Matty

Director Bing Liu spent twelve years filming two of his friends from the skateboarding community as they grew up and attempted to come to grips with roles for which they were not prepared. For Zack, a life test comes in the form of the birth of his son. Keire, six years younger, is forced to take on a more responsible attitude following the death of his father. In parallel with the trajectories of their lives, we see the transformation of their relationship with the filmmaker, whose own family history has an impact on the shooting process. Despite the many intoxicating intermezzos in which the protagonists indulge in skateboarding, this bumpy ride is not a film about skateboarding, but primarily about the effort to overcome economic and social constraints and to enter adulthood as a self-confident and independent person who will not be limited by his class, family relationships or race. Minding the Gap is an intimate, intelligently constructed film that retains an element of lightness despite the gravity of the topics that it addresses. 90%

If you want to tell about the life experience of a closeted high-school student, you should take care to ensure that half of the story does not focus on his straight friends, who are also better drawn (and played by more experienced actors). Love, Simon is a model gay romance for the white heterosexual audience (especially for all fag hags) dreaming of an ultra-tolerant world in which everyone can be themselves if they find the courage to do so. In the fictional world of the film, which is reminiscent of the social bubble in which many liberals live, homosexuality is not understood by only two dumber classmates, who are promptly admonished and do not cause any further trouble. Other manifestations of misunderstanding are not connected with who Simon is (with his identity), but with how he behaves (his character). The storyline with Martin serves as a contrived pretext for at least some sort of conflict in this fairy-tale-ishly non-confrontational and dramaturgically monotonous film. Most of the plot is based on the hard-to-accept premise that a young man shares the intimate details of his life with someone whom he does not know at all (and, despite that, with whom he is in love). More convincing is the second level of the story, which shows how, because of an unhealthy fixation on a person we mistakenly consider to be the only kindred spirit who understands us, we can lose the favour of many other people who actually care about us. Love, Simon is a welcome addition to the subgenre of high-school films for a broad audience, but in comparison with other teenage romances of recent years (Lady Bird, The Edge of Seventeen), let alone compared to more distinctive queer films (Call Me By Your Name, God’s Own Country), it is a matter of playing it safe with the rough edges ground down too far. 65%

SPOILERS AHEAD. I find it a bit paradoxical to blame Fallout for being so reminiscent of Rogue Nation. Isn’t a certain degree of similarity, the certainty that we more or less know what awaits us, the reason that we like movie franchises, whether it’s Bond films, Marvel movies or the Star Wars saga? Besides that, Fallout offers enough specific elements to keep it from being interchangeable with its predecessor and it continuously highlights a certain cyclical nature that Ethan Hunt encounters in his life. ___ Unlike the previous instalments, this one makes greater use of a subjective narrative (dreams, ideas) and more frequently brings up the protagonist’s past, which suddenly began to burden him (similar to Bond in Skyfall). His dilemma – whether to help one beloved person or to save millions – is manifested especially in the female characters (Julie, Ilsa, the French policewoman). The central conflict established by the first scene (including a copy of Homer’s Odyssey, in which the mission is given to Hunt) is based on a desire for harmony, accompanied by concerns that he will irreversibly disrupt it with his actions. In fact, he “only” seeks inner peace (similarly to Ilsa wanting to return home). ___ Two and a half hours of the movie are then filled with various complicated deferrals of this goal (toward which it is necessary to work through several constituent tasks), which at first seems to be within reach (trading in plutonium), but gradually becomes more distant the harder Hunt and his team try to achieve it (basically in accordance with one of the meanings of the subtitle, they fall ever deeper). Hunt unwittingly contributes to the implementation of the villain’s plan and thus to the realisation of his worst fear from the opening scene. ___ The constant uncovering of the identities of double and triple agents who plot against each other (of which we are sometimes aware and sometimes not) shows how difficult it is to recognise reality in an unstable postmodern world of simulacrums (see also the scene in which Benji guides Hunt through a 3D space according to a 2D map) and offers – above all – more and more pretexts for the spectacular action on which this franchise is based and to which the logic of everything else is subordinated. So, yeah, the villain has to leave London from the tower of the Tate Modern gallery, Hunt has to ride around the Arc de Triomphe at full speed in the wrong direction, and he has to skydive into Paris from seven kilometres up, because it looks fantastic and will boost your adrenaline level. Suspension of disbelief. Alfred Hitchcock. If you have a problem with that, you will find it excessive and improbable, any you will unfortunately not fully enjoy Fallout. ___ By giving us the dizzying feeling of straddling the boundary between life and death, Fallout is reminiscent of great grotesques like The General and Safety Last! (though Cruise bases his performances on speed and strength rather than physical acrobatics). With their rhythm, use of deadlines, inventive incorporation of Schifrin’s motif and the way everything smoothly fits together in the end, the action scenes are incredibly intoxicating, while also being sufficiently diverse in terms of vehicles, combat methods, multiple storylines running in parallel (in this regard, the final action scene is very Nolan-esque) and the extent of our awareness of what’s going on, which contributes to the fact that we often do not know with certainty whether we are seeing the fulfilment of a premeditated plan or improvisation. ___ Life supposedly flows in spirals and Fallout is structured accordingly, as it repeats situations that we saw in the first half of the film (a shootout in the London underworld is strikingly reminiscent of the handover in Berlin) or in previous instalments of the series with a slight alteration of forces, which the characters are aware of, knowingly winking at each other (and at us) and making fun of their (again) seemingly zero chance of success and survival. The episodic narrative, composed of several outstanding action sequences with their own patterns of development and breathtaking gradation, is again not only utilised, but also reflected. There is no way for anything to end except with a spectacular cliffhanger. ___ Sure, Fallout could have been shorter, less overloaded with plot twists and more focused on the action than on the characters, but in terms of the development of today's world and the Mission: Impossible franchise, I find its more pronounced melodramatic nature (which contributes significantly to the longer runtime) and greater prevalence of postmodern doubt about what is actually real to be a logical way to raise the stakes without resorting to excesses likes those put out by the creators of Fast & Furious. Of course, it can’t be ruled out that Hunt will race with tanks and submarines next time. He evidently still has the physique for that. 90%

