Ediebalboa

A heated tennis love story full of ego, unrequited love and the desire to win. Zendaya, as the tennis goddess who gets her hand pecked by Prince Charles of the Decreased Manners and his good second in command, is flawless. Ditto for the plot, where you don't know how it's all going to turn out until the last moment. I could have done with fewer slow-motion shots, they do make sense for filming a fast-paced sport like tennis to dramatize the hits, but by the end Luca Guadagnino uses them so much that it paradoxically dulls the climax of the story a bit. Yet the matches otherwise don't lack punch at all, as both the score and the soundtrack, as well as the flourishes with the camera during each exchange, give the film a liveliness that I've missed in tennis films for many years.

Auschwitz without the gunfire, the wailing and the dying. An original premise, where a lot can be invented, but where there is also a constant risk of boredom without emotions. Jonathan Glazer comes up with a version that in regular intervals shows ideas to illustrate a typical day of the head honcho of the concentration camp at the gates of Auschwitz. Although there are no downright deaf spots, as a whole, however, the film, in all its ordinariness, fails to be fully engrossing. All credit goes only to some excellent scenes, notably the Sunday fishing or the imprisonment in the greenhouse.

More entertaining than downright dramatically gripping. At times, it even reminded me of Yorgos Lanthimos' The Favourite. Ridley Scott, Joaquin Phoenix and Vanessa Kirby probably had great chemistry on set, but if history itself hadn’t aided David Scarpa, the “narrator”, I'm afraid even the aforementioned trio would have drowned in the waters of mediocrity. A big warning before the sequel to Gladiator, which will be purely out of his noggin. The best scenes are therefore more likely to be in the small acting details and when the maestro of historical tentpole movies starts painting epic scenes on the battlefield. Waterloo, Ridley-style, certainly didn't disappoint.

Agnieszka Holland brings an uncomfortably authentic testimony from the Polish-Belarusian border area that is certainly not afraid to dig into the local regimes. The Belarusian and now ex-Polish establishment have essentially written this immigrant nightmare themselves, so why beat around the bush unnecessarily? The “unwanted” go through hell in the border forests full of treacherous swamps, where logic and human rights prevail, and we have no choice but to rely only on the characters of individuals in the end. Perhaps I'd cut back a bit on the narrative lines, but I get it. The goal was to capture the situation comprehensively, not in one big dramatic story. And in the hands of an experienced director, it succeeded.

“Worse than starving is having food just for daily fuel without knowing properly what you're eating.” Dodin's friends produce a lot of morsels of wisdom while feasting, and this could easily be another. You won't find any pressurized Boiling Point in late 19th century France, and the masterfully shot first 20 minutes are proof of that. The steam evaporating, the sizzle of the fat oozing out, the pots slowly bubbling and inside them dozens of organic ingredients you could only dream of when shopping in a supermarket. To make all that whirring or rustling stand out, the film also lacks any music. On the cooking and gourmet side, it’s pure masturbation. What is surprising, however, is that even the romantic line in the background of this gastro-paradise does not lag behind the cooking. The central couple in the autumn of their lives manage to sell emotions in the kitchen as well as in the bedroom. In short, Anh Hung Tran has sent out into the world the most French film "from the good old France" in years, and one where you really should have your mind made up about where you're going to eat after the credits roll.

Who would have thought that one of the coolest sci-fi movies of recent years would be brought to animated form by the French? Mars Express works proficiently on all levels. As science fiction it has a plethora of ideas in a detailed world, as a crime drama it has a clever plot full of thoughtful twists, and as a futuristic social drama it makes us wonder if robots are necessarily the worst thing that will one day befall us. Just add a few extra minutes and it would be perfect. The film is so rich in thought and plot that it deserves to have them rather than whizzing through everything at TGV speed.

Johannes goes to the Alps for a congress of highly intelligent people, but things start happening that even his head can't comprehend. Unfortunately, mine doesn't either, because I started to get lost in the snowy landscape from the second half onwards. Still, you can't deny that Timm Kröger has managed to make a solid retro-noir for our times, with a properly dense atmosphere, a period soundtrack, distinctive actors and carefully built tension. Only the script would need better coaching for next time.

This poetic glimpse into the daily life of a Tokyo toilet cleaner flows like a documentary at first, but as the runtime progresses, plot lines enter the picture. The complicated family relationships are definitely more interesting in this case than the hysterical bachelor of Japan's Generation Z. As the storyline grew, I felt like Wenders was promising even greater things, only they never come. Everything extraordinary gradually fizzles out into the ether and all that's left is another routine day. Immediately after the credits, I had a slight problem with this, but after more than a week, I'm more forgiving. Not every drama needs to have an immediate denouement when it comes to everyday life. And that's what Perfect Days presents in textbook fashion.

A well-crafted biographical documentary that draws on the rich life of Joan Baez. There is a wealth of material on this extraordinary woman who was friends with Martin Luther King or was at the beginning of Bob Dylan’s career. With a little exaggeration, you might even say that you could not burn yourself with an adequate selection of sections of her life. Joan herself was excessively candid during the filming because, as she sensibly remarked in a post-screening interview, she doesn't have that much time left between us, so there's no need to hide her skeletons in the closet. For this reason, the documentary comes across not as a mere compilation of facts but as a much more personal confession, perhaps even psychotherapy, with a number of admissions, including her complicated relationship with her seemingly idyllic father.

A Japanese company wants to build a glamping centre in the countryside and the old-timers should just nod in agreement, because what more could you want than an influx of capital and Tokyo tourists. Wrong. The locals hold their own values, which are hard to grasp for city folk who have never touched an axe in their lives. Meanwhile, the corporate negotiators are no capitalist thieves (compared to, say, Europa), they just live, and even grew up, in a world far removed from that of the village. The cards are therefore dealt very promisingly, and Hamaguchi is not afraid to add his unique imprint to the mix. Normally I'm not a fan of long, wannabe artistic static shots, but here the thoughtful dosage of pacing and editing is crucial to portraying the contrast between the city and the countryside. Similarly, many of the lengthy passages from the opening only begin to take on significance as the film progresses. Indeed, as an actor here you really have to feel both the people and the natural elements. The whole thing creates an almost magical genius loci, where you're not sure if the locals' respect for nature is a bit irrational, or if it's justified and there's a punishment for not respecting it. By the end of the film, you'll have to find your own answer, but being there is definitely fascinating.