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Perhaps because the Pawnee Rangers annoy as many people as unconditionally love them, it cannot be described as anything other than essential. Such an achievement comes once in a television generation. Unlike other ensemble companions, it is not afraid of occasionally expanding or narrowing the main cast; on the contrary, thanks to such a change since the transition from the second to the third season, it becomes an inimitable gem out of a very pleasant spectacle. But from the very beginning (from the yes, in my case, disliked first season), it wins me over with one fundamental thing. Even though it initially seems impossible, there is no one extra in this office, no one extraneous, no one who bothers me, and yet surprisingly, at the same time no one outdoes any of the others. For a while, I like Andy the most, then Ben, then Ron, then Chris, and so on in a loop. Likewise, at the beginning, I thought there would be too many of Aziz Ansari's grimaces and affected expressions, but I soon looked forward to his next marketing idea or well-planned scheme. And those running gags (Ron's doors, Tom's smile, Leslie excessively pointing out Ann's "promiscuity", Ben's inability to understand local folk specifics), those unexpectedly emerging and returning supporting characters, I cheer joyfully at each of their cameos (Jean Ralphio, Mona Lisa, Tammy 2, Bobby Newport). Simply put, I don't know if I have ever been so disappointed that I missed catching a series while it was still airing. On the other hand, the feeling of having multiple seasons ahead and not being afraid of its cancellation every year also has its charm. I love my job, but I would head to this office immediately.

After my first viewing of Inception, I wrote about the film as a perfect toy for the enjoyment of its creator, but I was a decade ahead. It is Tenet that is a meticulously crafted construction set that works exactly as the author needs it to, right up to the last frame. This also means that Christopher Nolan himself plays with it the best and the audience can only watch over his shoulder, wondering how each mechanism works, thinking about how they wish they could play with it, too. He will probably allow them to, but only when they come to see it for the second or third time. I can't shake the feeling that with each new film, Nolan goes deeper into his mode of expression, not only in terms of the complexity of the screenplay, but also in relation to the viewer. With Inception, or even earlier with The Prestige, were able to present each twist or trick almost kindly and "narratively", even when it was a nerve-wracking twist. But in Interstellar, it became necessary to go more towards information, and in Tenet, you can only get answers through machine-gun dialogue or quick cuts. Despite the usual drawn-out running time, the film doesn't allow for a breather, and even in situations where the main characters rest or wait for something, more information, branching paths, or theories are thrust upon us, which could easily be a dead end – or conversely, the most crucial clue. This time, everything is subordinate to this approach, including the last vestiges of accommodating the viewer, the personalities of the characters (this time expressible without exception in two sentences) or visible emotions. Still, at the end, my heart jumped to unforeseen heights, and for that I am most grateful. For the fact that even though this latest Nolan film has surprisingly sharply divided the audience spectrum, it was worth every long minute to me, and its dirty and unusually aggressive world will thoroughly mature within me for a long time.

Hot Priest Is the New Black. A strange portrayal among morally conflicting characters, when I want the main heroine to get killed in direct proportion to how much I want the series never to end. Simply put, the more of a rogue the Fleabag is, the more I love her. The more trouble she causes, the more I want her to rise from her current mess, and when she ultimately gets more sensible at the right moment, you can't resist. Phoebe Waller-Bridge has burst onto the scene of contemporary screenwriting stars and I only hope she remains like this among them. Occasionally inconspicuous, occasionally brilliantly funny, and occasionally so innovative that I wanted to applaud. Because it's not enough to just break the fourth wall lightning fast, here the breaking itself gets broken over time and it creates such a heap of audience enthusiasm and jumps from one character to another in such a way that I almost didn't realize I had gone through the entire series in less than a day. Moreover, it doesn't have time to repeat itself on this level, and while the first season is more about humor, the second delivers character growth on all necessary sides and knows how to cut into audience emotions so vividly that I was left astonished. The only thing running through my mind was my wish for the central character to find success somewhere. With anything. With anyone. I really like that Phoebe herself knows that it's not possible to climb much higher from this qualitatively well-crafted mountain and she wrapped up the storyline ideally in most places. The struggle to maintain quality would be unnecessary and maybe even futile here. As a result, I have a strange warm feeling over the fact that no new episodes are planned. I give a farewell wave with tears in my eyes and a smile on my face.

