Matty

In addition to a portion of hate, this review contains SPOILERS. The most notable thing remembered the day after viewing: Ryan Gosling had a really cool coat; I wouldn’t mind having one for myself in the winter. In the context of current Hollywood production, Blade Runner 2049 is indisputably an unusual film (in a way similar to Spectre). The characters, ideas and atmosphere are more important for it than the plot. The main protagonist does not play such an important role in the story as he (and we along with him) has long believed, which reinforces the dominant feeling of existential angst that comes from the impossibility of holding one’s fate firmly in one’s own hands. Most of the scenes begin a bit early and end a little later than is necessary to convey the essential information. Other scenes are of negligible importance to the story and serve mainly to evoke a specific atmosphere or to fill out the fictional world. (The rhythmising of the narrative by means of the deaths of the female characters can also be considered an original idea; in the final act, one dies every ten minutes, which is more indicative of the screenwriters’ lack of feeling than of their storytelling abilities.) The problem is that all of this is held together by a stylistically dull (the only interesting scene is the one in the bar in which Ford slaps Gosling) and straightforward melodramatic story about a son looking for his father (with the help of a wooden horse) and a father looking for his daughter (the final sign of class revolution, corresponding in its simplicity to a young adult novel that is better left unmentioned), and the whole film is basically much more predictable, literal and generic than it thinks it is and its pompous treatment would suggest (see the poster for the most essential revelation). Like the rest of Villeneuve’s work, Blade Runner 2049 confirms that a film with actors who spend the entire time acting as if someone has taken their favourite toy away from them (which is not too far from the truth in the case of Gosling’s character) and filmed in long shots accompanied by atmospheric background music will seem serious and important, but only on the surface. Whereas Scott’s film was thought-provoking with its abundance of things left unsaid, in this new treatment, the characters take care of all the philosophising for the viewer, expressing themselves in stilted, monosyllabic sentences. We can’t help but marvel at how beautifully the whole thing is designed (the sound design, at least, is worthy of an Oscar), but a coffee-table book with photos of the artwork would serve the purpose just as well as a nearly three-hour movie. I’m quite worried that Villeneuve’s Dune will be the same thing in pale blue (or orange). 65%.

In recent years, Alexander Payne has been filming the same story about aging white men who discover rather too late that they have wasted most of their lives and so they set out to find something that gives their empty lives meaning. Set in a world where people can be shrunk down to roughly six inches in order to improve their lives and save the planet, Downsizing is basically no exception; it just has a more ambitious scope and, in addition to the crisis of the individual, attempts to also address the crisis of western society, or rather the whole world, to which Payne adapted the genre and narrative structure. ___ At the beginning, the film switches from an individual point of view to a global perspective and subsequently applies the same technique to Damon’s physiotherapist character, who finds the solution to his problems by becoming more interested in the world around him so that he comes to the conclusion that it is necessary to start with smaller goals (i.e. local, not global). The core of the film comprising a bitter comedy that questions faith in the American dream and never-ending American prosperity is supplemented with a sci-fi satire and (melo)drama with a relatively explicit political-environmental message. Sometimes I wasn’t sure if a scene was supposed to come across as sardonic (because a character says something terribly kitschy and literal and Christoph Waltz smiles like a simpleton) or touching. ___ A bigger problem is the fact that Payne and co-writer Jim Taylor are at times unable to decide whether they are more interested in the characters or in the downsized world they invented for them and whose laws we are now discovering together with the protagonists. The whole idea of downsizing seemed to me like a gimmick serving more or less only as scathing commentary on what people are willing to go through to improve their social status. At its core, this is a variation of a well-known Payne story that could happen even in the real world. I see the sci-fi level mainly as a way to facilitate the work and to more quickly confront the characters with the dilemmas that the screenplay is intended to address. __ The resulting hybrid holds together primarily thanks to Matt Damon, who is just as convincing as a paunchy forty-something with mild depression as he is as secret agent with lethal skills. The genre transformations that the film undergoes partly reflect the development of his character, toward whom Payne is far too indulgent in comparison with his earlier films (often at the expense of stereotyped female characters). ___ In many respects, Downsizing is a rather problematic film and definitely not perfect, but it clearly made an impression on me. And perhaps the real reason I feel the need to defend it instead of maligning it is the laughing Christoph Waltz as a Serbian smuggler named Dusan Mirkovic, who is ably supported Udo Kier. 75%

