Goldbeater

To a certain extent, Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny is a safe and modern film stripped of all the appeal, originality, physicality and creative prowess that we loved about the first three installments, and it has also lost much of the magic of adventure. The credits list four screenwriters and the disparity is evident in the result, which feels like it was actually written by an artificial intelligence, it has seemingly all the elements and Indiana Jones film should have, yet it feels more a knockoff than the proper thing. Is it worse or better than Kingdom of the Crystal Skull? Hard to say. In some things is better, in others it’s worse. In any case, the qualities of the original trilogy can’t be seen even from the digital train.

If there was an award for films with the most use of Dutch-angle camera shots and possibly overuse of exaggerated slow motion, Battlefield Earth: A Saga of the Year 3000 would be the clear winner. You won't see a more visually painful engineered shootout, and you don’t want to see it. The crowning adaptation of the work of the founder of the Church of Scientology is tragic in every way, yet I have to say that the final clash of civilizations is such a mindless monstrosity that I couldn't stop staring, and after an hour and a half of boredom it makes for a dose of entertainment. And the use of miniatures contributes a lot to this.

In his recent films, Wes Anderson has tried to push a lot beyond the main storyline to an additional frame story, from which a core plot then unfolds. But while it was novel and measured in The Grand Budapest Hotel  and practically necessary in The French Dispatch, since it was essentially an anthology film, in Asteroid City this metafictional framing becomes a bit of a stumbling block. The main pastel-coloured storyline (or rather, everything you expect after watching the trailer) is constantly disrupted and diluted by a black and white theatrical frame that ultimately strips the main part of the film of all emotional impact and most of its cinematic charm. It's a strange choice even for Anderson and quite a shame.

The bells are tolling for this phase of the DC universe and The Flash almost feels like a swan song. But don't worry, we still have Aquaman 2 and Blue Beetle to look forward to! Comparing this to Marvel is a waste of time nowadays, but here Spider-Man: No Way Home is literally screaming. Although it's quite entertaining, the plot, which mixes several timelines, has to be kicked off with the main character acting like the world's most irresponsible moron, and everything that happens after that is just mindless action for effect. The excessive fan service will captivate many, on the other hand, the very bad digital effects may surprise some, but otherwise it's a pretty average comic book film, whose existence you will probably forget two days after the screening.

The Night of the 12th is practically an anti-detective story. Right in the opening credits, we can clearly see that the film is about an unsolved case, but despite this fact, you spend the next nearly two hours devouring the procedure of a classic crime film, as if you're going to see the end result, because it otherwise works very well through the construction of the plot. The film only slightly lags in the scenes where it quite literally tries to point out collective guilt (and the following statement may be a spoiler, so beware), because if the victim wasn't demonstrably killed by a specific individual, everyone was the killer. The symbolism is nice, but script-wise it shouts too much and doesn't fit. Otherwise, thumbs up.

Guy Ritchie has become an unexpectedly interesting filmmaker in recent years, making a "smaller", gritty and honest-to-goodness film here and there in addition to crafting decently done commercial stuff. After The Gentlemen and Wrath of Man comes The Covenant, which isn't necessarily the best of the aforementioned trio, but at least manages to translate a whiff of creative verve into the viewing experience. In the first half, Ritchie delivers an almost procedural war drama, only to switch into John Woo mode in the second half with his over-the-top bromance action, culminating in a fetishistically long montage of the immeasurable physical and emotional effort one partner can make to save another.

After the fairly accomplished retro slasher X, Ti West delivers a Technicolor nightmare that absolutely works in its (intentional) kitsch. Unlike the previous film, Pearl is not predictable and avoids genre tropes, and Mia Goth proves once again that she is an incredibly energetic presence in contemporary genre cinema.

Ari Aster and his excessive auteur onanism. The first three-quarters of an hour and a few good moments later in the film cannot redeem the unjustifiable three-hour running time, in which, despite the exaggeration and craziness of all the events, the plot flows as if it was stagnant – extending a seven-minute short into three hours is not easy feat. With its most expensive film to date, studio A24 had the luxury of slapping the filmmaker on the wrist at times and thrusting a pair of scissors at him. It’s impossible that this film will earn back half its budget, impossible.

Evil Dead Rise is a solid horror flick, but if you're familiar with the franchise, you'll just be mentally ticking off a list of must-haves. The setting of an old tenement house is not as atmospheric and interesting as a cabin in the mountains, and while the filmmakers attempted to bring evil to a new cramped location, they didn't miss the tried-and-true cabin, giving the film a framing device that's quite impressive but completely unnecessary to the main story (but at least it brought the best reveal of the film's title in years). The 2013 remake was far more impressive, engaging and entertaining in its reinterpretation of a well-worn formula; this one is just OK.

In an ideal world, I would have imagined a slightly different form of action from a film featuring both Sylvia Kristel and Sybil Danning, but alas. In short, this is the dumbest Airport film, the plot is largely a joke and the greatest energy comes from the scene where Alain Delon and George Kennedy extol the virtues of French prostitutes (they probably both knew). Still, it manages to be solid entertainment, and if you have an idea of what to expect, you won’t be disappointed.