“Of course it was wrong to want to change people, but what else could you possibly want to do with them?” Five episodes from the life of a narcissistic schizoid alcoholic with suicidal tendencies. With its relentless pace, large number of jump cuts, persistent inner dialogue, alteration of slow camera approaches and symmetrical compositions done with a roving hand-held camera, the first episode, mostly anchored in Melrose’s agitated mind, is reminiscent of an hour-long panic attack – “concentration like a flamethrower”, convulsions, tremors, suicidal thoughts. Melrose doesn't want to get sober and calm down, because he knows that he would fall into his damaged mind and get kicked around by traumatic childhood memories that hurt more than a burn or needle puncture and that are approximated by the outwardly light, but at its core horror-like, second episode (with his father as a dreaded monster), thus transforming the meaning of the first episode (we initially gleefully laugh at him and then we regret it). ___ Patrick is too honest with himself to be able to completely deny part of his self and pretend that nothing had happened to him (like the rest of the upper crust to which he belongs, at least based on his origin). Drugs and alcohol help to distract him from his thoughts and the voices in his head. ___ Melrose’s determination to take control over his own life, starting at the end of the first episode with the initial manifestation of years of supressed emotions, continues in the third episode, which at first is as apathetic, slow and humourless as a man kicking his addictions. The onslaught of emotions is strongest when Patrick is alone. On one hand, going out means seeing people who are just as unbearable as his father. On the other hand, the party to which he was invited primarily shows how the same disturbing patterns of upbringing are repeated in aristocratic families and the same humiliating rituals take precedence over human decency, which is something that Melrose will strive to avoid at all costs. The work culminates in one of the best-written, acted and rhythmised dialogue scenes that has ever appeared on the small screen. Melrose confides his darkest secret to a friend and expresses his desire to become part of the real world and to somehow be more beneficial now that he has more or less gotten clean. However, he worries that if he gets rid of his bitterness, resentment, sarcasm, snobbery and self-loathing, there may be nothing left. His friend suggests that he should try to fill his life with something more valuable, such as love and parenthood. ___ Again presented predominantly from Melrose’s point of view, the fourth episode shows, however, that even if you surround yourself with high-quality people, you will not necessarily begin to believe that you have any value yourself. Melrose strives to protect his kids from the family curse until he again sinks into depression and addiction. Though his son is not being abused, he finds himself in a similarly uncertain and stressful position as Patrick did at the same age. The final episode shows another cycle of Patrick’s debilitating struggle with himself and, at the same time, concludes one lifecycle, when Melrose buries his mother, who followed his father in death. His alternately growing and weakening belief that he can now keep himself upright on his own two feet is expressed by the alternation of two levels of the story, two motions (falling inward and moving forward). If he wants to succeed, he will have to give up not only drugs and alcohol, but also his dependency on his father, mother and everyone else who influenced him, and gain his independence from the idea of the kind of life he should lead and who he should be. Thanks to the precision, perspective and perceptiveness with which the series depicts his struggle marked by ups, downs and repetition, viewing all five episodes has something like a psychotherapeutic effect. Patrick Melrose is very entertaining, very dark and very powerful, making it the highlight of this year's live-action television production so far (and probably of Cumberbatch’s career).

