Isherwood

Petr Kolečko is perfect at taking the superficial, chauvinistic, and sexist elements of contemporary society and pasting them into entertaining scenarios. Yet they must not be filmed by superficial directors, such as himself. The plot about the (non)merger of the beach volleyball duo is built so intricately and complexly that even Nolan looks on enviously. I was really embarrassed to be watching this at all because it's exactly one step ahead of entering the soft-porn genre, with the lure always being a woman's ass in a swimsuit that's supposed to end up in Jiří Langmajer’s bed, whose penis is the hard MacGuffin of Czech cinema. It's the kind of folksy fun that fills movie theaters, but at its core, it's exactly the kind of cheap schlock that has that polished glitz that can be seen through quickly, and you don't even have to have a gender studies degree to see it. I would have found this awkward at the age of 20 at the latest. Let alone now, when I'm three years younger than Kolečko. PS: That brilliant final speech by Vojtěch Dyk about burning wood is miles behind the rest of the film, as is the whole character of Hynek, who is one big running joke.

At times, I thought that it finally hit the bullseye, that the script effortlessly spills universal truths about the Czech nation, yet avoids groveling with a one-sided attack. Even Vyorálek paraphrases Commissioner Gordon with surprising grace. But as the culmination of ten episodes, it's shit. It didn't go anywhere, and while the point is great, it rests on a shaky nine episodes that deal with everything, but most often settle for cheap incorrectness that doesn't surpass the average troll on social media. The editing of the dialogue at the table was absolutely terrible.

It grabbed a lot of rhythm and the fully retarded and vulgar stylization subjectively started to function. But let's be honest, a static view of the Castle with additional voiceover as a replacement for what could be imagined in five other ways without having to be more creative than during an art lesson in elementary school is the essence of failure and (generally very) deserved hatred for this series - creative vagueness and laziness. That terrible unwillingness to go all the way, to be smart about things, and to hide creative shortcuts in cheap vulgarisms. Sorry guys, but that's not how it's done.

A collection of essential pearls inscribed in a random dialogue that resembles a standard self-important debate between two liberals on Facebook, who mutually boost their egos with occasional verbal jabs at a semi-literate fan of right-wing parties. If it weren't for the genius of Vyorálek, who sells it like a Vietnamese in a convenience store, I would probably perceive it as another Czech satirical fail, but curiosity won't allow me. PS: In an alternate world, people who write and produce things like this would be torn apart on all conceivable platforms.

A total rush. I needed to put my brain into standby mode. Instead, I let myself wallow for two hours in an absolutely uncompromising barrage of flashy visuals, at the heart of which flows an unspectacular story that showers nerd hearts with references, jokes, and winks, while never leaving the clueless non-comics reader behind. It stuffs into it a tangle of full-bodied and likable characters who can come for the pompous personal outputs and cut the cobwebs into the viewer's heart, which, in this case, was beating at about a hundred and fifty percent. That is because this is sheer filmmaking exhibitionism, into which someone has put an awful lot of money and even more creative freedom. Yet the result, although it overflows the usual rules and genre norms must satisfy, in the end, even the most conformist viewer, who in the end will find that Sony has bluntly swept away a decade of the Marvel Universe in 111 minutes.

Klusák is on top, this time also thanks to his progressive student Barbora Chalupová. I told myself that after crushing the moral cripple who has been prime minister for some time now, there is not really any room left to go anywhere, that there is no place to find stronger opponents, and the parody elegy about a bald, uncouth man who receives an educational soda in the middle of Auschwitz somehow confirmed this. But now comes this punch to the gut. To accuse the director of having an over-inflated ego at a time when Czech documentaries probably don’t have a stronger personality is more of a poor construct than a useful criticism. They could have sat in three little rooms instead of building three fakes in the middle of a hall, but if you have strong filmmaking ambitions, the question is not why, but how. And it serves a purpose. Even if you teach civics and computer science, when cybersecurity is on your mind, you know from hints what kids are looking at on the internet today, so you probably know what you'll be dealing with. But Caught in the Net goes far beyond the ordinary imagination. The concentrated moral bottom crammed into a hundred minutes, in which every excuse for a relieved laugh is accompanied by a feeling of inadequacy, will mix your feelings quite a bit. However, the dramatic arc works well, managing to encompass both the documentary process itself and the regular tension, which is almost unbearable when sitting down and drinking a lemonade. I was curious about the ending, the point, which must necessarily lead to education. However, the final interview describes all the dirt in three minutes without any hint of a moral extension. The subtitles, tears on the edge of my eyes, heavy legs, and an uncontrollable urge to be home immediately and hug my own child. And a double shot of alcohol. Nothing more important will pass through Czech movie theaters this year.

The visual mannerisms are so intense that I felt the urge to throw the TV out the window. But what can I say, Sorrentino may be a poser who is into colors and playing with the camera, but in the end, I gave in after half an hour of sintering and started to enjoy it in full. The drive of the last ten minutes is like it was made by Greengrass. I'm guessing very good...

The 4 billion acquisition must be great, but it's also the most expensive funeral in history for a pop culture icon who, in his eagerness to please everyone, has stagnated in place, and is pathetically floundering in the shit that zero dramaturgy and auteurist belligerence got him into. When I looked at my watch after an hour, the question of whether something was about to happen was inevitable. And then the floodgates of pathos, platitudes, and the easiest solutions were raised, where someone should have hit the table at the writing stage and shouted that nobody could take such a shit seriously. Instead, it ended up on the screen. Johnson may have disrespected the canon and boldly relativized all that this religion entails. Abrams respects nothing and the result is a ridiculous nothingness that lacks good characters and cool moments, making it look like a generic Marvel movie - obviously expensive, colorful, frilly - but lacking passion and any iconic monument for future generations. Burn in hell, Disney, and all of you who have anything to do with it!

Until Prague starts looking like the ugliest place in the world, which is thoroughly infested with secret police, it's fine. Then the big spy game starts, which consumes itself. I don't mind the unprofessional approach and the piling up of unanswered questions, what bothers me are the B-movie shortcuts and the absence of empathy toward any character. I understand the underlying motives that fight against social memory loss, but by the end of the unfounded six hours, I really didn't care anymore.

Watchmen: Legacy. Lindelof follows the only logical path, so he only remembers the original Watchmen and Minutemen and builds his own world, which inevitably triggers the ideological floodgates of the present, while managing to be fully modern, even strictly retro. That it conceptually feels like a new The Leftovers series isn't surprising, but what is surprising is the surrounding hate, which is so... cute in its reasoning. PS: The music takes it up at least two levels.