Though Nolan’s previous films were more refined in terms of narrative and intellectually more ambitious, their ostentatious structure often overshadowed emotion. Dunkirk, which stays more grounded in a number of respects, is his most functional prototype of the epic movie that Hollywood currently needs, a major film that you will want to see not only in a technically well-equipped cinema (preferably IMAX), but also repeatedly. Thanks to Nolan’s focused direction, everything in the film is subordinated to the maximum sensory experience, the intensity of which rises with each viewing, as you become better oriented in the temporal relationships between the individual storylines and can experience more while working less on solving the narratological puzzle. Dunkirk is intoxicating, dizzying and unrelenting in its intensity from start to finish. (Viewed three times in the cinema, of which IMAX twice.) 90%

A Fantastic Woman begins where most melodramas end – with the death of one of the partners. For Marina, Orlando’s death initiates a multi-phase process of defending her own identity. In front of the doctor, the police investigator, and members of Orlando’s family, she must defend everything that shapes her self – her name, her body, her voice. Almost no one is interested in what Marina wants. No one asks how she feels. Others see her not as an equal, but as an anomaly, a threat to the status quo. Each of the characters who judge Marina also represents a certain institution, by means of the which the story of one farewell takes on a political dimension. Marina is not defending only her right to live a full life. She represents everyone who doesn’t seem sufficiently normal to people like Orlando's ex-wife. ___ Lelio bases the narrative more on parallels and variations than on a causal chain of events and plot twists. We perceive Marina’s nudity during her lovemaking with Orlando differently than during the compiling of police documentation or the sauna scene. When she embraces an unknown man in a nightclub, the moment lacks the warmth of her earlier dance with Orlando shot with by a similar camera approach. The protagonist’s search for a strong voice is motivated not only by her desire for equality, but also by her dream of a singing career. Lelio’s directorial skill is perhaps even more evident in the natural blending of the individual and emancipatory stories than in the scenes where he abandons the dominant realistic style and allows the protagonist at least an imaginary escape into a world where she can be herself. ___ A Fantastic Woman is one of those films in which every shot excels by being well thought out. The colours, the framing and the objects in the mise-en-scène bear meanings and provide commentary on the life situation in which the characters find themselves. For example, Marina wears a necklace in the shape of a semicircle through most of the film. When she realises that she cannot base her identity on the absence or presence of a compatible other half, she replaces the half-circle with a key. It’s not the most subtle metaphor for finding the key to one’s soul, but Lelio isn’t going for subtlety. Like the main female character, his bold film, precise in its details and uplifting in the end, does not conceal anything and is not afraid to meet the audience halfway. At the same time, it doesn’t pander or beg for sympathy. Furthermore, it doesn’t force you to accept Marina in all her diversity. The final realisation that you would have liked to spend a lot more time with this fantastic woman is thus all the more valuable. 90%

The problem with Fifty Shades Darker is not that it doesn’t know when to end, but that it never properly starts. An essential tenet of screenwriting is that without conflict, there is no drama. Niall Leonard is apparently unaware of this. The popular statement that “nothing happens in it” applies to such an extent to few other films. Any attempt at suspense or plot twists thus comes across as unintentional comedy because of its lack of substance. Both of the protagonists do basically the same things that they did in the first instalment, though one would think that this time it is a voluntary decision on Ana’s part (she didn't know before that sex doesn’t have to be painful), which is only half true (when, for example, she tells her partner what to do to her). Grey continues to act like a faithless, possessive emotional manipulator who again lays out the rules of the game and doesn’t give much choice to his ingenuous partner, who likes to be bought a big bouquet of roses, a set of Apple products and luxury lingerie. As a result, moments that should seem romantic are actually rather creepy, because we don’t see any sincere feelings behind them. It’s also quite difficult to sympathise with the female protagonist, who has Ben Wa balls inserted into her vagina and only then asks what they are for. The adjective “vanilla” applies less to the central couple’s relationship than to the film as a whole, in which the unfortunate lack of knowing winks at the viewer prevents it from being an expression of self-reflection or an act of subversion (which, I'm afraid, should not have been a scene like something out of Magic Mike). Though the narrative of the first instalment was marked by a similar ponderousness, I found it generally thought-provoking on a deeper level of meaning. The second film is just a sequence of pretty but completely hollow shots that barely hold together (on the other hand, it’s possible that I’m just too annoyed by the film to give it any further thought). It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a similarly arrogant wager on the certainty that the target audience, longing to see a bit of harmless “kinky fuckery”, will come to the cinema anyway. 30%