“What's the point of a fucking window if you can’t jump out of it?” In a different mood, it is possible that I would be bothered by how much the whole thing is done for effect and that it is basically the “Quaalude scene” from The Wolf of Wall Street stretched out to an hour-long runtime, but with its darkness, nihilism and cynical humour, Melrose suited me to a tee and I can’t wait for the next episode. In addition to that, Cumberbatch is in top form, the style precisely corresponds to the protagonist’s level of sobriety and whatever is running through his head, the pace practically never lets up and the musical accompaniment comprises great songs like “Wild World” by Cat Stevens.

A postcard for people who lust after food porn. At the same time, the film idealises food in such a way that it can impress you with the detail of pork ribs and convince you that a soup prepared with love can bridge the gaps between cultures, nations and generations. The characters’ very kitschy, sentimental and psychological motives make for extremely simplistic, yet essentially pleasant pop – though perhaps a bit too pleasant, given the seriousness of the topic (Singaporeans’ hatred towards the Japanese because of the atrocities committed during the war). 55%

The best Easter movie. You won't find more Easter eggs anywhere else. In comparison with the book on which it is based, Ready Player One has more levels of meaning and a more concise narrative, and it makes more sense. The real and digital worlds are intertwined much more organically in the film than in the original work, which we become aware of thanks to the cuts from OASIS to Ohio at key moments of the narrative, and which Wade experiences with extraordinary intensity (astonishment, fear, love). The fluidity of the story is also aided by the smooth transitions between the two sub-worlds using sound bridges and compositionally similar shots. ___ Compared to the book, the film’s exposition is highly condensed, but we learn from Wade’s voiceover everything we need to know in order to understand the story (the message that people stopped solving problems and began pretending that they don’t exist is especially telling). We may not necessarily be interested in how OASIS works (or doesn’t work) in the rest of the world, because Wade, whose perspective the narrative adheres to at first, isn’t interested himself. We later set Wade aside a few times in favour of other characters, who are more multi-dimensional than in the book. ___ In order for the protagonist to stop seeing the search for the keys as entertainment and to start understanding its real consequences, a girl who has unsettled accounts with IOI is needed. Wade’s awakening occurs during a dance sequence, which may otherwise seem like a pointless diversion from the main story (however, i-R0k also reveals the true identity of Parzival). ___ Art3mis is not just a manic pixie dream girl and a prize to be won. The protagonist’s awakening depends on her. She is also the one who drags Parzival into reality, thanks to which we realise, much earlier than in the book (which moralises in an awkwardly appended epilogue), the conflict between the real and virtual worlds. The central idea better permeates the entire narrative and is excellently connected to the story of Halliday, who is also a much livelier character than in the original (for which, among other things, the phenomenal Mark Rylanek deserves credit). ___ The relationship with Halliday is even more important to the protagonist than his bond with Samantha. He accepted the genius inventor as his surrogate father, from whom he learns what is right and what is wrong in life. Like Spielberg’s other young protagonists (Elliot, Jim from Empire of the Sun, Frank Abagnale), he finds, thanks to someone else, a replacement for his dysfunctional/non-existent home, to which he cannot completely dedicate himself, because it simply isn’t real. ___ For many viewers, Spielberg himself is a similar father figure who creates worlds to which we can safely escape from incomprehensible reality. In Ready Player One, he offers us another such world, while warning us of the risk that it could completely (i.e. irreversibly) absorb us. At the same time, we should believe that one of the huge companies (Gregarious Simulation Systems), which is on Wade’s side, thinks about consumers, while the other (IOI) pursues only its own enrichment, in which lies one of the story’s main paradoxes. ___ For me, Ready Player One is primarily a movie about returns. Returning in time, returning home, returning from the virtual world to reality. In the first challenge, Parzival must shift into reverse; the second takes place within the space of a film about a man trapped in a time loop; to complete the third challenge, it is necessary to uncover the very first video-game Easter egg, thus revealing the creator’s name. The realisation that real people are behind the virtual world is the point of Halliday’s game. Only the person who knows the details of the creator’s life relating in a certain way to how he thinks (breaking the rules) or what he most regrets (the girl he didn't kiss, the friend he lost) can win. ___ Pop-culture references serve the narrative much better than in the book. This is not an autotelic service for nerds, though it is sometimes a bit unnecessarily pointed out to us that the motorcycle over there is from Akira. For example, as Wade’s race car in OASIS has a design similar to the DeLorean in Back to the Future (with accessories from Knight Rider’s KITT), we understand that he's a fan of Zemeckis’s sci-fi comedy and it thus makes sense when he purchases from a video-game store a “Zemeckis Cube”, which later helps him to escape from a difficult situation. Many of the songs refer to specific scenes from particular films (“In Your Eyes” from Say Anything…, “Also sprach Zarathustra” from 2001: A Space Odyssey), and if you’re in the picture, you will fully appreciate the extra layer that they add to the given moment of the film. Also, other products of the (predominantly) American entertainment industry not only serve as rewards for attentive viewers, but also convey the motifs that the film presents and help bring clarity to the story. ___ From a geek’s perspective, Ready Player One is visually, intertextually and technically so sophisticated that it touched me a few times and in the end I - at the same moment as Wade – even shed a tear (and I think that not being ashamed to admit something like that is the essence of geekdom). Even from a film critic’s perspective, I did not find any fundamental shortcomings in the film. Narratively, it is a brilliant affair without dead spots, the action scenes are extremely uncluttered (even in 3D), the story has many more layers than it may seem to a naive viewer... (though you don’t have to agree with its message like I do). In short, I don’t think that my almost uncritical enthusiasm derives only from the feeling that this is a film just for me (which is a feeling that millions of other viewers probably have). 90%