The nightmare of all fans of any sports team. The idea of an endless series of unfortunate events, where for every positive occurrence five negative ones must inevitably follow, occasionally keeps all fans of round ball nonsense awake at night, whether their hearts belong to Liverpool, Slavia Prague, or SK Nový Knín. Or maybe Sunderland, who experiences such a nightmare by day and gradually falls from the most optimistic expectations about the course of the season to worries or even horror. Watching the frozen smile of the coach, manager, and the last Sunderland fan is just as heartbreaking as it is infinitely suspenseful and addictive. I like the dedication where even with a score of 0-3, the radio broadcasting live coverage is not turned off, and every week people head to the stadium just to leave home with a slap in the face. And although I don't like fans who almost cry with emotion at the beginning of the match because their favorites are playing, only to condemn everyone on and off the field one half later, here there are so many unpredictable mistakes, missteps, and falls that I stopped questioning these furious individuals. After all, even I couldn't believe that there were so many seemingly won (and ultimately safely lost) matches that perhaps only half of them fit into the final montage.

There is an unwritten rule: Whoever loves Liverpool FC also loves Steven Gerrard. I have been a fan of this team for almost twenty years and Stevie is for me the best player that has ever graced the football pitch. The devoted captain has always wanted to be exactly that, the leader of the team with the Liverbird emblem. Anyone who does not know him and happens to come across this documentary will be able to recognize his greatest desire and at the same time his greatest pain – the effort to bring the team from the city of The Beatles back to the top of English football. This mirage has driven him throughout his career, but whether it was the slightly better (deservedly dominant) United in the 2000s, the financially driven Chelsea from the east, or the controversial phenomenon from City in the past decade, there has always been one step missing, one point, one small twist. It is truly painful irony that the general public, especially the youngest generation, so often recalls this player, the master of igniting the team, the legend of long-range shots, the team's record holder in this or that, because of one unfortunate slip at that cursed moment when the Liverpool title seemed more within reach than ever. Thankfully, this never-ending regret, which will haunt him until the end of his life, is balanced in the documentary by moments of glory and much more deserving repetitions. For me, it was a sight seen a hundred times, a comeback in the Champions League final against AC Milan, initiated by Gerrard, or a shot from a respectable distance that miraculously saved the FA Cup already in the outstretched hands of West Ham. As a fan who followed the number 8 in the beginnings, at the peak, and in the bitter end of his red commitment, I was even surprised by a certain revelation in the documentary: how close he was to moving to Chelsea at one point. Domestic media reported on this possibility only as a potential sensation, but in England, it was almost a done deal, and even the television spoke of the current round of the Premier League as Gerrard's last one in the red jersey. However, he, the one who started the whole transfer saga, eventually backed out because he knew that even if the club sold him, even if the fans forgave him in time, he himself could never forgive himself. I loved that part of the story where the player was himself the biggest fan, one who would never go against his team and who chose to give up trophies, money, and eternal (or rather more eternal) glory. You'll never walk alone, Stevie.

On the deeper acceptance of self and the virtues of being different, but that difference doesn't have to be accepted only by the outside world, but primarily by oneself. I really like appropriately educational fairy tales, but this one seems to be aiming even higher. And even though the storytelling is interspersed with the most transparent family morals, I don't feel like they are extraneous in today's world. Moreover, this time Elsa and Anna even more than before are not just about breathtaking animation or perfect songs. It can make fun of itself and at the same time throw out even the most persistent earworm ("Lost in the Woods"), emotionally destroy three times over with a single song ("Show Yourself"), and casually add the seemingly uneventful yet perhaps even more single-ready "Into the Unknown", which commendably does not try to be a new "Let It Go". But what knocks the legs out from under me is how moving this sequel is. Whether in classic genre ways or simply through the power of interaction between individual characters, it is a poignant spectacle that does not lose any credibility or face.

Through the avalanche of girls chirping and shouting, Little Women shot for sincere deeds, plot twists, or surprised tears. I sensed that the sought-after adaptation might enchant me, but that it would be a versatile spectacle that would soften the hearts of even the most hardened is a surprise of the most pleasant kind. Moreover, the entire cast is perfectly cast, and I would love to see them in all the upcoming costume dramas. This is, after all, a mutual chemistry that comes along once in a generation.

