmmaking details (from the screenplay to the brilliant editing, which masterfully escalates all of the key scenes). The director depicts the fifty-year-old man in love more precisely and more comprehensibly for younger viewers than any male director could, which just confirms a theory that women can understand men better than men can understand them. She intentionally cast the seemingly incongruous pair of Ben Kingsley and Penélope Cruz so that she could let them reach perfect harmony only in the unexpected final twist. I also cannot imagine better and more original casting of the role of Kingsley’s old friend than Dennis Hopper. As for the central pair, Kingsley is the heart and soul of the film and it’s hard to see where his acting genius ends and the director’s genius in guiding the actors begins – the true genius probably lies in their mutual understanding and the synergy of their talents. After one weekend (when I randomly chose to watch Elegy and Vicky Cristina Barcelona), I finally learned to appreciate Penélope Cruz. She is a treasure, and not only as an actress. And let’s not forget the cold yet passionate realist played by Patricia Clarkson, in whom Kingsley’s character finds his only stable sanctuary. When I turned on Elegy, I just wanted to fill up my Sunday evening, and what I got was absolute emotional and spiritual film satisfaction. Why couldn’t the final static beach shot last until the end of end credits?

It’s like eating a Funny Games USA popsicle – the stick you’re left with is The Strangers. It recycles hackneyed clichés and has an undeveloped plot with absolutely zero catharsis plus major lapses in logic and plausibility. Bryan Bertino doesn’t even know what a shot of a candle with an inclined flame is supposed to convey. This film is worthless in terms of both screenplay and direction. It has nothing to make it memorable, but it’s cleverly marketed with an appealing trailer and a stellar cast.

At sound of familiar “underwater” music, an army of Creatures from the Black Lagoon (see the eponymous movie from 1954) attacks the redneck inhabitants of a small harbor town (there’s even a pub brawl) and violates hot, nubile babes (a lot of flashed nipples), who then give birth to their descendants Alien style. And there are also bloody gore effects, dead dogs and a toddler in a crib in danger. Had the town been enveloped by a thick fog, it would have been perfect.

Trade offers one powerful moment (the jump) and the well-captured atmosphere of the dark side of Mexico. Otherwise, however, it is bland, with a lamely overacting youth in the leading role (Cesar Ramos), a stupid climax and a clichéd postscript, in which the director dramaturgically undermines his own film.

The Forbidden Kingdom is an outdated, unremarkable and unoriginal film. At the same time, however, it is harmless and without any specific mistakes, so there’s simply nothing to criticize. Despite that, I will probably only remember it because of the actors who appear in it. And I appreciate that the screenwriter treated them fairly, providing them with really nice roles that made use of their respective characters.

It’s hard to analyze this too deeply. On one hand, this film is colder than a witch’s tit, but on the other, it also manages to be powerful and painful. The director doesn’t portray the suffering of the protagonist in a natural fashion, as though he didn’t know that we can feel for her already because of what she’s like and what she’s going through. He doesn’t tell us what she’s like; he doesn’t care, so he keeps his distance and remains indifferent. He only depicts her suffering through camera tricks from her point of view, by turning down the sound when she faints, etc. We see all of this hellishness (including the prostitution scenes where penetration is shown in pornographic detail) from the point of view of a person we know nothing about. It’s a disgusting, sadistic and ruthless approach, but the fact remains that the filmmaking is more interesting and unique than in the case of the most similar feminist rape + revenge exploitation depravities (like I Spit on Your Grave) and it’s definitely not boring.

The American DVD cover looks like an action B-movie with Snipes or Seagal. However, the target audience of such flicks, unfamiliar with the name Werner Herzog and expecting some action, will be disappointed. With minimalist production, Rescue Dawn is a psychological film about the relationship of a group of people isolated in the middle of the jungle, about optimism and hope for rescue. Even though in places Herzog flirts with Terrence Malick’s poetics of man’s unity with nature, the film remains surprisingly cheerful and not afraid to replace darkness and gloom with subtle humor, playfulness and an adventurous spirit. The result is a psychologically perceptive and inquisitive, unconventional “feel good” adventure. And the acting is also excellent.

Unlike American Pie and similar comedies, this film is more of an excursion than comedy, focusing on the act itself, from the initial “let’s get it on, baby” to the post-orgasm cigarette. This approach takes away everything unnecessary, leaving only that which is essential, delivered in five different forms, among which each (sexually active) viewer can find something that speaks to them – whether in one particular episode or in the details of several of them (depending on how experienced you are). The film aptly portrays the individual situations and doesn’t pull any punches, but it’s not overly straightforward or primitive, and the guys are funny and the girls HOT. YPF is a nice chill-out movie that entices the audience to “get it on” themselves.

The 1980s and the golden era of Spielberg / Zemeckis collaboration... Back to the Future is entertaining, imaginative, intelligent and sophisticatedly funny, with sensitively expressed deep thoughts. It is a film for which the terms “popcorn” and “(ultra)happy ending” are not used as insults. Why do they no longer make such movies? Why do we live in such a depressing era? Had I been a movie virgin and rated this at the time of its release, I would have given it five stars.

What is apparent from its screenplay and its exposition of 007 is that this 22nd Bond movie was supposed to be a revenge-driven, ferocious and almost furious culmination of Casino Royale. And the producers entrusted it to the artsy director who amputated all of Casino Royale’s powerful limbs and arranged flowers in their place. All the great action, the Bond car and all the stylish opening credits and interesting locations are absent and the bad guys look like they stepped out of a Pasolini movie. The only thing that makes Quantum of Solace a Bond movie, what keeps it kicking and earns it a third star in my rating, is the still great Daniel Craig (Olga Kurylenko is nice, but she’s still just a female background character in Bond’s world). This is the first Bond movie after a very long time that didn’t make me feel that heroic excitement I used to feel after watching action movies as a little boy.