Even though Eeyore was my favourite nihilist before Bernard Black, I never became a member of the Winnie the Pooh fan club. Therefore, I was curious about Christopher Robin, a sort of sequel to the previous animated films, mainly because of the director and one of the screenwriters (mumblecore veteran Alex Ross Perry, whose influence is apparent especially in Eeyore’s heavy existential lines). ___ A total of five screenwriters alternated in and out of the project during its development, which may be the reason that the result seems so clumsy and disorderly, and that the film never gets a firm footing and does not work as family viewing, as Disney apparently intended. The story, which is about an overworked man focused on profit and performance who evidently suffers from PTSD due to the war and neglects his wife and daughter until he rediscovers his inner child thanks to a talking teddy bear (and a pig and tiger and donkey) or, rather, until he stops denying his existence and hiding the talking stuff animals from others, is mainly inconsistent. At times, it is basically a serious drama about an empty, bland existence, and at other times exaggerated slapstick (especially the scene with Gatiss, who is reminiscent of villainous capitalists from classic Hollywood movies). The style is predominantly very naturalistic, with desaturated colours, a hand-held camera lying alongside soldiers in the foxholes of World War II, and animated characters that look like actual soiled stuffed animals from the protagonist’s childhood. At still other times, however, its playfulness lends the film a touch of liberating magical realism á la Paddington (chasing Pooh around the station, the final pursuit). The rhythm of the narrative is similarly unbalanced, as it lacks momentum and a clear aim. The film is unable to decide whether Christopher’s priority should be his family life, his career or his relationship with Pooh, as if completely forgetting about one of these motifs for a moment and blindly following another instead of somehow cleverly combining all three. Some scenes take too long to get to the point (the fight with the Heffalump), while at other times a segment of the story explaining how a character gained certain information seems to be missing (for example, Madeline’s knowledge of the napping game). ___ The film is in large part too serious and sombre for children, and is even frightening during scenes from the fog-enshrouded Hundred Acre Wood (especially in combination with the red balloon, which is apparently intended as a reference to Albert Lamorisse’s film, but it’s impossible not to recall the psycho clown from It). For adults, the film is sloppy in dealing with the rules of the fictional world, unconvincing with the forced optimism of the conclusion and banal in its approach to psychology (the miraculous transformation of Robin’s thinking), relationships and corporate capitalism. ___ At a time when we need to more vigilantly watch where the current world is heading and act accordingly, the central idea that doing nothing and looking nostalgically to the past can improve our present and that our childhood misses us as much as we miss it is a bit off base (though fully in accordance with the constant churning-out of remakes of old films and the fetishisation of past decades, not to mention that the call to live in the present will certainly resonate strongly with today’s proponents of concepts such as mindfulness). Other films (such as Toy Story 3) have dealt with a similar idea more sensitively. But in the end, this idea was the main reason that Christopher Robin was made and more or less holds together. 60%

