Ediebalboa

A Spanish-language series, a South American production with no stars... not long ago, you would have laughed at the idea. Fortunately, miracles have been happening on TV in recent years, and Narcos is another one of them, and the boundary between film and series has been crossed even south of Hollywood. Just think of the best crime-drama series of recent years and enhance it with the fact that this time it’s not fiction but the ruthless Colombian history, and very objectively depicted at that. You won't see the glorification of the Americans or the Colombians who went for the narco-baron's throat. In short, José Padilha and co. have portrayed Escobar's life journey in a way that would make an expert on the ups and downs of great men – Martin Scorsese – proud.

I don’t think it’s fair to criticice the third series of Narcos for not being what it once was. The folks from Cali weren’t the kind of psychos who would shoot down cops on sight, their strength, instead, lay in discipline, secrecy and cooperation with the highest heads in the government, which ultimately made them far more powerful than "El Patrón" ever was. The journey to eliminate them may be different than previous time, but it’s not boring. The four bosses of different personalities and skills steal all the space for themselves and zigzag in front of justice as each of them owns it. And the bizarre accounts of how far the Colombian narco-barons would go to achieve their goals is not missing this time either.

A woman shouting in a pub, a black cat crossing the road, an electric fence with bursting discharges, a stray poet walking along the cliffs and successfully creating new enemies... I don't know what else to write about this piece. Somewhere in the middle of it, reason will impart that if art can be described in words, it is no longer art. Okay, then this is indeed art, good work, assignment accomplished, except that I'm certainly not one of the piddling few viewers who can tune in or enjoy it in any way.

Hurrah! For once, we have a documentary that was not made as a posthumous tribute to the deceased or as a tribute to those who were neglected during their lives. Supersonic is a probe into the years when saying anything about anything in music or anywhere else didn't automatically mean finality. And those who provide the narration stick to it to this day, which is undoubtedly the film’s greatest asset. To have the story of the band told by Liam and Noel themselves, and then by family members and friends, that’s priceless. There’s also the fact that, together with the home videos, it is not disappointing fun, thanks to their insights you will learn much more about what it was like to be Oasis than you will ever read from the internet. It's just rock 'n' roll.

Passengers is a good film. A pleasant ride through the universe with a likeable couple, accompanied by calm music and nice visuals, which you will like to come back to from time to time. Morten Tyldum did a good job, and that’s it. The Norwegian director clearly has his qualities, but he lacks any greater cinematic ambition to push the envelope a bit more. As a result, the love plot doesn't work as well as it might in other hands (I'd rather not imagine what James Cameron could have done with the same material); it’s not worth talking about it. At least the ship includes the brilliant Michael Sheen, who never gives a half-assed performance.

I haven't seen a more black and white portrayal of the struggle for independence, but I have to admit that if the Americans (Germans) are making the British look like pigs, at least they are led by the biggest of them all, Jason Isaacs. He makes you keep your fingers crossed for Mel to chop up as many Redcoats as he can with his tomahawk. If, on top of that, he also has Ledger, Karyo, Cooper and Wilkinson, the result can’t be mediocre.

Unfortunately, I was expecting something a little different from Paul than the end result. I like the films with Pegg and Frost mainly because of their dry English humour, which was totally missing here. I think that if the third of the famous trio, Edgar Wright, had been put in charge of directing, the potential of the film would have been much better used. In fact, in the film, this duo only play second fiddle, because if anyone is pulling it off, it's the stoned alien Paul himself. His digital rendering and all his grimaces are absolutely flawless. The humour itself was not so accomplished, although there were some hints parodying well-known science fiction, but most of it was classically American humour. This is one of the reasons why the British actors did not have a chance to make a significant impact. Setting aside my expectations, I still got an above average comedy, but one that had for a lot more than that.

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.

Yorgos Lanthimos for the masses? They'll be showing it in theaters next month, and for my part, I'd love to see it. This Greek weirdo grows with each film he makes, proving that you can easily keep your distinctive signature while opening the gates of the mainstream. Art-wise, his latest release looks like an absolutely polished gem, helmed by Emma Stone, who here outdoes all her previous roles with her transformation from Bella as a toddler into a socially conscious woman. Whether it's her walk, her thoughts, her facial expressions or her physical quirks, she never leaves you in any doubt as to what mental stage she's in, and with only a wannabe adult Mark Ruffalo to back her up, there's no shortage of bizarre moments. At times the slapstick was traditionally too much for me from Yorgos, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't royally entertained for most of the running time.

The costumes are great, the acting is unsurprisingly good (Jacob Elordi as Elvis is a hit), but the story is sterile. I know this is a film by the already mature Sofia Coppola, but still… Maybe I was expecting a return to the slightly wilder waters of Marie Antoinette's time? If you have already seen a romance or two, the development of Priscilla's relationship with Elvis will be fairly predictable without ever having heard of them before. Therefore, you have no choice but to look at the nice interior design. Thankfully, there aren’t any downright deaf spots, but for this intimate film being just under two hours long, I didn't learn noticeably more than I did last year from Baz Luhrmann about Priscilla's relationship with the King of Rock 'n' Roll.