Lima

If I had to compare, Cronenberg's remake is more nutritious in terms of horror properties, full of irresistible filth, but this prequel has a more elaborate story structure. During the first half an hour the director plays a paranoid game with the viewer (is this woman really crazy, or what the hell is going on?) and then, thanks to flashbacks, a horrible twist is revealed, where the brutal murder in the press is not the end of the story; on the contrary, the filmmakers prepare one more surprise, thanks to which the story turns 180 degrees. Some of the scenes are real top-notch horror, I would never have guessed how thrilling catching an ordinary fly could be, knowing that a human life is actually at stake, and it also has a unique science-fantasy dimension. The Fly became an important milestone in the development of cinematic science fiction as a whole. As many smart books state, this is the very first film to use the idea of nuclear fission and fusion, the idea that matter can be converted into energy and energy back into matter, exactly the same principle that was adopted 20 years later by Star Trek and its famous teleportation device. And if nothing else, this wonderful film gives us the revelation that flies like milk mixed with rum :o)

Nothing for the faint hearted. I didn't expect to see anything like this in these politically correct times. The world of comic book movies, which today languishes under the reign of Marvel's childish colouring books, needed someone like James Gunn, a Troma alum, an original in his own right, which is strongly evident in his work. His film is incredibly daring, with a lethal cadence of over-the-top humour, without being a chaotic mess. Gunn has a clear vision, he's fantastic at timing politically incorrect visual jokes, and many of his screenwriting ideas are surprising; he has a God-given talent. And at times, in the barrage of this snarling R-rated gorefest, I felt like I was watching an expensive midnight movie in some grindhouse cinema in the deep 70s. And last but not least, the most original kaiju monster of all time. Hats off to Warner Bros. for not being afraid to give Gunn a wide theatrical release.

Yeah, a spy, he’s got it tough. I'm not a fan of alternate history with actual living figures, but this is an exception. A fantastic series, completely unpredictable for most its run. It's admirable the psychological transformation Carrie Mathison undergoes through the series – that, dear Claire, is called the role of a lifetime. And the very last episode absolutely blew me away, in awe of what a brilliantly bittersweet ending they gave to the story. I know it's tempting, but I hope they don't make any more sequels, any more encores, it's perfect this way.

The unbearable lightness of acting. I remember well Hopkins's exclusive interview with Reflex, where he said that "...acting is the easiest profession in the world...". So Sir Anthony cut yet another theatrical role, the likes of which he has portrayed hundreds of in his lifetime on stages, and he still won an Oscar for it, by the way. Yeah, acting is a beautiful profession, if you know how to do it.

The eighties never died, and Ralph and Zabka are still as likeable as ever. There’s is currently no other TV series that works as tastefully and intelligently with NOSTALGIA as Cobra Kai (particularly the first season).  But even without this aspect, this would still be an extremely well-told, firmly grounded story, which is partly an unabashed celebration of 1980s B-movies and partly a depressing (yet somehow funny) self-reflection of two middle-aged guys. To me, this is the most pleasant surprise among the TV series of recent years and I am glad I persevered in watching it.

I wanted to give up after the first two episodes, which didn’t seem to me to have a point and were interesting only because of Reznor’s score, and because of the way in which they hit the uninitiated viewer with their total outlandishness and refusal to pander to expectations. However, as the various storylines began to unfold, they suddenly clicked; the link to Moore’s graphic novel and to Snyder’s film turned out to be slick and logical, the reminiscences of Dr. Manhattan were interesting, and we also finally get to see the Big Blue in all his beauty, doing some of his tricks for us. It all felt beautifully crafted like intricate clockwork. I never thought I’d say this to Lindelof (of whom I am not a fan), but here we go: “Bravo! This is your masterpiece as a screenwriter!”

The cinematography was worked out to a monomaniacal degree of detail (all those trenches strewn with corpses, barbed wire and razed, burning cities), the mise-en-scene is composed masterfully and the special effects are fantastic but don’t seek to draw attention to themselves, nor are they in the audience’s face. In short, I’ve never before seen such production values in any film whose subject is World War I. And then there’s Mendes’s sheer virtuosity, captivating camera equilibristics, and (from the meeting with the young French woman) the requisite rush of emotions. I consider it a sad error in judgment on the part of the Academy that it preferred the shallow Parasite over this masterpiece.

A treat for the connoisseur. Bursting with energy, like a roller coaster ride, extremely immersive, with a hypnotic soundtrack. The vast majority of today's mainstream cinema has been boring me for the last few years because it's so predictable and formulaic in its approach, so I’m grateful for any film that manages to surprise, goes its own way, and yet is so different, distinctive, and doesn't care that only a small group of viewers will appreciate it. Safdie Bros, thank you so much! I thought I'd never see anything like this in today's deluge of Marvel and comic book crap. And Sandler, as much as I don’t like him, was fantastic here.

Human memory is set up in such a way that the major events around us are similar for most people; we remember exactly what we were doing that day. I have that with 11 September, 2001, and with Chernobyl. The day it went up, we had beautiful, cloudless, sunny weather and half the town was catching rays by the dam, myself included. A light rain fell in the evening, although according to the forecast it was not supposed to rain. And I believe that it’s not just my imagination, because it’s said by more witnesses, but the next weeks the milk tasted differently, probably the comrades put iodine in it or something. The comrades covered up and covered up, and then when it blew up, what I found terribly funny was that the first mention of the catastrophe was only on the third or fourth page of the newspaper, a little footnote. And about the series: excellent stuff, no-nonsense, heading straight for the chamber, without carrying any unnecessary plot ballast. That’s how it should be.

The scene in the last episode, as the elephants tenderly touch the bones of their dead friends in contemplation, almost brought me to tears. Humans could learn a lot from animals, their love, empathy, sensitivity to their peers. Animals are beautiful and life wouldn’t make sense without them.