If I didn't have a weakness for Lisbeth Salander and Claire Foy (and the criminally underused Vicky Krieps), I would rate this film more harshly. I don’t mind that the filmmakers have definitively turned Lisbeth it into a comic book superheroine who treats wounds with superglue, snorts a crushed amphetamine tablet to get up, can move from place to place at lightning speed and needs less time to hack the NSA than to make coffee for an ordinary mortal (Larsson’s trilogy was already headed in this direction). The problem is how they slapdashedly modified the plot to be substantially more layered with multiple perspectives taking into account (and alternating with) the work upon which it is based and the manner of storytelling. Events are connected to each other in a terribly careless and repetitive way, based on the same pattern (someone tries to kidnap/kill someone, that person is captured/escapes and around we go again). Despite signs of psychologisation (Lisbeth’s trauma due to her sister’s betrayal), the characters behave as if they are in a run-of-the-mill action film and their foolish decisions are too frequently not fatal for them due only to fortunate coincidences and magically flawless timing. The visual style, derived from Scandinavian noir and punk as well as S&M aesthetics and merely copying Fincher and Alvarez much more than the slow revealing shots evoking unease and unpleasant feelings (such as the first one after the Bond-esque opening credits), uses fast, chaotic cutting that buries the entire atmosphere. The director is apparently most “at home” during scenes with elements of horror, which make up the only aspect that is not as painfully generic and interchangeable as the rest. I would be glad to see Claire Foy again in the role of Lisbeth Salander, but not in a film that most reminds me of the feminist answer to Crank. 55%

Koreeda further develops the theme of alternative family models that do not depend on blood relations, but rather on what is shared by those involved (he again works a lot with taste memory here) and whether they feel comfortable and safe together. At the same time, the film shows, but by no means excuses, the dubious foundations of some interpersonal ties. The members of the “family” are united not only by love, but also by financial dependency or a dark secret that is gradually revealed through well-thought-out dosing of information (there is thus a pseudo-detective storyline that keeps us in suspense until the end). Because the head says something different than the heart, there is no simple answer to the question of who should ideally stay with whom at the end of the film. Replacing exposition with the gradual revealing of the protagonists’ past and strengthening of the ties that unite them contributes to the variability of the relationships and forces us to constantly reassess our opinions of the individual characters, among whom Koreeda “democratically” divides attention. At the same time, we get an uncompromising cross-sectional sociological view of modern Japanese society, from teenagers who either prefer to go abroad or to receive money for “swinging their breasts” (and offering company to emotionally deprived young men), through the working class that has a form of certainty, to seniors killing time with gambling machines. At its core, Shoplifters is a rather simple drama that is dark but not completely hopeless, while also being complex in many respects. Like all of Koreeda's films, it is characterised by a slowly paced narrative (divided into several blocks divided by fade-outs), a jagged mise-en-scène and economical yet precise camerawork that involves no unnecessary movements and adapts its point of view to the individual characters according to the needs of the narrative. Though Shoplifters does not in any way manipulate you emotionally, it can, without applying any pressure, bring you to a point where all it takes is for one character to utter a single word and you will find yourself in tears. This is further proof of Koreeda’s unpretentious mastery of his craft. Though it is perhaps formally less inspiring than The Third Murder, more accessible to viewers than Nobody Knows and not as fragile as Still Walking, it is still one of the best-directed films I’ve seen this year. Twice so far, but I will definitely come back to it. 90%