POMO

Made by creators with courage, Gomorrah is an authentically chilling work with great informational value. Rather than being a handicap, the deliberate coldness of the film and the distance from the characters is suitable for the world it depicts. What is a handicap, however, is the film’s unnecessary length. Select only the most important things, shorten it to 100 minutes and it could have been a hit!

If you get over the extremely tacky and sentimental packaging, you can enjoy a nice movie with a charismatic Jeff Bridges and beautiful shots of the ocean, palm trees, sky, etc. But when reading the script, Ridley Scott must have known that this would be more of a relaxing experience than something that would help him develop as a filmmaker.

Given the absurd subject matter and pure B-movie quality of The Dentist, it is actually rather entertaining. That is, if you know how to watch films without taking them too seriously, even if they have Mark Ruffalo in the cast.

The International is a decent, though somewhat chatty, political/espionage flick with one excellent shootout. The characters are not exactly depicted in detail, which makes the audience appreciate the expressive body language of Clive Owen. He’s a perfect fit for his agent character. Naomi Watts is just there for marketing purposes, so that her face could be put on the posters. The story is overly contrived but interesting and the soft, pulsating electronic music helps to keep the suspense going (it’s simply fun to root for a bold, likable guy standing up against the most powerful manipulators in the world). There’s also an atmospheric manor on a cliff, looking like something from a Bond film. It’s no new Bourne and Michael Clayton went deeper, but Tykwer’s commercial flick does reach the level of Sydney Pollack’s The Interpreter.

This film is like a piece of raw meat, lying on greasy, blood-smeared butcher’s bench. But this meat is of organic quality from a healthy bull, and if it had been cooked properly, it could have been turned into a delicious steak. John McNaughton, however, makes B-movies, so his steaks are uncooked and served raw. Henry is a low-budget psychological shocker focusing on dialogue around the kitchen table surrounded by three losers: one is a stupid girl without a home, the second an abhorrent retarded redneck with a beer in his hand, and the third one is an introvert with a messed-up childhood (Michael Rooker in his debut role) and making his life interesting with numerous murders, which don’t make him feel any emotion or remorse. By some miracle, this not exactly family-friendly film works, holds the audience’s attention, rouses their curiosity and makes them try to understand the characters and their actions. And this turns the director of cheap B-movies into a creator of quality underground works. If you’re fascinated by the psychological aspects of brutal violence and you’re irritated that all those Eurotrash nasty slashers serve it up in such a retarded manner, Henry will be the film of your life. The whole of Haneke’s Funny Games is squeezed into one several-minute-long scene that caused the film trouble with its distribution and rating. And I’m not surprised, because its raw brutality is something else.

[Full disclosure: I’ve never read the comic books] Twenty percent of the running time comprises the events that actually happen in the film, while 80% consists of flashbacks familiarizing us with the characters, who didn’t grow on me and of whom only one – Rorschach – is well-written and acted (i.e. interesting). There is virtually no action here, but everything is wrapped up in beautiful visuals full of imaginative montages and slow motion shots with a feeling of fantasy, where nothing is impossible and where a neon blue superhero is constantly philosophizing about something very clever beyond the understanding of us Earthlings. Through the first third of Watchmen, I was filled with awe and excitement (and pleasantly surprised by the amount of sex and violence and the moral depravity of the main characters), but I was looking forward to the end of the flashbacks and the start of a proper film adventure. As there was no change in the second third, I started to feel bored and irritated. I literally suffered through the final third. Had I been the producer of this megalomaniacal political, (pseudo) philosophical, fantasy conversational, R-rated flick, I’d off myself.

In this film, everything works like a well-oiled Swiss watch of the highest quality. Both of the actors in the titular lead roles deliver excellent performances in a dialogue duel focusing on a detailed portrayal of their characters, shot and edited in the most appealing way possible. This makes Frost/Nixon completely unique and it’s a testimony to Ron Howard’s extraordinary ability to render difficult subject matter in a way that pleases even the most consumerist viewer. No matter how good they may be, films of this kind are usually protracted, intimate and gloomy, offering an intellectual exercise rather than emotion or attractive visuals. Together with Hans Zimmer’s music and the ferocious chemistry (but also humility and respect) between the two rivals played by Michael Sheen and Frank Langella, the visuals of Frost/Nixon make this a juicy, sexy film delicacy.

An indispensable part of any private party. The “We’re from your face!” scene is my favorite. Irresistibly depraved humor. And Knoxville, Steve-O and Acuña are simply gods!

Slumdog Millionaire is essentially the new Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. It will be just as influential. It is a love story from an exotic corner of the world, which the ordinary viewer would otherwise never see, told in a universal language. And the Indians will try to convince you (as the Chinese tried to do at the time) that they have been making such films for decades. No, they haven’t. Someone had to come from abroad and take out their Western European lens. Slumdog Millionaire is not a Bollywood film, but a firework-like celebration of Bollywood as a film culture with all its romanticism. In its beautiful love story, Slumdog Millionaire fully utilizes the splendors and miseries of the Indian microcosm, thus making it attractive for the audience in an imaginative and fresh way. It is a small and unobtrusive film gem that shines more than any Los Angeles jewelry store where Benjamin Button goes shopping. Slumdog Millionaire is a movie celebrating life, faith and positive thinking; a movie that wasn’t made to become the award-winning film of the year... and that is why it deserves it. Nowadays this film is a small miracle. And Danny Boyle is a god. P.S: Jen Lopez and Rosario Dawson might have Freida Pinto’s features but not her eyes. No Hollywood actress has Freida Pinto’s eyes...

The Conspiracy of Torture is something like Angélique, but without ships or Jeoffrey de Peyrac, and with just one short romantic scene + several piquant scenes of torture and classic killing. Which is not enough to satisfy Lucio Fulci’s fans. Who is this boring film even aimed at?