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A war of emotions with no winners. Hannah Fidell returns to heartfelt themes and exhaustively delves into all the sad, passionate, comforting, and destructive thoughts. Watching A Teacher is therefore occasionally appropriately unpleasant, but at the same time like a drug that you can't tear yourself away from. Nick Robinson is convincing as the infatuated student; Kate Mara, as the happily unhappy Claire, delivers the performance of a lifetime and hypnotizes with every glance or movement. And even though I can watch teen genres from morning till night, I may have never encountered it in such a realistic form before.

One of the best ensemble casts in history in a unique combination of complete alienation and absolute understanding in one. All the characters occasionally kill and devour each other, just like every family.

One of the most civil and story-driven of the most ordinary Studio Ghibli films is also one of the best. Goro Miyazaki puts an astonishing amount of detail into his father's script, and I completely understand why he lay low for nine long years after such meticulous labor. And as for traditional animation we expect from a studio with Totoro in their logo, this could very well have been his last contribution. If so, has he left behind a true treasure. Those subtle jokes, those painful memories of old age or, conversely, sincerely exposed emotions that only adolescence can bring – I got enough to last me through the next few films.

A nearly indescribable encounter for nostalgically burdened fans. In the strongest moments, I really felt so good, as if I had gone back twenty years and fallen in love with the series for the first time. Back then I would have sworn to you that there was no better series (and even today, I wouldn't count many better ones among comedies, apart from Scrubs). Some age beautifully, some at least with grace. The years have left their mark on some, but even on a relatively small scale (despite the generous length, I felt like it all lasted maybe half an hour), all six of them hit me right in the heart. I don't want new episodes, I don't want a movie. If I was ever certain that Friends belonged to the turn of the century and paradoxically, thanks to that, will remain a perfectly timeless piece, it was now.

1st season – 90% – An incredible way to combine all the familiar elements of Greek mythology. Sometimes it's like Disney's Hercules, sometimes it's like Hercules with Kevin Sorbo. At times it's extravagant, enough that Eduard Petiška would be jumping for joy around Olympus, and at times it's bloodthirsty, as if an episode had been taken from God of War. But first and foremost, it's action-packed, emotional, and quickly paced legend wrapped in the cloak of the popular Castlevania, which it conquers with icy calmness.

A film I fell for based solely on how beautiful it looks. The breathtaking English countryside, views into the unknown distance, inhospitable storms or, conversely, clear nights and melancholic sunsets. Each of these views easily had me, and when combined with a story full of desire, longing, and hope, I was only able to shed a few tears in the end face to face with this fairytale based largely on reality. We all love movies that we expect a lot from that still exceed those expectations by a large margin. This is one of them. Seriously, it felt as if I was digging, working, hoping, and loving right along with them.

What seemed like filler and an attempt to stall the show at its most audience and action-friendly place, ultimately turns out to be the best season ever. It also proves how cleverly the whole concept is set up, because it doesn't matter that you know what will happen to the characters years later, where they will end up, or how it will all end, because despite all the blood and seemingly gratuitous sex and suffering, this story always had strong characters and the associated genuine emotions as its main focus. So when someone new comes in, I impatiently sit in nervousness, wondering how (badly) this newcomer will turn out. Compared to the already legendary first season, the Gods are still leading by a hair, because they don't need to search for their visual aspect, they don't need to rush ahead, and on the contrary, they perfectly know their creative strengths.

From a careful start about the real problems of two actors, through playing with subtitles and an increasing number of developed running gags, to a rushing avalanche of guest stars and such thorough meta humor that I still don't know exactly where fiction and reality meet. David Tennant voluntarily makes himself into a child, while Michael Sheen becomes a charitable narcissist, and together Staged not only made me forget that a piece of me dies every time video calls or coronavirus are mentioned, but above all it entertained me in every way. Thanks to its unique concept, it has a chance to remain a historically cemented milestone.

Sam Mendes set off on a campaign that was already lost, trying to elevate everything that worked in Skyfall even higher. As such, Spectre brings a lot of quiet moments, where the viewer can hear a pin drop, a lot of nods to Craig's predecessors, and even more complex intertwining of storylines from the previous three films. After the second viewing, freed from the tense anticipation of wondering where it has yet to climb, I don't consider all the points of the film to be the best of the current Bond, but I will be one of the few who considers it even better than Skyfall. The dull spots have disappeared, the spine-chilling moments have increased, the grandiose and dangerously playful revelations do not disrupt the logic, and my beloved Léa Seydoux also receives enough room as one of the few truly worthy additions to the Bond Girl gallery in many years. Spectre has style. Individuality. It takes a while to get tuned in, but now I never want it any other way.

I was expecting a musical about how a musical is made, and I got the epitaph of a hurried man. I didn't catch Bob Fosse either with Cabaret and Lenny, so his multi-genre farewell caught me quite unprepared. It is not really a musical film in the true sense of the word, perhaps not even a drama, romance, or family film. It's actually a combination of everything intentionally wrapped in a knot of depression with extra points for editing that was ahead of its time. With such a subject, the whole experience could be melancholic, nostalgic, and maybe even tearful, if there was time for it. From beginning to end, there is constant strain in rehearsals and in the private lives, to the point that your T-shirt is soaked through with the burden of the somber themes. There are countless knives in the back from the screenplay, but that torn look of Roy Scheider, a man with big ones who knows how many times (and believe me, many times) he has failed, is deeply ingrained in me forever.