Marigold

A terrible concoction that primarily entertains through idiotic and amateurish flattering the poetics of soft erotic clips of silicone MTV artists. The action scenes are brilliant, and it seems that all the missing lines were used by the creators to wire the actors. I'm not well versed in the Bollywood menagerie, but Main Hoon Na is in a way amusing (wildness, awkwardness), and in a way annoying (Americanization of speech and image).

Trier's fascination with the surface may manifest itself unhealthily in this film, yet the processing of the deliberately clichéd and archaic romance got to me completely - a deep film regression into post-war Germany serves Trier primarily as a disillusioning metaphor for the destruction of human ideas and their constant abuse and butchery. Dirty, rusty and dilapidated scenery (often even theatrically exaggerated and deliberately styled to reveal its illusiveness) hosts Trier's withdrawn, yet extremely intense characters. Their confused efforts are covered by a captivating canvas, on which one again and again encounters the overwhelming force of history, rushing like a train along the tracks to the next point zero. Europe is a hypnotic film that uniquely captivated me with more so with its stylization than depth of thought. However, this does not detract whatsoever from its hideous beauty.

Very, very intoxicating. What surprised me the most was that not only the eyes and ears experience an orgasmic throw. Personally, I felt emotion over the love affair between an earthling and a blue huntress, which I did not feel in the slightest when watching Titanic. Avatar is not just dazzling... it is alive. The film may have too much of the classic narrative schemes, but it doesn't matter, because the mind walks the familiar path and sight and hearing fly in the unimagined. There are probably many people who will point out things like activism, or that it is cold. I didn't see any of that in Avatar. Instead, what I saw was very light and brilliantly crafted telling of a romantic fairy tale about beings bound to their planet. Together with Star Trek, this year's clear winner in the heaviest weight category. [85%] P.S. I just can’t keep my mouth shut... I have a question:"A strange mixture of Moore's environmentalism, Zeman's poetics and Vinnetou's naivety "cut" with the aesthetics of The Lord of the Rings - does that mean Miloš Zeman, who embraces trees?" I probably haven’t seen as much from Karel as I had hoped.

You're quite a guy, Roland. For my fifty, I enjoyed the Himalayas of royal entertainment. Several family action scenes also attack the master of spectacular idiocy Michael Bay, but best of all: Roland has learned to poke fun at himself. Whether it's the engagement of the bristled Cusack, the figure of the Russian oligarch (his "it´s Russian" aspires to be the line of the year), or small jokes with animals. At times, I felt like I was watching a parody of The Day After Tomorrow. Of course, to put it bluntly, 2012 is a typical Roland destructive exhibition, beautifully pointed out in the author's guileless optimism. The 3 hours flow by quickly, and during wooden conversations, hard-core fans of Emmerichisms will be satisfied in a solid state, the effects suggest that water is still not quite where it needs to be, and authentic digital will say that Roland wants to go with the times. He essentially does his own thing. I hate to say it: I used to like him because I was able to make fun of him, but now, after his best Hollywood film, which 2012 undoubtedly is, I simply like him. He is so beautifully and peculiarly PURELY... fill in the noun according to your opinion.

A very serious topic, but the processing is only about halfway there. Some of the scenes reveal Hřebejk as we knew him during the times Divided We Fall. Other (mainly family scenes) occasionally have a whiff of the effects of his recent entertainment money grabs. The introduction mainly consists of asexual awkwardness and strangely affected statements. Later on, a lot of fundamental questions arise, 50% of which the film capitalizes on. The conclusion is symptomatically stuck between and excellent suggestion and a literal pathos that is saved only by the excellent Huba. Violent sentence constructions sound smooth from his lips. Overall, I would rank Hřebejk's work in third place behind Protector and 3 Seasons in Hell. At the same time, given its current theme, Kawasaki's Rose should have been the best. For a film that opens one of the most burning topics of today, it talks more than it actually says. However, Jarchovský and Hřebejk deserve respect again after all these years – if only because they comprehensively describe the problem of informing on others. However, I wish their film would have provided as much suggestive purgatory as the German film The Lives of Others. These is always something to learn.

A beautiful period record, imbued with the Vláčil’s spirituality of the rugged land of God. Špáta was clearly engrossed in the spirituality of Ireland and was able to create a visually captivating testimony that does not follow the hunt for "tourist gems", but rather attempts to transmit strange vibrations. In my eyes, he is doing it absolutely perfectly – the conclusion connected with the recitation of Yeats's poem absolutely got to me. The creator's fantastic talent for getting amongst ordinary people with a camera is still quite astonishing.

The first thing is that it does not arouse loud laughter through its awkwardness like the biggest atrocities this year. The other thing is that there is perhaps no single positive aspect besides the demanding Landovský. Amateur, wooden, arrhythmic and made for TV through and through. The topic is interesting, but the high school elaboration brings it to its knees. If you want something similar, but three levels better, go to the theater to see Uhde's Miracle in the Black House. That’s where Lenka Kny should have learned how to build a story about a family secret. This mixture of strange dialogues, emaciated characters and convulsive lyricism does not deserve attention. Definitely not at a time when films like Protector or 3 Seasons in Hell are being made.

It is quite reminiscent of Forman's first films, with that strangely misused rhythm and the hopeless dreaming of young people about things that are small, yet unattainable. Some of the passages in the contemporary context are shocking given their openness. Špáta reveals a somewhat rotting youth, from which the collective belief in a better tomorrow has disappeared, but it has not yet been replaced by anything but beer, smokey cinemas, motorcycles and nickel-and-dime phrases about happiness.

It really inspires respect when someone fails to make use of a high budget, a good story and an excellent cast. But Weitz is like a landowner's vain son, scattering his father's millions with girls of poor repute. The shady visual stinks of plastic and crayons, the pace of the film is terribly unbalanced and is constantly knee-deep in explanatory notes, and the acting stars are killed by failed directing. Yes, the kids are cute (like from a chocolate commercial), Kidman has charm (kind of like 150 similar sweet witches), the appearances by a bearded Bond and the cheerful cowboy from The Big Lebowski makes one happy, but solely because these guys have charisma regardless of the botched project. Weitz is reminiscent of a ninny who peeked at Harry Potter and The Lord of the Rings before filming and then tried to do something similar. But this is a very poor substitute, given that there is nothing interesting in the entire film except digital messiness. Perhaps only occasional stirrings of sympathy for familiar voices and faces. Don't give this guy big budgets anymore - he's not even able to look after his own domain: dialogues and directing characters.

Suggestive, raw, directly made to fit and without attempting to evaluate the situation in any way. It evaluates itself best. And an excellent musical component. It’s no wonder that the creator paid with blood – the degree of closeness to Mary's life is deadly. Highly recommended particularly to those who have at least a basic knowledge. Highly recommended to combine with Fukunaga's Sin Nombre.