Isherwood

The clock started turning back, and Brett Ratner went back to the 1980s. He brought along a bunch of hotshots using special effects and made an impactful action spectacle that could certainly be a full-fledged film in its own right if it didn't want to tie itself to the previous two installments in the franchise. The theme and the screenplay (except for the terrible dialogue!) are fine, but Ratner completely misunderstands the meaning of the plot and instead plays at being a narrator. The mutants are characters with no psychology, no history, and no distinctive dimension. The quantum of new arrivals, most of whom don't even have a name, is brought out around in a disorganized manner and any action they take is completely self-serving. Without these specifics, their emotions towards themselves sound either ridiculous or (more likely) completely incomprehensible. Only Mr. Singer's group of old warriors carry the film forward, but even they aren't enough to keep the mutants from (sadly) burying themselves. The first time it was a blast, the second time an absolute collapse.

At a time when Stone didn’t like American "high society" at all, this (at the time) most controversial Hollywood character proved to be an excellent fabricator with a sense of demagoguery that the viewer has no problem believing in. Stone dealt with the controversial topic in his own way, which may well be considered a true reconstruction until 2038 when the Warren Report is to be declassified. Although his leftist mindset oozes from the film at every moment, the aesthetics of the film's narrative are so evocative that we can set aside our own thoughts for three hours and be swept away by the director's analysis of the case conducted on the basis of a conspiracy thriller. The great editing blurs the distinction between documentary and cinematic fiction, and although the film is crammed with dialogue (and a final monologue by the brilliant Kevin Costner), it’s never boring. And even if three hours may seem like too much, when it's over, Stone makes the viewer feel like they've just untied the Gordian Knot. And yet... in the end, not that much gets resolved.

A big budget made a big film this time. The post-apocalyptic world is amazing. Not only the magnificent set design, but the overall feeling of the film is at the best possible level. Although Tina Turner is as good an actress as she is a singer (take that as you will) and the terribly politically correct themes such as the rescue of young children dampen the benevolence of viewers who loved the previous two films, there's nothing to do other than to enjoy every last grain of sand from the Nothing, a gripping spectacle that for once doesn't rely on cars (only to impress you with the breathtaking chase at the end) and also deals a little with the world around it. Mel Gibson successfully rivals a diamond in terms of overall toughness and I believe everything that he does. I can also safely say that underneath the Thunderdome clearly resides the best film in the franchise!

A conventional conspiracy thriller that sorely lacks all the trademarks of Hitchcock's later works, such as greater formal sophistication and plot coherence. In one of his first "big" films, Hitchcock is too straightforward. After a great opening in St. Moritz, the film soon becomes an uninteresting game of cat and mouse, desperately lacking any plot twist. In addition, the ending in Albert Hall or the final shootout just feels forced, which is not helped by the many unresolved themes. An additional twenty minutes would have done wonders for the film!

This is a completely identical copy of the first film and does absolutely nothing new. Wong is absolutely terrible and has no talent. While all of the deaths in the second film were a magnificent visual feast thanks to director Ellis, in Wong's rendition, the deaths are godforsaken routines that certainly won't entice the audience. This also applies alongside the assumption that the plot is absolutely devoid of any side plots (the FBI agents in the first film, the interesting idea for outsmarting death in the second). Final Destination 3 is a woefully below-average "dead teen movie" that's not even worth the attention of 14-year-olds trying to watch a "cool horror" movie.

A very strange audiovisual fetish over a piece of metal, which can be interpreted in many ways. Certain types of film art are very unique, and likely every film scholar or scientist will enjoy every last detail of Tetsuo: The Iron Man. For the layman, however, the film is a frantic ride without any substantial plot skeleton, standing and falling on the benevolence of each individual's take on this bizarre madness. This may be interesting and "entertaining" in its own way (for the first ten minutes or so) but unfortunately, it then drowns in its own monotony of shaky camerawork, fast editing, and ambient soundtrack. It’s a poseur film, but one that will certainly find "its" audience. Much more impressive and comprehensible films are available within the cyberpunk genre.

Spike Lee is a genius! A genre film thought out to the last detail, shot with clarity (Matthew Libatique's amazing cinematography, editing, the scene composition) and insight (wit, great allusions to the atmosphere of New York 5 years after 9/11). Thanks to the artfully inserted details, cuts, and masterful work with fabrication, the film is above all known standards. For the majority of the viewing public, it is an overly verbose and desperately inactive affair, but for those who can read between the lines of this most distinctive African-American in Hollywood's director's chair, they will understand that there is no robbery like a robbery and the sins of youth are not forgotten even after sixty years. Thanks, Spike!

The cruelly long runtime unnecessarily dilutes the atmosphere of the film to the limits of the current horror standard, which could have been, with the excision of about twenty minutes of scenes (and not only the ones with Sean Bean searching), the clear king of video game adaptations. Christophe Gans provides some damn fine visuals, and particularly the ones from Silent Hill itself are delicacies that can be savored endlessly. The motion and music tracks are also very enjoyable. In contrast, he utterly fails in the dramatic construction of the story, which is stacked together with overly verbose dialogue, causing the film to degrade into B-movie waters at times. Fortunately, the falling ash, the marching undead, the alarm siren, and Radha Mitchell's performance are so evocative and suggestive and haunting that it is actually possible to forget all the negatives and state with equanimity: "Messieur Gans, le Pacte des loups, est-il pardonner."

The presence of Jessica Biel and Chris Evans in demanding character-driven roles is quite questionable, but they actually handled them quite well. Unfortunately, they somehow remained in the shadow of the excellent Jason Statham, who once again shows doses of incredible charisma, and his colorful depiction of a visit to a sadomasochistic salon or a "lecture" on male erections are gems that call for a real actor, which Jason undoubtedly is. Unfortunately, debut director Hunter Harris has treated the whole affair as a purely highbrow affair (the luxury apartments, expensive clothes, lots of alcohol and high quality cocaine), which gives the film a somewhat snobbish feel and in many ways makes it seem like an unnecessary pose. It is as if the story of the end of a great love affair (full of sex, parties, pseudo-sophisticated debates and subsequent quarrels) doesn't even belong there, and assuming that nothing is actually resolved and the ending is up to standards, it is more or less a (non)bland romance.

"Sometimes I feel stupid babbling about my little problems while children are starving in the world." Steven Soderbergh pays close attention not so much to the sex itself, but rather the relationships associated with it. The four actors perform their roles as if they are experiencing the whole affair and do not notice Walt Lloyd's camera at all. The Golden Globe that Soderbergh took home for his screenplay is well deserved in this case, as the small-scale exploration of the mentality of people trying to break/resist/redeem themselves in a rollercoaster of infidelity, lies and therapeutic video sex talk is brilliant. This is thanks to the use of the static camera, carefully chosen editing, simple interiors, and unglamorous costumes. It's also pleasantly civil, making the line between film and everyday reality even thinner, and when one of the characters utters a line that gives you a sense of déjà vu from your own life, the emotional impact of the film becomes even more direct.