First Reformed is a return to Bresson not only by thematicising personal responsibility for the state of the world (the basic outline of the plot is essentially Diary of a Country Priest, while the ecological line is reminiscent of Bresson’s sceptical later films), but also in its rigorous minimalistic style. The academic format, almost monochromatic picture (Schrader originally wanted to shoot in black-and-white), restrained acting, repetitive editing techniques (each disturbance tells us something important or redirects our attention) and composition (transitioning from symmetrical, after the protagonist begins have doubts, to asymmetrical). Only the camera moves exceptionally. Though First Reformed is a serious and slow film of extraordinary formal rigidity, it does not come across as ponderous thanks to its thriller framework and the raising of questions that are relevant to the period (without having a critical tone along the lines of “Old Man Yells at Cloud”). Even though the film has an “old-fashioned” confessional nature, an inspiring tension arises between the diary-style voice-over and what we see. Toller is constantly waging a battle between his thoughts and that which he can express out loud in his position. While writing in his diary, he promises that he will not conceal or omit anything, but he soon rather prefers to destroy certain diary entries. The content of others (the last entries) is hidden from us for a change. As a priest, Toller has a certain social role. He serves others and as such feels responsible for the state of the world and slips into disillusionment and alcoholism because he is not able to change anything. He is roused from his passivity only by meeting a man who does not want to bring a child into the world because of environmental destruction. By presenting the dilemma between private thoughts and public actions, First Reformed differs from Taxi Driver, Schrader’s previous drama about the suffering of a man disgusted by society, from which he openly quotes at least during a drive at night. In a fascinating way, Schrader’s screenplay and Hawke's focused acting express Toller’s slow transformation, which is simultaneously a descent into darkness and an ascent into the higher realms of being (transcendence). At the beginning, he advises Michael to live for that which transcends man, but at the end he realises the inadequacy of the fact that the church deals with spiritual matters and the afterlife instead of the problems of the present. He finds inner peace only after taking a decision on how he will respond to global warming, a loss of interest in religion (his sermons are usually attended by approximately five people; the church serves rather as a souvenir shop) and the radicalisation of young people. For the first time, he does not spend the evening alone with a glass of whiskey, but in a restaurant, where he eats fish. At the same time, a conversation with Michael raises the central idea of life as a search for a balance between despair and hope. Michael at first embodies despair, Toller hope. Later, their positions become complicated. The ambiguous (or dual) ending offers both despair and hope. It shares enough for the film to be satisfactorily concluded, but not so much that you won’t spend a few days thinking about what exactly Schrader is saying in one of his best films, which can be viewed as the stylistic and thematic peak of his work to date. 90%

Without the participation of personalities such as Spielberg, del Toro and Streep (who reads the commentary), this look at the Second World War through the eyes of five famous Hollywood directors would easily fit in with the dozens of other war documentaries for military enthusiasts that some television channels put on their broadcast schedules with iron regularity. Bouzereau chose the most ordinary form of exposition – talking heads, archival footage, excerpts from scripted films, more talking heads, animated maps, and so on. Therefore, the content rather than the form is worthy of attention. Paradoxically, the series would have benefited if the filmmakers had adhered to a more factually dense book with greater regard for context as the source material and not tried to give the project greater prestige by attaching famous names to it (the directors involved in the documentary are connected with the directors being discussed only because they feel respect for them, not because, for example, they knew them personally – therefore, I would rather understand, for example, the presence of Peter Bogdanovich, who interviewed Ford). Though the gentlemen speak nicely about their filmmaking role models, they don’t say much of value in the end and their words of almost uncritical admiration only needlessly take up space that could have been given to something more revealing. Unsurprisingly, their colleagues who experienced the war at first hand get much more to the point in the earlier interviews. A fascinating aspect is, for example, the account of the formulation of the Why We Fight concept by Frank Capra himself, whose frustration stemming from the pinnacle of German propaganda (Triumph of the Will) led him to the idea of using that same sort of propaganda, but with a different intention. Unfortunately, Five Came Back wants to tell not only the story of how documentaries with artistic ambitions were made during the war (and subsequently used by the government for propaganda purposes), but also about the war itself, so it offers a very simple retelling of the history learned in school. The same “kitchen sink” approach characterises the whole series, which tries to cover a large number of topics, thus leaving no time to discuss at least some of them in greater depth. The view of film propaganda presented here is driven mainly by the effort to interest viewers and spur their admiration for the heroism of Capra, Ford, Huston, Stevens and Wyler, rather than to prompt them to ask more complicated questions (basically, we are led to the idea that German propaganda was bad and American propaganda, often working with similar racial and national stereotypes, was good). Though, thanks mainly to the unique footage from battlefields, Five Came Back is not a failure, it is certainly a missed opportunity. 75%