Season 1 – 100% – For some time now, I have been trying to name the feeling that this unexpected hit has evoked in me, and the word hunger best captures it. Hunger for anything related to the Continent and all its realms, hunger for knowledge of other magical or predatory creatures, and hunger for more adventures of the titular hero, whether or not in the form of individual morsels or as part of a grand story that might change the world. I enjoy all levels of the story (although I unwittingly hurried Ciri along on her journey), and I appreciate both the lighter side and the moments when things get intense and I know that this or that adventure simply won't have a happy ending. As I am encountering The Witcher for the first time and have so much study material ahead of me, especially in book form, I can't wait for comparisons of what I already know and all the possible new things. P.S.: For viewers who want to criticize the series because of the skin color of individual actors, I have only one message, and that is "Fuc-" I mean "Fie upon ye!" Season 2 – 90% – Since I spent a nice eight books' worth of time with Geralt during the break between seasons, the experience of continuing some things is different, but fortunately, some things remain the same. Equally good. While I am not a fan of excessively distorting the source material, I have no problem with it here in the slightest. The character of the main protagonists remains fundamentally unchanged, and the adventures that were not present in the books serve as fillers for those parts during which beloved female characters would disappear for half a year. The only disappointment is the misleading of events that do not happen at all despite the episode's title (Dear Friend), but other than that, I have no objections, and I enjoy the open court intrigues that appear subtly earlier and are no longer hidden between the lines. Given the approaching conflicts, such a finding is a great relief. Special recognition must also be given to Freya Allan, who can lighten up and play the potentially thankless and stubborn role in any second, to the point where I would walk through fire for Ciri. Season 3 – 90% – Lately I've been loath to write, talk, or in any way comment on The Witcher. It's become strangely aggressive territory to spew the most stinking manure on the series adaptation using -phobic, racist, and everything else with moronic attempts at wit, or using that well-worn phrase about Netflix not leaving a page out of the books. It's that kind of reasoning that this season serves best. Or rather, it would if the loudest boos had at least read the prologue of the novels. But just so I don't rant about the faithless, I marvel at how deftly the creators have handled such problematic source material. When the saga of Geralt, Ciri, and the others was transformed from short stories into an honest-to-goodness fantasy saga, it brought with it a lot of deliberate, sometimes drawn-out sections full of conversations between kings and councilors and witches, rife with repeated intrigue, revealed intentions, and geographical terms that may or may not have had an impact on the main plot. On screen, however, all the action is coherently setting up a clear plot climax, a conclave of what came before it. The fascinating event steals almost three episodes for itself. And finally, my deepest gratitude goes to the pre-finale action in the desert. The seemingly endless literary wanderings here have both a plot-building and psychologically comprehensible aspect for those involved, confidently stepping into new regions and cast changes that will hopefully not affect the series' long-term ambitions.

A miracle from the nineties that would never work today. Not so much because of a decline in interest in giant robots, but purely because it's a thing unto itself. As a result, it has the most variable moods I have ever seen in an anime. I enjoy both the mischievous and provocative fan service in the opening credits and the constant adolescent squealing, as well as the historically accurate liveliness. As long as Evangelion is just a youthful mecha action interspersed with catchphrases or naive episodic clichés (whether the heroes go to school, on vacation, or literally anywhere, they will always have to fight an Angel), it is more than decent entertainment that lets itself be watched. After the transition to a more serious level, which gradually escalates into demanding psychology or thriller, the series definitively earns its reputation as an unforgettable and above all unique creator of a subgenre. This leap from eternal smiles and self-deprecation naturally has a greater impact on the viewer, from episode to episode. At that moment, the script is not afraid to retreat from the expectation of the greatest action inferno into a mysterious detective story or introspection of the main character, and it only reluctantly reveals similar dilemmas until the very end. The climax probably took everyone's breath away at the time, and even though I was prepared for it, the constant chaotic ramblings and mental self-harm still overwhelmed me. However I imagined the ending (whether in the series or in the movies), Shinji, Rei, and Asuka will always remain a unique memory.

What begins as a traditionally talkative and enthusiastic animated film continues as a winter fairytale that knows how to quiet down at the right moment, allowing the interaction between the main characters and the magic of the snowy forest to take over. And that's not even to mention the last act, when tears rolled down my face like peas more than once. I don't understand how this seemingly unassuming Christmas treat managed to effortlessly wipe the entire emotional floor with me.