Marigold

Gooorrre!!! A great horror film. That's what brutal horror is supposed to be - less talk, straight to the point. A cozy graveyard, a little brother and sister come to cry at Dad's tomb, when... they're coming to get you, Judi! Gentlemen and ladies who have walked strangely for a while now want to take a break from the comfort of the grave and go out among the living... Night of the Living Dead above all has a great atmosphere from the first moment, an excellent camera, atmospheric music and properly amateur acting performances that give it flair. A cult film that has everything. The kind of film we call "genre-making". With the passing of the years, it is a little lukewarm in places, but at every second an expressive stylization reminiscent of the era of mute film. So it’s not only watchable, but even riveting. It’s hard to find a more brutal and better horror. So make sure they don’t get you the next time you visit Krchov...

A superb example of postmodern cinematic narrative – Iñárritu breaks the chronology of the story into small pieces and composes its narrative from these pieces. He does not tell a story in the traditional sense, but forces the viewer to co-create it in the spirit of postmodern narrative, to be a kind of second authorial voice. Unlike Anderson's Magnolia, however, he goes even further in the deconstruction of the story – ignoring the rules of conventional space-time and serving the viewer a meddling of plots that are not anchored by the unity of time and place. The result is a riveting narrative form that prevents the perceptive viewer from tearing his eyes from the story, from missing the plot. The experience of the film is enhanced by the way it is captured - the handheld camera indulges in neurotic tremors and unpredictable movement the way Trier does it. All this is approached by excellent work with a soundtrack in which monotonous sound surfaces appear at key moments in addition to natural sounds, amplifying the emotional experience even more. Alejandro González Iñárritu is a true master of modern dramatic form, although from my subjective point of view his formal brilliance lacks the immediacy of experience and intimacy that is characteristic, for example, in the works of Lars Von Trier. Something even more absorbing. A subjective experience. Perhaps the fact that I felt that I was unnecessarily one step ahead in uncovering the plot... Otherwise – praise for the acting performances (I don't know who is the best, but probably the riveting culprit Benicio Del Toro wins after all), for the script, theme and inconspicuous music. 21 Grams is one of the best films about guilt, punishment, forgiveness and compassion that can be seen today. It definitely belongs in my TOP 3 for 2003 right next to Burton's Big Fish and Sofia Coppola's Lost in Translation.

It has such old-fashioned charm, but when I put this version and the more famous version by Richard Lester next to each other, the second wins. It may lose a little credibility with some of the fights, which are surprisingly loyal and dynamic in this version (apart from accelerators during fistfights), but it replaces it all with excellent choreography, comedy elements and, in particular, better story gradation. Borderier's film is definitely a pleasant representative of the now classic adventure school made in France. Typical for its dolliness, storytelling and charming magic of all the main characters, to whom nothing can happen. There's also decent humor, but it's just decent enough not to throw off the gloriola of the main characters. I prefer the irresistible Michael York, whose portrayal of D’Artagnan has more charm compared to the self-confident Barray.

The unequivocal advantage of the film is Oldman in the title role and, of course, Beethoven's music, which gives even mediocre scenes a gigantic charge. Despite some undeniably impressive visual moments, however, the film is merely a stereotypical playing on the string of a love story, which is intended to reveal a piece of the master's inner self with its sound, but unfortunately fades out into nothing. It's definitely not a bad film, but it doesn't quite achieve its potential.

I found no fondness for it, no emotional moment. It's very cold and distant. Drugs, paranoia, writing, homosexuality... Hallucination. Naked Lunch is a hallucination of an author somewhere on the edge between life and fiction. On the edge of what is lived and what is written. But I don't see the problem in that; the problem is that the whole magic of the film is only in the shocking and inexplicable scenes that mask the only fact – that it's all about one long (and very devastating) trip that doesn't tell me anything personally from the audience's point of view. Cronenberg did good craftsmanship work, as did the actors, and Howard Shore in particular with his soundtrack. However, this does not change the fact that the whole of Naked Lunch seems to me to be total exhibitionism and an outpouring of a diseased mind. And that's not enough for a good film... I may be evaluating the way I am because I don't like this literary genre. So if you like bugs having sex, bugs in the form of typewriters, bugs in the form of aliens and bugs in the form of bugs... you'll probably hum with enthusiasm. I got tired of the endless yawning.

Of course Burton did a great job with this. Although Big Fish could easily have ended up as a collection of sentimental and colorfully opulent stories, this film became a beautifully poignant and thought-cohesive work. Edward Bloom is not a psychologically large character, but he is a beautiful symbol of human imagination and how we can build on the world through fantasy. And the whole of Big Fish is actually one big game in which Burton puts the viewer in a position they not only have to believe, but above all to understand why Edward transforms his life into surreal stories. Why Edward is a big fish and why the "truth" of the narrative is irrelevant. Tim Burton recounts the story in his typically picturesque way, not denying the horror elements, but above all not denying his love of the fantasy depicted. The intertwining of imaginative sequences with sequences from the "real" world is done very sensitively, although in some places the film seemed a little unhappily rhythmic and thus lost pace. But the end will make things right – an end that is a final confirmation of how sensitively constructed the film and its idea are. In fact, you have two options: either accept Edward's son's hard-nosed view, or you accept Edward's fantasy. If you choose the latter, you will have a wonderful cinematic experience, which will not formally deny the inspiration of the old masters of European "narrative" film. Given that it has a few weaker spots, I'm leaning towards four stars, but for those honest tears in a beautiful finale, I can't really help but...

I like this film, although it's definitely not Hřebejk's best work. But unlike the disparate and shallow Pupendo, it is, in the best sense, a family comedy that caresses the soul with a kind narrative nostalgia while actually saying something about the times and those who experienced them. Aside from the humorous aspects, almost every main character has a certain amount of inner tragedy, so there are no cute talking comedy archetypes, as is the case in Pupendo. In short, the director made a film that will stand up as entertainment and as a story. One star fell from the sky after the release of the phenomenal Divided We Fall, but even so, Cosy Dens ranks at the top of the Gallery of Fame of Czech film as the best adaptation of Šabach's book to date.

Post-revolutionary stupidity with everything that it encompasses. Anyone who would have thought at the time that this was the result of the shock of the change in circumstances would have had a number of bitter disappointments. Unfortunately, this outburst fits seamlessly into the decline, which is not only not blind, but is in fact very popular. Compared to the first film, this film has the disadvantage that it is exotic only due to its total anti-film qualities...

A very cute retro with an impressive atmosphere and a certain aesthetic magnetism (similar to the old Star Trek)... The quality of the story is ensured by an excellent book by H.G. Wells and the whole thing works much better without spectacular pathos and national propaganda. The War of the Worlds is a disaster science fiction film about an invasion from space that is much better than most of today's large-scale productions on the same subject. The trick aspects are not everything, and the "deus ex machina" conclusion is a pleasant break from the stereotype that the contemporary viewer is used to. It's nice to see a film after all these expensive agitations, when the world fights like one man (except Ostblok, of course, but what would you expect in the 1950s :o)), and in the end there is no salvation nation that is the smartest, funniest and strongest...

If it weren't for the huge dose of building capitalism at the end and the all-out US-centrism, it would have been a pretty fine disaster film with slightly above-average effects and fairly decent actors. Yet this is a typically average film that does not bore, but also does not surprise. By the way, why are a few stupid skyscrapers and one green statue a symbol of destruction for Americans? Is it because, in the face of the age of European monuments, their imagination is subject to an overwhelming impact? ;o)))