Good Time is a much grittier and sweatier bit of neo(n)-noir than Drive, in terms of both style and digressive narrative. Instead of a straightforward journey from point A to point B, it offers unnecessary detours and dead ends. Good Time comes close to being a pure genre movie only during the opening bank heist, after which everything goes downhill in a way that other heist movies don't prepare you for. Connie doesn’t have a plan. He improvises based on who/what gets in his way. One half-baked (and sometimes very funny due to its idiocy) decision is followed by another. The film also gives the impression that it was made “on the fly”, but it holds together thanks to good rhythmic structure (alternating between quiet scenes without music and dynamic passages) and recurring motifs (Connie is convinced that he was a dog in a previous life, which explains why he and a four-legged friend get along so well later). Furthermore, the protagonist’s efforts to save his brother from going to prison are used systematically to portray the life of the New York underclass, and this portrait of people with no money, no ambition and no hope for a better future, whose drinking and drug use are occasionally supplemented with police brutality, is thus as important as the melodramatic story of self-destructive brotherly love (which makes the film reminiscent of early-period Scorsese). Together with an edgy, highly visceral thriller (shot almost exclusively in close-ups without establishing shots), we get a social drama in neon colours and with electronic music (which, apart from arcade video games, reminded me of the first Terminator) in one surprisingly compact package. What is certain is that you will not experience a similarly unpredictable and comparably intense film in the cinema any time soon. 85%

“You're like Mary Poppins.” Especially during the middle part, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 is more soap opera than space opera, but after the first film, which ended with the founding of the “family”, the shift to family values seems to me like a logical development. In fact, the filmmakers laid the groundwork for the emotionally powerful climax and, sooner or later, most of the motifs that seemingly hold back the narrative are meaningfully brought into play (we know in advance, for example, that little Groot really should not be entrusted with important tasks). At the same time, the narrative of disgruntled parents (both real and surrogate) and unhappy children is in line with the nostalgic tone of the film, which seeks (and finds) its true quality through songs and pop-culture references to the past (just like numerous contemporary Hollywood films enchanted by the 1980s aesthetic). The modern and egotistical treatment à la Minecraft (create your own world) doesn’t work. The search for a place where you will feel good (in the end, of course, it turns out that it’s not the place that matters, but the people) forms the main storyline of the outwardly episodic and, compared to the first instalment (where everything was held together by a single MacGuffin), rather tight narrative. For example, the organisation of the plot through the use of songs from Peter’s cassette tape, or the possibility/impossibility of listening to them, works better. Of course, the film is most entertaining when it doesn’t take itself seriously and makes its disdain for the conventions of superhero mega-films ostentatiously clear to us (the opening action sequence, when we don’t actually see the action, is the funniest one in the whole film). Gunn again tries out ways to approach a massive action scene without it being confusing. He had a somewhat bigger budget to accomplish that, so he could have dispensed with even more (several scenes overtly reference old video games – Space Invaders, Galaga, Pac-Man – and there’s a space variation on the famous air-raid scene from North by Northwest, and a cameo from David Hasselhoff and an allusion to Mary Poppins are incorporated into the epic action climax). Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 is a high-octane summer blockbuster that, thanks to its action sequences, soundtrack and inimitable heroes, retains enough personality to make it stand out among the many, many other comic-book movies and make you forgive it for its greater predictability and occasional loss of pace. 80%

This likable, silly guilty pleasure ranks among the Blumhouse’s best (over)productions. The film proves that it’s hard to keep a straight face with a time-loop narrative, even (and perhaps especially) in the case of a slasher flick whose repetitiveness turns Happy Death Day on its head. Death is followed by a do-over and a new start, so we’re entertained by the protagonist’s (the great Jessica Rothe) endless dying instead of fearing for her (though that comes up a few times, but it’s really not the main point of the film, or rather I wouldn’t blame it for not making you fearful enough). Thanks to that, the classic “whodunit” formula plays first fiddle together with the relationships between the characters and the transformation of the protagonist from being terribly oblivious into a rather fine girl (so you can see the deep message in that – when confronted with one’s own mortality, one starts to behave sensibly). In the end, Happy Death Day is pretty much a high-school comedy in which the protagonist dies a few times on the way to finding love and self-confidence. Though the story outwardly starts from the beginning, the film holds together excellently thanks to its adherence to the classic narrative structure. Each successive variant is a response to those that came before it, we learn new information (or rather individual suspects are eliminated), the protagonist undergoes a transformation, thus giving the impression of smooth development. At the moment when the formula could become boring, a change occurs that reflects the culmination of Tree's transformation from prey to hunter. Yes, it’s a goof that doesn’t take itself seriously and quickly fades from memory, but it is definitely not a dumb movie. 70%